Rebuilding Paradise: A New Era for Los Roques

A forgotten paradise finds its voice again.

There are places that don’t need to shout to be heard.
Los Roques has always been one of them.

While the world was busy arguing over politics and headlines, these islands stayed exactly as they’ve always been — bright, silent, and impossibly blue.
Eighty miles from the Venezuelan coast, the atoll kept breathing quietly, waiting for the rest of the Caribbean to remember what real paradise looks like.

Now, little by little, that silence is breaking.
Anchors are dropping again.
Captains are calling in from the horizon.
And those who thought this place had disappeared are realizing it never went anywhere.

Los Roques isn’t just another tropical postcard. It’s a living atoll — a rare geological formation that rose from the Caribbean Sea around ten thousand years ago.
Forty-two islands. Three hundred islets. Hundreds of reefs and sandbars that change color with the light.

Every beach tells a different story:
Cayo de Agua, where two tides meet to form a strip of white so pure it looks unreal.
Noronquí, where turtles glide through glassy water.
Crasquí, the favorite anchorage of sailors who never really leave.

Photographer Federico Cabello once said that Los Roques forces you to “see more.”
He was right. The longer you look, the more you start noticing things — the slow rhythm of the tides, the silence that hums, the hundreds of shades between blue and turquoise.

During the pandemic, when marinas across the world fell silent, something unexpected happened.
Yachts started looking for new routes — quieter, safer, more remote.

Los Roques was already here, waiting.

While the rest of the world was locking up, Venezuela quietly opened its sea again.
Clearances that used to take days now happen in minutes.
The local economy dollarized.
And a new generation of maritime professionals began doing things differently — fast, organized, transparent.

That’s how Yachtservice Los Roques became what it is today: the easiest, most reliable way to enter Venezuelan waters.
Captains talk about it on the radio like a secret that shouldn’t be a secret anymore.

The truth is, Los Roques doesn’t need a thousand yachts. It needs the right ones.
This is not St. Barth or St. Martin.
There are no nightclubs, no crowds, no marina full of horns and champagne foam.

Here, luxury means privacy.
It means a perfect anchorage where you hear nothing but your own heart beating under the stars.

Like Malta in the Mediterranean, Venezuela is learning that small, well-managed destinations can protect both nature and reputation.
That’s why every yacht that comes here does so under a strict environmental framework — limited-entry permits, approved anchorages, waste control, reef protection.

It’s not red tape. It’s respect.

If you’ve ever entered Los Roques, you’ve probably heard the name Alejandro Linares.
He’s been around these islands for over thirty years — long before there were GPS routes or drone shots to show the way.

He was the guy who knew the right moment to catch a marlin, the exact color of the lure to use, and the safest channels to cross when the light was low.

Today, as the founder of Yachtservice Los Roques, he’s using that same instinct — only now it’s for superyachts, pilots, and captains who want to experience the islands the way they were meant to be experienced: free, effortless, unforgettable.

Alejandro and his team coordinate everything — visas, clearance, provisioning, local pilots — quietly, efficiently, like clockwork.
Because the best kind of service is the one you barely notice.

Los Roques isn’t trying to compete with anyone.
It doesn’t have to.

The world’s biggest yachts are already starting to come — drawn by the same thing that brought fishermen here centuries ago: calm water, safe anchorages, and a beauty that still feels untouched.

This isn’t a comeback story. It’s continuity.
The islands never fell. We just stopped listening.

Now, the world is listening again.

If you’re looking for somewhere real — somewhere that still feels wild and safe and alive — you’ve already found it.

Still ours. And still yours.

David vs. Goliath: Los Roques and the Rebirth of Venezuela’s Story

Every era has its Goliath. For us in Venezuela, Goliath has not been a single man, but a machine — the endless stream of propaganda, the weight of oil interests, and the headlines that have tried to define us as unsafe, unstable, and unworthy.

But David’s story has always been about resilience. And resilience is what defines Los Roques, our people, and our way of life.

For decades, Venezuela has been cast aside, banned from air routes, shut out of financial systems, and treated as if turmoil was our only identity. Yet if you look around the world today, every nation wrestles with its own storms — protests, corruption, economic struggles, coups. The difference is that Venezuela was marked and magnified as the symbol of it all.

That was never the full story.

The truth is, Venezuela is one of the 17 megadiverse countries on Earth. We hold the third-largest freshwater reserves in the world, vast rainforests, endless Caribbean coastlines, and more than ten untouched islands with sand as white as flour and waters painted in eight shades of blue.

