Saint Martin Island is nestled in the Lesser Antilles, part of a region that also includes the Greater Antilles and the Bahamas—the area historically known as the West Indies. This tiny island is one of the most uniquely divided places on Earth! The northern part is a French overseas community, while the southern part has been an autonomous country within the Kingdom of the Netherlands since 2010. The island is split in such a way that each country gives it its own name: the French call it Saint-Martin (Collectivité de Saint-Martin), and the Dutch call it Sint Maarten. A glance at the map shows the bold boundary, which slices this small island into two halves, each with its own character. Though there’s no formal border—you can cross freely from one side to the other—the difference between the two parts becomes immediately apparent.
On the French side, the roads are narrow, street signs and license plates are in French, and the architecture feels unmistakably French—think cafés, bakeries, and French cuisine. French is spoken in the shops and restaurants, and the currency is the euro. On the Dutch side, the roads are wider (though in poor condition), the signs are in both English and Dutch, and American influence is everywhere—from the style of the buildings to the currency. The official currency is the Netherlands Antillean guilder, but U.S. dollars are universally accepted, and change is often given in dollars. Though some prices are listed in guilders, I never saw anyone actually pay with them. The south of the island is also famous for its bars and casinos.
Saint Martin was discovered by Christopher Columbus, but he chose not to land. He noted in his logbook that he saw the island on November 11, 1493, the feast day of Saint Martin of Tours, and named it San Martín in his honour. At that time, the island was inhabited by Arawak and Carib Indians, and European colonizers hadn’t yet arrived. The Spanish showed little interest in this small patch of land, so the French and Dutch set their sights on it. There’s a charming legend that the two groups decided to divide the island peacefully. A group of Frenchmen and Dutchmen set out to meet each other along the shore to mark where the boundary would be. The French drank wine to quench their thirst, while the Dutch drank gin. As a result, the French walked a little faster, and France ended up with the larger portion. In 1648, they signed an agreement to divide the island, which remains in effect to this day.
The blue line on the map marks the start of our route. We begin at the Lagoon Marina dock, which is a perfect place to leave a boat for an extended period of time. Legato spent six months here and received some cosmetic repairs during her stay. The hull was cleaned of barnacles and repainted with a fresh layer of antifouling paint.
I had only two days on the island, and I spent both of them preparing for a major journey. I went over the detailed passage plan that the captain had prepared, studied weather forecasts, wind patterns, currents, potential anchorages, tidal schedules, and reviewed recommendations from other travelers. I also stocked up on provisions and handled a variety of smaller tasks that are best taken care of on land. Here’s the full map of our upcoming journey.
In preparation mode, I didn’t have time to properly explore the island or take photos. Perhaps next time, if I ever return. I do have a few shots left on my phone, taken “on the go” as we left the port. I’d be happy to share them. The Simpson Bay Bridge, which connects Simpson Bay Lagoon to the Caribbean Sea, is the only navigable passage. Since it also serves as a major traffic route on the island, it’s raised only three times a day—at 9:00, 11:00, and 16:30—and for very short periods. The line to get in or out can be quite long, but the traffic is well-managed, and once the bridge was raised, we quickly left the bay and anchored in the Caribbean Sea to finish some tasks we hadn’t been able to complete in the marina, like changing the sails.
By the way, the transition from day to night on the island is almost instantaneous. The sun disappears below the horizon, and night falls immediately—there are no twilight hours. We managed to finish changing the sails just in time, and then we set sail for our next destination—Culebra Island, part of Puerto Rico.
