As a romantic with a pinch of salt in my veins, boarding the Star Flyer in Sint Maarten took my breath away. One of three tall ships owned and operated by Sweden-based cruise company Star Clippers, my week-long itinerary in the Lesser Antilles promised a familiar and exotic adventure. Well-appointed rooms, friendly international staff and a fine buffet are standard on most cruise ships. Venturing forth under sail, chasing pirate lore, climbing masts and dropping anchor in small bays is not.

The 166-passenger Star Flyer is 115m long with a 15-metre-wide beam, and it’s not even the biggest ship in the Star Clipper fleet. Their 42-sail Royal Clipper holds the Guinness World Record as the largest square rigger in service. Both ships rely on billowing sails to do the heavy lifting, with low-emission gas used for internal power, port docking​​ and maneuvering through idle doldrums. Fortunately, the wind in the Caribbean from December to April is so reliable you can bank on it, which is why past navigators called them the trade winds. 

As a passenger, it feels like I’m partaking in rich seafaring history while getting a preview of conscious luxury travel in the future. The contrast between our elegant, wind-powered vessel and massive cruise liners is striking, not just in aesthetics, but in environmental impact. The Star Flyer’s captain explains that the ship uses just 15 per cent of the fuel compared to a similar-sized engine vessel, resulting in a dramatically reduced carbon footprint. Beyond emissions, a smaller passenger capacity means less waste, reduced water consumption and minimal disruption to coastal environments and communities.

Our smaller ​vessel means we can visit and interact with beaches and communities beyond the reach of​ the giant ​cruise ships. My dining mates, a couple from Toronto, are cruise veterans with dozens of voyages under their belts. Both agree the tall ship had exceeded their expectations, with just the right combination of adventure and comfort. 

Embracing the warm sea breeze, I stretch my arms towards a pod of dolphins cresting a few metres beneath me. I’m lying on the netted bowsprit at the fore of the ship, my favourite spot on the Star Flyer, where I can literally soak it all in. It’s a giant hammock that meets the sea breeze and ocean spray head-on. Throughout the week, I lie back on the thick net to admire the clouds or zone out, staring at the waves. That’s when the dolphins appear, gliding playfully in front of the bow, providing another singular moment of magic in a week of many.

Admittedly, not all passengers have the nerve to hang out at the bowsprit, much less take up ​the offer to scale the mainmast. Secured with a safety harness, I climb the rope ladder to a viewing platform eighteen metres above the ​sparking ​water. It provides a priceless and occasionally knee-shaking birds-eye view of the ship,​ sea, islands​,​ and sparkling horizon. Travelling alone, I quickly find my crew of mast-climbers and bowspritters. Spanning six decades of age, we gather for drinks and tall tales at the Tropical Bar. No matter what boat you sail in, the people you meet create the paradise you find.