Southern caribbean cruise

The overall tone for our six-day Windjammer Barefoot cruise in the Southern Caribbean is set early on by ship's purser Jane McMahon. "There will be absolutely no whining," she admonishes. "Not even veiled whining."

She has been preceded ondeck during this morning orientation, known as "Story Time," by ship's Captain Julian Peterson, who greets us cordially, but issues an order: "Don't ask me where we're going, or when we're going to get there," he says. "I don't know where we're going, and I'll know when we're getting there when we get there."

Some of this evokes knowing chuckles among veteran "Jammers," but I detect a nervous titter from first-timers, whose previous experience may have been on more conventional cruise ships. They have never heard a ship's purser or cruise director (and Jane is both), or the captain, introduce passengers to their first day at sea in such a way. But this is the Sailing Vessel Yankee Clipper and a Windjammer Barefoot cruise. The objective here is not creature comfort, nor catering to individual whims, but a seagoing adventure of fun for all. Best to set down guidelines early, lest an epidemic wave of whining roll inexorably over the vessel and ruin the experience.

The SV Yankee Clipper and her passengers are sailing on a tall-ship odyssey between Grenada and St. Vincent, a total roundtrip distance of less than 200 miles. Lying across a blue expanse of warm Caribbean between these two large volcanic islands are 30 or so smaller atolls and islands known as The Grenadines--a place where soft tradewinds blow, coral reefs abound, and friendly islanders await the welcome weekly visits from Windjammer ships. The 197-foot-long/64-passenger Yankee Clipper is the company's smallest tall ship, a compact, three-masted schooner, built in 1927 and--according to the brochure--once raced as a private yacht by the Vanderbilts.

My wife, Cathy, and I are on our third Windjammer cruise in the past eight years, although I can count an additional three since 1984. And while a few neophytes are aboard the Yankee Clipper for this March foray, it is soon apparent that many are also veteran "Jammers." Miami Beach-based Windjammer Barefoot Cruises, which has been in business for 40-odd years, has four additional sailing ships and one passenger-freighter, all of which hold an irresistible allure for those looking for a bit of spirited adventure on a journey that is more like camping at sea than being at a seagoing resort. Perspectives differ, even between shipmates, so Cathy and I decide to take separate notes:

Jim: My fun begins on the dock in Grenada where several passengers--including a group of eight from Oregon--have gathered on "stowaway night," the Sunday night prior to sailing. They are giddy with jetlag and an unspecified number of rum swizzles (an evening ritual) from the Yankee Clipper. Docked directly behind us, Windjammer's somewhat larger SV Mandalay is also preparing to sail the following day. "I wonder," ponders one of my dockside companions, "whether the cabins are any bigger on that ship." Later this will sound like veiled whining, so it never comes up again. I retire that night to our own tiny forward cabin below deck, with its pigeon-hole storage space, bunk beds, and capsule-like bathroom and shower. The wood paneling gives it a warm, yachtlike feeling, however. My bunk is cozy and the air-conditioning works fine, and out my porthole I see the constellation Orion hanging low in the sky. It seems to bode well on the eve of this adventure.

Cathy: While waiting to check in, I meet four delightful ladies, a group from California whose focus is snorkeling aim nature, and who range in age from 72 to 76. They promise to help document our snorkeling finds. Below in our cabin we find we have dreadfully overpacked. Two small cubbies serve as a closet, and there's not enough room to open two suitcases at the same time, let alone unpack them. We make full use of a row of hooks and use suitcases tucked under the bunk as drawers. Swimwear, shorts, and T-shirts would have been sufficient. We should have known better from our previous Windjammer experience. This really is camping, but I'm not whining.

Jim: Before we head off for our as-yet undetermined first port-of-call (this decision being entirely in the hands of Capt. Julian), we explore Grenada on a three-hour mini bus tour the morning of departure day. There are several other tours offered, but this one is a well-worn tourist trait that leads up the mountainside to Annadale Waterfalls, where locals dive for photos and dollars, and Grand Etang Forest Preserve sits at 2,500 feet. The view stretches across a forest canopy and a volcano's crater lake, but the surprise attraction turns out to be a family of monkeys boldly swinging down from nearby trees to grab bananas offered by delighted school-children.

Cathy: I can't resist collecting packets of spices from among the aromatic and pretty shell-covered containers in Grenada's Spice Market. The road up to the waterfalls passes several amusing signs, like the one on the front of a rickety tavern which reads: "no half-nakedness inside," and another on a coconut palm along the rain-forested hillside that warns: "anyone caught in these trees will be punished." The best one, though, is painted in large red letters on a concrete abutment adjacent to the Spice Market that inexplicably commands: "Absolutely no urinating on this wall!" Later in the early afternoon, my qualms about the sparse accommodations are blown away with the wind that fills our sails. The sight of that, and the strains of "Amazing Grace" coming from the ship's p.a. speakers, get to me, and I gaze, drink in hand, from the rail at a happy bunch of shipmates helping to raise the sails.

Jim: Our first stop is Carriacou, an island only a few miles from Grenada. Despite the fact it's Carnival time, most of the organized street festivities are over by the time we arrive, The gang from Oregon easily gravitates to one of the island's 100 rum shops and makes a raucous return to the ship in time for the midnight sailing. We motor all night to St. Vincent, about 75 miles north, and anchor off. Three fast and comfortable speed boats take us on an excursion the next morning along the island's scenic leeward side, cruising past banana and coconut palm plantations, volcanoes, and rain forests, until we reach the wild and largely uninhabited north end. where we troop up to the Falls of Baleine and a shockingly refreshing dip in the waterfall's pool. Snorkeling follows lunch at a beach restaurant, and by the time we climb back aboard the Yankee Clipper, we're ready for a rum swizzle and a nap before dinner It's really starting to be fun.

Cathy: We learn that a couple has been married aboard ship while in Grenada, and their happiness infuses everyone. The bride tells a funny account of dressing for the occasion: she had to go outside the cabin to get the gown on, and her lingerie was nowhere to be found in the confines of the closet cubbies. Still, she was radiant, with the masts of a tall ship as an altar. The trip was the fulfillment of a 20-year dream for the groom, who had a Windjammer brochure tacked up in his bathroom when the couple met. They're thrilled to he sleeping ondeck, under the stars.

Jim: First mate Sylvester Dzomeku, a native of Ghana, summons us ondeck one evening for a star-gazing session. The moonless night is dark and incredibly clear. Jupiter, the brightest object in the sky, looks like a lamp straight overhead. Sylvester's knowledge covers both astronomy and mythology. Never have the constellations been clearer, including the legendary Southern Cross. I follow his flashlight beam toward the heavens, careful not to step on new friends stretched out on the deck. Several passengers, including the honeymooners, have made this aft location their regular bed.