Come with me to the Grenadines, a remote corner of the West Indies, lush and lovely, where time slows down and your breath with it. Very far south in the Caribbean Sea almost to Venezuela, the Grenadines are a chain of tiny islands, Bequia, Union, Mayreau, the Tobago Keys, Carriacou. Spots of unbelievable character and charm. Short on development; long on traditional ways of doing things. Life feels like it’s 50 years behind the rest of the Caribbean.

On my blog, I want to share with you what sailing among these islands is like.  It’s not fancy or chic though sometimes a mega yacht can be spied in the distance. This is a world of simplicity. Wake up early, have your coffee on the foredeck, listen to the waves slapping against the hull, watch the sunrise. Provision for supplies in ramshackle villages along dusty lanes. Take a sundowner with your chums in the cockpit or at a scruffy bar on the beach.  Dance on the sand to steel band music at a jump up, children running in and out of the nearby sea. Late into the night, lie on the deck to gaze at the nighttime sky, a huge canopy of stars stretching to the horizon.

The sailing itself is serious, rock and roll stuff, strong winds, big seas, exhilarating and humbling at the same time. Come along for the ride. See where I set my novel A Turquoise Grave.