The voyage began with Wind Star Cruises, aboard the company’s sleek, 342-passenger Wind Surf. Featuring motorized sailing yachts that are about a third the size of today’s average cruise ships, Windstar offers a unique, intimate traveling experience. The cruise traveled to the islands of Iles des Saintes, Nevis, St. Barthelemy, St. Martin, St. John and St. Thomas.

Iles des Saintes, my favorite island in the French Antilles, was discovered by Christopher Columbus in 1493. This charming little hideaway is painted with colorful fishing boats bobbing offshore and tanned, french-speaking residents traversing narrow, semi-paved streets with scooters, bicyclers and bare feet. The island canvas is completed with the tiny shopping village of Bourg, sandwiched between white sandy beaches, with turquoise waters, and verdant green hills, speckled with red-roofed dwellings.

While in Iles des Saintes, I hiked to the ruins of Fort Napoleon, an 1867 garrison built by the island’s inhabitants to defend against attacking Carib and English armies. I then found Pont Piere Beach, where I went snorkeling in a secluded cove and relaxed on a deserted beach, while the Wind Surf danced on the horizon and wild goats and fisherman strolled past.

Back on board the Wind Surf I explored the 617-foot-long ship. With seven triangular sails spread across five masts, and more than half an acre of fabric flying 221 feet above the ship deck, the Wind Surf is a classic sailing vessel. Designed and built in Le Havre, France by the Chantiers de L’Atlantique shipyard, the boat joined the Windstar fleet in 1998. In 2011 – 2012, and most recently in 2019, she underwent major renovations.

The ship’s sails are computer-operated and can propel her if the wind is right. If it is man-made power the captain needs, then four diesel-electric engines are at the ready.

Because of her size, the Wind Surf, like all Windstar ships, can drop anchor in exotic ports too small for the big guys. And because these vessels carry a fraction of the passenger load, embarking and disembarking takes minutes instead of hours.

After exploring the Wind Surf, I relaxed on deck with a glass of wine and watched the sun fall into the Caribbean Sea. In the morning, the lush green mountains of Nevis engulfed my cabin windows. Rushing ashore, I found a beautiful cone-shaped island with colorful buildings, friendly locals, uniformed school children, and wondering goats and chickens. I gathered my water and sun screen and joined an expedition into the island’s stunning rainforest in search of vervet monkeys, wild donkeys and Zebra butterflies.

The trek took us through a thick canopy of vegetation that wound past wild coffee and cherries, mango trees and bamboo, and a host of exotic medicinal plants. In a while, we dipped beneath the branches of a towering breadfruit tree and emerged from the jungles of Nevis. Here I peered down the mountain to see the glistening profile of Wind Surf, anchored in a horseshoe bay.

From Nevis the Wind Surf sailed to St. Barthelemy, where we anchored off the tiny French island around noon. Because of the ship’s diminutive size we parked close enough to see a hilltop sprinkled with luxurious retreats. While here, I joined a van tour of the island.

Also known as St. Barts, St. Barthelemy is a Caribbean haven for the rich and famous — or those lucky enough to have been born there. The island is highlighted by narrow hillside streets, with secluded coves; sandy beaches; and luxurious resorts, hanging above emerald lagoons. There is also duty-free shopping; chic sidewalk cafes; mopeds and tiny cars; and a continuous air show, in which planes skim the main highway to land on a mountaintop airstrip the size of a football field.

Back aboard the Wind Surf, the chef prepared a Caribbean buffet in the lounge. Highlighted a whole roasted pig, fresh crab and shrimp, and numerous coconut and curry dishes, the exotic feast brought everyone out of their cabins. Dinner was followed by a variety show, staring the ship’s crew.

In the morning we sailed into St. Martin, the smallest landmass in the world shared by two countries. The Dutch own sixteen miles and the French own 21. On the French side, I saw salt ponds and the largest lagoon in the Caribbean. On the Dutch side, I found gambling and great bargains on duty free alcohol.

Our last island stop was St. John, where I hiked over a mountain and ended up at Honeymoon Beach, a beautifully secluded paradise. While cooling in the clear, bath-like water, I was invited aboard a nearby sailboat and given cold beer.

For more info on a Windstar Cruise to the Caribbean or other exotic destinations, visit Windstar Cruises.

The post Exploring the Islands of the Caribbean Aboard Windstar Cruises appeared first on Traveling Archive.

