BVI Bare Boat Cruise

Just as a perspective on how to put together a vacation, ya gotta hear about this one. This was probably the third ‘vacation’ of my life, as everything else had been work-related or a quest. Jeanie, my dearest, sweetest, special friend in the whole world, put together a group of people two years ago. As a member of the local Detroit Yacht Club, she Shanghaied Captain John and first mate Dave to command a forty-six-foot catamaran out of Tortola in the British Virgin Islands.
The “Ana Luna” slept eight for two weeks under sail with gas, food, and grog; the cost per week came to $750.00 per mate. Jeanie’s good friend Rena is a gourmet cook and planned our menu. The aforementioned did the full two weeks while Patricia, my brother, sister-in-law, and I made up the crew for the second week.
The BVI consists of a dozen islands in the Caribbean east of Puerto Rico. Four are large enough for settlement but most are open diving and exploration. Mooring buoys allow tying your vessel off for the night or a moment. The unique element of such an excursion is the freedom to choose. Captain John left each day open to a whim of consensus since any destination was no more than an hour and a half away by sail. I had taken scuba lessons earlier in the year with my brother and his wife so we rendezvoused with a dive company to get our certification in these pristine waters. Snorkeling was great everywhere and a sunken vessel added to the thrill.
The pirate theme was in vogue everywhere. Particularly so, at a pub on Jost Van Dyke, where a naughty-cal entertainer, one-man-band, kept us laughing with a play on the pirate phonic ‘aahhrr’. In a Pusser’s Rum promotion, shots were awarded to us fools that stood up to sing a sailor’s song. Of course, I was a week into a new beard so I mimicked Barnacle Bill the Sailor greeting his wench to sing, “If it scratches ye’r face, it’ll tickle ye’r arse.”
As a Navy man, my favorite toast was, “The wind that blows, The ship that goes, And the lass that loved a sailor.”