The day starts with Rachel rushing out of her room and into the cockpit of the boat thinking that she is going to be sick. This is unfortunate as we already know the journey over to Virgin Gorda will be choppy as we are heading straight into the wind.
She lays quietly in the shade of the cockpit as we pitch and roll our way over the waves. It is the bumpiest ride yet.
As we near the marina at Spanish Town, Allison and I gather together the washing as we are going to visit the laundrette that Mike has seen in the Mall. He has assured me that it is a 100% improvement on the appearance of Freeman’s in Road Town.
The fuel dock area is crowded with the PR Navy. Boats are milling around vying for position at the dock. Some even attempt to leave their boats tied up while they go shopping or on other errands but the dock master gets them moving. Mike, never very patient when it comes to waiting in a queue starts making loud comments and ‘move along’ gestures which probably doesn’t actually move anything along at all.
Rachel gets off the boat almost immediately we arrive at the fuel dock which is just as well, as while we are filling the tank, diesel spurts out all over the cockpit cushion and the fumes are overwhelming. Mike washes it off as soon as he can but it will still smell – hopefully he gets the marks out though.
Allison and I trot off to the laundrette. Mike is right. This one is clean and all the machines seem to be in working order – well at least there is no heap of rusty, dead ones in a corner like at Cane Garden Bay, and it is completely devoid of people, unlike the ones in Freeman’s. Hopefully it is devoid of cockroaches too although that is probably too much to hope for. We load three machines, put the money in and hey presto, two of the three start to fill with water. We have no idea why the other two don’t work and there are no staff to ask. I wander off to the bar next door and ask the waitress is she knows when the staff are coming back. She tells me there are no staff and I need to use to phone provided to call the office. Three phone calls and twenty minutes later, the help that has been promised by the lady on the other end of the phone has not materialised.
A Dutch lady arrives to remove her clothes from the drier. The machines had worked for her. Then she points out that although we thought we had set the program to hot for both dud machines, we had failed to tell it whether we wanted permanent press or a delicate cycle. We hadn’t known what permanent press was and the washing wasn’t delicate, so we had ignored both buttons. The one working machine was on a warm cycle so didn’t need the extra button press. We press permanent press button (still don’t know what this is) and they start to fill with water. Phew!
When we leave, there is still no sign of the little man who allegedly has been despatched to sort the machines out. He’s probably having his lunch.
Mike and Adam come back to the fuel dock in the dinghy to pick up the washing and Allison and I go to Bucks supermarket. Mike returns to help us, and loaded with provisions we return to the boat. I am very impressed. John has gone through the washing bags, hung out wet stuff and made two of the beds back up. He is now dripping with sweat and appreciates the challenges a galley slave/hostess faces. He has not made my bed up, and given the sweat situation, I forgive him his dereliction of duty!!
We are to meet Rachel and Simon at Leverick Bay. They are spending the afternoon on land and getting a taxi there.
The sail to Leverick Bay is as good as it gets with the light winds that we have. We sail quite close to the wind and have to tack quite a bit, passing a large armada of PR fishing boats in Savannah Bay. They are everywhere. We arrive just fifteen minutes late and sweep into the marina to see if we can see Rachel and Simon – we see them waving from the bar, so once we are anchored up, Mike goes to pick them up. Rachel is feeling much better – being a land lubber for the afternoon obviously worked.
We eat, shower and head off to the Christmas in July celebrations at the Jumbies Bar. We arrive when there is a bit of a lull in the event. The Mocko Jumbies arrive but are do not put on as exciting a show as usual.
Photo: The Mocko Jumbies in full swing
We don’t stay long as we are all tired. Apparently everything gets going around 11.30 and will go on until about 4am. Well past our bedtime.
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