A Day on the Water With Captain Jel in Anguilla

Most mornings begin the same way for me. Quiet. Still air. The sea speaking softly.

Before anyone steps on the boat, I already have a sense of how the day will feel. If you watch the water long enough, it tells you what kind of mood it’s in. That part can’t be rushed.

People often ask me, “Captain, what’s a typical day like?”
The truth is, no two days are ever the same. That’s the sea. But I can walk you through one that feels right.

Before We Leave the Dock

I don’t rush mornings.

The boat is checked the same way every time. Lines. Fuel. Engines. Clean deck. Everything where it’s supposed to be. A vessel needs care, just like people do. If you don’t respect it, it will let you know soon enough.

Guests arrive smiling, already in holiday mode. That’s a good sign. That’s how it should be. From there, it’s my responsibility.

I don’t give long speeches. I tell people what they need to know—clearly and simply. My word on the boat is final. Not to be strict, but to keep everyone safe and relaxed. When people don’t have to think, they enjoy themselves more.

We ease out slowly. No rush. The sea doesn’t respond well to hurry.

Reading the Water

Once we clear the harbor, the real work begins—though most people never notice it.

I’m watching everything:
the wind direction,
how the swell is breaking,
the color of the water,
the way other boats are moving.

You don’t fight the sea. You listen to it. The sea always makes the final call—always. Within that, I’m responsible for the vessel. That balance matters.

Some days the water is flat like glass. Other days it pushes back. Either way, you move the way it tells you to move.

That’s why people say the ride feels smooth, even when conditions change. That isn’t luck. That’s listening.

Places You Don’t See on a Map

Everyone knows the well-known spots. They’re beautiful, and yes—I take people there.

But Anguilla has places most people never see. Some can’t be reached by land. Others can’t be reached by water unless you understand exactly how the sea behaves in that area.

I know those places.

Not because I want to show off, but because I grew up watching them. Learning the tides. The rocks. The passages that only open at certain times of day. You have to know when to go—and when not to.

There are places I talk about. And places I simply take you to.

Sometimes we drift in silence. No music. Just the sound of water against the hull. That’s when people really feel it—the space, the ease. That’s luxury to me.

Midday on the Boat

By midday, everyone has settled in.

Some guests are swimming. Some are snorkeling. Others are stretched out in the shade, drink in hand, with nowhere else to be. Families laughing. Couples sitting quietly together. That’s the good life.

I keep my attention moving the entire time. Even when I look relaxed, I’m watching. Boat handling never stops. Conditions change quickly out here. You stay ahead of them.

People think a good captain is about speed or tricks. It’s not. A good captain is about control—knowing exactly what your boat is doing at all times, and making it feel effortless for everyone else.

If you hear me say, “Alright, we’re moving now,” that isn’t a suggestion. That’s timing.

Why I Do It This Way

I’ve been on the water long enough to know one thing: the sea doesn’t care who you are.

Respect it, and it treats you fairly. Ignore it, and it humbles you quickly.

That’s why I run my boat the way I do. Calm. Intentional. No unnecessary risk.

People come aboard to relax, to celebrate, to experience Anguilla the right way. My responsibility is to make sure they do—while keeping them safe without ever making them feel restricted.

That’s what being a captain means to me. And I take it seriously.

Heading Back In

By the time we turn back toward the dock, the sun is usually sitting just right. The light hits the water differently in the afternoon—softer, warmer.

Guests are quieter then. Not tired—just full. That’s how you know the day went well.

We ease back in smoothly. Lines on. Engines off. Another day done properly.

Before they leave, I usually hear it:

“Captain, that was perfect.”

I nod. Smile. That’s enough.

Living the Good Life

GoodLiving isn’t about doing the most. It’s about doing things right.

The right timing. The right people. The right respect—for the sea, the boat, and the moment you’re in.

That’s how I captain. That’s how I live.

And when you step onto my boat, that’s the life you’re stepping into.

— Captain Jel