I live in Minnesota, where the winters have a reputation for being harsh. Being hardy folk, we deal with the icy imprisonment as just another part of everyday life. Opportunities for parole, however brief, are not taken lightly.

My summers are spent racing sailboats on White Bear Lake, a short distance northeast of Minneapolis. Eric Shaffer, my sailing partner, chartered a 52' sailboat last fall for a small group of friends. The boat was in the Caribbean, and he had it reserved for the last week of January. He decided it would be a good idea to have someone else on board who knew how to sail, and invited me to join him. Tough choice - a week spent exploring the British Virgin Islands (BVI), or should I stay home and watch the icicles slowly work their way down from the roof? The answer was clear - it was time to start packing the sunscreen!

As with most prison escapes, ours was full of unexpected twists and turns. The original airline declared bankruptcy a short while before our departure date and cancelled all flights. Fortunately, we were able to find seats on a flight with Delta. In hindsight, this was too easy. Winter plays a tough game, and we were not getting out without paying our dues.

Day 1 (Sat) Minneapolis to Atlanta

Our flight was scheduled to leave on Saturday at 6:30 am. We arrived at 4:30 am to find the Minneapolis International Airport packed. Settling into our assigned seats a little after 6, the goal was to get comfortable and go back to sleep. When we awoke, it would be warm and sunny.

Instead, we spent the day at the Minneapolis airport. Repeated announcements were made about how the flight was delayed yet another 60 minutes while arrangements were made to repair a problem. After the flight was finally cancelled, we booked a new flight to Tortola, via Atlanta and San Juan, Puerto Rico. After an amazing series of setbacks, we finally made it to Atlanta late that night. Just slightly past midnight, my head touched a pillow for the first time in 21 hours. Unfortunately, I was in a motel near Atlanta, not on a sailboat in the Caribbean. It's really not the same.

Day 2 (Sun) Atlanta to Norman Island

Early in the morning, we returned to the airport and feasted on bagels and donuts. A new day was upon us, and everyone hoped yesterday would be the low point of the trip.

We boarded and flew to San Juan, then on to Tortola.

As we approached out final destination, the plane followed a course along the south side of the island. Eric pointed out the Maya Cove marina as we flew by. Our boat, loaded with two bright red kayaks, was readily visible from the air.

Landing in Tortola made it clear that the vacation was real. There is nothing like the feeling of landing in the tropics. Only a day earlier, it was freezing cold and the snow was blowing. The dry winter air is exchanged for the salty, humid sensation found only near the ocean. The sun is high in the sky, shining with a brightness that has not been seen for some time. By the time you walk across the tarmac to customs, even the concept of winter is becoming fuzzy. That's when it hits you - I'm in the Caribbean!

As with any visit to a new country, every detail fascinated me. We boarded a taxi and drove to the marina. Passing through neighborhoods along the way, the range of housing was amazing. A few mansions, with immaculate lawns and nice cars in the driveway. Other houses were more practical, with old car parts in the driveway and other household items scattered about. The community is small, so the drivers seemed to know each other and always waved as they passed by.

We had rented from an outfit called SunSail. Prior to departing, Eric and I were supposed to get checked out on the boat. Typically, this would involve a thorough explanation, at which point we would take the boat out and personally verify we understood how to sail her. This typically takes 1-2 hours to complete. With SunSail, a worker showed up with a clipboard and gave us a few highlights on how things worked. We were in a hurry, and so did not object to not getting a more complete explanation. After 15 minutes, Eric signed off and we were free to go. This turned out to be a bad idea later, when key information (during an impending squall) was sorely needed.

Departing from Maya Cove, we motored to our first stop to save time. Our destination was a bay called 'The Bight' on the western end of Norman Island. Arriving there, we met our fellow travelers, who were sailing an Athena-38 catamaran. Their captain (Eric's brother) had coordinated his trip with ours to make things more interesting for everyone.

