We arrived in Brewers Bay, and because we hadn’t done much in the way of research we announced our arrival to USVIs Customs and Border Patrol on their app, expecting them to say, “Welcome, have fun.” Instead we got an automated message saying, “You’re not allowed to enter the U.S.”

This wasn’t all that surprising, honestly. There is no country in the world that is less welcoming to my arrival than the U.S. Every time I cross that border I catch grief of some sort. I spent the day trying to get in touch with someone there, but that proved impossible. When we lost our internet signal we decided we’d better head in to town and try to clear things up.

Charlotte Amalie is a crowded port, with hundreds and hundreds of boats on moorings, but almost nobody actually aboard any of them. We passed by half a dozen anchorages that didn’t have any space left other than in 40 feet of water out by the shipping channel, and finally settled in between a couple of tourist water taxi boats that would obviously not be going anywhere since there are no cruise ships here.

This is about the time we finally got ahold of someone at CBP who informed us we didn’t need to check in since we were coming from the U.S. (Puerto Rico) to the U.S. (USVIs). He said that in a condescending voice, but then followed that up promptly by informing me I would have to check in when we go back to Puerto Rico. So…U.S. to U.S. works one direction, but not the other. Got it.

With that settled, we jumped in the water. Even a big harbor right in town has nice clean water here. Maybe not in normal times, but at least for now, before the tourist hoards show up again.

The sun coming up on yet another beautiful day in the islands. It’s June, but it’s still not hot. Perfect weather on the water. It’s only walking around on land that it heats up.

In Salinas Marina there had been no public laundry, so we had been having the ladies at the marina/hotel doing it for us since they had been back to work the last couple of weeks. Knowing that we were going to be leaving we let the laundry pile up a bit to give to them the day before we left. So of course, that was the day their washer broke. They assured us they’d have it fixed the next day. Too late for us, we were leaving, so we set off for the islands with a huge pile of dirty clothes to contend with. This was Ali getting ready to ship me off to the laundromat for the afternoon.

Ali looked at me and asked, “Is this how you took off your clothes when you were eight?” I think that’s actually how I took them off until I was eighteen.

This was my trading desk for a few hours. Multitasking at its best—trading stocks and banging out five loads of laundry. There was a nice old man in there—obviously a local guy who just sort of spends his days hanging out talking with the ladies—who saw me folding sheets. Apparently unimpressed, he came over and gathered up all the sheets and pillowcases, took them over to his folding table, and proceeded to fold them up into packages as tight as they would have been when purchased a the store. I gave him a tip on my way out and told him next time I’d hire him to do all the clothes. Back home I didn’t say anything about it. The next night at dinner it suddenly struck Ali. She asked, “Did you fold those sheets?” I couldn’t even manage a white lie. She looked at Ouest and said, “Ha, we knew it!”

The local grocery was a far cry from the abundance of Puerto Rico.

The dinghy dock is right next to a 452′ yacht owned by billionaire David Geffen, made famous recently for his tone deaf posts about his “self-isolation” onboard. In case you’re ever unsure about wealth inequality, take a dinghy ride past a 452′ yacht.

The Boobies love to fly alongside of us as we cruise. They stare at the front of the boat just waiting for that moment when the flying fish scatter out in front of us. Then boom, in they go like a dart. They are very good at what they do.

I’m not even sure what happened to the camera here, but I thought it was kind of cool. He was so close I could just about reach out and touch him.

One of the nicest things about these islands is how close everything is. This was a whopping seven mile passage (less than an hour), which will probably be the longest passage we’ll make before heading back to Puerto Rico.

Christmas Cove. There are a couple of dozen free moorings here, and they are supposed to be ten days max. We showed up early hoping to catch one as someone left. We’re so silly. Nobody enforces the rule, so nobody leaves. A bunch of boats, many abandoned, are sitting there in the best spots in shallow water. We ended up anchoring way out the back in 40 feet. It was fine, but the crowds of unused boats starts to grate on me.

There is a small rocky island in the middle of the cove that we would swim around each day. There was one spot where we could carefully climb up on shore and the kids would play restaurant with different plants, rocks, and shells they’d find. Then we’d hop back in once the sun had sufficiently cooked us, and swim around the corner to a tiny little inlet that they named Fish Bay.

Unfortunately the coral is nothing to be excited about.

We were on our way back to the dinghy when this Nurse Shark showed up. I dove down for a closer look and was following along right beside him when he apparently got tired of me, turned right at me and swam head first to within a couple of feet of me, to the point that I was backtracking and thinking, “Wait, this is a nurse shark, right?” He eventually peeled off again. I came up expecting to find the kids at the dinghy, but instead they were directly behind me wide-eyed. That was pretty cool.