December 2025. Our last charter trip before taking delivery of our own boat. Christmas in the Bahamas, just the three of us as a family. Mildly decadent.
Up to this point we had mostly sailed in the Mediterranean. In October we'd done a trip in the Seychelles, which showed us that sailing outside Europe can be pretty spectacular too. But the Caribbean – for us Mediterranean beginners, it had always been this almost mythical place. Bluer. Warmer. More wow.
Since we dream of sailing our own catamaran MOJO across the Atlantic to the Caribbean at the end of 2027, we wanted a sneak preview. Not wait two years, but get a taste now. And see whether we'd actually like it.
So the Exumas trip was supposed to be the grand finale of our "charter career."
Supposed to be.
The Exumas in Brief
The Exumas are a chain of over 360 islands and cays stretching southeast of Nassau across roughly 200 kilometres of the Bahamas. Most of them are uninhabited. The water is so clear you can see the anchor on the seabed in four or five metres of depth. The Exumas Land and Sea Park, one of the oldest marine national parks in the Caribbean, protects a large portion of the area. Most sailing happens between Nassau and Staniel Cay – a cruising ground famous for its swimming pigs, iguanas, nurse sharks and spectacular marine life. But also for its shallow waters and the fact that you really need to know where you're going and how much water you've got under the keel.
Trip Facts
20–27 December 2025
140 nautical miles
Crew: Sarah, Roger & Leo
Boat: Bali Catspace Owner Version "Pürrseverance" (yes, with an umlaut – despite being registered in London)
Route: Palm Cay Marina (Nassau) → Shroud Cay → Hawksbill Cay → Staniel Cay → Warderick Wells → Highbourne Cay → Allan's Cay → Palm Cay Marina
Getting There – the Long Way Round
Getting from Switzerland to the Bahamas is not a one-flight affair. The options: via London (too expensive), via the US (let's just say: not ideal right now) or via Canada. Canada it is. Air Canada, Zurich to Toronto.
In Toronto we met up with a good friend we hadn't seen in years. The contrast was absurd: us in light Caribbean clothes, outside minus seven degrees. For locals, a mild December evening. For us, reason enough to never leave the hotel again.
Next day, on to Nassau. Welcome to paradise.
Provisioning and Boat Handover – Pleasantly Surprised
This time we were smarter than in the Seychelles and pre-ordered all our provisions from Solomon's Yamacraw in Nassau. Highly recommended. Quick tip: their online shop only works from Europe via VPN.
That evening: boat handover. And here came the first positive surprise. "Pürrseverance" (what a name) was in remarkably good shape despite being a 2022 model. For a charter boat – which after three years is usually a shadow of its former self – this was impressive. Even the hull was clean as a whistle. Unlike the Seychelles, where the growth on the bottom had turned us into a floating coral farm.
Second surprise: all systems working. Every single one. I nearly fell over.
Third surprise: an actual chart briefing. We'd never had one before. Charter companies always promise "a thorough technical and chart briefing." The reality until now: a minimal technical walk-through and zero charts. On the Exumas they clearly take it more seriously – and rightly so. The waters are shallow, the tidal currents are strong, and anyone heading out unprepared will be sitting on a sandbank before they know it. Great base, motivated team, solid briefing. Impressed.
Day 1: Palm Cay → Shroud Cay – and Why Caribbean Minutes Last Longer
Next morning we wanted to leave early. Eight o'clock sharp, 42 miles on the schedule, so seven to eight hours underway. We also knew the weather was deteriorating toward evening and a storm was building for the next few days.
Unfortunately, there was no gas. No gas means no cooking. That's a showstopper.
"Fifteen minutes," they said. Caribbean minutes, naturally. It was just past eleven by the time we finally had our gas bottle loaded and cast off. Three hours lost.