As the ferry now approached from St. Thomas, I couldn’t help but think, “Oh no, there are so many buildings, so little space.” Dismay and longing set in but I tried to withhold judgment. The island is still two-thirds a national park, after all. But yes, Cruz Bay is now a thriving metropolis with multiple hotels, more than a dozen restaurants and a multi-tiered shopping center. I reminded myself there is still no airport, only one elementary school, no high school and although there are now twice as many gas stations, that just makes two. And therein lays the beauty of St. John — and considerable beauty it is — both then and now.

Once out of Cruz Bay, I started to relax; which is not to say that changes haven’t occurred in 50 years. The old donkey trails that then served as roads have since been paved. Still, the twists and turns are as sharp as the roads are steep and the same 4-wheel-drive vehicle is recommended.

Visitor facilities, which fortunately include bathrooms, have been considerably upgraded. Hiking trails — and there are an abundance of them — are better marked than they used to be though not as free of brush as they may yet be.

The bad news for some is that there are more cars now than horses. The locals view traffic as congested when they don’t know every person coming towards them. Current controversy revolves around whether or not to install the island’s first stoplight. A few more homes dot the mountainside than before but it’s hardly track housing. The increase in drugs and crime no doubt parallels that development everywhere.

The colors of the translucent water reflect every shade of blue found in even the largest box of Crayola crayons. The tourist litany, “I can’t believe the color; it doesn’t look real,” is repeated so often as to become predictable. Small stretches of sea and sand beckon as if they’re your own private beach, with the long stretches of white sand surrounding the island forming a blanket of beaches as inviting as satin sheets and plush pillows at the end of an exhausting day.  Parts of the island, despite an occasional $14M vacation home on the horizon, still feel remote, full of windy, narrow roads umbrellered by mountainous greenery. Signs of 2017’s Hurricane Irma are only noticeable if you know to look for them.

The road along the northern edge of the island strings together one breathtaking vista after another, the views interrupted only by the need to periodically swerve to avoid a distracted donkey or two vying for road space. None of that has changed.  And the best news of all? Unlike most other islands, not a single fast-food restaurant has contaminated the local landscape.

Although much of the unspoiled beauty of St. John promises to resist the ravages of time — and man — several ecological efforts are underway to help nature make good on its promise. Because of its preserved status, St. John has been environmentally correct long before it became trendy to be so.

But okay, there IS that shopping center. Mongoose Junction — a huge mini-shopping center that no doubt appeals to some as a stone-stuccoed, multi-tiered, old-fashioned boutique housed in pre-Colonial architecture and garnished with tropical plants. Most people would probably love it. I found it an infringement on my memory of a Cruz Bay that had no shops and only one restaurant. Thank goodness there still is the random rooster casually crossing the street to remind me of those times.

The island has become a working model for ecologists worldwide in the study of tropical ecosystems, soil conservation, coral reef erosions and the preservation of wild and marine life. The presence of recycling bins on otherwise secluded stretches of white-sand beaches underscores this commitment.

You can spend your days snorkeling from one end of the island to the other. Trunk Bay, with its clearly marked underwater trail describing native inhabitants who conveniently swim by as if on cue, is the favored destination of cruise ship field trips — and is viewed by the park service somewhat as a sacrificial lamb. Go elsewhere, where the beaches are a lot less crowded and the marine life as plentiful even if unlabeled. Cinnamon Bay, Haulover Bay, Salt Pond Bay and Francis Bay, where a colony of sea turtles regularly cavorts, are among the most recommended.

Over 20 miles of hiking trails beg for quiet traversal on foot while more than four-dozen beaches beckon sun worshippers and surfers. History buffs can seek out ruins of 18th-century sugar mills while water sports enthusiasts can rent everything from SCUBA equipment to jet skis.

Consider hiring a tour guide knowledgeable in both authentic history and ancient folklore — several hang out at the taxi stand in Cruz Bay — to show you the sights and sounds of St. John. For instance, 33-year-resident and guide Kenneth Louis will regale you with tales of island history and culture while pointing out little known nudist beaches along with the more conventional attractions.

Hear about St. John 50 years ago, 25 years ago, and now. Learn firsthand how much has changed — and how much hasn’t. And when you come back to visit 25 years from now — although it’s unlikely you’ll wait that long for a return trip — no doubt much of the island will still be the same. For more information, visit St. John.

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