In theory, night sailing is great. It’s quiet, the moon or stars light the way, and you can use the day for other things. In theory. In practice, we are often tired after a night-time passage and catch up on sleep on the day of arrival. Then it is not used any better. So it doesn’t make much difference whether we sail during the day or at night.

After arriving in Antigua in the morning, we are tired and hungry. Not the best starting point for a relaxed search for an anchorage in a crowded bay. Nevertheless, we decide to take the Nikola for a spin around the historic harbor of English Harbour and look for a suitable spot. It is full. We pull up the centerboard, which is only partially functional, to look into the last corners. But nervous boat owners wave us off as we pass by. So we briefly enjoy the flair of the UNESCO World Heritage Site, admire the superyachts and then sail around the corner into Falmouth Harbour. It’s busy there too, but the bay is spacious and we find a spot. The reason for the hustle and bustle in the harbor and the bay is the regatta that starts the next day. All the big names gather in Antigua and compete against each other in various races. The boats and their crews are quite a spectacle to watch.

From Falmouth Harbour we walk to Nelson’s Dockyard in English Harbour to have a closer look at it, and we wanted to hike up to the famous Shirley Heights lookout. But on one occasion it was so rainy that we had to cancel the hike and when we set off on our second attempt, a catamaran rammed into our boat. So we don’t feel like hiking anymore and leave the bay.

Next stop: Carlisle Bay, just a few nautical miles further along the coast. The bay is small and pretty. At its end is a beautiful Resort, which seems to have come to terms with the few sailboats at anchor. Unfortunately, the water is too murky for underwater activities. But the beach is all the more beautiful. You can climb palm trees and watch pelicans on their spectacular hunting expeditions. With a loud splash they plunge into the water like feathered bombs. On short excursions we collect air plants and in the evening we enjoy a fireworks display ordered by a hotel guest. All in all, we feel pretty classy and content.

The final stop in Antigua is two nights in Deep Bay. Again, the bay is dominated by a luxury resort. However, the atmosphere, the rows of sun loungers standing close together, the music and the constantly rattling jet skis are more reminiscent of a budget destination than a dignified hotel. On the way to the capital Saint John’s, hotel security chases us around the entire area. That means an extra 30 minutes of walking in the sun. But the hotel grounds are strictly reserved for guests. Even a drink at the bar is out of the question. Private property is taken seriously on Antigua. At the bus stop, a snack vendor warns us for the first time not to get mugged. The corner is said to be dangerous. In the capital, we hear the same warning from other people. They all wonder what we’re doing there. We’re beginning to wonder, too.

Saint John’s is divided into two parts: There is the part where the residents move around and then there is an outdated area around the cruise terminal. It looks like an airport duty free zone and there are actually a few lost travelers wandering the streets with their cruise passes around their necks. A scramble starts immediately. The tour operators and taxi drivers try to sell their services. But they don’t go to Deep Bay - too dangerous. So we are elegantly out of the situation. After shopping at the vegetable market, a nice taxi driver takes us back to the Nikola anyway. At least as close as the hotel resort allows.

New island same country

Enough with the jet skis and the party music. Off to Barbuda. A new test awaits us: navigating through reefs. So far, we’ve never had to find our way through coral reefs to arrive at an anchorage. But Barbuda is surrounded by reefs, so there is no, or hopefully some, way around them. We choose the easiest approach and in good light the task proves to be quite feasible. We find an anchorage directly behind French friends and are now moored at Princess Diana Beach. White and blue as far as the eye can see. The formalities of clearing in are unnecessary, as Antigua and Barbuda form a national unit. So minimum hassle for maximum Caribbean feeling. The sand is like flour and we swim in the sea like in an artificial pool. The only difference is that the pool has no walls and turtles regularly give us a friendly look. Occasionally a stingray glides by.

Snorkeling here is a great experience, the kids splash around in the water and the adults enjoy the huge lobsters in the beach shack. The setting is well-kept. There is a beach restaurant with a pool (for whatever reason) and a beach bar. Everything belongs to the Barbuda Ocean Club, looks great and seems to be in operation. Only people are rarely seen there. The beach bonfire, which is so nicely piled up, doesn’t come to use.

The club and the investment company behind it have an ambivalent relationship with the sailors and local residents. They don’t like the former and sometimes chase them off the beach. Private property is also a thing on Barbuda, people like to keep to themselves. The latter are local opponents of the development plans. The approximately 1,500 islanders have a hard time dealing with them because there is no such thing as private property on the island. After the devastation caused by Hurricane Irma in 2017, the focus was on building an airport and numerous luxury properties. Companies seized the opportunity. The conflict continues.

After a few days, we check out at the customs and immigration office in town and, somewhat saddened, start our retreat from paradise. Before leaving, we spot a sign on the beach with the destination for spring – still 1,858 nautical miles away.