Spindrifters: A Grenada Sailing Adventure

Our journey toward becoming sailors started five years ago, fueled by a dream to retire onto a sailboat. But nothing could have prepared me for the sheer wonder of our Grenada expedition. The trip was born from a whirlwind two-week scramble after a sudden change in plans: our original 41-foot monohull was replaced by a massive Moorings 5000 catamaran. As our crew came together, I felt a profound sense of relief. My sister Maria and her friends, Ron and Katie, joined us; their collective experience and nurturing presence quickly became the heartbeat of the Spindrift.

Meeting the Crew

The adventure truly began at the airport in Atlanta, where we met Ron and Katie face-to-face for the first time. Our first impression was wonderful—they were comfortable, easy to talk to, and they both had a fantastic sense of humor. The outlook was positive!

Upon arriving at the marina in Grenada, boarding the Spindrift was a blur of chaotic activity. We hauled carts of gear onto the massive 50-foot vessel and began the messy process of divvying up the four en-suite cabins. Kent and I moved into the owner’s suite, and Maria settled into her own private suite in the starboard hull. Meanwhile, Ron and Katie made the port hull their home. This arrangement was a win-win-win-win-win; we all felt as though we’d just won the lottery.

That first evening, the travel stress evaporated into giant rum drinks from the marina bar—drinks so potent I famously declared I needed “four points of contact” just to walk the dock.

Shifting Horizons

On Friday morning, after enjoying Americanos at the marina restaurant, we settled in for our long-awaited chart briefing with Nick, who arrived on relaxed “island time.” Our original plan was to spend the first night at Dragon Bay, just around the corner, but Nick’s expert advice shifted our horizon.

We left the marina that afternoon. After a harbor pilot guided us through the tight moorings, Kent took the helm. He later described the feeling as being sixteen years old and being handed the car keys for the first time. True magic sparked when we surged into an intense sea state and hoisted the sails. We immediately felt the “venturi effect,” where winds whipped between landmasses, increasing by 20–30%. The Spindrift handled the swells like a “1976 Cadillac Fleetwood” (Kent’s words) providing a comfortable, floaty ride that made me deeply grateful for the catamaran upgrade and my scopolamine patch.

The Rhythm of the Sea

On the open ocean, we found our rhythm. With Kent at the helm and me working the lines, Ron freely shared his knowledge, offering everything from safety-minded advice to stories of his own unbelievable adventures. (Ron and his family lived aboard a sailboat for three years when his kids were young, a journey chronicled in the book Our Adventures on Board Samana.)

The true value of our crew became clear after the day-long sail to L’Esterre Bay. We had just navigated intense seas and a stressful race against the fading sunset to catch our mooring ball when Katie instinctively appeared with a full round of rum punches and cheesy nachos. When the snacks were cleared, Maria stepped in as our conscientious “one-woman cleanup crew.” She quietly and efficiently tidied the galley and straightened the salon, ensuring our shared spaces remained clear of clutter and crumbs. Between Katie’s timely sustenance and Maria’s dedication to a comfortable cabin, we were remarkably well-cared for. It was clear that Ron and Katie were seasoned sailors, while Maria was the glue that kept our floating home feeling like a home. Their collective presence transformed our technical maneuvers into a rich sense of mutual respect and appreciation.

Island Magic

We awoke the next morning immersed in the turquoise beauty of the Grenadines. At Sandy Island, the sand was a brilliant white made of pulverized coral. While I worried as Kent snorkeled alone to the sand spit, Ron provided quiet assurance, keeping the dinghy at the ready just in case.

Some moments felt like scenes from a movie:

• Watching a tiny plane touch down on Union Island to deliver our customs officer.
• The “tuna score,” where a local boatman sold us a fresh catch and filleted it right on the water.
• The Tobago Cays, where we spent an afternoon swimming in “fifty shades of blue” with sea turtles, stingrays, eagle rays, and starfish.
• Alphonso’s Lobster BBQ on the beach, where the legendary “Queen Elizabeth” served us a feast under a tent filled with steel drum music and travelers from around the globe.

Mission Accomplished

There was a gritty authenticity to our final stop at a shady beach hut in Dragon Bay. We sampled spiced rum from a jug filled with seeds and twigs; while the rest of us were wary, Kent downed his sample with that sense of adventure that I adore. We even had a classic island encounter with a local who helped us launch our dinghy in exchange for “beer money”—a fair trade in the spirit of the Grenadines.

On our final morning, a persistent rain prevented one last snorkel through the Moliniere Underwater Sculpture Park, but it gifted us a full, vibrant rainbow instead. It felt like a “mission accomplished” signal from Grenada itself.

Looking back at the Spindrift sitting in the leeward, calm waters of the bay, I feel pride. We navigated heavy seas, mastered a 50-foot vessel, and deepened our bonds with a crew that feels like family. We returned to the marina as sailors, eager, and ready for the next horizon.

This voyage was a massive undertaking, and I have so much more to share. In the coming weeks, I’ll be posting a deeper dive into our planning process, the technical logistics of the Moorings 5000, and our specific sailing route through the Grenadines. Stay tuned!