World British Virgin Islands The Baths

Where In The World Are the Hurnis?

"I Don't Like Scenary" Apr 1, 2006

Yup, that's exactly what Garrett said when we departed on our sailing journey of the BVI. He started out as a 13 year old who didn't like scenary, and turned 14 on the Fat Virgin (Virgin Gorda), loving every minute of it.

The British Virgin Islands consist of numerous small islands scattered through the torquois blue water. Our goal for the week is to sail (by ourselves, as captains, first mates and dingy captains) between and among the islands without running aground, or otherwise embarrasing ourselves in someone else's boat. We should have added another goal: "don't be swept to sea when snorkeling."

One of the most famous spots in the BVI is the Baths, where we spent Garrett's 14th birthday. For those wanting the specifics, that's Lat/Long: N 1826.00 W 6427.00. They are located on the southwest end of Virgin Gorda (the Fat Virgin...humm...). An apt description is in "the Good Book" (The Cruising Guide to the Virgin Islands), so named by Saint Andrew, "The sea washes between the granite rocks (a climbers dream come true), forming large pools, where shafts of light play upon the water."

Of course, the sailing in the BVI is great - just enough wind and sun, unlike Estes Park, where the sun always shines, but the wind will blow you to Kansas. If the wind blows like that while we are on the Moon Wind (our chartered 34-ft Beneteau), we won't be hanging out in the Caribbean. Except for one accidental tack (when the boom is flying across the boat fast enough to knock you unconscious and toss you into the wonderfully warm waters of the Caribbean), we made it from point A to point B successfully.

The diving is another story. The Coral Gardens off Great Dog Island promised to be extremely cool. We picked the spot for a few reasons...shallow diving and the airplane that had been sunk for our diving pleasure. Search as we might, we couldn't find it. In the process, Garrett and I fought to keep from getting sucked into the Sir Francis Drake Channel (between The Dogs and the Fat Virgin) by the raging waves and current, all while being followed by a barracuda. After swimming in place for awhile, we got ourselves to shore and proceeded to boulder up (approximately V1 for the climbers out there) and downclimb the seaside rocks, making our way slowly back to where George (or Hurling Jorge - pronounced WHORE-HAY -- as Garrett was calling George at this point) was waiting. We were serenaded by the crabs on our impromptu hike, but still aren't sure what was big enough to leave the "poopy" we found ourselves stepping around.

Abandoning our search for the airplane, we motored around the corner to "The Chimneys", where we dove to our hearts (or actually air supplys') content.

Thumbs Up: The briefing by Saint Andrew at Sunsail, given in "Caribbean". Two Bush Wackers for $10 at the Last Resort, a small spit of land that can't really be called an island. Mary, the donkey. The hammock at the Last Resort.