The Maiden Voyage Pt. 4 | Sailing & Lobsters
- Nick McReynolds
- Jun 13
- 3 min read
Updated: Jun 15
Our next stop Coral Bay Garden, where we set up anchor in the evening and slipped into the water for a twilight snorkel. It turned into a game of hide-and-seek with sea turtles—watching them surface for air, disappear again, and pop up somewhere else like shy old friends.
As the sun dropped lower, we explored caves and shallows filled with rays, sea urchins, and colorful fish weaving through coral. We even tried our luck fishing, catching a lane snapper that we tossed back.
Dinner was simple - burgers grilled on deck, cold drinks in hand, and stories traded under the soft glow of cabin lights. We talked about life, and how lucky we were to be exactly where we were.
A Curious Island Welcome
The next morning, we sailed over to Brewer’s Bay for another snorkel, before heading toward Little Harbor in Gardner Bay. The wind dropped off, and we coasted lazily across turquoise water, soaking in the quiet.
When we arrived, the harbor felt… minimal. A couple of shops with the same sun-faded trinkets you see everywhere. But then we found two gems.
First was Harris’s Restaurant—a woman’s voice called out as we passed by her empty patio:“Are y’all part of my reservation tonight?”
“No,” we said, “but we could be.”
She grinned and waved us over. As we chatted, she casually pulled out a joint and asked if we minded. Before she even finished her question, she shrugged and lit it. “It’s the islands,” she said, exhaling.
She pointed at a sign that read All You Can Eat Lobster.
“All you can eat?” my dad asked.
She shook her head. “Nah. All you should eat. And really, you shouldn’t eat more than one.”
She pointed across the way to a hatch in the floor. “Go lift that. You tell me if you can eat more than one.”
We opened it and there they were: the absolute biggest lobsters I've seen. Massive. She took down our names and told us to come back at dinnertime.
Pour Your Own and Pay Yourself
With time to kill, we wandered down the path and found what looked like a bar. A man stood out front, lounging casually.
“Can we get drinks here?” we asked.
“You’re the bartender,” he said. “Make what you want. Pay your bill."
So behind the bar we went. After a few questions, He showed me how to make the islands’ signature cocktail—the Painkiller. I poured heavy, mixed with fresh juices, grated nutmeg over the top, and passed the drinks down the bar like I’d worked there for years.
We stayed a while, sipping our creations, watching boats drift in with the tide.
On the way out, the man yelled to me "if you want to tip the bartender, take five dollars out of your right pocket and put it in your left.”
“Very Strong Rum” and the Great Lobster Feast
Later that night, we returned to Harris’s. Just us and a group of six filled the place. She started us off with her signature cocktail—rum punch, heavy on the rum.
My dad asked, “What kind of rum is in this?”
She slammed the bottle on the bar. “Very Strong Rum,” she read off the label with a smirk.
She wasn’t lying. One drink was plenty. She promised a second “special” round if we made it through the first—but everyone knew that wasn't happening.
Then came the lobster. Enormous, split in half, grilled to perfection. I was completely stuffed—but that didn’t stop my dad. After cleaning his plate, he reached over and finished the last few bites of mine… then ordered dessert.
A key lime pie that she assured us Kenny Chesney wrote his song about.
Drunk Dinghy Pilots and Starlit Skies
We stumbled back to the dinghy, full and buzzing. Only then did we realize we’d forgotten our navigation lights. My dad perched at the bow, holding up a phone flashlight while I steered. The water around us glimmered under the moon, and stars blinked above like they were in on the joke.
It wasn’t the fastest or most legal way back but it was one of those moments you remember. A perfect blend of absurd, beautiful, and free.
