There is a particular kind of quiet that settles over a boat on the first night, when a dozen teenagers who were strangers at the airport that morning are suddenly sharing a cabin, a deck, and a fortnight of their lives. Our first crew of summer 2026 arrived into Antigua at the start of June, and by the evening they were swimming off the back of the boat, throwing burgers on the plancha, and playing cards to learn each other’s names. That night we held our very first evening devotion of the season, gathered on deck under the stars, and talked about what it means to be known by God. It is a good place to begin, because over the next twelve days these young people would come to be known by each other too.
Nobody stays a passenger for long on a Kingdom Sail trip. The very next morning the girls hauled up the anchor, raised the sails, and worked the jib through the tacks as Luciano skippered and Isaac navigated us from Jolly Beach round to Dickenson Bay. It was their first ever sail, and watching them figure out in real time how a 40-foot yacht actually moves through the water, half concentration and half sheer delight, is one of the great privileges of this job. Paisley cooked bbq chicken to celebrate. Nobody could quite believe they had done it.
Then came the big one. Day three was a seven-hour open-water passage from Antigua north to Barbuda, with Isaac at the helm and Katie on navigation, and every hour of it their confidence grew. Halfway across, a pod of dolphins found us and swam right up under the bow, close enough to touch, and the whole boat lost its mind. We anchored in the late afternoon, tendered ashore to build a bonfire on the beach, and came back to a feast cooked by Luciano before heading back to the sand for worship, marshmallows, and reflection around the fire.
The days blurred into the best kind of rhythm. A long sail to Bird Island with Charli skippering and the boys trailing fishing lines off the stern (they caught rather more seaweed than fish), then a hike to the top for a view of the whole island chain, a minute of silence watching the sun go down, and a satisfying, wordless scream into the abyss to mark the day. A birthday for Charlotte celebrated with ice cream at Nelson’s Dockyard and steak on the boat. Snorkelling over the Deep Bay shipwreck. Turtles and a baby shark at Green Island. Sunrise devotions on the sand and self-reflection time, each teen wandering off alone to talk to God before coming back together to share.
On the last full day we ran man overboard drills, everyone taking a turn in each role, then swam at Jolly Beach and packed up. Charli and Isaac made burgers, a manta ray drifted past the stern as if to say goodbye, and we cut a cake early for Paisley’s birthday. Twelve days after arriving as strangers, our teens flew home a crew: certified sailors, stretched in their faith, and carrying a fortnight of stories they will be telling for years.
The route: Antigua, Barbuda, Bird Island, and home to Antigua. Find out more about Teen Summer Camp, or follow the whole journey.