Sea Kayaking in the Virgin Islands

Our base for exploring the islands is the national park campground at Cinnamon Bay. We decided for our first trip to paddle from a base camp, but as the week goes on, we realize that the Virgin Islands would be a great destination for an extended island-hopping trip. Our campsite is located mere feet from the beach, and fresh drinking water and showers are nearby. Iguanas rest in the bay rum trees overhead while mongooses, originally brought over to rid the sugarcane fields of rats, patrol the dense understory. Bright yellow banaquits, warbler-like birds, flit through the trees searching for insects. The intoxicating scent of jasmine drifts through our camp, making it smell like the perfume section of a department store.

One day we paddle through Fungi Passage and head east to Waterlemon Cay, another incredible snorkeling area. Here we encounter hawksbill sea turtles, spotted morays, and deserted beaches littered with orange conch shells. You can actually harvest conchs here, and conch fritters are a local favorite, but we are more excited to see the abundance of mollusks than eat them.

Paddling back to camp after a day of exploring the east end of St. John, we take a quick side trip toward Great Thatch Island. This island is British, and although it is only a mile from St. John, we need our passports to land on its deserted beaches. We cross into British waters, joking about the customs officials that must be lurking in the bushes waiting for us to land. Every sea kayaker knows there are objective hazards when paddling, and potentially unknown risks in unfamiliar waters, but by week’s end I am having a hard time identifying any risks in the Virgin Islands.
We stop by the rental shop on the beach at Cinnamon Bay and talk with Richard Metcalfe, who has been paddling and surfing these waters for 25 years.

“The Virgin Islands are great for sea kayaking,” Metcalfe says as we sit on the beach, watching some tourists get oriented to paddling a sit-on-top. “There are maybe one or two knots of current between the islands, and lots of sandy beaches to land on. Probably the biggest concern is watching out for boat traffic.”
On our last day we paddle out to our “secret beach,” a tiny one barely able to hold two kayaks, rarely visited by other people. We put on our snorkel gear, avoiding the numerous black spiny urchins bristling from the rocks. This spot is exposed, deep, and not a great place for beginning divers. We snorkel through huge underwater channels, some 30 feet deep, all coated with corals and loaded with colorful tropical fish. Just to our right the ocean floor drops off into inky blue depths. I’m enjoying the free diving, but I keep a wary eye on the deep water.

“Shark! Shark! Right below you!” Cree calls out. I reach for my dive knife. “Bring it on,” I mumble through my snorkel.