Cruising into the Age of Sail

The Royal Clipper is the world’s largest fully-rigged sailing ship.

It’s also a transport to the heart of what the Caribbean is all about.

By Terence Loose

Y

ears ago I went on my first cruise, aboard a Love Boat look-alike monolith of a ship. The cruise left from San Diego, landed in Cabo San Lucas, then Puerto Vallarta, and finally Mazatlan, before returning to the U.S. I was excited as I boarded; ready for adventure. I ate copious amounts of food, watched movies, danced under a disco ball, saw lounge acts, played Black Jack, pool and Ping Pong…

Then, sometime on the second day I wandered out on deck, into the light, and realized I was not in fact at some 70s-themed eight-level resort, but at sea. Somehow in this floating Vegas I had forgotten that.

Now I discovered that there was an entirely new experience – the one I had dreamed about when signing up for the cruise – rushing by the starboard rail. It was the rush of being at sea, breathing air more exhilarating than the stuff pumped into casinos, discovering the various and subtle shades of blue in ocean and sky, which met in an uninterrupted horizon. I had been missing out on all this, for the thrill of beating a bunch of boozed-up vacationers in a race to yell Bingo.

I spent most of the rest of my cruise at that rail, alone with my thoughts and the sea, day and night, imagining what it must have been like in the days of discovery. In the great Age of Sail.

A decade later, last spring, I got my answer aboard another cruise ship, the Royal Clipper, when she sailed a circuitous route in the Caribbean, launching from Barbados and visiting Carriacou, Grenada, Tabago Cays, St. Vincent, St. Lucia, and Martinique. The dream of Swedish shipping magnate Mikael Krafft, the 439-foot Royal Clipper is like no other cruise ship, literally. Commissioned in 2000, she is the world’s largest fully-rigged sailing ship, with five square-rigged masts (the tallest towering to 197 feet) holding 42 sails. She is far from a Love Boat with vanity sails attached; the Royal Clipper was built to sail. “With a good trade wind she can reach 15 knots easily. And in a good week, we spend 50 percent of our time at sea under sail,” says her captain, Ukrainian Sergey Pashchenko. In fact, many times, because of the ideal Caribbean trade winds, Pashchenko has to reduce sail or “jibe down” so the Royal Clipper doesn’t sail past a destination.

Which would have been fine with me. By the fourth morning I had fallen in love with a morning ritual of sitting in one of two seats, built off either side of the bow so that the sitter can ride above the bow wave. From it, I could truly feel the power of the elements as Royal Clipper rode the swells using the power of wind in canvas. It’s a feeling of natural simplicity and freedom that most frenetic, debt-ridden Americans – myself included – don’t get to enjoy much anymore.

But the Old World ambiance began even before I boarded, as my wife, one-year-old daughter and I walked down the docks in Barbados, passing first the Clipper’s proud 45-foot bowsprit, then her rows of round portholes, finally coming to her authentic gangway. Once aboard, the past became virtually palpable. The decks are all teak, lines were everywhere, coiled and hanging from belaying posts and running through real wooden blocks. There’s even a bronze bell and spoked wheel on the open-air bridge deck – and yes, it steers the ship.

Inside is where the workmanship really shines. The Royal Clipper is, in fact, a floating four-star hotel (it would be five, I’m told, but there’s a silly rule about offerings that can’t be provided aboard a ship). Varnished mahogany accented by brass that confirm you have signed on for a trip into the past.

It’s a feeling that’s enhanced by the multitude of nationalities aboard. The 104-man crew has representatives from 24 countries. And although the command language of the ship is English – lest it turn into a ship of babble – the captain, who has spent 15 years on tall ships, speaks five languages, about the average.

He tells me he’s proud of the intimacy aboard the Royal Clipper, that she only carries a few hundred passengers. It speaks to the level of luxury Star Clipper (the parent company) strives for. “There is one woman who has been on over 100 cruises with Star Clipper,” says Captain Pashchenko. “She helps repair sails, makes uniforms, knows every crew member. When she leaves, they say, ‘Have a nice vacation.’” Another French couple stays six months at a time, doing multiple circuits, then the Atlantic ocean crossing that takes the ship to the Mediterranean. By the end of the week, I would be very envious of these people, and probably would have gladly mended sails and made uniforms to stay aboard.