Here in Los Roques, just 80 miles offshore, lies something rare — a Pacific-style atoll in the middle of the Caribbean, completely outside the hurricane belt. Anchorages lie empty. The biodiversity is unmatched. The horizon feels endless. And what brings this place alive is not only its natural beauty but the service and warmth of its people. From a fisherman sharing his catch, to a family welcoming guests with a smile, to the ease with which a yacht is cleared in under 20 minutes — Los Roques speaks louder than any headline. It proves that Venezuela is safe, thriving, and welcoming.

Yes, Venezuela has its challenges. Boats have been stolen, resources fought over, politics debated. But which country doesn’t have its shadows? What we don’t have is the identity forced on us: a so-called narco-state. Here, even a joint can land you in jail. Drugs are not our culture. Our wealth has always been in oil, in gold, in water, in biodiversity — and in the resilience of our people.

That richness is precisely why outsiders have tried to control the narrative. It is easier to paint Venezuela as dangerous than to admit the truth: this is one of the richest and most beautiful countries on Earth. And so, despite the noise, Los Roques rises. Every yacht that anchors here, every guest who walks barefoot on our beaches, every captain who expected chaos but found ease and safety — each is proof that the story is changing. What they discover is not the caricature of Venezuela painted abroad, but the reality of a nation with open arms, where there is no racism, no walls of religion, only hospitality and a will to thrive.

David never defeated Goliath with size. He did it with truth and precision. In the same way, every visit to Los Roques is a stone in the sling — small on its own, but powerful enough to shift perception. This battle was never about strength. It was always about perspective. And here, in Los Roques, Venezuela is reclaiming its story — one boat, one guest, one unforgettable day at a time.

Still ours. And still yours.

Los Roques: The Anglers Best-Kept Secret

The 45-minute flight from Caracas to Gran Roque is unlike any other journey in the Caribbean. As the plane lifts off, the haze of the mainland quickly dissolves into sunlight, and ahead, the sea transforms into a living canvas — a spectrum of blues and greens so intense it feels unreal. By the time the scattered cays of Los Roques come into view, the excitement on board is palpable. Everyone knows they’re about to step into something extraordinary.

For years, Venezuela was misunderstood. Headlines painted a picture of turmoil, but the reality today is completely different: a nation stable, safe, and open for tourism like never before. Nowhere is this more evident than in Los Roques, a national marine park that feels more like a South Pacific atoll than a Caribbean island. Remote yet accessible, unspoiled yet welcoming — it is paradise rediscovered.

From the moment you land, the difference is clear. Alejandro from Yachtservice Los Roques organizes every detail seamlessly: permits, clearances, and the warm welcome that puts any lingering doubts to rest. A few steps from the airstrip and you’re already in barefoot paradise, walking sandy streets lined with hibiscus and bougainvillea. Life here runs on island time, friendly and unhurried.

And then comes the fishing. Los Roques is world-famous for its Pancake Flats — firm white sand, ankle-deep water, and tailing bonefish in endless numbers. Wading across these flats, every cast holds the promise of that explosive run that makes bonefish legendary. Above average in size and unmatched in spirit, the fish here remind you why this archipelago is considered one of the finest fly-fishing destinations on earth.

Yet bonefish are only part of the story. Tarpon lurk in mangrove lagoons, jacks and snapper patrol the beaches, while parrotfish and triggers tempt anglers with their power and stubbornness. Variety is everywhere, and every encounter is played out against the impossible backdrop of Los Roques’ turquoise waters.

And then, of course, comes the offshore adventure. Alejandro didn’t join us for bonefishing, but when it was time to head offshore, his 20+ years as a captain came alive. He knew the spots, the moon phases, the right lure colors — and the results were mind-blowing. In just one long day on the water, we hooked everything: wahoo after wahoo, yellowfin tuna, mahi-mahi, and even fought multiple blue marlin. Ten hours of pure adrenaline, ending with the freshest fish feast we had ever caught ourselves. Glorious days to remember — the kind that turn a trip into a lifetime memory.

Step offshore, and Venezuela shows why it is recognized worldwide as the land of double and triple billfish catches. Blue marlin, sailfish, and white marlin are part of the country’s legendary big-game history. Move inland, and the rivers and lagoons offer another prize: the largest peacock bass on the planet. No other country can deliver this combination — bonefish in saltwater, white and blue marlin offshore, and peacocks in freshwater.

What makes it all unique today is the sense of space. Los Roques is still free of crowds, still pristine, and still safe. For fishermen, sailors, and travelers, it is one of the last true frontiers of the Caribbean — a place where exclusivity comes not from walls or gates, but from nature itself.

Los Roques is not forgotten. It has simply been waiting.

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.