After lunch at one establishment, some of our crew opted to go exploring. Dave and I commandeered beach chairs and enjoyed another afternoon of sun and relaxation. Dinner that night was al fresco in the huge cockpit and we all shared a nightcap under a star-studded sky.

The next morning Scott and Klaudia, having taken over the job of galley crew, served up a breakfast of eggs and home fries and toast, all accompanied by cold mimosas. The rhumbline for the day wasn’t unduly taxing and we were still enjoying the views from that selfsame cockpit so we didn’t rush breakfast.

The mountains to our west were decorated with villas clinging to their slopes like nervous goats. The sand here was blindingly white, with groupings of rainbow-painted umbrellas breaking up the sightline. White surf to seaward roared in, meeting turquoise waters dotted with kiteboarders and windsurfers. We raised anchor with more than a few regrets.

After beating into the surf assaulting the opening on a roller coaster ride for 20 minutes it was another beam reach until we cleared St. Martin and steered off the wind for a broad reach to Marigot. All too soon the fortress overlooking Marigot came into view, its tricolor flag paying tribute to winds astern at nearly twenty knots true, so we added a few tacks and enjoyed one last romp through Anguilla Channel before making for Marina Fort Louis for our final tack, a perfect port tack close-hauled. 

Before our adventure began I’d made reservations for a special group dinner to celebrate a successful voyage and our last night in paradise. Seated at a corner table high above the street just across from the marina, we scanned the menu at a delightful restaurant called La Terrasse. We watched the sun flee over the further reaches of Marigot Bay, we gazed at the darkening sky, at Marigot’s lights shimmering on the waters of the bay.

 

We dined haute cuisine as we revisited trip highlights: a morning at Tintamarre, the gorgeous beach of Orient Bay, the Mardi Gras dancers, the idyllic hideaway we discovered at Sandy Ground, the rousing if sometimes challenging sea and wind conditions. 

Over cocktails (mine was an irresistible Strawberry Mojito) we saluted this perfect pair of islands and I raised my glass in a toast.

“To St. Martin and Anguilla,” I announced.  “To a
delectable duet.” 

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For more information on this charter: www:moorings.com