Ship’s Time 2200, Day 1

Wind SSE, 15, ideal trades

Sky Clear

Barbados

After getting comfortable in our plush cabin, I came out on deck to watch the Royal Clipper break free of the dock and sail into the night.

Pulling away from the quay under power, I wondered what was so special, but then, as we headed out the tiny harbor entrance into the blackness of open ocean, the sails started out and the clock fell back. As men in white and blue striped shirts and deep blue shorts reminiscent of a simpler time’s sailor’s uniform pulled on lines, climbed yardarms and called out orders, music started, low at first, then, as the wind filled the sails, built to a strength. I never did get the title, but it sounded very Russian. The entire event sounds hokey, I know, but it wasn’t.

Ship’s Time 0900, Day 2

Wind SSE, 15, ideal trades

Sky Clear

Carriacou

If I went to sleep on a Russian trader, I woke on the Titanic – luxury-speaking, not sinkability-speaking. We were approaching Carriacou, in the Grenadines, a mostly forgotten island that greeted the U.S. troops with rum punch upon their 1983 invasion. You could say the place is laid back.

We wandered into the grand dining room for breakfast and I readied myself for battle, expecting to be seated with the intrepid couple from New York or L.A. who found every aspect of everything sub-par, don’t you agree? Or the couple from Newport who can’t stop telling you how bright their one-year-old is – wait, that’s us… The point is, I needn’t have worried, we had our pick of places thanks to the Royal Clipper never carrying more than 230 guests – the dining room seats 260.

Around noon, The Royal Clipper anchored off Carriacou and the shore boats were launched. According to my Lonely Planet guide, Carriacou, a mere “7 miles long and a third as wide” is a very pleasant place, its 6,000 inhabitants friendly and laid back, its restaurants clean and good, its shops and houses colorful and quaint. I saw none of this. I was much too busy enjoying Carriacou’s beaches, which are mostly empty thanks to the relatively low number of tourists – Lonely Planet says, “So you can swing a cat on the beach without hitting someone.” I tried a one year old. They also feature outstanding views of the neighboring Grenadines. The Royal Clipper Sports Team was also available, so I signed on for a bit of wakeboarding and windsurfing.

At around 1700, Royal Clipper weighed anchor and set sail for Grenada, about 17 miles to the southwest. By nightfall, Royal Clipper was enjoying a gentle glide through dark water, as if discovering the Caribbean for the first time along with us. I visited the bridge, where an officer gave me a quick tour of the wheelhouse. An array of modern electronics glowed in the darkness. GPSs, two radar screens, radios, engine lights – it was an odd sight. Not because the instruments were foreign to me, but because they seemed so out of place. This little room of modern wonders looked out on acres of teak decks, was dwarfed by towering sails, and steered that wonderful bowsprit which defiantly recalled a bygone era.

The same engineering that replicated the only other five-master ever built, 1902’s German-built Preussen (which, thanks to the lack of instruments, sunk after a collision in 1910) kept Royal Clipper safe in waters with more islands than God’s pinball could hit in a day. I’m sure that given the choice, Columbus would have traded the Pinta for a good GPS and 36-mile radar.

But far from taking the drama out of the great sailing ship, the hidden modern luxuries enhanced my appreciation for these men and their silent sailing giant. It became apparent that loosing the sails and running with the wind was not as much a show as it was a labor of love. These men seemed as much lost in time as the Clipper herself, finding it impossible not to take advantage of hot showers, good food, polarized sunglasses, but at the same time yearning for a simpler, more adventurous time. It was sad, romantic, inspiring, and contagious.

Ship’s Time 1200, Day 3

Wind SSE, 15, ideal trades

Sky Clear

Grenada

Anchor dropped for the southern-most port of our journey, the “spice island.” But despite having more spice per square mile than any other place on earth, Grenada is known to Americans more for our brief, but bloody, invasion.

I bought no spice on my shore excursion. Instead, we hiked to Fort George, which is up, up, up on a hilltop with panoramic views of the harbor, island and ocean.

