Learning Our ABCs Backwards
Aruba, Bonaire and Curaçao form the ABC islands, an archipelago known as the Leeward Antilles approximately 50 NM off the coast of Venezuela. Unlike much of the Caribbean region, the ABCs are situated outside the hurricane belt. The location makes these islands highly attractive to cruisers looking to ride out the weather in safety from June through November.
When we hauled Wild Spirit out at Curacao Marine in January 2020, we couldn’t have known it would be 16 months before we’d see her again. By spring of 2021, the rapid rollout of the COVID vaccine in the US and in the Caribbean Islands saw international travel start to return. By May, we were able to finally able to access Wild Spirit in Willemstad.
All things considered, she was in pretty good shape after so much time on the hard. The thick layer of dirt covering the deck was nothing a little elbow grease couldn’t fix. We had her ship shape in no time.
From fellow cruisers, we quickly learned that Curacao didn’t offer the kind of cruising grounds we’d hoped for. We had imagined spending weeks anchored in perfect turquoise bays, waking in the mornings and plunging into crystal waters. Sadly, the stunning sandy beaches are deceiving. The sandy bottom plummets into deep ocean within meters of the shore. Fine for shallow keeled boats like Catamarans, but for us and our deep keel, the hazards were many. Anchoring would prove more challenging than fun. There comes a point in life when the potential hassles aren’t worth the effort. We decided the best way for us to circumnavigate the island was by car.
With car hire available directly at Curacao Marina, it was easy to do. The island nation is tiny. Driving the length of the island can be done in just a few hours, which we did, stopping at every bay along the way. The color of the water can be best described as bliss. Outside the air conditioned car, the sun scorched down, making sunglasses, hats, thongs and shade mandatory, at least for us. The northern Europeans who flock to Curacao in winter, however, can be found stretched out in full sun for maximum exposure. Not a hat in sight.
Although most beaches have few amenities, we managed to find a local resort with a beach club. At Boase, it was possible to luxuriate for an entire day at the beach under our own shaded cabana with waitstaff and restrooms at our fingertips just steps away from a tiny, perfect crescent-shaped beach. We spent many a day in perfect happiness at the Boase beach club while waiting for boat parts to arrive from England.
Days turned to weeks as the phantom parts refused to arrive. A gallon-sized box held us captive on Curacao for a month due to COVID-related shipping challenges.
Yes, we were restless to explore other places, but staying in Curacao was hardly a hardship. We enjoyed having the time to get reacquainted with our boat and to meet fellow cruisers and hear their stories. I was eager to learn how people had handled the pandemic. Some longtime cruisers buckled to fear, sold their boats and moved home. Others said they reflected on a life at sea and decided to reprioritize family back home. They too sold boats. COVID helped others see the fragility of life. These threw themselves into their dreams, bought boats and set off on a new adventure. The new WFA (work from anywhere) policies around the globe allowed a greater number of couples to live, work and homeschool at sea. We listened to each tale with fascination. The story that inspired us the most was a French couple with no sailing experience who bought a boat and decided to circumnavigate world during COVID.
When our parts finally arrived, we departed for Bonaire, a speck of an island popular with divers because of its multiple shore diving sites and easy access to the island's fringing reefs. We were so keen to get away that bashing into the wind for 50 NM didn’t even register. It felt good to be on the move again.
Bonaire didn’t disappoint. Like Curacao, the climate was wickedly hot and dry. In contrast, there wasn’t a cruise ship in sight. Bonaire’s quirky vibe delighted the eyes. For example a barren tree on the main boulevard was adorned with brightly-colored washed up rubbish—thongs, snorkels, beer cans and a clock set permanently to 5 o’clock. Similarly, the giant pink flamingos in the main square had been crafted from wire and pink sand shoes, fins and other random, colorful paraphernalia collected from the beaches.
Bonaire had an chilled out rhythm that felt like perpetually five o’clock and nowhere to be. The main town was walking distance from the marina. A condition of entry to the country required us to secure a marina berth. A number of moorings had been established around the islands, but we we quickly learned people waited months to get one. Because cruisers they were able to dive off their boats and moorings cost just $10 a day, nobody was in a hurry to leave. Bonaire was truly a diver’s paradise. Once you put your face in the water, it was easy to see why.
The system for securing moorings remained unregulated by the authorities. If you wanted one, you had to get to know someone who was leaving. The idea there was to jump in your dinghy with a carton of beer and get to know other cruisers.
We found a well-stocked island supermarket with everything one needed. It was easy to see why people stayed in Bonaire so long. We spent 10 days getting to know the tiny Dutch island. There was certainly plenty to occupy non-divers as well. We drove to the national park and spent a day hiking and exploring the bays and beaches. We snorkeled with turtles and swam in the warm, crystal water. We gaped at the mountains of salt produced by the shore. We (I) took too many photos of wild flamingos and wild donkeys wandering the island. On a hike one day, we got a little too close to a pair of super-sized iguanas engaged in a mating ritual. We could have stayed longer, we agreed. It was a special and spectacular island.
But Aruba awaited and we still needed to learn all of our ABCs—even if we were doing it backwards.
With the constant show of lightening off the coast of Venezuela, I felt more comfortable sailing to Aruba in two legs. Kevin suggested we overnight in Curacao in the shelter of Spanish Waters. In these islands, the wind howled relentlessly. Even deep inside the crowded inlet at Spanish Waters, anchoring wasn’t a picnic. In the early hours of the morning, we set a course for Aruba with a poled-out headsail and hoped to arrive before dark. We did, but barely. We managed to get to the customs dock (not easy to navigate with a deep keel) just before sunset, but it was dark before we pulled into the marina.
We had a designated berth at Renaissance Marina beside the Renaissance Hotel. Access to the many hotel amenities proved convenient, but the set-up at the tiny marina made things too much of a challenge for frequent day trips. Again, some things aren’t worth the hassle.
The highlight of Aruba turned out to be Flamingo Island, a tiny strip of beach on an otherwise deserted island a stone’s throw from the Renaissance Hotel. Flamingos aren’t native to Aruba, and the ones that inhabit the island are there to attract tourist dollars. The flamingos, however, come with a beach club with generous shade in the form of palapas and palm trees. With both beach and restaurant service, it was hard to resist. If you caught the early ferry that departed at the end of our finger wharf, you could have the place to yourself, which we did on a number of occasions. Like Curacao and Bonaire, we saw most of the tiny island by car.
One day, we bumped into James from Zingaro, whom we had met in Curacao. He said it was his birthday and invited us aboard his yacht with another cruising couple to celebrate. His Oyster was anchored a bit outside the marina, which gave him the freedom to move. We spent a fun day snorkeling on a wreck not far from a long stretch of beach lined with major resorts.
By the end of August, we felt we had sufficiently explored the ABCs. First Curacao, then Bonaire and finally Aruba. It was time to return to Curacao, call it a season and haul out. By then we were ready to move on. We had a big adventure planned off the boat. By mid September we were bound for the British Isles, where we would spend the next 10 weeks exploring England, Ireland and Scotland, not necessarily in order.