From broken cables to historic depths: our adventure from Saint Martin to the US Virgin Islands

The departure from the eastern part of the Caribbean hangs in the air, charged with enthusiasm. We carefully packed the groceries and made the boat almost ready to set sail. We had to make a final stop at the gas station to refill our fuel and water tanks. After filling the tanks and paying the bill, we slowly manoeuvred the boat backwards into the narrow passage and turned the boat around. However, we refuelled too late to check out of the country, so we had to wait an hour. But it wasn’t a problem as we decided to have lunch before setting sail for the American Virgin Islands.

The tension rises as we look for an anchorage and discover that the boat suddenly doesn’t want to move in any direction. Shit! Frustration fills the air. Luckily, we are far enough away from other boats to drop anchor. With 35 meters of anchor chain thrown out, Jeroen looks for the source of the problem. The gearbox is in order, the propeller appears to be no problem, and the engine shows no defects. Only the gear and throttle cable remain as possible culprits.

Jeroen determines quickly that the throttle cable has broken. A sigh of relief escapes: how lucky this didn’t happen at the gas station or while reversing there. Although annoying, we realize that this could not have happened at a better time. Jeroen and Rajesh dismantle the old cables, after which Jeroen sprints to the store to investigate the possibilities. He returns within 30 minutes, his face beaming with relief. Standard cables turned out to be in stock, and after two hours of intensive work, there were brand-new throttle and acceleration cables. We can check out and still start our adventure. A big sip of rum for Neptunes as a thank you for a safe crossing, and at 5 pm, we weigh anchor and sail away with a mix of excitement and relief in the air.

Slowly, the tension on our faces relaxes. We look at each other with looks that clearly say, “Yes, we’re going to do it.” A new chapter of our adventure has begun. Saint Martin is gradually shrinking, and the eastern Caribbean disappears from view. We have about 13 knots of wind from behind. Jeroen and Rajesh installed our windward pole, and we took our Genoa further outside. We don’t have to do much after that. We can sail almost straight to Saint John from the US Virgin Islands, and the wind doesn’t change much in strength. We constantly look for shipping traffic, with freighters and cruise ships following the same routes. We call them several times to check whether they have seen us and whether they can adjust their course if necessary. We sail at an average speed between 4 and 5 knots, which feels lovely.

The moon appears late, around 2:30 am, and Rajesh enjoys that moment. During our wait, we read or watched a movie. If we are close to Saint John, I sign in via the Roam App that the US Virgin Islands uses. We see that we are in the queue for approval. Suddenly, I saw that they were processing our application. Within three minutes, the officials of the US Virgin Islands denied our entry, and we were not allowed to enter. Why? I have no idea, but we received instructions to report to the harbour master. As soon as we have moored our boat to an anchor buoy, we launch the dinghy, mount the outboard motor, and rush to the harbour office. Within ten minutes, he returned with the message that we must all be present. We quickly get into the dinghy and sail together to the harbour office.

Once I arrived at the port office, I had to fill in all the details again via the Roam app. Fortunately, this procedure took place in their office. They approved everything in the end. The earlier rejection was because we were not American citizens, so we simply had to report to the port office. With the necessary stamps in our passport, which we needed anyway, we could explore the American Virgin Islands without any problems.

Back at the boat, we decided to go to a further bay and grab an anchor buoy. 80% of Saint John is a national park, so anchoring is strictly prohibited. Park Rangers do not come by to collect money for the mooring buoys. You arrange yourself by taking an envelope from a floating raft and infilling in the name of your boat and the number of days you want to stay. After registering, we soon lay in the refreshing water, enjoying the sight of turtles, stingrays, and even an imposing barracuda swimming straight towards us. It is an absolute pleasure to be immersed in the underwater world again, something we have all missed.

That night, the wind increased considerably, and when we woke up the following day, we felt the heaving movements of the boat. We will look for a more sheltered bay. After motoring for half an hour, we arrived at a bay that offered better protection from the wind. However, the wind also influences the water, which limits visibility underwater to less than a meter.

