28 Apr: Crescendo
Cruising families gathering in the BVI. From left: Keoma, Coconut, Tamarsik, Wild Alliance, Regina, Koshlong. Photo by Juliet on Keoma
We had been cruising together since Europe. Not always, but often. We met and parted, and met again. We kept in contact via SSB, e-mail and VHF. We shared tough situations and had crossed an ocean together. We knew we could rely onto each other. We had shared joyful and happy days as well as hard times.

Saying good-bye had become a way of living, knowing we would meet again. This time, however, was different.

There lay a special atmosphere over the British Virgin Islands (BVI) as we gathered for one last emotional opportunity. We all knew we would spread throughout the world from here, possibly never seeing each other again. Strong feelings appeared deep inside our hearts.

Some boats we had already “lost”, who were by now ahead of us, who had decided to leave their boat in Trinidad or Grenada for the hurricane season or who were on their way towards the Panama Canal and out into the South Pacific.

The rest of us gathered one more time as a big Crescendo in the BVI. We all wanted to hold onto each other, but knew too well that, inevitably, 7 months of tight comradeship would soon come to an end the day we all left the BVI, each heading into his or her own direction.

Porto Santo, Madeira, Graciosa, the Atlantic crossing and numerous islands in the Caribbean bound us together forever. It would not be easy to accept that future meetings would not lie in sharing an anchorage, a barbeque or a drink, but by sending e-mails or talking on Skype.
Dinghying over to "The Fat Virgin Café" in Gorda Sound/Virgin Gorda, BVI. It's practical to "park" just outside the restaurant and not having to restrain from drinking beer either. No, of course we don't drink-and-drive! It's our kids driving us home instead! Dinghies from left: Tamarisk, Regina, Koshlong, Keoma and Coconut.
What make yachting friends so special? Why do you value these so highly? Is it because we had shared the same experience to cross an ocean together? Or were the numerous occasions when we helped each other responsible for the invisible bonds that kept us tightly unified? Without these friends, who would have supplied me with this diesel hose I needed? Who would have explained how to take a watermaker apart? Who would have provided me with these tools I so desperately needed? Or with whom could I have shared ideas on how to improve, maintain and repair our countless onboard systems?

Together we always stood united and strong, each one with a specific strengths ranging from diesel mechanics over computer knowledge to how to fillet a fish and prepare sushi. And if some of us had a problem, we all shared it, if not physically then at least by knowing someone who might know…
Two good cruising friends, mothers and first class cruising wives: Karolina and Sue from Koshlong.
What would we speak about with non-sailing people in the future? Would they be interested to compare ways to treat your toilet or to discuss fuel filtration? Would they understand what it means if your anchor windlass does not work? Would they know what the perfect temperature is to add the culture into your ongoing yoghourt production? Or how to stow vegetables for a long time? Would they have some information on an approaching low pressure system and its approximate track? Would they, at all, be interested in their current weather situation?

What would we speak about? Politics? TV-programs? Scandals?

Subjects we share with the yachting community have a huge importance to us. What we discuss is essential for our safety and our continuing voyage. Everyone gets involved, understanding the impact of the issue, giving whatever he or she can to support.
Gathering for one of the final sundowners together, this time onboard Regina. From left: Sue, John, Penny, Dan (Sue's husband), Tim, Viv, Tissy.
Living tight on 12 x 4 m as your community, producing your own electrical power, your own water, your own propulsion, baking your bread, catching your fish, maintaining your complicated systems and repairing it, is, in deed, so different to living in a society where everything is being delivered to your house. It will feel strange to have water and electricity springing out of a brick wall in indefinite quantity, fetching items by just jumping into a car or calling a service man first thing something breaks. Well, perhaps most people even don’t bother to repair broking items any longer, and buy new ones instead.

I am sure, I will enjoy this overflow of luxury again, maybe appreciating it much more than ever before, even if it certainly will feel extravagant having an abundance of everything, from freshwater to fresh food.

