I’m standing on the beach, staring into a bonfire. The flames have an odd green hue — not because of the many rum punches, but because of the red emergency flares burning all around us. Apparently, that’s what sailors use for fireworks.

It’s 2026

Hard to believe. Adieu, 2025. What a year it’s been — full of change, movement, and moments that stretched me in different ways. There were things to celebrate and things that asked for patience and perspective. Standing here now, I feel steadier, grateful, and quietly optimistic about what the year ahead might bring.

But back to the bonfire.

With me are Karin, my sister Bini, and my niece Amelie. It’s day four of our cruise together, and we’re having a wonderful time. The weather is epic, spirits aboard are high, and JACE feels full of life. Karin is in her element, effortlessly hosting and clearly enjoying sharing this sailing life with the others.

I pick them up on Saturday in Pointe-à-Pitre, Guadeloupe’s capital and airport. Bini visited JACE last season and jumped at the chance to return. She brings a calm, grateful presence aboard — curious, observant, and always quietly ready to help. This time she’s here with her daughter, who has never been sailing before.

With a freshly cleaned and well-provisioned boat, we leave the marina and spend the afternoon tacking up Guadeloupe’s southeast coast in a light breeze, gently breaking in the new crew. That night we anchor at Le Petit Havre, in complete solitude, floating in glassy water behind a reef, lulled by the sound of breakers far away. Magical.

Marie-Galante, about fifteen nautical miles south of Guadeloupe, is our next stop. The weather has been cloudless for days, the breeze light, the swell minimal. We anchor off Saint-Louis, swim ashore, and later treat ourselves to tropical drinks under palm trees while the sun puts on a show Hollywood could hardly improve.

Life aboard quickly settles into a rhythm. We wake up early, start with a swim, then coffee in the cockpit. Breakfast is a serious affair — bread, eggs, fruit, yogurt, sometimes pancakes. Finding good bread, and especially yogurt, isn’t always easy on these islands, but I have my sources — and a generous fridge and freezer.

Then it’s time for action — usually sailing, unless we declare a chill day for snorkeling and lazing at anchor. After reaching our destination and once the hook is securely set, the engine goes quiet and JACE is reset for relaxation: sunshades up, fins out, dinghy and swim platform down. Sundowner drinks, music while cooking, long dinners in the cockpit. Most evenings we retire early, rocked gently to sleep. And so the cycle repeats. We love it.

Today we have a special plan. Instead of sailing by day, we will sail into the evening and night. So we spend the day hiking, visiting a picture-perfect beach and enjoying a delicious créole lunch. At 4:30 p.m., with the sun already low, we weigh anchor.

The first part is gentle and slow, then faster as we reach the open stretch between the islands. Under full sail, we cruise into the sunset and on into a night sky filled with stars and a waxing moon. Amelie, in particular, is captivated by the experience. She lives very much in the moment, taking it all in with quiet focus and an openness to everything that’s new.

By 10 p.m. we enter Prince Rupert Bay and carefully drop anchor. Engine off. Night sail: success.

Spending New Year’s in Dominica has been Bini’s special wish. She fell in love with this island last year, and we’re happy to oblige. On the morning of the 31st we take a tour up the Indian River with my friend Alexis, whom we met on that very same tour a year earlier.

Named after the indigenous Carib people who once lived upstream, the river winds slowly through dense rainforest. No engines are allowed, so Alexis rows and poles us deep into the jungle, telling stories about the flora and fauna, life before Hurricane Maria devastated the island in 2017, and his own childhood. His stories are captivating — thoughtful, rich, and quietly melancholic.

Loaded with fruit, vegetables, and herbs from a small farm along the way, we return. A stop at the fish market presents an impressive prize: five pounds of thick, freshly caught yellowfin tuna. Tomorrow’s dinner is already looking promising.

New Year’s Eve brings another local beach barbecue — similar to Christmas, just bigger. Freshly grilled mahi-mahi, rum punch, music, and dancing barefoot in the sand. Bini and Karin go a little easier on the rum punch this time, memories of last year’s hangover still vivid, but the joy is just the same.

Which brings me full circle — back to the bonfire, the red flares, and good wishes passed around the fire as 2026 begins.

We start the year in style. On New Year’s Day, Alexis takes us to a snorkeling spot around the point where the water is crystal clear and the reef still vibrant. We snorkel for a long time — until I get too cold and have to retreat early. But we see morays, squid, sea eels, octopus, turtles, and more fish than I can name.

The rest of the day is slow and quiet. New Year’s calls with family and friends. A bit of planning for the weeks ahead. And then dinner: the tuna steaks, seared briefly on the grill, served with curried rice and cucumber salad. Simply perfect.

Tomorrow we leave Dominica.

But that’s another story. Stay tuned.