Moving to the courtyard, I found the bullet hole-ridden basketball pole that, in October of 1983, Prime Minister Maurice Bishop was tied to and summarily executed. Bishop, a London-educated lawyer, had come to power after a bloodless coup in 1979 and in the coming years built much-needed schools, medical clinics and struggled to give his people a better life. But he alienated the West when he looked to Cuba for aid, rubbed more authoritarian leaders the wrong way and in 1983, they rubbed him back. His execution came after 30,000 supporters forced his release from house arrest to march to Fort George, where they were fired upon. It was the last stand for Bishop and many of his followers.

It’s an eerie feeling in the small courtyard, not totally run down, yet no shrine either. The only small reminder of the people’s love of Bishop is the ghost of graffiti on the pole. It reads, “No pain, no gain, Brother.”

Down at sea level again, we decided to take in a beach, which meant a taxi ride, which would turn out to be the riskiest 20 minutes of our entire journey. First, the taxis are minivans, with drivers who have apparently escaped from the local high school. One kid stands at the open sliding door, pointing out ill-fated fares – like me and my family – while the driver screeches to a halt at their side. Next, the doorman, ours in untied sneakers and a crooked black bandanna, pulls the wide-eyed client aboard and into a seat while the driver floors it. Picture a theme of Gangsta/athletic with the driving techniques of NASCAR. Then picture me holding onto my one-year-old daughter for dear life.

The beach was almost worth it, however. A long stretch of empty sand, with plenty of gently leaning trees for shade and clear warm water lapping the shore. A few locals were wandering down the sand and I remembered that a passenger had told us that we would get no peace because of trinket sellers. “It’s worse than Cabo,” he declared. I braced myself.

The first man, wearing a torn shirt and carrying a knit shoulder sack, approached. “Ganja?”

“I don’t smoke, thank you,” I said.

“Ah, I respect that, mon,” he said, and I thought, here it comes.

But instead, there he went, offering a “Have a nice day,” on his way.

A short time later another man approached. He carried nothing, which scared me more than a tower full of sombreros – my gut told me I was about to get the hard sell on God.

“Are you enjoying Grenada?” he asked.

“Love it,” I said, bracing myself.

“Ah, that makes me even happier,” he said, and walked on by.

Grenada was no Cabo, except for the taxis.

Ship’s Time 1200, Day 4

Wind SSE, 15, ideal trades

Sky Clear

Tabago Cays

The Tabago Cays, comprised of four virtually desolate islets, is such an anchorage. As the name implies, it offers protection, and astounding beauty on three sides, a sailor’s dream. And it is those same attributes which make it an impossible stop for major cruise ships. The Royal Clipper slipped right in, under sail no less.

The main attraction of the Tabago Cays lies underwater. The area is a national park, so the colorful reefs abound with fish, the water is crystal clear and there is plenty of flipper room.

One of the few things the Royal Clipper does have in common with typical cruises is that they offer excursions at the various stops. I had avoided them until now on the theory that guides are usually only one more barrier between tourist and authentic experience. The Grenada taxi ride changed my mind, so I signed on for the three-and-a-half-hour powerboat tour of the Southern Grenadines.

It was a good move. We visited Mayreau beach, rated one of the Caribbean’s top 10, and snorkeled at three different sites, all with their own variations on color. By the time the tender dropped us back at the Royal Clipper, I was ready for one of its other “cruise ship” attributes: a soft, shaded chaise lounge near the sun deck bar. It was all I could ask for, but come 1700, I couldn’t help feeling a pang of guilt as I reclined with an umbrella drink and watched the crew pull lines and unfurl sails as they executed one of the saltier moves in the sailing world: sailing the Royal Clipper off her anchor with reef all around. Cheers to them.

Ship’s Time 1200, Day 5

Wind SSE, 15, ideal trades

Sky Clear

St. Vincent and Bequia

The sailing off the hook move would look easy by the next day, however. It’s no easy feat to maneuver a 5,000-ton square-rigger to a resting space alongside a cement quay in a fair side wind, but Royal Clipper’s crew did just that, kissing the St. Vincent’s quay gentler than moonlight on water after 20 minutes of controlled but frenetic orders and spinnings of the wheel.

