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Devil’s Bay marks the south endof the famous beaches on Virgin

Gorda known as The Baths.

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BBack in 1971, I cruised into the British

Virgin Islands and dropped anchor at NormanIsland, just off the famous caves that inspiredRobert Lewis Stevenson's Treasure Island. I neverdreamed at the time, that over the next twodecades, these islands would become a secondhome for me in the charter and dive industry.

My initial foray into diving exploration at thenearby pinnacles known as The Indians, left meprofoundly impressed with the diversity of

marine life and radiant water. There was anunequaled serenity to this island chain of mostlyuninhabited islets, cays, and spectacular beachesthat was at once breathtaking and tranquil. Sortof a mixed high that left you exhausted from thesingular pleasure of doing nothing but soaking in

the scenery of a time long past, while at thesame time, chafing to see what splendors lurkedjust beyond the next harbor.

For me, the next harbor turned out to bethe tiny four-acre resort island called MarinaCay. In those days, the hotel consisted ofscattered A-frame cottages, each with its owndeck and a devastatingly beautiful vista. Thegenerator shut down right after dinner and itwas strictly candles and oil lamps for the late

night crowd. The resident manager, Joe Giacintoand I had met at a dive instructor program andwe forged an enduring friendship that had mereturning time and again.

For many, the British Virgins were an enigma.Hard to get to in those days by any conventionaltransportation and not a high rise hotel resort tobe found when you finally did. Air service wasspotty and something of an adventure in itself.I remember The Last Resort owner Tony Snellonce commenting that the local airline hadrecently acquired some new aircraft. He thenclarified that the planes were "new" only to them.But the circa 1940s DC-3s did yeoman's dutyhauling the curious and clued-in visitors whoimmediately fell in love with the islands' charmand beauty. A burgeoning charter fleet prosperedand eventually there were more boat bunksavailable than hotel beds by the early 1980s.

While the adjacent U.S. Virgin Islandsstaked their future on free port shopping,multiple cruise ship dockings per day, andtowering columns of hotel and condoaccommodations; their British counterpartswatched from a discreet distance and made aconscious decision to stay "special." Yeah,nowadays you can actually make a phone callor send a fax and the cars turn on theirheadlights at night (well... most of the time).But you can still leave your hotel room or carunlocked and your camera unattended at thebeach and know your stuff will be there whenyou eventually wander back.

Cows, goats and horses share the dirt roadswith cars that could never pass inspectionanywhere else but Mississippi. And everyoneknows each other and always says hello or stops

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Captain Edward Teach, better known as Blackbeard,roamed the BVI in times past

The 90-foot schooner Ocean Starunder sail in Drake’s Channel

There was also an unequaled serenity to this island chain of

mostly uninhabited islets, cays, and spectacular beaches that

was at once breathtaking and tranquil.

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for a chat. Visitors are welcome and the localstake a somewhat bemused interest in makingyou feel at home. Coupled with some of the mostgorgeous secluded beaches as well as tastefulhotels and guest houses to fit any budget, the BVIhas prospered in its own way, in its own time.

That's my kind of place. Throw in someexcellent diving and it's a formula sure to please.I still go back and love every minute of my time

there. Recently this March 2003, I was backthere preparing this article. My old buddy JoeGiacinto whisked me around in his 40-footcustom catamaran capable of cruising at 30knots. It was a quantum leap, by comparison,from the 20 years I spent there previouslymoseying around at a snail's pace of 10 knots.

The Old DaysIn 1971 when I was first visiting, even the

main island of Tortola was largely undeveloped.Things pretty well shut down by the time it wasdark. The center of the BVI universe was ahandful of buildings "downtown" a lively newcenter of commerce that was emerging on thewest side of the harbor, nestled around a coupleof docks that housed the sailing fleet of astartup bareboat company called The Moorings.They had a score of Out Island 41 sailboats thattourists could charter and sail themselves. Atthe time, it was pretty much considered a far-fetched business premise. Equally dubious wasthe motivation of a Texan named GeorgeMarler. He moved in next door and opened alittle dive operations center to service thebareboat customers, as well as the occasionalhotel guest that might want a look under thewater after the novelty of sitting by the island’sonly pool, wore off.

