And so our initial thoughts of optimism and excitement on Antigua would not be let down.  On our sail to Falmouth Harbor we stumbled across a two parallel 2-mile long reefs, half a mile offshore.  We anchored in between the two reefs, stopped for lunch, and enjoyed one of the best snorkeling stops of the month.  This was the typical serendipitous lunch-stop down here in the islands. 

We then made our way to Falmouth Harbor for Saturday night festivities.  With four social men onboard it was not long before the whole town knew us.  By our second night people knew us as “the bearded crew.”  Henry overheard people talking about Scott’s wolverine-like beard as if he were a celebrity.  Others bought us drinks just out of joy from having met yours truly – “the bearded crew.”  This statement was not entirely accurate as Henry sported a moustache in the proper French style, while Jamie’s baby face got in the way. Bearded or otherwise, we took charge of this land and reaped the benefits.  People admired our freedom to do as we pleased. 

Falmouth Harbor is separated from the famous English Harbor by a small strip of low-lying land between large hills.  These are two superbly protected and well-developed harbors.  The larger Falmouth Harbor is filled with dozens of 80+ foot yachts, including the Maltese Falcon – the largest sailboat in the world.  The town here was thus loaded with “yachties,” or crewmembers of the mega-yachts.  These were often relatively affluent Anglos in their mid-20s to mid-30s who took a couple years off to enjoy their youth.  We fit right in. Over drinks, one of the crew invited us to join their group of friends for a day at Rendezvous Beach.

Rendezvous Beach

Around noon after a debaucherous night, we slowly took the Little Dipper (Polaris’ tender) to Rendezvous Bay. Rendezvous Beach (where we were supposed to meet up) was no where to be found on the map, so we stopped at an irresistible white-sand beach along the coast. As we explored this secluded beach, only accessible by boat or a serious off-road vehicle, we concluded that we missed “Rendezvous Beach,” or at least our rendezvous point.  We assumed we were either in the wrong spot or the others were too hungover to make it.  We walked the beach strip only to find a few rastas setting up camp.  At the time we didn’t know they were from originally from Jamaica, but down here anyone with long enough dreads is a “rastaman.” 

As we lay content on the beach sipping on the few beers we brought, we convinced ourselves we had a nice mellow beach day ahead of us.  Before we knew it multiple inflatable dinghies rolled in with coolers filled with beer, fresh seafood, and an endless supply of grilling supplies.  Although the crew members of mega-yachts have to scrub the decks 300 days a year, and put up with their prima donna bosses the few weeks of the year they visit, they also have some of the more spectacular days off.  This included access to inflatable dinghies large enough to wakeboard behind, and leftover supplies that included dozens of lobster tails, T-bone steaks, gourmet salads and coolers of ice-cold Heineken.  Given their excess of supplies they were kind enough to invite us repeatedly to their beer and gourmet food.

We did not have the beach to ourselves, however.  While the yachties came from all over the English-speaking world (Australia, South Africa, England, and New Zealand) the most interesting people at the beach were the locals walking barefoot on the razor sharp rocks in the distance.  They were clearly looking for something amongst the rocks, so we went to explore what they were up to.  They had found a number of enormous welks – essentially large snails – and some eels.  The older locals could have probably caught the eels themselves quite quickly, but they seemed more inclined to show the hiding spot to their three-year olds, who delighted in attempting to get the animal before it got them. The locals were an extremely friendly and jovial group, happy to share their love of nature. They did not hide their secrets, and instead openly shared with us the best way to capture all the sealife in the area from lobsters, to welks, to eel. 

The contrast between the locals and the “yachties” could not have been sharper.  The locals literally lived off the land and enjoyed it to the fullest.  They built sandcastles with their children and played games in the water as if they were kids again.  The sailing crew also enjoyed life, but they were more dependent on their goods of leisure.  The two groups did not seem to mix well.  The affluent Anglos didn’t seem to care much for the locals, and the locals seemed a bit hesitant to try and break into their social circle, which involved sitting on blankets and eating on a plate with knife and fork.  

The “bearded crew,” however, seemed to transcend boundaries. Whether it was pulling snail-like creatures off sharp rocks along breaking waves, or sitting down for a grilled lobster, we enjoyed it all.  With the locals we learned where to search for eels and where to go to pull welks off the rocks – as well as the dangers that come along with it, like sea urchin needles ending up under fingernails.  Meanwhile, we learned all kinds of information about the best kiteboarding and surfing spots from the yachties who had been all over the Caribbean. 

By the time we finished our several-course meal on the beach, Scotty, Henry, and the locals returned with a bag full of enormous welks.  We joined the locals in boiling the welks in a large pot over a fire pit and tasted the delicacy. By the time we left, the sun was setting over the hills of Antigua.  Just as it began to get dark, we arrived back at the Mighty Polaris in the safe waters of Falmouth Harbor.  Just in time to get ready for another night’s festivities, this night spent up at Shirley Heights, an old fort with a beautiful vista overlooking English and Falmouth Harbors where a live reggae band plays every Sunday. Life was alright.