“We should sail South to Anse Royale this weekend. We can have an Easter picnic on the beach and swim in cleaner water,” This suggestion was made by someone in our group after celebrating our newfound freedom. The Seychelles lockdown is over, I’ve rehabbed my back to the point where my physical therapist gave me approval to go sailing, and the rainy season whether is giving us a reprieve with some sunny skies and tropical inferno temperatures to go with them.

“Indeed, but first we must….” insert boat project here, here and here.

Of course Andrew is still mid-varnish, Erie Spirit’s engine maintenance is still halfway finished and I’m sure Steel Sapphire had something on the go as well. “And, our shipment from the US is on its way!”

As is always true of sailing, you’ll never go anywhere if you are waiting for your boat to be perfect. So, we scheduled a sail to Anse Royale as soon as our shipment of spare parts and pieces made its way through customs.

“Leslie! come get a picture of us as we drive by!” Andrew texts me from the dock the morning two giant boxes arrive.

We recently had our shore-crew compile a whole slew of parts for both Sonrisa and Steel Sapphire, pack them away in shipping boxes, and figure out the complications of International Shipping. The day these boxes arrived felt like Christmas….with a spreadsheet.

Finally, the crews of Sonrisa, Erie Spirit and Steel Sapphire hoist our anchors and sail away - a total of twelve miles to Anse Royale where the water glows clear and emerald green and the white sand beach leads directly into our favorite pizza Cafe complete with both an oven and a pizza chef from Italy.

Sonrisa is the first to arrive. It's a wide bay, but mostly made shallow by reef. There is one open spot where we will have to tuck all three of the amgios, so Sonrisa and her crew tuck in as far as we dare. Captain Andrew checks our anchor, just to be sure.

Steelie follows us in, finds a place, and then we look out to find Erie Spirit not sure where she can park. Erie Spirit and her crew end up anchored in what is open Indian Ocean; her mast sways through 120 degrees in the swell. We aren't feeling much better. Andrew swims out and sets our stern anchor to point Sonrisa's bow into the waves that enter the reef and, though we still bounce around, its up and down rather than side to side. Somehow, that makes all the difference.

The next morning, I'm up with Sunrise. The clouds put on a display we've rarely seen and my camera clatters away trying to freeze in time this extravagant beauty I fear will fade from my memory as fast as it fades from the sky.

We swim all day and head to the beach around evening tide to enjoy happy hour in white sand and prepare our appetites for our reservation at the pizza restaurant. This bay faces East, so the light is soft with pink and purple, and the water glows turquoise with a golden shimmer across the surface as the sun goes down. It seems like all is peaceful, so we leave Grin and Tango to fend for themselves, pulled up on the beach while Erie Spirit’s dinghy, Casper is anchored out a few hundred feet behind the surf.

“It feels so strange to be mingling around other humans!” we all remark as the restaurant fills up to 100% of its modified, socially distanced capacity.

The Seychelles is open for tourism again. They have spent the last few months fighting Covid in their community with a full lockdown and a focused vaccination campaign. Their goal is to get 70% of the population vaccinated with Sinopharm (the vaccine made in China) and Covishield (the vaccine developed in the UK and manufactured in India, also known as Astra Zeneca). Many of their doses were donated from Dubai, the Prince loving the Seychelles and having a vacation home perched right at the top of the main island of Mahe. They haven't quite reached their 70% goal, but their tourism industry workers and the portion of citizens who wish to be immunized are. They are as safe to receive travel as any place might be.

We enjoy our pizza until Mark goes out to the patio for a post dinner cigarette and hears Grin calling for help between gurgles and gulps of a drowning victim. “Uh, I think Grin might need some assistance," he says as he returns to the table. Andrew takes a sprint down the beach to find Grin awash in high tide waves breaking on the beach and being pulled out to sea. “We’re coming Grin!" Pete, Mark and Andrew all go to Grin’s rescue. Pete scoops and scoops with Tango's bailing cup only to have Grin refill with the next wave. Finally, Mark hauls Grin up from his stern and dumps the sea out of his bow. They get ahead of the waves and eventually pull Grin back up onto the beach - all panting with this fresh remainder of what cruising is really all about.

Like a petulent toddler who has gotten himself into trouble, Grin launches into explainations involving sea monsters and a large eel, but no one believes him. Tango was right there and he didn't get sucked to sea by any eel. Jen, Susan and I finish paying our bill, and then we all eye the surf which is admittedly rather high, trying to figure out how to launch our dinghies, start the motors, and get out to our bigger boats without the waves scattering all of us and our belongings across the beach for a “yachties yard sale.” I hand Andrew the camera bag and push Grin out to deep water where the waves can't get him. Andrew starts the motor, then I swim out in my dinner clothes to haul myself up-and-over Grin's freeboard.

“It appears the South East swell has established itself,” Andrew says as we putter Grin toward Sonrisa still filled with sand and the remnants of barnacles from his underwater adventure.

Our bay was definitely too rolly-polly after that, so we ride out the night then roll up anchor to sail around to the other side of the island.

This sail ranks among one of the more beautiful sails we've ever had. The clouds around the Seychelles are on unique display right now. Puffy, tradewind clouds that reach from horizon-to-horizon, it feels like you are standing between two mirrors looking into the infinite. The sun is glittering off the leaves of jungle trees and the island glows green against the Indian Ocean's sapphire blue. Sonrisa is feeling pretty smug with the gloss of her new varish reflecting the glint of sun.

“Wow, it is gorgeous today!” all aboard Sonrisa agree.

We round the corner and find Baie La Mouche, with flat calm and turquoise water. We decide this is a perfect spot to hold our Easter celebrations and we lay our anchor with enthusiasm. Our ophthalmologist friend, Ricci, is coming to meet us for a Beach BBQ, so we pack up about 6 loads of crap to take to the beach and head in. We ride with Pete and Jen because Grin is still “in the brig” for his irresponsible behavior at Anse Royale.

This beach is just about perfect in every way. The water is tropical warm (maybe almost too warm!) there is a wide, flat sand section always above high tide, and greenery grows over the back edge dropping beautiful flowers on the sand and giving you just enough shade to hang a hammock and lay out your picnic while you watch the sun set.

Sonrisa lets us borrow her kerosene lantern and we hang it in the corner to light our dinners.

“Ooh, it might be a green flash night!” one of us declare looking out toward the horizon. We keep our eyes out there as the golden sunball drops to the horizon. Indeed, the reflection on the water just below the sun flashes green right before the sun drops beyond our view. It happens so fast, the span of maybe one wave set that curls on the beach, but we all know it happened because everyone watching exclaimed at once "there it is!" "Wow!" “It flashed!"

We settle in to Jen's prawn sushi rolls for appetizers while Andrew grills our respective meat selections and we set out the mango salad and avocado salad to share. The Oddgodfreys enjoy a chipotle rubbed chicken drumstick and sweet potatoes.

The sky continues to put on its show for hours afterward, giving us ribbons of purple, deep blue, light blue, tourquoise, pink and yellow. Local people swim in the ocean, and we can hear them laughing and chatting in French Kreole. Pete selects our playlist on his portable speaker and with the sun down, the termperature is exactly perfect. I swing in my hammock and listen to my friends chat.

Slowly, the sky fades to black and since there is no moon right now, the stars come out in full force. Jen, Ricci and I lay out our beach blankets and look up at the stars. When I press my ear to the sand, I can hear the reverberation of frogs croaking somewhere far away. They can't be heard in the open air, but only when you press your ear to the ground. This makes me smile, and it feels a little bit like funny magic.

Now, this is more like the live we usually know. I hope it sticks!