What’s next for the crew of Sanitas?

That’s a great question! When you figure it out, could you let us know? 🤣 Just kidding. Sure, we’ve found a calm spot in Antigua to wait out coronavirus quarantine and curfew. But we can’t stay here forever.

Our 90-day visa expires on 22 June. Even more importantly…HURRICANE SEASON IS COMING! (Say it in your best Robb Stark, Game of Thrones voice). Hurricane season in the Atlantic Ocean and Caribbean Sea officially starts 1 June. But as I write this on May 15th, tropical storm Arthur is already forming between Florida and The Bahamas. Insurance companies usually require boaters to be safely outside the hurricane box during this timeframe, and they define the hurricane box as the area north of St Vincent in the eastern Caribbean and south of the Chesapeake Bay on the US east coast. This doesn’t mean you can’t get a hurricane outside the box, but they are much less common. If your geography is a little bit rusty, Antigua is smack in the middle of that box. 😲 Hundreds, if not thousands, of sailors plan to spend the summer in Grenada or Trinidad in order to get “outside the box”. But with borders closed to prevent the spread of coronavirus, all those boats are stuck in place and chomping at the bit to move south as soon as Caribbean governments allow.

We made a reservation ages ago to store Sanitas in a boatyard in Grenada and we planned to fly back to the USA for the summer. We also put a deposit on a boatyard here in Antigua as a Plan B. But now, like everyone else, all of our summer plans have been canceled. And we don’t know when flights between the Caribbean and the States will resume. If we do make it back to the States, we don’t have a home to go to, and we don’t know when we’d be allowed back to our boat after the visit. A recent study suggests Covid-19 has been contained within the Caribbean, but many countries view visitors from the US as high risk to their health and safety because so many new cases are still being identified there. Heck, what if we do make it “home” this summer and one or both of us gets sick? We sure can’t afford a hospital stay under the US health care system. I don’t think our international medical insurance covers us for Covid-19 treatment if we travel back while State Department “Do Not Travel” warnings are still in place. That alone makes it feels safer to stay in our small island bubble that to get on an airplane back to New York.

The Marine and Yachting Association of Grenada has been working behind the scenes on a proposal to the Grenadian government on how to open the borders to incoming yachts safely while protecting the residents of the country from importing coronavirus. We’ve been waiting impatiently to learn the results, but things are finally looking positive! Over 1100 boats have registered in a database to state that they want to travel to Grenada when borders open. Yesterday, MAYAG posted the first details on the plan. Of course the cruising community was immediately abuzz with excitement. Here’s the plan as we understand it so far….

We had a meeting today with the various authorities in Grenada who we are coordinating with and have agreed on an implementation protocol for arriving yachts. This needs to be approved by cabinet, which will be one of the final steps before we get the go ahead.

  • All yachts intended to come to Grenada need to complete the Maritime Health Declaration Form 48 hours ahead of your scheduled arrival.
  • A designated quarantine area has been set up. The GPS coordinates of this area will be given to you.
  • Quarantine will be 14 days with no shore leave granted and this will be on your yacht in the quarantine area. Provisioning supply chain has been set up for you during this time but we advise provisioning as much as you can before you leave for Grenada.
  • After the quarantine period you will be required to take either a PCR test or a Rapid Test. The cost will be EC$200 for the PCR Test or EC$75 for the Rapid Test. There will be a Statutory Regulation published requiring you to do this. If you object to taking this test then please make alternative arrangements as you will not be able to clear into Grenada.
  • There will be an arrival schedule set up where yachts will book an arrival date and be expected to arrive within 48 – 72 hours of that date. There will be a small admin fee of US$20.

That all sounds pretty reasonable, don’t you think? It’s still gonna be a little bit tricky. If we can’t stop in any countries between Antigua and Grenada, we’re looking at about a 300 nm passage, taking us about three days in good weather conditions. Capt. Mike and I will have to take turns on watch for the entire time – it will be our longest passage so far. I’m sure glad this isn’t our first cruising season! And we’re not really looking forward to another 14-day quarantine on our teeny tiny boat. Especially in the designated quarantine zone which is going to be crowded, rolly, poor anchor holding, and filled with lots of other frustrated and cranky sailors 🤪 But we’ll make the best of it because we also want to ensure that our Grenadian hosts can stay healthy and safe. I guess this is our Plan A for now, and we anxiously await news from Grenada on our scheduled arrival date. I hope we remember how to sail after sitting at anchor for so long! Wish us luck!

I guess I live in Antigua now

After a month in beautiful Guadeloupe, with Covid-19 finally present in the Caribbean, Capt. Mike and I were feeling increasingly unwelcome in the French island and made the difficult decision to return north to Antigua. Why’d we decide to move?