Here we discovered the largest problem with a late arrival. All of the mooring balls are taken. A mooring ball is attached to the bottom of the bay, typically a heavy block or something similar. Tying up to one makes life easy, since you can typically assume it's not going to move. The balls are fairly evenly spaced, making it trickier to find space between boats for an anchorage. Also, being at anchor introduces additional variables such as swing-room (the amount of space you need around your boat in case the wind shifts) and water depth (running aground is dangerous in addition to being embarrassing for the captain and crew). We motored around for a while and finally found a spot, which seemed reasonably safe. Rather than rely on our intuition, Lud (a former high-school champion swimmer) opted to dive in and check to see that the anchor was set well. He reported that all was fine, and the water felt great.

After dinner, it was time to load up the dinghy and motor into the local bar anchored nearby. Being somewhat new at this, everyone just climbed onboard and we set off. As we were passing another sailboat, I saw the captain disappear below, then return with his camera to take a picture. Had to think about that one. Oh! Maybe 9 adults on a little dinghy is a bit much!?! The folks at the front of the dinghy reported getting fairly wet, since the smallest wave was popping over into the dinghy. After that we started doing multiple trips when everyone wanted to get to the same destination at the same time.

When we arrived, the party was in full swing for everyone. Loud music, and lots of people crowded in tightly were getting to know each other. There was loud music blaring from the sound system. As people became more relaxed, they started dancing, converting part of the bar area to a dancefloor.

This bar is known for two traditions. First, if you jump off the second level into the water, then swim around to the front and climb back up the stairs to where you started, you get a free T-shirt. Sounds simple, but there is once catch - you have to do it completely naked. This starts late in the evening, as ample drink helps even the unsure overcome their shyness.

Although we weren't there late enough to see that, the other tradition was referred to as a body shot. Somewhat risqué, it involves drinking the various components of a tequila shot (lime, salt and tequila) from locations strategically placed along a woman's body. Strongly encouraged, a few couples in our party participated in this experience.

As I was enjoying myself, I spent the evening with a single beer. On numerous occasions, my new friends offered me a free drink as additional rounds were purchased. I explained that I typically don't drink much when sailing because a hangover can be such a negative experience at sea. Although they respected my decision, the implied warning didn't carry much weight for them.

After a few hours at the floating bar, we decided to head over the other bar, located on shore. As Eric and I were coming back on the second trip, we almost ran into a dinghy. Concluding that it must have come untied and drifted free, we towed it back to the bar. Reporting our actions to the bartender, we were quickly surrounded by its owners, who insisted on buying us a drink of our choice to say 'thanks'. The rest of the evening was spent socializing, dancing and drinking, until it was time to head back to the boat for some sleep.
 
 

Day 3: (Mon) Norman Island to Marina Cay

It was a bright and cheery morning. Some mist still remained when Eric got up, allowing him to snap an impressive picture of a catamaran framed by a rainbow. After breakfast, it was time to weigh anchor and depart.

Since we only motored yesterday, this was our first experience actually sailing the boat. Eric and I had no problems hoisting the sails, and soon we were sailing up the Sir Francis Drake Channel. This is protected on both sides by islands of the BVI, so the swells were minimal.

Minimal, however, is a relative term. When you are nursing a nasty hangover, even the slightest motion can be unsettling. And so it was that many of the crew learned why it is important to not party too much when on a sailing vacation. You are nauseous to start with, and probably fairly dehydrated. Not a good combination. I offered some advice on managing the situation - e.g., sit facing forward, make sure you can feel the wind on your face, drink lots of water, etc. An important lesson was learned by some of our crew that morning.

Our big surprise of the day came in the early afternoon. We saw a squall line approaching from the east. This was a solid line of white - much like in the movie White Squall. As we were getting closer, we prepared to drop the sails and start the motor, since we didn't know how severe the storm might be. I started to lower the mainsail, but discovered that after I released the main halyard, the sail didn't budge. Strange, and not in a good way! Eric came up and we spent a few moments looking over the rigging, figuring out how everything worked. (This is normally covered in the checkout, which had been quite rushed in our case.) Finally, as the first drops of rain were beginning to hit, we realized there was a secondary clutch on the mast for the sail. Once that was released, the sail came down as expected. Within 30 minutes the squall passed by and sunshine returned.