Outside: 15 knots of wind – normally great news, except it was coming from 30–40 degrees off the bow. Manageable for a monohull. For a catamaran – especially a Bali – a non-starter for sailing. Since we had no time to tack: engines on, throttle up. By 11:30 we at least got the jib out and managed just under 8 knots of motorsailing at 2000 RPM. A total waste of diesel, but we needed to make up lost time and absolutely had to reach the anchorage before sunset.
It worked: by around 5 pm we were in Shroud Cay. The anchorage was already busy – mostly long-distance cruisers. Under their watchful eyes we needed three attempts to set the anchor. Why do charter companies always fit these toy anchors? And then only 100 feet of chain – barely over 30 metres. Sure, that's technically enough for the Exumas where depths are shallow. But we spent the evening chanting about how much we're looking forward to the 39 kg Mantus anchor and 100 metres of Cromox chain on our own boat.
Eventually the anchor held and we cracked open a well-earned beer. Nice view, too – a few boat lengths away lay HuiHui, a German couple on a Nautitech whose YouTube channel we follow. But we didn't want to go full fanboy and left them in peace.
Shroud Cay → Hawksbill Cay – the Storm and the Mickey Mouse Anchor
Overnight the wind picked up to 25 knots. Add an unpleasant swell that had the boat rolling all night and you've got yourself a terrible sleep. Next morning we heard on the radio that Hawksbill Cay had mooring balls and apparently wasn't "rolly" at all. That sounded like a much better spot to wait out the weather – because continuing in these conditions was out of the question. Yes, we're wimps. But alive wimps.
The decision was right. Overnight in Hawksbill: 33 knots. But the mooring ball held, and we were glad not to be on anchor. Sure, you can't blindly trust a mooring ball either. But still more than a CQR toy anchor – which we had affectionately christened the "Mickey Mouse anchor."
Hawksbill Cay → Pig Beach → Staniel Cay – Pigs, Sharks and James Bond
Day three and we could finally move on. Still plenty of leftover swell and around 20 knots of wind almost dead on the nose. We had a reservation at Staniel Cay Marina and wanted to stop at Pig Beach on Big Major Cay along the way. So once again no time to tack, once again seven hours under engines. Not fun.
On the way we passed "Seven Seas" – one of the world's largest superyachts, 86 metres long, built for billionaire Steven Spielberg. Just sitting there at anchor. Quite a size difference when you're puttering past in a 40-foot Bali.
By 1 pm we were at Pig Beach. And despite the anchorage being quite full, we were – to our great surprise – the only ones on the beach. Just us and two dozen pigs.
What a magical experience. Exactly like the brochure – except the animals are, firstly, enormous and, secondly, outrageously cheeky. At the chart briefing the DYC guy had warned us about the black-and-white pig in particular: extra bold, razor-sharp tusks. Yep, confirmed. The thing weighed a good 200 kilos and deployed its full combat weight to raid our grape supply. But still – a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Exactly how you picture the Exumas.
After that, anchor up again and two nautical miles round the headland into Staniel Cay Marina. Staniel Cay is the unofficial capital of the Exumas – a tiny settlement with an outsized history. This is home to the famous Staniel Cay Yacht Club, where the crew of "Thunderball" once celebrated. Yes, James Bond was here. And yes, the bar still looks like not much has changed since 1965.
But before the celebrating came the docking. And it was tight. Properly tight. It went well, though – even if we quickly discovered that nobody could understand us. Not on the radio, not at the dock. Context: Sarah and I speak perfectly decent English. Actually, quite good English. In our previous company, English was the everyday office language. But to the Bahamians we must have sounded like a badly dubbed movie villain. On top of that, in the Bahamas everything gets tied with bowlines. We normally prefer to take our lines back to the boat and use a round turn and two half hitches. That too led to a few brief, language-barrier-fuelled misunderstandings with the marineros. Linguistic confidence level afterwards: minus one. But skipper confidence: plus one.
After docking, a quick dinghy ride to the legendary Thunderball Grotto – an underwater cave made famous by the Bond film of the same name. And here, too: we had it to ourselves. At Christmas. Peak season. The current there was fierce, though, and in the afternoon less light gets in than at midday. Still impressive. Tip: go around noon when the sunlight shines straight into the grotto.
