Find Your Tropical Paradise in the Spanish Virgins

There is a little-known archipelago, just around the corner from world-famous tropical islands, where you can find the laid-back spirit that captures the dream of a tropical island escape. 

The Virgin Islands have a long track record as a vacation destination. St. Thomas, St. John, and St. Croix, the USVI, have been a go-to tropical island getaway ever since jet travel became widespread. The BVI, or British Virgin Islands, have joined their American cousins as iconic Caribbean playgrounds. But their very success has brought so many visitors, at resort hotels, on cruise ships, and sailboat charters, that the secluded island paradise vacationers dream of is harder to reach. 

Unless you sail west instead of east. Just a couple hours cruise west of Charlotte Amalie on St. Thomas, the primary bareboat jumping-off point, lie the Spanish Virgin Islands, or Spanish Virgins – an off-the-beaten-path sailing destination that has largely escaped the notice and massive visitation of its more famous neighbors. 

The Spanish Virgins consist primarily of two islands, Vieques and Culebra, roughly equidistant from St. Thomas and the considerably larger island of Puerto Rico, of which they are an offshore component. So, the language is primarily Spanish, although with English readily understood, and the Yankee dollar the official coin of the realm. 

Most importantly, said a cruising sailor with extensive experience in the region, “you can have it to yourself.” The anchorages, beaches, snorkeling reefs, and backcountry landscapes are wonderfully underpopulated, meaning you can have your choice of locations and keep the rest of the world at a distance. Even in the bars, in the little towns which are the extent of civilization, you don’t feel crowded.

One way to understand the appeal of the Spanish Virgins to someone who is not seeking disco clubs, nightlife, or “action” is to mention what you won’t find there. In all of Culebra and Vieques, there are no fast-food chain restaurants, no high-rise hotels, no cruise liners docking, no casinos and no strip malls. The two islands don’t even have a single traffic light. 

They do have miles of uncrowded beaches, crystal clear water, shallow-depth snorkeling reefs, dramatic cliffs rising from the sea, a world-famous bioluminescent bay, and the largest nature preserve in the Caribbean. Nature gets top billing in the Spanish Virgins, and ironically, some of that is due to the U.S. Navy. For decades, the Navy used most of Vieques as a bombing range to train military pilots. My sister, who lived on Water Island in the USVI, used to hear the ordnance exploding on Vieques, over 20 miles distant, until 2003, when the government finally gave in to the islanders’ protests and ceased operations. 

When the Navy departed, they turned over their military reservation, comprising two-thirds of the 21-mile by four-mile island, which became the Vieques National Wildlife Refuge. The most notable wildlife is the population of mustangs, or wild horses, which wander freely over the island, even clopping unmolested down the streets in the downtown of Isabel Segunda, Vieques’ principal town. If you rent a car to get around – and it will be a low-key, private transaction, as there are no national franchise car rental operations on the islands – just keep this in mind: horses have the right of way. 

Some of the military facilities are still in evidence, cheek to jowl with the stone towers marking furnaces in which plantation owners used to boil down sugar cane, using slave labor in another bygone era. The jungle is now reclaiming all those locales, but they can still be seen when touring around the island. In addition, the Navy has removed a reported 32,000 bombs from Vieques, so caution is recommended when poking around the terrain – particularly since the island’s hospital never reopened after being devastated by Hurricane Maria in 2017. 

Culebra and Vieques took a one-two punch that year, first from Hurricane Irma, which then proceeded to lash Southwest Florida, and then Maria. Locally, the two are referred to collectively as “Irmaria,” sort of like the “Barbenheimer” of storms, and the two hurricanes’ effects are still felt locally, with some hotels and other facilities never having returned to pre-storm levels. 

One local Vieques landmark that did make it through the hurricanes is the 400-year-old ceiba tree. This amazing specimen has roots that tower three times the height of a person and extend for dozens of feet in every direction, looking like something dreamed up by Disney’s Imagineers rather than an actual living tree. Yet on Vieques, it simply stands alongside the road in the middle of the island, just an example of how low-key and laid back the Spanish Virgins are. 

Another natural wonder on Vieques is Mosquito Bay, reputedly the brightest and most glowing bio-luminescent body of water in the world. On our visit in February, there were no mosquitoes to contend with, but the dinoflagellates in the water were working overtime, causing showers of shimmering phosphorescent light to radiate from our canoe paddles with each stroke as we paddled through the “bio bay” in the darkness. If you can time your visit for the nights of the new moon, when light pollution is at its lowest ebb, you will see the maximum effect of these uncanny underwater fireflies. 

Even apart from the “bucket list” thrill of the bio bay, anchoring out in coves with few or no buildings for miles in any direction to light up the sky, and often not even another sailboat sharing the harbor, offers wonderful opportunities for stargazing and drinking in the overhead lightshow of the Milky Way. The stars glow brighter, and there are more of them than you will see in any populated area. (Side note: if you want that velvety black sky experience closer to home, drive out on a moonless evening halfway across the Everglades on the Tamiami Trail, or take a boat overnight far down into the 10,000 Islands. But take insect repellent with you: Vieques doesn’t have the only “mosquito bay” around.) 

Much smaller than Vieques, the island of Culebra offers beaches and dive spots which are a favorite destination for the “Puerto Rican navy,” the fleet of sportfishermen and cruising boats that visit from the east coast Puerto Rico ports of Ceiba and Fajardo on a daily basis. The village of Dewey, Culebra’s only town, has funky, down-home eating and drinking establishments, including Mamacita’s and the aptly named Dinghy Dock restaurant, where cruising sailors tie up their tenders and go ashore for a rum punch or perhaps a “cheeseburger in paradise.” The sign on one local store says it all: “Open some days, closed others.” Did we mention these islands have a laid-back vibe?

Just offshore from Culebra, the island of Culebrita or “Little Culebra,” is home to wild goats, wild beaches, and an abandoned Spanish lighthouse with picturesque stonework and outstanding 360-degree views if you climb the rickety stairs and ladder up to the top. You, and whoever came ashore with you in the boat, represent the entire human population. When you leave, it drops back down to zero – just the goats and the hermit crabs. 

When returning to St. Thomas and the *relative* bustle of the USVI feels like getting back to the real world, you know you have been off the grid. These days, that experience is getting harder and harder to find, and if that appeals to you, a cruise to the Spanish Virgins could be just the antidote to civilization you’ve been looking for.