  • The government asked all foreign flagged boats to leave.
  • Guadeloupe followed the French lead, and was increasingly locked down: all non-essential businesses closed, stay home at all times, if you must leave for groceries or medical care you need a form which will be checked by police, no moving boats between harbors, no walking on shore, even no swimming (!)
  • Confirmed cases increased rapidly on the island, to epidemic levels. We stayed on the boat for over a week straight with only one trip to land for groceries.
  • We were running low on propane for our cook stove. When it runs out, we can’t refill in the French islands because they only have butane. The possibility of going weeks or months without a hot meal was daunting.
  • We had no support network of fellow liveaboard sailors in Guadeloupe, and can’t speak French well enough to make new friends. When our dinghy motor conked out half way back to the boat, it really brought home how much we were on our own.

All around us, Caribbean islands were closing their borders. I belong to Facebook groups for sailors and twice a day admins shared the latest and greatest news on borders. The situation was changing so quickly that some sailors left one open port to make a passage to another open port in a different country, only to find those borders closed when they arrived. Here’s a portion of the the last edition of the closure list from March 23.


Latest updates as of 09:30 March 23

This will be my last update. If you haven’t figured out that moving around is risky, I can no longer enable reckless behaviour. When restrictions start being relaxed, I’ll be back. This is for yacht/pleasure craft clearances only. Thank you to everyone who contributed to this. This was truly a community effort.

TRINIDAD is closed.
ST LUCIA is closed.
ARUBA is closed
BONAIRE is closed.
CURAÇAO is closed.
BVI’s are closed.
MARIE-GALANTE and THE SAINTS are closed.
DOMINICAN REPUBLIC is closed.
ST MAARTEN (Dutch) is closed Monday. It appears the French side will be doing the same.
ANGUILLA has a mandatory 14 day quarantine.
BERMUDA is closed.
DOMINICA is closed.
GRENADA is closed.
MONTSERRAT has a mandatory 14 day quarantine.
MARTINIQUE is closed.
GUADELOUPE is closed.
TURKS & CAICOS will be closed as of Tuesday, March 24. PUERTO RICO is in lockdown. Ports are open.

If you are told to quarantine, don’t mess around. You asked that country to take you in and trust you, it is now up to you to do your part. Fines and jail time are possible, never mind jeopardizing the health of those around you. Good luck all.


So….Capt. Mike and I made the decision to leave as soon as possible for Antigua, while borders were still open, even though the sailing conditions were less than ideal. But – we had another problem. With all non-essential businesses closed, we couldn’t clear out of Guadeloupe, and we didn’t know if Antigua would accept us without the proper paperwork. We spent all afternoon on the phone with Antigua customs and immigration until we found someone who could answer our question. Finally, at 5:30 pm, we were told “You can come”.

So I cooked a big dinner, prepped everything for the sail, and set the alarm for 5am. We’re definitely out of practice with these early starts, but we were anchors up and outside the harbor channel by official sunrise at 6:02 am. Conditions were definitely “sporty” all day with winds over 20 knots and very high waves hitting us on the beam and knocking Sanitas sideways. As we rounded the point at the southeast corner of Guadeloupe, seas were very confused causing a “washing machine effect” and I found myself feeding the fishes a little bit of last night’s dinner. Capt. Mike was amazing all day. He stayed at the helm for over 12 hours, through rain showers and crazy seas, managing the sails, adjusting course to get us to Antigua as directly and quickly as possible. Floatation device on and tethered to the boat, at one point a big wave crested over the cockpit, half-filling the cockpit with seawater. Good thing the cockpit scuppers (drains) weren’t clogged! On the positive side, there were absolutely no other boats out there to get in our way, and with those strong winds, Sanitas was flying! She averaged 6.1 knots over those 12 hours, which is absolutely unheard of! Conditions were never actually dangerous, and our sturdy 37 foot Pacific Seacraft handled it great, but it is just slightly possible that I am less hardy and tough than our boat. 😜