There was already one dive operator in theBVI, the legendary Bert Kilbride, who based

himself up in North Sound in a house perchedprecariously on a tiny spire of coral and leftoverglacier droppings called Saba Rock. Bert wasthe acknowledged king of diving and the localwisdom pretty much figured that there wasn'tenough business for the two operations tosurvive. (Over the years, both went on toprosper and witness another dozen or sooperators come and go.)

Across from Kilbride's tiny abode wasanother new business aptly named The BitterEnd. It was pretty much the last place ofcivilization in the BVI before jumping off east toAfrica. They also had a bareboat or two and somedaysailers, but their claim to fame was a greatrestaurant and a jolly bar located in the middle ofabsolutely nowhere for cruising yachts to visitwhile enjoying the protected harbor. A fewbungalows for guests were hung on the side of thehill. There was even a huge dockside fish pen builtaround a floating dock with a few reef sharksinside to thrill the yachties when they tied up theirdinghies. A bigger thrill was achieved more oftenthan not when one or two inebriated souls werepushed into the "shark tank" on their way backfrom the bar. The mad scrambles to escapecertain death from the three-foot docile predatorswas a spectacle of great occasion for onlookerswho then had a lifetime of war stories to relate. Ofcourse, the poor reef sharks were equally terrifiedand were regularly liberated by sympathizers.

By the mid-1970s progress began to creepinto the BVI. More hotel properties went up anda landfill project reclaimed a lot of RoadtownHarbor for new government offices, businessesand two new marinas. The Moorings abandonedtheir old haunts and moved to the east side ofthe landfill-created harbor at the foot of the

Lynn Hendrickson framed withsilverside school in the Dog Islands

View from the Top of the Bathsrestaurant, Virgin Gorda

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Cooper Island beach scene

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mountains while aslightly more upscaleoperation appeared onthe west side calledVillage Cay Marina.

I made arrangementsto keep one of my 90-foot motor yachts there,as it offered fresh water(a commodity worthmore than gold itseemed then) and shorepower along with easyaccess to new

provisioning services. One Saturday in 1975 wewere celebrating the end of a three-week charterby blasting some new music from a recentlydiscovered, obscure artist while we washeddown the vessel. A friend from the US hadbrought down a home-made tape and describedthe singer as "sort of country/folk/rock with anisland flavor." The name scrawled on the tapejacket looked like "buffet." We weren't sure ifthat was the artist's name or where our friendhad just had lunch. But the music was good andit went well with the work at hand. Truth betold, not all the ladies in my crew were fullydressed as they labored under the noonday sunsudsing down the decks and windows, andwithin a short time quite an impromptu party

was raging on the end of A Dock. A few other charter crews joined in the

merriment and by late afternoon things beganto resemble a full-on dance fest of wildabandon fueled by rum and a certain herbdonated by some mysterious characters justback from Jamaica. All the while, the chorus of"Mother, mother ocean, I heard your call!"jammed from the speakers and beckoned morepartiers to join us in our revelry.

The most popular line, of course, was, "Yes, Iam a pirate, two hundred years too late!" andevery time that came around nearly four dozensemi-clad partiers lustily sang out in loud unison.Joe Giacinto's brother, Mike, arrived about thenwith a keg of British Double Diamond beer,having heard about the party all the way over onMarina Cay. The 275-pound ex-Notre Damefootball lineman hoisted the keg on one shoulderand stepped aboard to appreciative cheers. Thesudden infusion of a fresh beer supply effectivelykilled any remaining hope of sanity or restraint.When two guys arrived via hang gliders andcrash-landed on the upper deck next to the hottub, I knew the guest list was wide open.

