BVI Sailing Adventures: Jost Van Dyke Beaches, Soggy Dollar Painkiller Cocktails, Raft-Up Party in the British Virgin Islands

BVI Sailing Adventures: Jost Van Dyke Beaches, Soggy Dollar Painkiller Cocktails, Raft-Up Party in the British Virgin Islands

Darlings, if life were a rom-com, this chapter would be the montage where the music swells, the sunsets glow golden, and everyone ends up dancing on a boat until the wee hours. After a heartfelt goodbye to our UK friends (sniff), we hauled up the anchor and set sail for Jost Van Dyke, that gloriously chilled-out gem in the British Virgin Islands where shoes are optional, rum is mandatory, and time seems to forget its schedule.

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We dropped the hook first at Long Bay Anchorage on Jost Van Dyke for two dreamy nights. On day two, our pals from Galatea of Aune pulled in, and we immediately embarked on the classic pilgrimage to the Bubbly Pool Jost Van Dyke, a natural rock jacuzzi carved by the sea, where waves crash in and turn the water into frothy champagne bubbles. We splashed and shrieked like overexcited puppies, letting the swell dunk us repeatedly, laughing until our sides hurt. Pure, unfiltered joy. Dripping and delighted, we hiked back, paused for epic photos at the Jost Van Dyke sign (because evidence is essential), then spruced up for dinner at Foxy’s Taboo, that tucked away spot on Diamond Cay serving Mediterranean flair with unbeatable views. The food was divine, the vibe relaxed, and the sunset? Chef’s kiss.

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The next morning we sailed around to Great Harbour Jost Van Dyke, snagging a mooring ball like pros. Dinghy deployed, straight to White Bay and the legendary Soggy Dollar Bar birthplace of the Painkiller cocktail, that creamy, nutmeg-dusted elixir of dark rum, pineapple, orange, and coconut cream that could cure just about anything (including common sense). It was Good Friday, so the beach was buzzing with holiday makers, but we claimed our spot, sipped those famously pricey but worth every penny Painkillers, strolled the sand barefoot, and because why not?

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hunted down the live webcam feed to snap a screenshot of ourselves waving like lunatics. Iconic. Before we knew it, the sun was dipping, and we dinghied back for onboard dinner and a well-earned snooze.

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Next up: Norman Island and the infamous Willy T Norman Island. Quick history lesson, loves the original Willy T (named after William Thornton, a BVI legend) was a floating bar on a converted ship that became the stuff of sailing folklore. The first sank in the ’90s due to a leak; Hurricane Irma wrecked the second in 2017 (it was later sunk as an artificial reef dive site off Peter Island by Beyond the Reef). The current one, rebuilt and relocated a few times, eventually returned to its spiritual home in The Bight off Norman Island. It’s still the rowdy, jump off the deck party hub sailors dream about.

We arrived on Easter Saturday, and oh my, it was packed. Too many boats, too many dinghies, everyone blasting music or shouting over each other like it was a competition. We had one drink, watched a few unfortunate souls lose their lunch overboard mid-sip, exchanged wide-eyed glances, and made a tactical retreat. Not our scene that day, darlings.

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But the next morning, before departing Norman, we dinghied to nearby Pelican Island for British Virgin Islands snorkeling that felt straight out of Jurassic Park lush underwater landscapes, vibrant fish darting like extras in a prehistoric blockbuster. Epic, otherworldly, and utterly rejuvenating.

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Energised, we set sail for Peter Island, BVI to link up with more ARC+ rally cruisers Infinity of Yar, Adastrina, Galatea of Aune, the whole merry gang from our rally days. Of course, reunions mean beach time: snacks, drinks, stories swapped under palm shade. It’s always magical catching up with friends forged on long ocean passages.

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Muriel from Galatea and I ventured out for a snorkel around Key Bay pure bliss until two massive barracudas decided we looked interesting. They shadowed us like underwater bouncers. I stayed calm (mostly), Murial paddled like a champion in one direction while the other kicked furiously to shoo them off. Teamwork makes the dream work, especially when the dream involves not becoming barracuda brunch. We made it back to the boat unscathed, hearts racing, laughing hysterically.

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Later, we convinced the crew to raft up on the north side of Peter Island. As the biggest boat (perks!), ours became the unofficial party hub. Potluck dinner everyone brought something delicious music cranked, dancing on deck until 2 a.m. It was electric, joyful, unforgettable. Honestly, loves, this night is my (Dee’s) absolute favourite memory of the entire BVI sailing adventures.

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We lingered two or three nights (time blurred gloriously), spotting the biggest sea turtle I’ve ever seen, she glided past unbothered as I trailed her with the camera, filming like a starstruck paparazzo.

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And just like that, our time in these turquoise paradises is winding down. We’ve got just over a week left before turning south toward the southern Caribbean for hurricane season sailing prep. More sunrises, more laughs, more unexpected magic ahead.

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What about you, gentle readers? Ever sipped a Painkiller at the Soggy Dollar Bar? Survived a barracuda escort? Or danced till dawn on a rafted-up boat with rally mates? Spill every detail in the comments I’m living for your stories!

Until the next horizon, stay soggy, stay salty, and keep the rum (and the adventures) flowing.

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