
Paddleboards
Two SUPs live on the swim platform. Slip off at anchor, paddle the glassy water at sunrise, be back aboard before the coffee cools.
A week aboard Tupelo Honey is a moving postcard: paddleboards at dawn, the boulders of The Baths by mid-morning, a reef in the afternoon, and a beach bar by sundown. The crew shapes the itinerary around the weather, the swell, and what you want next.

Two SUPs live on the swim platform. Slip off at anchor, paddle the glassy water at sunrise, be back aboard before the coffee cools.

Full gear for twelve. The crew picks the day's reef — drift the wreck of the Rhone, the coral gardens off Norman, or the rays at the edge of Anegada.

Boulder grottos the size of cathedrals, hidden tide pools and a tunnel-walk through to Devil's Bay. We anchor early so you have the place to yourselves.

White Bay, no dock — swim ashore, soggy dollar in hand, for the original Painkiller. Hammocks under the palms and the bar that started it all.

A four-acre private cay with a sheltered lagoon, the famous red British phone booth at the end of the dock, and a hilltop sunset bar.

Drone view of the reef-ringed lagoon — yachts on the mooring field, white sand spit, water in every shade of blue.

A speck of an island at the entrance to the North Sound — rebuilt, rebooted, and still the right place for sundowners after a day at the Bitter End.

A quiet crescent on the way south — mooring balls in clear water, a beach club with rum from across the Caribbean, and one of the best sunset anchorages in the chain.

Mats roll out on the foredeck before the day warms. Salt air, glassy water, and a slow vinyasa flow to the sound of the rigging — the best way to meet a Caribbean morning.
From a glassy reef glide on an underwater scooter to a full-throttle tube run behind the 60-hp dinghy — the toy box opens the moment the anchor is down.

A Seabob-style scooter pulls you along the reef effortlessly — chase rays at Anegada or hover over the wreck of the Rhone without breaking a sweat.

A starter boom for the kids, slalom for the grown-ups. Glass-flat water in the lee of any island makes the BVI a perfect ski school.

Two-person tube, wakeboard, and a 60-hp dinghy to tow them — the loudest, wettest, most laughed-about hour of the day.
Dine aboard — three meals and snacks shaped around your tastes, served wherever you happen to be: a sunrise breakfast on the foredeck, ceviche in the cockpit, lobster by candlelight under the stars. Or slip the lines when the mood strikes and let the crew tender you ashore — a beach grill on Jost, a chef's table at Saba Rock, a long lazy lunch at Cooper Island. Either way, the wine is cold, the table is set, and nothing is on a clock but you.

Tropical fruit, eggs benedict, fresh-pressed juice, the first coffee of the day.

Seared tuna, citrus salads, chilled rosé — eaten in the cockpit between swims.

Butter-poached lobster, saffron risotto, a cellar of wine — served by candlelight.
A full top-shelf bar — small-batch rums of the islands, single malts, French Champagne on ice, classic cocktails mixed to order. Tell the crew your pour; it'll be waiting at sundown.
Freshly ground gourmet beans, espresso, cappuccinos, flat whites and lattes pulled from a proper machine. Loose-leaf teas, fresh-pressed juices, and a smoothie bar for the between-swim moments.
Tell us your dates and what you want to see — the crew handles the rest.
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