Bitter End Yacht Club To Finally Reopen This Winter

Last summer, I made the wise choice to sail on the Schooner Mary Day with my daughter, Melanie, before she left for her first year of college at Indiana University. We had a glorious trip dining on all the lobster we could stomach on a deserted island off the mid-Maine coast, spotting harbor porpoises, lonely lighthouses, and making new friends around the country as we hoisted sails and sucked in as much salty air as necessary. This comes on the heels of two memorable sails aboard the Grace Bailey with my dad and his wife Ginny. 

A day of salty air and pulling on ropes can build up an appetite. Fortunately, the Windjammers are known for their hearty meals. And if you’re expecting Navy grub, you’ll be surprised to know that Windjammer food is so cherished that no less than three of the boats have already published their own cookbooks. The Captains source local harvested ingredients and often provide their own produce from home, like flowers, syrup, honey and eggs. Fresh baked breads are cooked in a cast-iron wood stove, with stews and salads another staple of the seafaring diet. 

My barometer for an authentic travel experience is one that plants you squarely in the present where your mind can’t drift to other thoughts and worries. This was certainly the case aboard the 41-foot Island Karma last February when we made the crossing from Virgin Gorda to the remote British Virgin Island of Anegada. Sailing at a speed over 8 knots, the boat was on its side, heeling over in the blustery tradewinds. But under the competent helm of my friend, Josh, and the watchful eye of our Captain, "Boss," I never panicked. With the occasional splash aboard to keep me alert and very much alive, I was relishing the adventure at hand. After 2 hours, we finally reached this sliver of land lined by sparkling white beaches and surrounded by the most spectacular turquoise waters I’ve seen since diving in French Polynesia. We pulled up to a mooring, motored the dinghy to land, and caught an open-air taxi to dreamy Cow Wreck Beach, passing rambling goats and cows along the way. We arrived at a long stretch of desolate sand and a small beachfront bar, planted our bums in Adirondack chairs, took out our books, and started to read. Ahh, sun, sand, sea, sky, serenity.