Then finally to the Staniel Cay Yacht Club. On the way, right under the marina dock: nurse sharks. Elsewhere tourists pay good money for that kind of encounter. Here it's free.
At the yacht club: two cocktails and a lovely dinner. For roughly the third time: lobster and conch. But hey – you've got to seize the moment. Here, too, we had to repeat everything two or three times. The self-doubt about our English skills was creeping in.
Next morning, a quick trip to the supermarket (bread) and the yacht club's souvenir shop. One T-shirt: 80 USD. Ouch.
Staniel Cay → Warderick Wells – Finally Some Sailing (Sort Of)
Staniel Cay was the southernmost point of our trip. And this is exactly where you feel the limits of a charter week: you have seven days, you have to be back at the marina on Friday. No room to just follow the wind and explore. How much we're looking forward to long-distance cruising, where we no longer have to plan in weekly slots.
So back northwest. And finally – finally! – usable wind from behind. Main and genoa out and for the first time on this trip, actually sailing. Even if it was only two or three hours: bliss. Eventually the wind dropped to 10 knots (motorsailing), then died completely. Thankfully only 45 minutes under engines before we reached Warderick Wells.
The Exumas Land and Sea Park has its headquarters at Warderick Wells. It's one of the quietest and most beautiful spots in the whole cruising ground – a sheltered bay between low hills, surrounded by untouched nature. You can only moor on the official buoys here to protect the seabed.
Unfortunately we only snagged one of the large buoys near the entrance. Tip: start calling on the radio from 9 am. They've got a huge antenna and can probably hear you when you're still 10–15 miles out. We didn't arrive until 2 pm and first called one mile from the entrance. Rookie mistake.
Never mind. Dinghy ashore and up to Boo Boo Hill. Among long-distance sailors, this hilltop is almost a sacred shrine: for decades crews have been leaving pieces of driftwood with their boat's name – as a good luck charm and a memory. Legend has it that taking your wood back brings bad luck. The park administration, however, seems less enchanted by this growing pile – Boo Boo Hill wasn't mentioned anywhere in the official park guide. We loved it anyway.
That evening we celebrated a quiet little Christmas in the bay. Yes, there are people who celebrate on Christmas Eve – the 24th of December. We're those people.
Warderick Wells → Highbourne Cay – Plane Wreck, Dinghy Breakdown and no Christmas Lobster
Christmas Day: onward to Highbourne Cay. Target: an anchorage off the island. We'd reserved Christmas dinner at "Xuma," the restaurant at Highbourne Cay Marina. We didn't want to stay at the marina itself, though – 800 dollars a night. But you can easily dinghy from the anchorage round the corner.
But wait – we nearly left something out. On the way to Highbourne we wanted to snorkel the famous plane wreck just offshore. The aircraft sits in just a few metres of water and belongs to the legend of the 1980s drug smugglers – Pablo Escobar, Medellín Cartel, the whole story. Bucket list material.
Because the current in the channel was pretty strong (still on the Mickey Mouse anchor, remember), Roger decided to stay aboard. Sarah and Leo took the dinghy. Unfortunately the outboard died – we shall diplomatically refrain from discussing the exact reasons, right Sarah? What followed was an entertaining rowing session against the current back to the boat. At first it looked like the current was winning. But they made it. Just. Under the concerned watch of a passing motorboat that had stopped to cheer them on.
Later we made it to the wreck after all, all three of us, with the outboard miraculously running again. Son in, mask on, GoPro rolling. Bucket list: done.
That evening, a wonderful Christmas dinner at Xuma (for a change: no lobster tonight). At the next table sat an older Swiss couple who'd been anchored beside us in a Xquisite 54. A beautiful catamaran which, according to them, is actually a bit impractical to handle with just two people. They'd been cruising the Caribbean for 15 years. A great and instructive encounter.