We made it as far along the Antigua coast as we could before sunset, but we couldn’t make it to the one remaining open port of entry in St John’s. So we dropped the anchor, raised the yellow Q flag, had a bowl of soup, and went right to sleep. After another early start, with a coast guard boat escorting us part-way, we sailed into the channel of St John’s, the capital of Antigua and Barbuda. It’s an industrial port, and sailboats rarely come here. We hailed the port authority on the VHF radio to let them know we were coming, dropped anchor in the middle of a bunch of other boats all flying the Q flag, lowered our dinghy into the water and headed ashore. The building at the top of the dinghy dock has been turned into a new customs and immigration office. As soon as we walked through the door, we were asked to sit down at a card table and had our temperatures taken and recorded. An officer from the Antiguan Health Ministry asked us a series of questions about our travel history and current state of health: “Which countries have you visited in the past 30 days?”, “Why did you return from Guadeloupe?”, “Have you had any crew members join and leave your vessel?”, “Have you visited any of these countries?” We filled out several sets of forms and they all got gathered into our file. The Health Minister signed off on our entry and sent us to Customs and Immigration. We were immediately asked for the missing clearance paperwork from Guadeloupe. Luckily, the customs officer allowed Capt. Mike to write a letter to the government explaining the reason for the missing papers. After standing in a few more lines, and paying a few fees, we were in! We have a 90-day immigration visa, a 30-day cruising permit (renewable) and no restrictions on moving between anchorages.


We did a quick walk into town to pick up some veggies, a phone charger cord, and takeout for lunch. It was strange to see so many people out on the streets after the complete lockdown of Guadeloupe. We went back to Sanitas, replaced the yellow Q flag with the courtesy flag for Antigua, and sailed south to Deep Bay which is quiet and calm to rest up and recover.

So what will we do next? I don’t exactly know. It’s just been announced that the Antigua international airport will close at midnight tomorrow. The prime minister is talking about implementing a nightly curfew this weekend to keep people at home. There have been three confirmed cases of Covid-19 here in Antigua – which is pretty low compared to other countries and islands. Basically, Mike and I are planning to hunker down on Sanitas, eat the food we’ve got stored away, and go ashore and be around people as little as possible. Our immigration status is good until June 22. We can move from harbor to harbor as the weather conditions change to find a safe anchorage. We’ll top up with diesel, gas, and propane to ensure we are well-positioned in case businesses close or supply chains are impacted. We’ll get a little extra cash (Eastern Caribbean Dollars) from the ATM. We’ll lock the boat every time we do leave – in case our cans of tuna fish start to seem very attractive to other people. We’ll think about alternative plans for hurricane season – researching if we can haul out here for the summer instead of in Grenada, and asking if Grenada will roll over our non-refundable deposit to next year, or if we’ll lose it 😢 All in all, we feel pretty safe here and feel in control of our own safety. We even have plenty of toilet paper! Honestly, it feels safer right now than getting on a plane, squished in with lots of people, and returning to the US where we don’t have a home or any supplies. Stay tuned! We’ll keep you posted as we figure it all out!

A rhum tour of Guadeloupe

The island of Guadalupe is famous for producing rhum agricole – which is rhum (with an h) produced from the juice of sugar cane, as opposed to rum (without an h) made from molasses. It’s famous around the world, and extremely popular in its parent country of France. So when Capt Mike and I rented a car from the marina in Point-a-Pitre, the first stops on our island tour were at distilleries. Literally our first stops! All the rhum distilleries are only open until lunch time, so you have to be willing to stiffen your spine and go rhum tasting in the morning.

First stop was the boutique family-owned distillery Montebello. Unfortunately, there were no tours being offered the day we visited, because all of the machines were up and running, making rhum, and it wasn’t considered safe for visitors inside the factory. Drat! But we were encouraged to pour our own samples of several young (white) rhums and vieux (aged) rhums, as well as fun fruit flavored rhum punches. We got chatting with the young man working the shop and learned he’s a member of the only punk rock band in Guadeloupe, The Bolokos. They filmed a video in the distillery and released a special commorative rhum bottle with cute little cartoon punk rockers on the lable 🤪 He called up the video on the shop’s computer and let us watch their signature anthem “We drink white rhum”. Super fun – and if we’d still been in the area on Friday night, we’d definitely have attended their gig in the next town over. But as it was, we just bought a bottle of 4-year aged rhum and continued on our tour.

The Bolokos video – We Drink White Rhum

Next stop: the larger and more commercial Distillery Longeuteau. The man in the shop said he speaks a little English, but the tour would only be in French. When I said that  I didn’t think I wanted to pay 8€ for the tour in French, he put a finger to his lips to show it was our little secret, and handed me two tour entry tickets for free. I’m so glad we did it! Here, the machinery was also running, but apparently Longeuteau doesn’t consider it dangerous to give tours – at least not if they’d lose 8€ per person, lol. Mike kept saying, “they’d never let us get this close in the US!” A very nice gentleman from Toulouse France offered to help translate for us, and really made the whole tour more enjoyable.

