St. Kitts to Guadeloupe

Watch Video

August 26 - 30th 2025

After six weeks in the boatyard, the long-awaited day finally arrived: the travel lift was scheduled, and it was our turn to be lowered into the water. We waited patiently, listening to the constant beeping of the lift—sometimes faint, sometimes louder—each time wondering, Is it coming for us? Yet nothing happened. By evening, Michelle went to speak with the workers. The lift stood idle, and we suspected they had forgotten us. True to form, the crew was friendly and obliging. Michelle returned smiling: “They had forgotten, but they’re going to do it now.” At last, it was happening.

Several of our boatyard friends gathered to watch as the massive lift rumbled across the road and gently lowered Yola 1back into the water. Michelle climbed aboard for the final checks, carefully scanning for leaks. From the dock, I watched closely. She was taking longer than expected, not giving the quick inspection and reassuring call I had hoped for. That could only mean one thing: leaks. Ten minutes later, she returned with the verdict. A few hoses required tightening, but nothing was urgent. Back on board, we felt an immediate sense of relief. The air was cooler, and there were no mosquitoes. That night, we slept more comfortably than we had in weeks.

The next morning, we sailed a short distance to the twin island of Nevis and dropped anchor. The kids and I took the dinghy ashore, spending hours swimming and playing on the sandy beach. A sense of freedom returned. For the children, being in the water was the best way to burn energy. I was content simply watching them.

Max speed.

After a long day of sailing, and a thunderstorm that got a little too close!

Still, we stayed vigilant. Once a boat returns to the water, the hull can shift, so checking engine alignment, bolts, and fittings is essential. As we continued, a few new noises emerged. The cockpit drains, designed to carry water overboard, had become a sound chamber thanks to a piece of LEGO someone had dropped inside. With every roll of the boat, it produced a deep gurgling sound—a constant reminder of the stowaway block. We tried to retrieve it without success. A bent coat hanger wasn’t long enough. Perhaps a shop vacuum might work—another project for the list.

Approaching Montserrat

From Nevis, we began heading south at a steady pace. We didn’t want to push too hard, so we planned short passages with overnight stops during the first week. Our first destination was Montserrat, where half the island lies in a permanent exclusion zone after the eruption of Mount Soufrière. We anchored overnight and set off early the next morning, passing the mountain’s smoking peak with the strong smell of sulphur in the air. I hadn’t realized how geologically active parts of the Lesser Antilles are.

Desaires

As Montserrat’s silhouette faded off our port bow, the northern tip of Guadeloupe came into view. Conditions were good, and we held a steady six knots on a direct course to Deshaies at the island’s northern end. As we approached, the beauty was striking, rolling hills, colourful houses scattered along the slopes, all contained in a sheltered bay.

Desaires - Guadeloupe

At the dinghy dock, a familiar sense of France returned: road signs, pedestrian crossings, bakeries and small shops, the flashing green pharmacy sign, and the unmistakable French courtesies. We headed straight to the bakery and ordered four baguettes and four pains au chocolat. “Merci, au revoir, bonne journée.”

Sunet from our anchor. Desaires - Guadeloupe

Near the entrance of the bay, cliffs and a reef offered excellent snorkelling, along with a conveniently placed mooring buoy for divers. We anchored there for an afternoon swim and exploration.

Still, a sense of urgency lingered. We kept a close eye on the weather reports, watching for signs of hurricanes. Though tempted to stay longer, we pressed on. After two days, we moved south to mid-Guadeloupe, anchoring just outside Jacques Cousteau Marine Park. The park encompasses two small islands surrounded by a reef. No one is allowed on the islands, but mooring buoys permit small boats to anchor for diving and snorkelling. We spent an early morning exploring the sites.

Marine life was abundant: large schools of fish, including Spotlight Supermale Parrotfish, Blue Tang, Spotted Trunkfish, Barracuda, and a school of Black Durgon swimming along the edge of a canyon. At one site, a group of divers explored nearby, and I did a double-take when I saw Owen swimming past them. All in all, it was our best snorkelling experience yet. For me, it carried special meaning—at one point in my life, I was deeply interested in Jacques Cousteau’s work, so visiting a place tied to his legacy felt like a bonus.

Our brief time in Guadeloupe left us eager to return. Hopefully, after hurricane season, we’ll visit again. Next, we plan to sail to Portsmouth in Dominica. So far, there are no signs of tropical depressions forming, but we remain vigilant, checking all our resources. For now, we can relax. A few WhatsApp messages from families we met earlier on the trip revealed that they are already in Woburn Bay, Grenada. We’re all looking forward to catching up with them, as well as meeting other families and exchanging stories.