We, therefore, decide to take a walk on the island. We moor our dinghy on the beach. We follow the path that runs through the mangrove forests and continues via the main road. There are not many cars on the island, and donkeys roam freely. We walk to the ruins of the Annaberg sugar plantation.

In the early 18th century, the skies above the Annaberg plantation witnessed a grim maritime ballet. Ships loaded with enslaved Africans docked on the shores of St. John. The plantation thrived on the forced labour of those brought across the Atlantic, while the fertile lands of the Danish West Indies bore the heavy burden of human suffering.

Ruthless European traders orchestrated the arrival of enslaved Africans to exploit the fertile lands of the Caribbean for sugar cultivation. While the plantation owners enjoyed their prosperity, the enslaved people toiled under the brutal Caribbean sun. The miles of sugar cane fields became a terrifying landscape of forced labour.

The overseers maintained a brutal regime with whips and oppression. However, the enslaved people harboured dreams of freedom. In secret meetings under the veil of night, they spoke of rebellion while hope flickered in their eyes.

Under the leadership of courageous individuals who had endured unimaginable suffering, the seeds of resistance were sown. A network of communications developed, a secret language spoken in hushed tones that spread the flames of resistance. These leaders, some of whom retained fragments of their African identity, carried the weight of their people’s hopes.

The uprising at Annaberg erupted like a long-suppressed volcano. Fueled by a desire for freedom, the enslaved people rebelled against their oppressors. The night sky witnessed a fierce battle for freedom as the enslaved people fought determinedly against the plantation owners and overseers.

The echoes of the rebellion reverberated across the island, and the events on Annaberg became a symbol of resistance. The fight for freedom left an indelible mark on the pages of history, and yet the ghosts of the past lingered.

Today, Annaberg serves as a historic site, a grim reminder of the atrocities committed during the slavery era. Once silenced, the spirits of the enslaved people find a voice in the rustling leaves and crumbling stones, reminding the world that the human spirit endures even in the face of unimaginable adversity. Though weathered, the ruins stand tall and are a silent witness to the strength of those who dared to resist. Tourists and locals alike walk through the crumbling walls, feeling the weight of history and the echoes of an uprising that once shook the foundations of Annaberg.

Walking back to our dinghy, we notice a police officer busy writing out “something”. We meet the park ranger, who emphasizes that our dinghy is not allowed to lie on the beach, but this is allowed on the other side of the bay. After providing our information, it remains a warning, and we received a request to thoroughly study the obtained map to stay outside the prohibited zones.

After completing the official part, we will have space for a friendly conversation. That evening, I was happy to discover on the NoForeignLand app that people I know are near the island of St. Croix. I contacted Stefan and Amy from SY Kaya, and to my delight, they are still in Frederiksted. Since we wanted to sail from St. Croix to Isla de Providencia or the Cayman Islands in three days, we decided to start the 40-nautical mile trip the next morning.

The crossing was surprisingly pleasant despite the predicted strong wind and waves of over 2.5 meters. To our great surprise, we found two more boats we knew: SY Nizhoni with Leslie and Michael and SV Meraki from Liz and John. The nice thing is that they all know each other. The pier at Frederiksted was an excellent snorkelling and diving location. We snorkelled under the pier several times a day for two days and enjoyed the various tropical fish and beautiful coral.

It was remarkable to see how nature created something so beautiful on the concrete piles of the pier over the decades. Twice a week, a massive cruise ship docks here, and officially, we, as sailors, are not allowed to snorkel. At that moment, it is the turn of the paying guests of the cruise ships. 

A delicious pizza evening was organized on Leslie and Michael’s catamaran the evening before we weighed anchor and started our sailing trip to Isla de Providencia, a small Colombian island. It will take us approximately eight days, and we look forward to his sail. At 10 am, we weigh anchor and sail away with excitement in the air.