Step 1: Juicing the sugar cane – A big front end bucket loader scoops up a massive amount of red sugar cane chunks and dumps it into a hopper that starts a series of conveyor belts, crushers, and presses. The end result is a gush of cloudy yellowish liquid. This part really didn’t seem Heath and Safety endorsed. In fact, a French couple finished taking their photos and stepped side just before – plop – a small avalanche of spent sugar cane fiber landed right where they’d been standing 😁

Step 2 – Fermentation – The cane juice spends several days in big open fermentation tanks building a thick froth of bubbles. It doesn’t even need to be stirred; the fermentation is so active, that the cane juice bubbles and mixes and churns automatically.

Step 3 – Distillation – Fermented cane juice is pumped to the still where the vapor from the distillation process is now high in alcohol content. The distilled alcohol exits the still at about 80% alcohol – which is not as delightful as it sounds. Our guide poured a generous dose of pure cane distillate into our cupped palms and urged us to breathe the fumes in though our noses and to sort of huff the fumes by breathing into our mouths. I definitely felt it in the back of my throat! Then he gave us a smaller pour to taste. Nothing even slightly resembling the sweet delicious aged rhum it could eventually turn into! He urged us to rub our palms back and forth to dry our hands until hardly a trace of smell or stickiness remained. If I run out of hand sanitizer, a bottle of pure sugar cane alcohol would certainly do in a pinch!

Step 4 – Aging – The pure distillate is diluted to about XXX proof and then aged briefly in steel tanks for white rhum, or at least 4 years in oak barrels for vieux (aged) golden brown rhum. Punch is also very popular. You can buy a bottle of fruit flavors, spices, and rhum that’s ready to pour over ice and enjoy. My favorite punches are coconut or passion fruit. (I’m kookoo for coco punch 🤣)

Speaking of punch, I wanted to thank the French gentleman for translating for us and making our tour so much more enjoyable. So I practiced in my head how to tell him (in French) that I wanted to give him a thank you gift and to ask which kind of punch he preferred. He really seemed to appreciate the gesture – and the bottle of Planteur Punch. I thought I’d end this post by leaving you with the recipe for a ti punch. You’re welcome!

Ti Punch

  • 2 oz of white rhum agricole
  • 1/2 tsp of turbinado sugar
  • 1 lime wedge

Use a small spoon to muddle the lime into the sugar in the bottom of a short glass. Add the rhum, stir, and serve. I prefer mine with a couple of ice cubes. For variations, use a stick of sugar cane or cane syrup instead of sugar. That’s all there is to it!

A little too close for comfort at Sint Maarten’s airport

Have you heard about the Princess Juliana International airport on the Dutch side of Sint Maarten? If not, please finish reading my story first 😘 and then search for it on YouTube. You’ll thank me, I promise.

The runway at this international airport starts just across a narrow road from Maho Beach. That mean you can get REALLY close to some REALLY big planes. I’m not that into airplanes. Or danger. Or loud noises. So I didn’t think a visit to the beach would be much fun at all. But it’s something you’ve absolutely got to do when you visit St Martin. And once we found a parking space, and walked down to the narrow coarse sand beach, I quickly got hooked! Here’s how it works:

Tourists hang out on the beach in bikinis, holding beer bottles, and keeping one eye on the single short runway less than 100 yards to the east, and the other on the horizon to the west. Arriving flights first appear as a small speck on the horizon. Once they’ve lined up for that oh-so-close runway, the speck grows into a plane fast! If it’s a commuter plane from nearby St Barts or tiny Saba island, it’s still impressive to see a plane roar by directly over your head and touch down RIGHT over there.

But if it’s one of the big 737s from Toronto or New York…. well then it’s just crazy! The speck turns into a little plane then into a huge plane, and next thing you know you’re looking straight up at a bright blue plane belly labeled Delta. The engine noise roars in your ears. You can clearly see the landing gear and the all the details of the bottom of the wings. Approaching planes clear the fence by only 100 feet – less if they need a last minute course correction or encounter a cross wind. A tour guide told us that the beach changes constantly due to wind and weather conditions. A few weeks ago, a rare west wind had built up a seven-foot drift of sand. Visitors who stood on the drift were almost even with the top of the barrier fence. Phew! No way! Just standing on the beach was close enough for me.