After we arrived at Marina Cay a short while later, everyone was eager to jump in the water and go snorkeling. This was a lot of fun. The water was warm, and there were many types of tropical fish to watch. I spent some time following a stingray around.

We all went ashore for happy hour. A local folk-singer was busy entertaining the crowd with Jimmy Buffet style music. Everyone had fun participating in the show and getting more in tune with life on the islands.

Day 4: (Tues) Marina Cay to The Baths, then to Gorda Sound

Our first stop that day was a place called The Baths. This is a national park in the BVI, and consists of fairly cool looking rock formations. It was directly across from Marina Cay.

As we departed in the morning, there was a squall line directly in front of us. Not wanting to drop the sails immediately, we waited as long as we felt was prudent. Our timing was off. We had already reached the start of the squall when I dropped the mainsail. Unfortunately, the winds had increased in strength (as had the waves), preventing the sail from coming down cleanly. I had to climb up the mast a short distance to pull the sail down manually - probably the most intense moment of the trip for me.

The storm cleared and we made it to The Baths without further incident. This area consists of enormous boulders, balanced on top of each other. Trails led through them, connecting the various coves nearby. Each of the coves was perfect for snorkeling. There was a nice mixture of areas where the waves came through versus the cliff-like structures closer to the rocks. Although I earned my Scuba license several years ago in San Diego, I never used it because it just didn't seem very interesting. After snorkeling in The Baths, I realized why some people enjoy the sport as much as they do. It's all about where you dive, and what you see.

Early in the afternoon we left and began sailing up to the northern end of Virgin Gorda. Our destination for the night was Gorda Sound. Sailing along we saw a demasted Hunter sailboat. A solemn reminder to be careful, since this is something that could really ruin a vacation.

Approaching the entrance to the bay, there were three sailboats directly behind us. We were all racing for any remaining mooring balls! After successfully tying up to a mooring ball, we went to the marina on the east side of the bay for dinner.

We sat down for dinner, and noticed that there was someone dressed up like a pirate sitting at a nearby table. Eric thought this was amusing, and made some comments about that. As we were sitting there, all of a sudden the pirate appears from nowhere and puts a knife (steak or butter - I couldn't tell) to Mike's neck. He started explaining about how it was dangerous to make fun of pirates, as they were still alive and well in the Caribbean. The reaction of our group was unusual - rather than raise the alarm, we all grabbed our cameras and started taking pictures! Mike tried to point out that perhaps the knife against his neck might warrant attention, but we decided that the pirate was just another tourist having fun. (Well, more than likely that's what it was.)

After dinner we listened to the steel drum band playing. I was able to convince Rachael to dance, but this was not enough to get others to join in. Later, we took a ferry to the Bitter End Yacht Club, but there was nothing going on there, so we opted to call it a night and head back to the boat.
 
 

Day 5: (Wed) Gorda Sound to Cane Garden Bay

We left Gorda Sound and headed west towards Cane Garden Bay. This was a fairly straightforward course - head out to sea a few miles, then turn left. Since we were away from the protection of the channel, the swells were noticeably larger.

We encountered our largest (and last) squall of the trip today. The storm was the most defined wall of white we had seen yet. It was hanging close to the island of Tortola, giving rise to the hope that we would be able to pass by (rather than through). After an hour of watching it closely, we decided that we were going to go through, and prepared the boat accordingly. This squall had the most rain, and strongest winds. Now that we'd been through a few, the uncertainty was gone. So we enjoyed the experience for what it was - another new experience. The rain was warm, and we felt safe. An hour later we had broken through to the other side and saw the sun breaking through the clouds once again.

