Busman’s Holiday in the Ol’ Carib

When friends Lynn and John Ringseis invited my wife and I to fly down to the British Virgin Islands for a week of sailing aboard their cat Moonshine, it didn’t take us long to decide: "Yes! Absolutely! Put some Heinekens on ice and we’ll be right down."

Although I’d spend the 1980s living and working in the Virgins, it had been six years since I’d returned for a visit. Here’s a quickie report on a few things that have remained the same, and some things that are new and different.

First, the Eastern Caribbean’s warm waters are as blue and inviting as ever. The trade winds blew briskly throughout out visit — 18-to-25 knots. And we were told that similar winds were seen all through December and January. So if you’d like to get out and blast around the tropics in San Francisco-style breezes, this could be the year for a Caribbean getaway. 

As wonderful as the BVI is as a sailing destination during the winter months, there’s no denying that the anchorages are crowded with bareboats. But the fact that there are more easy-to-grab mooring balls than ever — now even at White Bay, Jost Van Dyke — makes it simple to find a worry-free spot to overnight (for a $30/night fee). That is, once you successfully get a mooring ball’s pennant rigged to your mooring lines.

Back in the days before mooring balls, one of the local sailors’ favorite sports was watching knucklehead neophyte boaters struggling to successfully anchor their rented craft. Almost invariably, the husband would stay at the wheel, sending his poor wife to the bow to wrangle the anchor and rode. He would then roar up to a choice spot, give the command to "Let her go!" while still moving forward, then crunch his tranny into reverse and accelerate backwards, ripping the anchor from the seabed before it even began to set. This Keystone Cops routine would repeat itself again and again, with the dialog between husband and wife becoming more colorful and intense, i.e: "No it’s not my fault, you friggin’ idiot. If it’s so easy to set an anchor, then why don’t you drag your fat ass up to the bow and set it yourself!"

Sadly, the BVI’s well-maintained fields of mooring balls have robbed us of such rich entertainment — but not entirely. In a popular spot like The Bight on Norman Island, bareboaters still put on an occasional show. There was this guy (below), for example, who raised his main while still hooked up, with the winds blowing 20 knots. He then disappeared below for 15 minutes or so while his little sloop lashed back and forth like a quarter horse struggling to break free of a starting gate. 

There was also this group of fit young Dutchmen who were participating in an annual interisland racing circuit for Europeans. Their problem wasn’t lack of technique, but they chose a mooring ball that had no pennant. So, after a couple of tries to lasso it — dropping their boathook in the process — they did the sensible thing and dropped a crewman in the water to secure the ball. No problem.

No sooner had that drama played out than another began. It seems the helmsman of a big sloop was so intent on threading his bow through the fleet, that he forgot to beware of his dinghy’s track, which was trailing behind on a long painter. Sure enough, the painter got entangled in a mooring ball which pulled taut, causing the big sloop to wheel around helplessly, bashing into the side of another bareboat.

At the head of the anchorage a newer, bigger, better version of the Pirate’s Bar is being built, as the original was mysteriously burned down. Across the anchorage the notoriously rowdy Willie T floating bar and restaurant, still attracts a spirited crowed of revelers at all hours of the day and night. They no longer offer free T-shirts to girls for stripping off their tops and jumping off the upper deck, but that doesn’t stop an occasional exhibitionist from getting sexy. Within five minutes of arriving by speed boat from St. Thomas, one spirited gal — who’d arrived topless — climbed up on the bar and offered her navel for body shots and her breasts for whipped cream sampling.

Like we said, some things have changed, but others remain the same. And who are we to mess with tradition?