By dusk, we were gearing up for the longhaul as the crowd continued to grow and thelevel of debauchery ratcheted up considerably.Finally the marina manager, a German who hadhis sense of humor surgically removed at birth,

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Brewer’s Bay Point, north shore Tortola

Lois Leonard inThe Baths grotto

Winter surf at Nail Bay, Virgin Gorda

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The anchorage at Deadman’s Bay, Peter Island

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arrived to announce that we were all beingevicted for being way too loud and in violationof whatever local laws governing nudity andcontrolled substances were then in existence.And he wasn't too happy about the two hanggliders now draped across the afterdeck ofanother yacht tied up adjacent to us. He wasprobably right... but his edict was not greetedfavorably by the Jamaicans, who promptlypicked him up and tossed him in the harborwhile the boisterous onlookers sang Lili Marlenein bad Rhineland accents.

Two local policemen who were partyingwith us and were stripped down to not muchmore than their formal cocked hats and red-striped uniform pants counseled a discreetdeparture. So we loaded up the entire party andgot underway for the isolation of Great Harbor(off Peter Island) where the celebrationeventually ended with the sunrise and morethan a dozen other yachts rafted up. It was likethat back then, a good party attracted otherboats like sharks to a blood trail.

One weary guest came around and presseda handful of cassette tapes into my hand as hewas leaving. He said since we enjoyed this musicso much we should have some more of his work.I looked down at the stained tape cover andpeered intently at the slight blond guy in front ofme with a bushy mustache and Corona Beer T-shirt. Yeah, it was the same guy on the albumcover. Jimmy Buffett had infiltrated us at a timewhen none of us even knew who he was.

Buffett was to become a regular figure inthe BVI for years to come aboard his Cheoy Leesailing vessel Euphoria. He made a practice ofdropping in on local bars and parties with hisguitar to raise the level of professionalism andgeneral level of chaos. Any Buffett fan willrecognize the BVI’s influence on him during thatera. The song Please Don't Say Manana If YouDon't Mean It is a veritable BVI name-dropper,working in popular anchorages and even thelocal rum maker (Callwood's Rum) in CaneGarden Bay as parts of his lyrics. Look for thechorus that begins:

Women and water are in short supply,There's not enough dope for us all to get high...

Yeah, those were the days. Buffett went on toimmortality a few years later with Margaritaville,but still kept his unpretentious persona as hedrifted between the islands... just another sailorlooking for a good time with friendly folks whoadopted him as the poet laureate of the boating

life. As he warned in one line, "Don't ever forgetthat you just might end up in one of my songs!"

Enter Maturity, Sort OfOver the years, the unbridled partying

attributed to the yacht charter crews of the 70sand early 80s subsided as the decorum levelselevated. The spirit of my era however, has beenkept alive by a local known only as Bomba whotends bar within a faceplant of the ocean onTortola's north shore. The full moon parties atthe Bomba Shack are indeed the stuff oflegends. Initially spawned as a watering hole forsurfers and for the occasional innocent whomight stumble in, the Shack has grown tolandmark status. It now attracts all ages and, Isuspect, more than few who were featured inthe original Star Wars bar scene. It's not for thefaint of heart or for the easily offended. But toparaphrase what the wise man once said, "Afool and his money are some party!" Similarly,the New Year's Eve celebrations at Foxy's onJost Van Dyke have served to kill more than afew brain cells over the years.

And let's not forget that at The Last Resort,until just recently, owner Tony Snell allowed hispet donkey, Chocolate, to drink beer with the

Yachts at anchor off the TreasureCaves on Norman Island

The infamous Bomba Shackon Virgin Gorda

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Alex Dressler on the wreck of theChikuzen, a 246-foot refrigeration shipsunk north of the Dog Islands in 1981

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guests... in the dining room! I’ve always viewed thatindulgence as the ultimate social equalizer. Tony,another relocated Brit, rose to fame as sort of aninfamously schnockered cabaret lounge singerspecializing in fractured song lyrics of popular tunesre-worked for the yachting audience. Stop by and betreated to such standards as You Picked A Fine TimeTo Heave Up, Lucille or Puff, the Tragic Faggot. It's anevening of entertainment served up to scores ofcheering boaters who know a diva when they seeone... or at least a suitable substitute for Mr. Ed.