After pulling into Cane Garden Bay, part of the group went ashore, while others opted to nap on the boat. When we awoke, Eric came and picked us up in the dinghy. (We had brought a pair of the 2-way family radios, which were perfect for communicating from ship to shore.)

Cane Garden Bay is a little town with a most perfect bay. The sandy beach is perhaps a mile long, with almost no one there. A few bars are scattered throughout, with ample hammocks nearby for enjoying your drink while taking in the view. The bay faces to the west, where St. Thomas is visible in the distance.

It was here that a most unusual conversation took place. Eric and Denise Shaffer are good friends with Mike and Rachael. They were discussing an upcoming vacation, and asked if the Shaffer's could watch their kids. When would this be? The 3^rd week in February. Eric and Denise looked at each other, and said sure, there was nothing planned. I listened and was amazed that they were planning something so far out. That's the middle of winter. Why discuss things like that in the middle of summer? How do you know nothing is happening? I mentioned this, and was reminded that it WAS late January, and weekend in question was less than a month away. So, that's how relaxing it is in the BVI. You can easily forget not only the day of the week, but the actual season as well.

Day 6: (Thur) Cane Garden Bay to Sandy Spit, then on to Jost Van Dyke

We spent the morning walking around Cane Garden Bay, as the distance to be sailed today was fairly modest. There were a few small shops where numerous T-shirts were found. Having more than a few hours allowed us to actually walk around the actual town, and see more about how full-time residents did things. The homes were much better maintained than we had seen on the other side of Tortola enroute to Maya Cove. The absence of bugs removed the need for screens, so open windows meant an open space with nothing to smudge the view or block the ocean breeze. We had the beach to ourselves, as most other sailboats had already departed.

I was given the opportunity to sail the catamaran that morning. The idea was to allow folks from the catamaran an opportunity to sail in our boat, and vice versa. Our destination was Sandy Spit, a tiny island just east of Sandy Cay. It is so small that most maps don't show it - you can walk the perimeter in about 5 minutes. Less than an hour from Cane Carden Bay, it was a perfect opportunity to sample the experience without committing to a full-day cruise.

We spent a few hours there. As we were getting ready to leave, each couple opted to re-enact the kissing in the sand scene from 'Tales of the South Pacific'. Laying in the sand, kissing passionately, with the waves rolling up to them. Afterwards, everyone agreed that it looks better than it feels. (The waves tend to put a lot of sand where it's not wanted.)

Sailing from Sandy Spit, we headed over to Great Harbour at the island of Jost Van Dyke. A quick hop, we were there in less than an hour. A large harbor, it was very, very full. It contained the most boats in a single harbor I had seen during the trip.

The other boat opted to catch a ferry to Little Harbour for dinner. This proved to be a unique experience. As they described it, the bar was an honor system. There was a sign saying how much drinks cost. After preparing what you wanted, you left the appropriate money in a jar. By all accounts, the system worked out well, since the patrons knew a good thing when they saw it. On top of this, the food was good and the atmosphere exactly what you would hope for in a tropical setting.

After a tasty dinner on the boat, we motored into the local nightclub for drinks and dancing. It is my custom to try a local brew whenever possible. I spotted such a brew behind the bar, and promptly ordered it. Returning to our table, I starting reading the label, curious as to the exact origin. Tortola, St. Thomas or maybe Puerto Rico? No, the answer was that it was brewed under contract in St. Paul, MN! To top it off, it tasted bad. Eric suggested that I was drinking relabeled Grain Belt beer, and agreed that it didn't matter how it was labeled or where you drank it - it was still pretty nasty stuff.

As everyone started dancing, I slipped away to walk around and take in the sights. The sky was clear, with millions of stars shining brightly. Out in the harbor, the mast lights formed a similar picture, as there were at least a hundred boats anchored. With each gentle swell, the mast tops bobbed back and forth, such that the scene was more reminiscent of a swarm of fireflies, each darting back and forth in some intricate dance. I sat there on the sand and thought, "life is good." Unfortunately, the sand mites were busy biting me and thinking the same thing, albeit for different reasons.

