We sit in Bequia, south of St Vincent in the windward islands, on a very windy day, again. After getting daily boat chores out of the way, I sit listening to some island jam coming from shore ( more like island rap and loud enough that it disturbs the thought process. It’s Easter Monday and they are on day 3 of an all-out party. Most days are pretty quiet). Thought I would attempt to share some highlights of our 10th (!) season on the water.
But this will be different. Mainly because I can sit and write all day.. describing to the detail our life..but honestly I know time is of the essence…yours and mine. I will chose a photo and share a brief story or description. The idea is to stay brief.. a 10 min or less read. I hope to get a post each week or more often. So hold on… here we go. ….

This windward beach has captured my attention so many times.. and it is sends a different feeling each time we pass. This day we were finishing the last 3 miles of an 11 mile hike/walk. The beach this day was covered in sargassum ( floating seaweed possibly from 1000s of miles across the ocean) ..dead and decaying..so getting close to the sand  was a bit unpleasant. It has a very earthy and sometimes sulfur smell when it sits dying on the beach. The ground leading to the beach has several well worn paths between this very soft green turf, like something you might see across the fields of Ireland.  The wind comes through here unobstructed, fresh and full of that moist salty scent. This day the wind was blowing hard and waves are crashing ashore. From where I am standing there is a continuous  and very powerful rush of the waves breaking.   The clouds provide a different backdrop today, which is in  contrast to the ever-present clear azure sky.

This is what lay in my mind’s eye when we left for this part of the world from the US in 2016. Long stretches of sand and palm trees. However, one cannot anchor out off this beach because of reefs that guard this part of the island, They are evident as waves wash over them and also exist just below the surface just waiting for an encounter with a wayward keel. So, to visit, as we do so many times, we walk here.

No beach bars nor resorts, not even any homes built very close to this part of the island.   It has become for us a brief rest stop, a feast for the senses  and a place that we imprint to memory.

Finally, I repeatedly feel such awe for some of the tallest, strongest palms on the island. They have probably stood guard here in solitude for years watching the changing tides, the force of the sea and wind waiting for nothing, holding onto the sand and soil that grounds them…just being there for my dreams.