But Back to the Diving It's not often that you hear the BVI mentioned in

the world's top ten destinations. The sites are variedand uncrowded. The island offers everything fromfantastic wrecks, sea mounts and steep pinnacles, tocoral gardens and the labyrinth cave/cavernformations at Virgin Gorda's famous southwest shore.

My guess is that the BVI diving reputationended up taking a back seat through no fault of itsown. It's a simple case of having a buffet plate toofull. While other Caribbean destinations lack themyriad unspoiled islands with soaring mountainpeaks and pristine beaches, the BVI are almostblessed with too much of a good thing. In otherplaces, diving is the only reason to be there. In theBVI, you have a more varied list of options.

When Hollywood went shopping for a real wreckto be the star of The Deep in 1976, the producers

Alex Dressler with the massivepropeller of the Chikuzen wreck

A resident Nassau Grouperon the Rhone wreck

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Jo Robinson and Charles Caston enjoy thediving near The Baths at Virgin Gorda

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immediately chose the wreck of the Rhone offSalt Island. Sunk in a savage hurricane in 1867,the wreckage is scattered in three sections withdepths ranging from 20 to 90 feet. The intactbow section, nearly 150-feet long, rests on itsstarboard side in the sand and is the deepestportion of the dive. Swimming through the jaggedopening where the ship broke apart nearmidships allows the diver to explore the interiorsafely with easy access to exits along its lengthand excellent penetrating ambient light.

The midsection showcases upright columnsof framing, a massive boiler, and even a row oflarge wrenches now frozen in time with thecoral. Clouds of fish swim freely throughout thescene while friendly grouper and yellowtail hovernearby begging for handouts.

The stern lies against the gradual slope andnearly breaks the water next to the rocks. The18-foot bronze propeller dwarfs divers that swimthrough the rudder bay to explore the cavernsbeneath the hulk. If you close your eyes andconcentrate, you'll have little trouble conjuringup the exotic image of Jackie Bissett in herinfamous T-shirt right here in the same spotover 20 years ago. You also might still find oneof Robert Shaw's empty Scotch bottles stashedaway in a nook. (The cantankerous actor whobedeviled the movie staff with his notoriousdrinking habits.)

In the early 1980s the Chikuzen, a hugerefrigeration ship, sank about 10 miles north ofthe Dog Islands. She now lies upright in about80-feet of water and has become home toimmense schools of both pelagic and bottomfish that cruise her expansive remains. Since theChikuzen is exposed to the north swell, access to

her can be limited in the rougher winter months.While the wrecks have earned raves from a

host of reviewers, a variety of great sites are to befound just about anywhere you cruise. There'swonderful snorkeling throughout the islands aswell. At Norman Island, thought to be theinspiration for Robert Lewis Stevensen's TreasureIsland, you can swim through shimmeringschools of silversides that cloak the entrance tothree major caverns. Here it’s purported that arepository of pirate's loot existed back in the dayswhen Capt. Edward Teach, alias Blackbeard,roamed the islands. Only a mile or so away in theopen ocean lies a submerged pinnacle known asSanta Monica Rock, so named for the 17thcentury sailing vessel that foundered on her. Thesite abounds in reef life and pelagics and couldeasily take several days of diving to cover.

For the more leisurely paced, another setof pinnacles known as The Indians beckon indepths of less than 60 feet in the protected leeof Peter Island. Hop-scotching a few more milesbrings us to a shoal between Peter Island andSalt Island called Blonde Rock that harborssuperb fish schools and legions of lobster. Evena jewfish or two have been spotted at thispopular site near the Rhone.