Departing planes taxi toward the beach, then slowly turn east toward the interior of the island. The assembled beachgoers wave, which I initially thought was a little bit hokey. But… the planes are so close, you can actually see the faces of the pilot and co-pilot. Pretty soon, I got caught up in it all and started waving wildly at each departing plane. And if you’re there between 2:00 and 4:00, you’ll see the big ‘uns. The fence that separates the airport from the road is painted in red and white warning stripes at the middle of the runway. Traffic in both directions stops (on one of the main roads on the island) because drivers don’t want jetwash to scour the paint off their vehicles. The jet engines ramp up. The roar gets louder. When the big plane starts rolling, the jetwash across the road and across the beach is fierce! Hats blow off heads. Towels and toys bags blow into the ocean. If you’re crazy enough to stand right against the fence, you’d get blown backwards. No way! I was satisfied just watching the chaos around me.

So we walk into a little town and a bull fight breaks out…

In the middle of a Europe-wide heat wave, Mike and I set the alarm for 5am, and started walking by 5:30 to beat the afternoon heat of 100°F or higher. Our earliest start yet, we found our way out of the town of Los Arcos in full darkness, and covered almost 7km before sunrise.

By the time we reached Torres del Rio, we were jonesing for some tortilla and coffee. This was one of those stops where we could not find tortilla without bread to save our lives, so Mike worked some magic, and talked a bar owner into scrambling up some eggs special. I asked for four (two eggs each), but Mike raised me and ordered six.

With such an early start, we were doing great and reached out halfway point for the day at Viana by 11:00. We entered the ancient walled city through a gate topped with a warrior right out of Game of Thrones, and started to look for a good spot to take a break and rest our feet.

But less than 100 yards down the narrow, cobbled street we found ourselves in the middle of a party! Lots of little kids, all dressed identically in white with red neck kerchiefs, racing around a square, being chased by a costumed man with a huge paper maché head and a whip.

Well I’m not sure what that was all about, but it was certainly intriguing. We continued about a block further, and found ourselves in the middle of a parade! Absolutely everybody was wearing white and red, a band playing, and four giant king and queen puppets dancing and spinning in the middle of it all.

So we joined in! We followed the festivities right into the middle of town where the parade dissolved into the town square, and everyone pulled up seats at tables that filled the square and the surrounding streets from curb to curb, drinking wine and eating pinxtos. I saw a table of pilgrims we knew and Stefan from Switzerland said, “It’s the town’s feast day. And there will be a running of the bulls at 2:00!” What?!?!? Mike and I plopped down our bags, ordered a glass of wine of our own, and discussed the situation. The beauty of not booking anything in advance is that we really don’t have to stick to a schedule, right? And even though we got up early, and have only made it halfway, nothing says we HAVE to keep walking, right? And there’s going to be a running of the bulls… RIGHT DOWN THIS STREET, right? It was an easy decision. If we could find a place to spend the night, we’d stay.

All of the private hotels were full due to the fiesta, but not the pilgrims’ albergue! We were in line when they opened at noon, and had paid 8€ each for our bunks and taken showers and headed back out into the streets by 1:00. We joined the locals at a small table lining the main street through the old walled city and ordered a couple of pinxtos to sustain ourselves until the main event. My restaurant Spanish is getting better: Dos pulpo (octopus) por favor, and uno atún con cebolla (tuna and onions).

Suddenly, the excitement level kicked up a notch, and all of the tables and chairs were getting whisked away. It was pretty intimidating watching these big metal grills get dragged in to cover the doors and windows of the shops to protect them from angry bulls. We lurked at a cross street, waiting until city workers started pulling a big wooden gate closed across the intersection, then we climbed up on the gate for a front row seat!

I’ve learned a few things from my one and only running of the bulls. First, they don’t just run once, at least in a small town like Viana. They run back and forth through town several times. And…

The first time – the bull is fast! No one runs with a fresh bull. At most, the macho guys wait for the bull to run past, and then stick out a leg, or a water bottle to poke at him as he runs by.

As a spectator, you’re more at risk of getting clobbered by a man leaping the fence to escape the bull, than you are from the bull himself. Fair enough!Eventually the bull gets tired. Then men start to run with him. Only the youngest and fastest at this point…

Eventually the bull gets angry. After a few passes through town, he’s hot. And tired. And big plumes of snot are hanging from his nose. He’s not very fast anymore, but he’s willing to get distracted and ram into the crowd. Or a gate. Or a wall. Or pretty much anything.

  • This is when it gets interesting. Young men run with the bull, and jump out of the way. Old men hold sheets of plywood and cardboard across the street and dare the bull to break them. Spectators leap out of the way when a distracted bull charges the fence for no good reason. (this actually happened, but I don’t have pictures. Self preservation) At this point, Mike was happy he decided not to run with the bulls.
  • Finally, the clock strikes 2:30, and the poor tired bulls get to return to their pens. The town’s people grab another round of drinks to celebrate that they are still alive, and then… Siesta….