They gave us a piece of advice we'll carry with us:
whenever they disagree on a sailing decision – should we reef? Should we stay in port and wait out the weather? Have we had enough anchor beers? – the more cautious person is always right.
We thought that was brilliant and will probably adopt it. Even though it means Sarah will simply always be right. Sigh.
Highbourne Cay → Allan's Cay → Palm Cay – Iguanas, Dolphins and Done
Next morning, one hour from Highbourne to Allan's Cay. On the way: young dolphins playing alongside the boat. We anchored at Allan's Cay to visit the famous Bahamas iguanas. Prehistoric-looking creatures that eye you from a safe distance – or you them. We weren't alone for long: two tourist boats claimed the beach. At least the friendly tour boat driver took a family photo of us. And he even understood what I said. Faith in humanity: restored.
At 09:30, anchor up and 30 miles back to Palm Cay Marina. And here one more highlight of the DYC service: on the Exumas, a staff member meets you at the marina entrance in a dinghy and drives the cat to the fuel dock and then to the berth. Impressive service – though probably also self-preservation. Can't have the charter customers wrecking the boat in the final half hour.
Nassau – Food Tour and Final Days
That evening: empty the boat and move to an Airbnb in Nassau for the last two nights before the flight home. Next day, a guided food tour through Nassau. And just like in the Seychelles with Christopher, we got lucky again: fun guide, and because the other guests were no-shows, we had a private tour. Seems to be our thing.
Verdict – Caribbean Reality vs. Caribbean Dream
What can we say. It's a classic pattern in life: when you expect nothing, you're pleasantly surprised. When you've been dreaming about something for ages, you're more likely to be let down.
Honestly, the Bahamas – Nassau and the Exumas – didn't blow us away. Especially not compared to the Seychelles, which were simply perfect. Many Bahamians seem a bit – how to put it – checked out. Indifferent, going through the motions. And honestly, who can blame them? When multiple cruise ships dock every single day and floods of tourists wash over your island, it wears you down. Plus, you don't have to try that hard when American tourists are throwing money at everything.
And then the food. We'd naively expected wonderful creole cuisine. But in the Bahamas, everything seems to get deep-fried. Conch fritters? Yes, those are genuinely great. But by the fifth serving, even lobster loses its magic.
Sailing-wise, we were probably just unlucky with the weather. The cruising ground itself is beautiful – the water has this otherworldly clarity, the islands are wild and untouched, and there are moments where you genuinely feel like you're on another planet. The tides and shallow waters make sailing here more demanding than in the Med, and the currents in the cuts between the islands are not to be underestimated.
But our Exumas trip was just a snapshot – one week in December, with bad weather luck and a charter boat. That's hardly representative of the entire Caribbean. We're definitely looking forward to exploring much more. But we're no longer in quite such a rush.
One thing is certain, though – if we ever have to choose between the Seychelles and the Exumas: the Seychelles, one hundred percent.
And: the Mediterranean is actually pretty great too. There's endlessly more to discover that we haven't seen yet. Which is why we're so excited that our long-distance adventure starts in February 2026 – right there. Well, once we've made it through the 1,000 nautical miles across the Bay of Biscay and around Portugal, that is.
Lessons Learned
Pre-ordering provisions saves nerves. Solomon's Yamacraw in Nassau – recommended, online shop only works via VPN from Europe.
"Fifteen minutes" in the Bahamas means: sometime today. Maybe.
100 feet of chain is technically enough for the Exumas. Emotionally, it isn't.
Swimming pigs are bigger, bolder and hungrier than any photo suggests.
If you want a good mooring ball in Warderick Wells: call early, not one mile out.
The Staniel Cay Yacht Club is legendary. So are the T-shirt prices.
Bahamian English is its own language. Accept it.
The second-smartest sailing advice we've ever received: the more cautious person is always right.
Lobster is fantastic. Until the fifth time.
High expectations are the natural enemy of any trip. Our path leads through the Med first – and that's more than fine.