The crew for our charter in the British Virgin Islands (BVI) in 1996 would be my wife, Michele, a fellow employee Doug Gutridge, and his wife, Carol. The four of us looked forward to an eight-day sailing adventure in the BVI and excitedly looked forward to the week.

Our assigned sloop was named Sailbad the Sinner. We hoped that wouldn’t be an omen for our eight days. Moorings’ services included stocking out gally with breakfast, lunch, and evening meals we had ordered, as well as beer, wine, and liquor. Half our meals would be cooked on a grill attached to the boat’s stern railing and other meals enjoyed at island restaurants.

The first day we sailed to Peter Island. After mooring to a mooring buoy, taking a deep breath, exhaling, and enjoying sundowners – traditional island rum drinks – we were at last able to marvel at the beauty of this tropical paradise.

Down below were three generous staterooms and two heads, each with showers. The galley included a refrigerator, a freezer, and stove-top cooking surface. Because of the 90-degree heat, almost all our meals were taken in the large cockpit, under the bimini top.

The following day we would be sailing to Cooper Island but found we had a number of issues to deal with. The entrance to the bay was narrow between reefs, and we planned to drop sails and motor in. Unfortunately, the forward sail, a furling jib, was jammed and that took a lot of time to correct. And then we had a fussy outboard motor on the boat’s dingy. When we left Peter Island the night before, we questioned the outboard’s reliability to get us back to Sinbad, so had a fellow sailor take the girls back and Doug and I nursed the ailing motor. In our search among the numerous boats anchored in the bay in the darkness, we spotted flashing flashlights signaled by our wives directing us home. Good work girls.

The inboard diesel engine on Sailbad was an all-important feature of our boat. Maneuvering to set the anchor or to tie up to a buoy, or getting into a marina or bay would have been extremely difficult without engine power. We were heading that day to Cane Garden Island, made famous as the hangout of Jimmy Buffet when we discovered the diesel wouldn’t start. It wouldn’t turn over and the entire boat seemed to have lost its electrical power. Just getting someplace for help would be impossible with the engine power.

After searching all the maintenance manuals for a clue to the difficulty, I crawled into the engine compartment and discovered that a T-handle which selected one of three different battery systems had slipped into a neutral position. Repositioning the handle solved the problem. Now lest you think these various mechanical issues clouded our cruise experience, let me assure you that the beautiful tropical waters, gorgeous sunsets, great snorkeling, and the exhilarating sailing trumped those problems by a mile.

The Baths on Virgin Gorda were one of the incredible sites. Huge boulders, some as large as houses, lie on the white sand beaches of the island. Piled one on top of another, they form rooms and chambers illuminated by shafts of sunlight. The pools are warmed by the sun and give the attraction it’s name “Baths.” The granite formations came from deep in the earth, formed by molten magma during prehistoric volcanic activity.

The Baths are a popular attraction, and the guidebooks advised an early arrival to secure one of the mooring buoys. We did as suggested, and the four of us swam ashore to marvel at the uniqueness of the place. After an hour the girls returned to the boat, but Doug and I continued to explore the site. I spotted an underwater opening to a cave ten feet below the surface. It was illuminated within suggesting another opening to the surface. Taking a big gulp of air I swam down to check it out. When inside the cave, I saw the light came from a source deeper in the cave thirty feet away. The opening emiting the light was small but it appeared I would be able to squeeze my head and shoulders though with nothing more than a few scrapes of skin. It was tight but I made it. Good thing because now I was needing a quick assent to the surface for air.

Doug had been trading water on the surface above the cave opening I had entered. Minutes later, now concerned about me, he at last saw me standing in shallow water some 40 yards away. He exclaimed, “How in the hell did you get there?”

Next stop would be the Bitter End Yacht Club in the bay of Virgin Gorda. There, Moorings has a service crew. After we dropped anchor, they came aboard asking if we had any issues that needed fixing. Oh yeah! There was a broken hinge on one of the cabinets, our dingy’s oars had been stolen in Trellis Bay, the dingy’s outboard wasn’t working correctly, and the jib furling system was all screwed up.

“No problem,” they replied and said, “We’ll be back in a jiffy with tools to correct the problems.” How great.

One of the small three-acre islands, named “Saba Rock” in Virgin Gorda Bay was owned by Bert Kilbride. I had read about Bert prior to our trip to BVI. He moved to the BVI from his home in England in 1950. Bert was a diver and intended to search the 228 known wrecks left behind by Blackbeard, Henry Morgan, and Sir Francis Drake. Bert found 138 of them.  He started a dive company and took customers down to see the wrecks.

Doug, Carol, Michele, and I were enjoying Painkillers (a local rum drink) on the porch of the Pirates Pub when I noticed an old codger a few tables away, needing only an eye patch and a parrot on his shoulder to be an old pirate. “That’s Bert Killbride. I’d bet a million dollars on it.”

I was right. Bert, eighty-four at the time, had been married five times. His current wife was thirty-four-years-old. Bert attributed his longevity to his love of vodka and his love of young women. After introducing ourselves we joined Bert at his table and heard wonderful stories about his adventures. One of his discoveries was an anchor left on the bottom by Christopher Columbus. The Virgin Island authorities insisted the anchor not be removed to a museum, but Bert now has made thousands of dollars taking divers down to view the anchor.

Our last adventure during our eight day charter was to explore the caves on Norman Island. The caves, dark and creepy, looked mysterious and eerie from the outside looking in. Michele is not a strong swimmer and I wondered if she might chicken out entering the caves. “Heck no, lets do it,” she said.

Imagination suggested slimy, scaly things rubbing against our legs as we dog paddled into the darkness. But what a unique experience it was and should be on everyone’s list of “must does” when visiting the BVI, second only to the “Baths.”

We returned to Sailbad an hour later and discovered a squall had moved into the area with strong winds, large waves, and driving rain. The rain in your eyes made seeing difficult but Carol solved the problem by wearing her swim mask. Great idea and we all joined her.

Michele started to giggle, and her laughter was so contagious that soon all of us were doubled over with hilarity. Not so out of control that we didn’t realize we needed to bail out the boat. We scooped out the water with our hands just barely keeping up with the waves splashing over the bow.

Five minutes later, as is typical in the BVI, the sun burst through the clouds and left a brilliant blue canopy above. After changing into dry clothes back on the boat, and assembling on deck for our sundowners, we repeated the refrain we had been singing all week, “It just doesn’t get any better than this”

How great it was to spend eight days of thrills and fun, and to spend it with such good friends.