But, I asked myself, could a simple beer at an open-air bar or in the cockpit ever feel as good as here, sharing the tropical sunset with cruising friends, who would never let us down? We have, for sure, all become better sailors and seamen and do better understand how, and sometimes why not, our equipment works, but we would never have come so far without each other.

The tight bonds to our cruising friends, sharing ups and downs on a daily basis, will never be forgotten and deeply regretted. Some collect coins, stamps or wealth; we have lately been collecting experiences and friendship.
Camilla (10), liveaboard kid on Coconut, sailing with her brother Colin and her Norwegian father Trond and her Southafrican mother Lesley.
Cruising kids gathered on Wild Alliance.
I wondered how other sailors felt around us; the ones who are on a sailing vacation rather than living aboard. I could see them sitting and sunbathing with their noses stretching into the sky, or swimming off the transom on the ubiquitous charter boats here in the BVI. Charter guests fly in for a week or two, fetch a boat, go sailing, snorkeling, swimming, drinking and eating before they hand back the boat to the charter company and fly home again. What do they feel, I wondered? How much different is their sailing to us cruisers and liveaboards?

It’s difficult to find out, since we seldom get an opportunity to meet the charter fleet, unfortunately. They seem too stressed, leave early in the morning to arrive in time to find an unoccupied mooring buoy at their destination before someone else has taken it. They seldom stay for more than one night at one place and hence miss the opportunity to make new friends.
Leon among friends. Could I ever feel better in life again?

Wouldn’t I do the same with just a limited number of days in the Caribbean? If I only had one or two week on a boat, I would want to get value for my money and go sailing, seeing as many places as possible. So, I do understand them.

Living aboard is so different. We didn't mind a cloudy day or two, considering it “unfortunate weather”, as we overheard a conversation between charterers. We hadn’t even reflected over the fact that the hot sun was hiding behind some clouds that day. And, we didn't need to see yet another fantastic beach or snorkeling spot. For us, it was much more important with whom we shared our experiences, and the locals we met along the way.

Long-term cruising enriches your senses. The highs are higher and the lows are lower compared to shore-life. Like an ocean swell, life’s amplitude increases, its frequency decreases. Never before have we felt so proud as when we successfully crossed the Atlantic. Our friends, who had done the same, could feel and celebrate with us as equal fellows. And then, at other times, how often have we not questioned why we do all this, asked ourselves why everything seemed to break at the same time or why home schooling can break your heart. When the Atlantic seemed endless or the horror of cockroaches made you interpret any small creature as a possible invasion. Sharing these experiences with your cruising friends is one of the best qualities of cruising.

And now, in the BVI, we were to part.
The fine manicured BVI's for the holiday makers. Here Bitter End, Gorda Sound, Virgin Gorda
Could the fact that we soon would separate from each other be the reason for our slight lack of love for the BVI? We also found we missed the friendly contact with the locals, who were always up for a little chat on the more southern islands.

The happy holiday-sailors onboard innumerable charter-boats could not stand more in contrast to our emotional mood. The entire island group felt like a built up playing ground for cheerful charter sailors. The islands looked like one huge and expensive holiday resort, run by Moorings, Sunsail or Horizon Yacht Charter, where anchoring had become difficult due to omnipresent mooring buoys in most bays. Taking a mooring buoy in a busy anchorage felt like parallel parking, zigzagging through the crowd to find a free parking spot, which has to be rented for USD 25 per night.
A charter boat aproaching a mooring buoy that had been held "reserved" by a fellow charterer using his dinghy.
Powerboats visiting the BVI from Puerto Rico (USA) or the US-virgin islands close by.
As a charter sailor, I would appreciate the BVI. The waters are protected and clear, the islands beautiful and the distances between the anchorages are just a couple of miles apart. There are fantastic opportunities to explore exciting places. Let me give you some examples:

The Bath on Virgin Gorda, for instance, was a fantastic adventure! Rocks were placed as if thrown up by a giant, which they actually were, since these granite stones had been thrown up by a volcanic eruption long time ago.

