By David H. Lyman
We all have a favorite beach-bound bar, where we pull up the dinghy, hop out, and walk a few steps to mingle with people we know and who know us. It’s reminiscent of that Boston pub, Cheers, where everyone knows your name. You feel comfortable here; we are among friends, even if the place is full of strangers. At least the bartender will know your name, and if not, he’ll at least know what you’ll have.
Almost every island in the Eastern Caribbean has at least one of these beach bars, some no more than a knocked-together shack — the less pretentious, the better. We are sailors, not tourists. We live, if but for a few weeks, in one anchorage before sailing on to the next island to find a similar beach bar.
We want a dinghy-friendly bar, since we have no car. Music is optional, as we are here for community. We want to talk and debate anchor types, the weather, and sailing directions. We are here to tell and listen to stories. I was sitting one afternoon with Don Street at Pusser’s Landing in Soper’s Hole, Tortola, in the British Virgin Islands, listening to him admonish a charter skipper who had just recounted hitting a rock while entering an anchorage in the southern islands. “I warned you about that rock in two of my books. It’s right there in black and white.” It was more fun listening to Don than any steel band.
There are bars to suit most every type of sailor: the discos and pick-up clubs for the “Below Decks” crowd; yacht club bars for the owners of gold platers; bars for racing sailors; and bars for the liveaboard cruiser older than 50. We’ll leave the bars around the pools at plush, adult-only resorts for the glossy magazines.
The island pub crawl begins at Foxy’s Tamarind Bar on Jost van Dyke in the BVI. It’s one of the first — built in the late 1960s, over 50 years ago, as just a shack. Foxy Callwood, a charismatic West Indian storyteller and entrepreneur, knew what visiting sailors wanted: rum, beer, food, and a laid-back atmosphere. I’ve been tying my dinghy to Foxy’s dock for years. Despite its fame, the place still retains its rustic charm, except when it’s party time, and then all hell can break loose.
at nearby White Bay, half a dozen beach bars have sprouted over the years, with the Soggy Dollar the most famous, as it claims to be where the Painkiller rum concoction was invented.
The BVI is packed with beach bars to suit most every type of boating. I’ll let you do your own research.
It’s an overnight upwind bash into the trades to get to St. Martin (French) and Sint Maarten (Dutch), where you’ll find more types of bars than I can count. Then a quick hop over to St. Barts, which caters to the expensive mega-yacht crowd. So I prefer to set my sails on a beam reach to another true sailors’ island, Antigua.
Antigua’s winter racing series attracts a varied caliber of sailor: pros for the big races, team-bonding racers for Sailing Week, bareboaters, family cruisers, solo sailors, and liveaboards. Each will find their own, as there are bars to suit all types.
The Seabreeze Cafe and Skullduggery’s Bar are where locals gather in the afternoon. These are located on the Yacht Club Marina dock in Falmouth Harbour, and it’s where I find my people. The entire complex burned down a few years ago in a lightning storm but is back in operation. Next door is the Yacht Club itself, with a more formal restaurant, as well as Club Sushi and Steak, a takeaway.
Over at Nelson’s Dockyard, there’s the Hot Spot Cafe, a breakfast and lunch cafe, on the quay, with the yachts tied stern-to; the Galley Bar and Restaurant, on the back side of the quay, is where crews gather in the afternoons.
Pigeon Point Beach has two dinghy-friendly bars: the casual Bumpkins on the east end, and the more elegant Catherine’s Café at the west end.
The next destination would be Deshaies, at the northwest corner of Guadeloupe. It’s 45 miles on a beam reach from Falmouth Harbour, a passage of six hours. Next stop might be the archipelago of Îles des Saintes — six hours of motor sailing down the lee of Guadeloupe. La Fringale is a waterside restaurant and bar, right next to the dinghy dock, perfect for a late afternoon beverage — after the last ferry has left with the day trippers, leaving the village of Terre-de-Haut in peace.
The anchorage off Portsmouth on Dominica is just 20 miles and four hours away, and worth a stop. There area few beach bars of note: the PAYS pavilion has a dinghy dock and bar, the Purple Turtle Restaurant’s bar is always open, and just down the beach is Madiba Beach Cafe with its dinghy dock.
Next stop on our beach bar cruise south is Martinique. Let’s drop the hook off St. Anne at the southern tip of the island. There’s a substantial dinghy dock, but you can also just pull the dinghy up on the beach by Le M and take a seat right there on the sand. The adjacent restaurant has WiFi for the price of beer. There are a dozen bars and restaurants along the beach leading to the Club Med Resort. You could spend a month.
From Martinique it’s a quick hop over to Rodney Bay in St. Lucia, but no beach bars, so on to St. Vincent. Cumberland Bay on the northwest side is but 60 miles from Rodney Bay. Here you can drop the hook and tie off astern. The beach shacks here will welcome you. From here, it’s 60 miles and 10 hours to Chatham Bay on the west side of Union Island, where there used to be half a dozen beachside bars and restaurants, some little more than shacks, so most were blown away by Hurricane Beryl. A few are still there and are rebuilding.
From Union Island, it’s a day sail north to Bequia, which has a dozen beach bars scattered along Admiralty Bay. De Reef, at the southern end of Lower Bay, has no dock but ample beach space. On Princess Margaret Beach, there’s Jack’s Beach Bar with its dinghy dock, followed by the upscale Bequia Plantation Hotel, just around the corner, with its dock.
Over at the yacht club dock, the Cocktail Lab has fancy drinks for Wednesday expat evening. Nearby, the Sailor’s Beach Cafe has an open mic the same night. On the northern end, Daffodil Marine Services has a new dinghy dock, a bar, a restaurant, and yacht services.
For my money, the perfect beach bar is tucked in at the southern end of Princess Margaret Beach — Bamboo Bar. It’s so informal, you bring your rum. There is no floor, just sand; no roof, just the stars overhead. There are a few tables and chairs of dubious vintage. There is no dinghy dock, but that’s fine; just pull the dinghy up on the beach and join other cruisers who have gathered as the sun sets behind the fleet of anchored sailboats.
I’ll have a tall rum punch.
David H. Lyman, author and marine journalist, has been sailing and researching the beach bars of the islands for more than 20 years.