St. Vincent is famous, or infamous, depending on your nationality, for being the longest hold-out against European rule among any Caribbean island. The Carib Indians fought hard, only yielding control in 1796 to the British government, who gave St. Vincent its independence in 1979. The island has had its share of natural disasters as well, including hurricanes, volcanic eruptions and fires. It’s a place of passion.

We found this to be true simply walking St. Vincent’s colorful streets. Most people had scowls, as if a new rebellion against the tourist invasion was about to take place. But when their mouths opened, a smile usually blossomed and they were some of the nicest and most helpful people we had encountered so far. We walked the three-and-a-half-mile Vermont Nature Trail, among the St. Vincent Parrot Reserve. The reserve conserves almost 11,000 acres of forest in an attempt to pull the endangered national bird, the St. Vincent parrot, off the endangered list. Judging from the place’s history, I give the bird pretty good odds.

Around 1300, the Royal Clipper set sail for Bequia, about nine miles to the south. Bequia is clean, quaint, hilly, and verdant, and a favorite among the yachting crowd. Once the area’s most important whaling and boat building business – with nine whaling stations – now Bequia is known for its model boat craftsmen.

It’s an intimate place with a soft charm that is accented with deserted beaches – this was our favorite beach stop – tranquil lagoons with colorful reefs, and fun nightlife. We ended our day in a beachside bar, at a table in the sand with a view of the bay. I spotted a few of the crew at the bar and made a note to look for them the following morning – there was a good chance they would “miss” the last launch back.

Ship’s Time 0900, Day 6

Wind Calm

Sky 100% cloud cover, drizzle

St. Lucia

As I sipped coffee and rested in a window-side chair in the main lounge, I watched as the first rain of the trip fell on a calm bay. Normally, this would be a downer. It was not.

I discovered my body, and skin, needed a break, a cool break, and welcomed the excuse to explore the interior of the ship. It’s a common problem of vacationers to want to do everything, all the time, in an attempt to not miss anything. A bright sunny day only adds fuel to the fire. So now I related to what the sailors of old must have felt when the sun took a break: relief.

My patience lasted until about 1500, when I broke down and visited the sports team on the stern gangway for some wakeboarding. I must admit, I found it odd to wakeboard around a replica of a 100-year-old sailing ship. Odd, but really fun.

Ship’s Time 1200, Day 7

Wind SSE, 15, ideal trades

Sky Clear

Martinique

Labeled by the Carib Indians as the Island of Flowers, Martinique boasts fertile soil, from which sprouts poinsettias, hibiscus, bougainvilleas, bananas, papaya, and pineapples. Martinique is also very large, the second largest West Indies island and home to Mount Pele, which towers 4,500 feet above the island’s northern end. Mt. Pele is also responsible for the Caribbean’s most deadly natural disaster – if you don’t count man’s conquest gene. On March 8, 1902, Pele erupted and destroyed the city of Saint Pierre, killing 30,000 people. (One prisoner, held in an underground dungeon, was spared.)

Today, Martinique is a part of France, holding the distinction of being France’s westernmost soil and its population enjoying full French citizenship. For tourists, it means a little more paperwork – the French like nothing more than bureaucracy and uniforms – and the best baguettes in all the Caribbean.

We saw very little of the island’s interior or towns, choosing instead to take the catamaran excursion across the great Fort-de-France bay to visit a few of the beaches – both white and black sand available – and sail along the island’s rugged coast. There are plenty of cliffs and caves to wonder at as the warm trade wind pushes you through the 79 degree water.

I was happy we chose a final day of sailing, since the 90-mile voyage back to Barbados was all up wind. And square riggers, like gentlemen, do not go to weather, so it was a day and night of motoring. And as I stood on the stern deck and watched the sail-less masts move across a darkening sky and listened to the rumble of the engine, it almost seemed appropriate. It was as if the Royal Clipper, its crew and passengers, had to fight their way back to the present, back to reality.

The Royal Clipper is the flag ship of the Star Clipper line, a fleet of three tall ships cruising the world under sail. While the Royal Clipper cruises the Caribbean and the Mediterranean, with two Atlantic crossings a year, Star Clipper ships also explore the Mayan Caribbean (Honduras, Belize, Mexico), and the Far East (Thailand, Malaysia). Weekly rates range from $1,500 to $4,500 per person. For more information, visit www.starclippers.com or call (800) 442-0551.

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