The adventure lies in finding your way through these granite blocks. Under, over and through water you work yourself past these rocks by crawling and climbing. For the kids and adults alike, this was a thrilling experience to squeeze yourself through narrow openings, often with the sea around you. The reward was a beautiful beach on the other side, however not as empty and remote as brochures might present it.
Another exciting adventure we did was to snorkel on the Rhone wreck placed just off Salt Island south of Tortola. The old steamer got caught in a hurricane some 120 years ago and ran aground with many lost lives. We were certain that the place was haunted. Or do ghosts not walk under water?
Jonathan free-diving down to the wreck lying on 6 m depth (20 feet).
Joe (10) from Wild Alliance free-diving down to the Rhone wreck
Since the BVI resemble of a holiday resort, you can rent a lot of fun toys at many places. We took the opportunity to rent a Hobie Cat during one afternoon.
Anna from Tamarisk and Jessica having fun on the Hobie Cat with Tim at the helm.
One of the kids favorites was the “Blow Hole” on the eastern tip of Jost van Dyke. From our anchorage between Jost van Dyke and Little Jost van Dyke, a short 10 minutes hike takes you past Foxy’s Taboo Bar. A tiny beach is enclosed by massive rocks with just a little opening, where the waves beat against the stony shore on the windward side. If you get there at high tide, the spectacle is amazing while you are the main actor, being tossed around between rocks, sand and sea.

Not entirely risk-free, all boat kids were very sensible and behaved responsibly, which could not be said by some young tough cigarette-smoking power-boat guys who arrived just after us. It was interesting to observe how our boat kids warned them, urging the boys to treat the force of the seas with more respect. The newcomers paid for their ignorance and arrogance with some deep scratches on their bodies as they were tossed against sharp rock edges.
The breaking waves rolling into the "Blowhole" on Jost van Dyke
Waiting for the big waves to come...
Any big ones in site?! From left: Anna, Rachael, Jonathan, Emma, Joe, Eddie
Joe trying to hang on, while the others are burried under water masses
Emma surrounded by foaming waters and submerged friends.
How could we better explain how we lived together with our cruising friends, than having part of our family visiting?! We had had Karolina’s brother with family visiting us in Grenada and in the BVI’s we would welcome Karolina’s father for a week. With a mixture of happiness and wonder we had received the wish from Stephan to stay onboard with us on Regina. Would he appreciate living in such close quarters? How would the often wet dinghy rides work out, not to speak about climbing up and down boats, docks and beaches? After all, Regina is no cruise ship…. We said we would try and, if it would not work out, he could always stay in a hotel.
Our anxiety was totally unnecessary with Stephan very quickly getting accustomed to both the boat and our lives, as well as our friends. To our great amaze, Stephan quickly adopted to living onboard, becoming more lithe and agile for every day. Looking at the photos, he really seemed to enjoy the cruise with us, and we loved his company as well as seeing him so relaxed and happy.
Stephan in the dinghy
For us, Stephan became part of our Crescendo, sharing our last gatherings with our friends in the BVI. From now on, Stephan would be able to share our memories with us, remembering when we took the DuoGen apart, or when we all met on Tamarisk for a cheerful sundowner. We would remember the dolphin we saw swimming around our anchored boat in Jost van Dyke and the turtles diving under us in Trellis Bay.
We could talk about the beach we landed on with the dinghy and then wading in knee deep water between Jost van Dyke and Little Jost van Dyke, or when we tried to find items in the chandlery in Road Town on Tortola. For one week, Stephan was part of our crew, from doing the dishes to oil-changes.
A large turtle passing us in the anchorage, welcoming Stephan to the turquoise sea of the Caribbean.
A happy and relaxed Stephan after a beach-landing on Little Jost van Dyke, BVI.
It had become time to say good-bye. Good-bye to Stephan who flew home and good-bye to our cruising friends, who would sail home, all on their own individual schedules.

We all promised each other that we would keep in touch via SSB and e-mail and that we all would try to meet again.

Let us keep that promise!
Stephan and Karolina wading in the sound between Jost van Dyke and Little Jost van Dyke.