Day 7: (Fri) Jost Van Dyke to Soper's Hole (Tortola), then Cooper Island

Lud and Scott had made arrangement (via radio) for a scuba diving trip later that morning. Eric and I rose early, and got the boat underway to get them to their guide service on time. Our destination was Sopers Hole, the also known as shopping mecca of the BVI. This is a relative thing, since shopping the not the reason people come to the BVI.

After finding a mooring and dropping the divers off at the dock, the rest of us opted to go out for breakfast. We then headed over for shopping. Eric explained that this was our last opportunity to get any gifts for the folks back home. I found a nice surprise for Pam and a sweatshirt for myself. As we were comparing discoveries, the diving crew found us. It was early afternoon, and time to get under way.

The trip to Cooper Island was directly to the east, right up the middle of the Sir Francis Drake Channel. The day was perfect - sunny skies, beautiful sun and only a few other boats out on the water. Everyone knew that this was the last real day of vacation, but no one wanted to spoil the mood by saying it. We tacked up the channel, changing direction every 20-30 minutes. Enough wind to make us move nicely, but no so much that the boat was heeled over excessively.

We arrived at Cooper Island late in the afternoon. Predictably enough, we were too late to get a mooring ball and had to set an anchor. A lot of folks piled into the dinghy to the trip to shore, but some of us opted to put on the mask and fins and swim to shore. The weather was comfortable, so why not? Since there was a boat going ashore, I had them take my camera, as this was our only unobstructed view of the sunset.

Sitting in the lounge chairs, the crew from both boats chatted about their experiences and fond memories of the past week while watching the sun go down. Various drinks and appetizers complemented the mood nicely. A few of the sailboats anchored out in the harbor provided a dramatic silhouette to contrast against the glowing red sky.

Returning to the boat, we enjoyed dinner and sang a rousing rendition of Jimmy Buffet's It's Been a Lovely Cruise. The song does a nice job of capturing the sentiment of the last day of a BVI trip. A group of strangers only a week earlier, we had seen each other through lows and highs. Unique experiences shared together form a unique bond which must be felt to be understood. Although a 52' sailboat is large by marine standards, it is a tiny space by what we are accustomed to back on land. Everyone made the transition easily, so that our boat never felt small.

As we were relaxing, a dinghy was heard approaching our boat. It was the crew from the catamaran, making the most of their last night in the BVI. After joining us for a few drinks, they decided to try and board the commercial 'Barefoot Cruise' sailboat anchored nearby. As we watched closely from our boat, they were repelled by the crew, with the explanation that 'now was not a good time'. Probably a good thing - had they been allowed onboard, our dinghy would have been launched within moments to follow their example.

Day 8: (Sat) Cooper Island to Maya Cove (Tortola).

In the morning, there was a frenzy of activity. We sailed across the channel back to Maya Cove. Once we were tied up by the dock, it was time to pack everything and get ready to head to the airport.

The check-in with SunSail went even faster than the checkout. A representative came over, asked us if we had problems with anything. We described a few issues, and that was it. Most companies will require verification that everything, which was on the boat at the time of departure, is still present when the boat is returned.

We were running a little late, so we asked the taxi driver to please hurry. He took our request very seriously and sped along the roads like a Grand Prix driver. We became used to the sound of screeching tired on the hairpins and concluded that all we could do was enjoy the ride, so why not do so? We made it to the ferry with about 10 minutes to spare!

At the St. Thomas airport, we were slowly adjusting to civilization again. Crowds of people, hurrying off to their appointed destinations. Machines and advertising everywhere the eye could see. Already I missed life on the sailboat.

On the plane flight home, I overheard some young ladies talking in the seats in front of me. Something about how they had won a free T-shirt last week at Norman Island...