The Dog Islands lying to the west of VirginGorda offer a plethora of caves, caverns andreefs in isolated cayes with no inhabitantsexcept nature's own. Another great deepwatersite called Tow Rock boasts one of the largestresident schools of barracuda you'll seeanywhere in the Caribbean along with scores ofbig grouper and snapper. All this in less than110-feet of water.

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BV I : Tr a n q u i l V i r g i n s

Emerson Mulford on themagnificent Anegada reef

The popular Soper’s Hole yachtfacilities on Tortola’s west end.

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pilgrimage to The Baths, a mysteriousphenomena of granite boulders supposedlydropped at the end of the Ice Age when the bigmelt kicked in. While there are endless theoriesas to the geological evolution that producedthese magnificent structures surrounded bystunning beaches and transparent water, there'sno argument that the south end of Virgin Gordais one of the loveliest spots on this earth, aboveand below the water.

Diving can be accommodated by liveaboardvessel (the venerable Cuan Law, a massive sailingtrimaran that is the largest of its kind in servicein the world – cuanlaw@surfbvi.com) or by themany dive operators that are happy to take youfrom their docks or rendezvous with yourchartered yacht anywhere you're anchored.Most charter operations can set you up withscuba gear and a detailed chart series that willlet you dive on your own if you like. The popularVirgin Trader Yacht Charters have even added aspecial fleet of diesel powered catamaransdesigned specifically for diving that canaccommodate up to four couples in splendor...available for bareboat charter or with a captain.I've chartered their more upscale Horizon 56motor yachts two successive years now andfound these well-appointed yachts one of thebest ways to get around.

The diving is good, the sites varied (exceptfor drop-offs), and the marine life abundant.Combined with the above water beauty of thescores of private coves found in the surroundingcays and outer islands, the BVI offer the best ofboth worlds to divers and cruisers.

Yes, there are now plenty of hotels cateringto every taste and budget, but for me, the onlyway to truly fully appreciate these islands is byboat. There simply is no finer or more accessiblecruising to be found in the western hemisphere.Every day brings a new anchorage with a newvista and if you don't like your neighbors, thenext harbor is only a few miles away.

Taking Leave ReluctantlyCompleting my nostalgic tour, I had the

chance to stay again at my old favorite, MarinaCay, now operated by the Pusser's Rum group.This delightful island has benefited fromenhanced landscaping, a large open-air diningroom located right at beachside, an on-site DiveBVI facility, and newly constructed hotel suiteswith the same great views... only now with kingbeds, refrigerators, and (gasp!) hot water in thespacious bathrooms.

Traveling back to Virgin Gorda in excess of30 knots, I reflected on the modern conveniencesthat had come to my old cruising grounds. Butwhen we climbed into Giacinto's van at the marinaand had to chase three chickens and a goat fromthe interior, I knew that things were still the same.Sunset viewed from a high vantage point abovethe granite boulders of The Baths confirmed thatall was right in the BVI cosmos again.

Progress had stuck its head in the tent, butthankfully the rest of the camel remainedsecurely tied up outside.

Bret Gilliam is Publisher of Fathoms. He owned a divingoperation and large motor yacht charter business in theVirgin Islands from 1971 to 1988. He returns annually insearch of Buffett's lost shaker of salt.

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Rainbow over Anegada

Cathryn Castle at Tow Rockin the Dog Islands

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The BVI’s Top Ten, Don’t Miss List!

1) New Year's Eve at Foxy's on Jost Van Dyke

2) The Bomba Shack’s full moon party on Tortola’s north shore

3) Chez Bamboo Restaurant,Spanish Town, Virgin Gorda (best food in BVI)

4) Frozen rum drinks at any of the Pusser’s Rum bars

5) Diving the wreck of the Rhone

6) The beaches & snorkelingat The Baths & Devil’s Bay,Virgin Gorda

7) Anything with local mushrooms in it

8) Arriving via one of the local passenger ferries

9) Bottle of Callwood’s rum,Cane Garden Bay, Tortola

10) Tony Snell’s cabaret act at The Last Resort in Trellis Bay, Beef Island