Sailing and Strong Swimming.
This is the story of how and why we use sailboats for (most of) our SwimVacations.
It was 3:00 AM and I was trying to sleep, unsuccessfully, on a beach on an uninhabited island in the BVIs. It started to rain, so I stumbled around the beach looking for something to cover myself with, and found an old plastic fish crate. My head and most of my torso fit under it, but I soon realized it had a hole in it, and drops of water were hitting my forehead. I plugged it up with my finger, but every time I fell asleep my arm would fall, drops of water would hit my forehead, and the process started all over again.
I was on an adventure for Outside Magazine with the writer Hodding Carter, and we were attempting to swim between six islands over 5 days with no support. As I lay there under the crate, I was thinking about how great the swimming was in the BVIs, with all of it’s calm clear bays and fabulous reefs, but how lousy it was to sleep under a fish crate. Then I thought about all the sailboats people were happily vacationing in, and how great the sailing is in the BVI and gee wouldn’t it be nice to live on a sailboat and swim in all of these great spots. Then I thought wouldn’t it be even better to do this with a bunch of friends, or hey maybe even paying customers. I wrote the business plan on a JetBlue napkin on the flight home, and SwimVacation was born.
Our first charter yacht was the venerable, practical, some might say homely Yacht Promenade. It was a 62 foot trimaran with 5 guest cabins, 3 crew cabins, and tons of other places to sleep or string a hammock, plus a lot of deck space and a big cockpit. Our whole business was based around this boat. One day it mysteriously exploded offshore and was gone forever. WIth several trips coming up, Heather and I had to shift gears, and fast.
About the same time as the loss of the Promenade, a few of the charter companies started offering 6-cabin catamaran bareboats, they come with no captain or crew or chef or food or garbage bags or anything, really. So we called up all the captains, chefs, and deckhands we had met over the years, and a whole new world opened up to us. Now we could hand-pick our crew, and oversee every aspect of the trip. Furthermore, now we could run trips anywhere in the world where yachts were available and the swimming was good. The Bahamas, Greece, Grenada and the Seychelles have since been added to our offerings in the British Virgin Islands, as well as our only land-based trip in Hawaii. Our SwimVacation family grew to include more swimming guides, boat captains, chefs, and deckhands, as well as the Island people we love so much. I still miss Promenade, and Kerry and Bazza who owned her for much of the time we chartered. To this day I often mistakenly say “let’s head back to Promenade” when we’re out for a swim.
Destination: Ile Morpion, a small sandy spit in the midst of a sloppy sea.
I am writing this blog from aboard a Lagoon 450 catamaran sailing yacht off the coast of Grenada. It has 4 main cabins and 2 forward berths. Usually we charter Lagoon 52s, the 6 cabin version, but we had a few cancellations this trip, and bareboating gives us the flexibility to change to a smaller yacht.
Back to the trip at hand. Early today Heather and Zack hopped in the dinghy to scout around the south end of Petit St. Vincent to look for a swimming spot behind a barrier reef, but it was too blown out and lumpy. We went back to look at the chart with Captain Jason and plotted another couple of options. Plan A would take us around the north side of Petit St. Vincent, then back to the yacht. Plan B would be a bit more challenging, from Petit St. Vincent to a tiny sandbar of an island called Morpion. It’s big water, the target is small, and we weren’t sure the wind and currents would work for us.
We started with plan A, and rounded Petit St. Vincent’s north end quickly. The sandbar island, a mile or so away, was too low to be able to see from the water, so I climbed up on a little beach to get a view from a higher perspective. I could now see the sandbar, so I memorized where it sat by picking a mountain peak beyond it. The water looked rough. I had expected the winds to be converging at this point from the right and the left about equally, but they were stronger from the left, so we’d be “set” as we swam, and would need to compensate by swimming upwind, and sight on a mountain peak to the right of where the sandbar laid. Heather and I conferenced quickly, took into account the conditions and the strength of swimmers Melinda and Miriam, and decided to go.
The chop was about 3 feet and confused, but we were still able to sight on that mountain peak we’d chosen. The bottom dropped out from under us as the water got deep and the current fast. We swam side by side, taking only one quick break to make a slight course change. We swam. And swam. I glimpsed the sandbar. 20 more strokes. Another 20. The bottom came up to greet us. Shallower now. Too shallow! We stopped and made a plan to get through the coral and onto the beach. Heather led us in, and we celebrated. A lot of people get married on this bit of sand, we hear. There’s a little thatch umbrella on the island with trinkets tied up under it and messages written all over and a bottle full of trinkets, into which guest Miriam dropped some chapstick.
From the highest point on the sandbar, about 2 feet above sea level, we charted a way through the coral reef on the west side, where Jason was hovering with Antares. We made a “live pickup” meaning not moored or anchored, the engines are running but props not turning. More celebrating. Heather and I were really proud of our two swimmers.
We sailed downwind for about 2 hours back to Ile Ronde, tucking into a little bay ½ way to eat some yummy finger sandwiches. Our evening swim was short and sweet, ending with a Spotted Eagle Ray sighting.
Heather and I lingered in the water a bit this evening for a little free diving, something we have been trained to do safely and really love. Just a few dives each as the sun got low in the sky. Chef Miriam jumped in for a little cool off too. It was a perfect way to end our time in the water today.
I made a pitcher of Sangria with the tropical fruit we had picked up, and it disappeared quickly. Another bright red sunset with a green flash. Good old spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. Some good smooth music, courtesy of Zack. Gooey brownies, courtesy of chef Miriam. Sea Stars filled my dreams, along with pride in what we have built and the experiences we have been able to share with so many intrepid swimmers. Today Miriam and Melinda made the absolute most of what the sea offered us. I hope they feel the boost of confidence they’ve earned.
Hopper
