The Venezuelan Virgins Islands
By Alejandro Linares
Captain’s Log – Entry 2143
The Virgins of the North have their fame — their marinas, their ferries, their crowds. But the true Virgins, the ones no one tells you about, lie south. Out there, beyond the gossip and the routes worn thin by charter fleets, are islands that remain what the Caribbean once was: untouched, unclaimed, unforgettable.
Every sailor knows the name “Virgin Islands.” Charts of the north — St. Thomas, Tortola, Virgin Gorda — are crowded with anchor symbols, marinas, and ferry routes. But few realize that the story doesn’t end there. Sail a little further south, beyond the gossip and the over-sailed lanes, and you’ll find their wilder sisters: the Venezuelan Virgin Islands.
Here, the Caribbean feels new again. Anchorages with no mooring balls, just sand and seagrass. Beaches where the only footprints belong to pelicans. Reefs so untouched they rise like cathedrals beneath the keel. These islands are not charted in glossy brochures — they are whispered about between captains over rum at midnight.
Known locally as Las Vírgenes, they sit between Tortuga and La Orchila, part of Venezuela’s mosaic of islands that includes Los Roques, Las Aves, La Blanquilla, and Los Testigos. Yet the Virgins hold a particular kind of magic. They are a sailor’s test: no resorts to fall back on, no bars with rum punches waiting. You bring what you need. You leave with what the sea gives.
Step onto the beach, and you feel like you’ve walked into a world paused in time. There are no hotels, no kiosks, no shops. Only the sound of the wind through the sea grapes and the hiss of the surf. Occasionally, you’ll meet fishermen who live between sea and sand, offering fresh lobster or pargo in exchange for a few liters of fuel or a loaf of bread.
Meals are eaten barefoot on the sand, stories told under stars unbroken by city lights. It is here that you understand what “owning paradise” feels like — not in possession, but in belonging.
The northern Virgins may offer convenience, but the southern Virgins offer truth. This is the Caribbean before it was sold, the Caribbean that sailors carried in their dreams when they first set a course south. It is not for everyone — and that is exactly why it is perfect.
Out here, there are no marina receipts, no charter fleets crowding the bay. Only a logbook entry that reads: “Anchored in paradise, unmarked on the map. Eight shades of blue, one memory forever.”
So when your compass swings south and the horizon is wide, remember: the Virgins don’t end in St. Thomas. They wait here, in Venezuela, still pure, still untouched, still ours — and still yours.
Captain’s Notes – Navigating the Venezuelan Virgins
Prevailing Winds
Northeast trades dominate, steady at 15–20 knots most of the year.
Calmer mornings with increasing winds by afternoon.
Seasons
Best months: December to May (dry season, steady trades).
Rainy season: June to November — lighter winds, occasional squalls, out of hurricane belt.
Approach
Approach only in good light (sun high, seas calm) — reefs rise abruptly, charts are limited.
Depth sounder and visual lookout are essential.
Anchorages
Sand bottoms offer reliable holding, 5–15m depth. Shoal-draft yachts can tuck closer to the reef, while deeper vessels should hold off the larger cays.
Currents & Tides
Tidal range: small (30–50 cm), but currents run strong along reef edges.
Watch for set when approaching passes — they can push you onto coral quickly.
Provisions & Services
None. Bring all supplies. Fishermen may barter lobster or pargo for fuel, rice, or bread.
No fuel docks, no shops, no marinas.
Safety & Respect
Anchor only on sand. Protect the reefs.
Leave nothing behind. Take only memories.
