As we have the hire car until mid day we leave early and head to the boatyard. Normally Mike doesn’t like to ask for a lift early as the staff have to serve breakfast and he doesn’t want to interrupt them.
We arrive just after 8 am and just one member of staff is there. No Sean, no riggers. I go down to see Sandy and John who are eating a hearty breakfast now that they have provisioned and give them a bulb of garlic as Sandy forgot to buy any yesterday, and like me, they are unable to cook without it! They say they will come up and say goodbye before they go.
I telephone our doctor in the UK and find out what injections Mike is up to date with. It turns out that he is more up to date than we thought thanks to his visits to Malaysia and Indonesia a few years back and only has to have his Yellow Fever and Hepatitis B. I also need the latter so while I am on Fat Dash Mike finds out about getting the remaining jabs. Miraculously, a doctor can fit us in almost immediately and we jump in the car and drive into St George, the capital.
Enter Elon. As we turn out of the marina, we see a young guy standing by the side of the road, grinning wildly, waiting for a lift so we stop. Elon, we discover, is the island’s main spice man. He is engagingly bright, full on twinkly eyes and sparkling teeth, just twenty years old and can talk the hind leg off a donkey! I don’t think he stopped all the way into town, and that is a long ride! He makes souvenirs based on spices and sells them when the cruise ships are in (and apparently there are at least three in today). His main wares are bowls of individually packed spices and whole spice necklaces. He shows them to us, not being one to miss the opportunity of a sale, especially as we are a captive audience. Naturally I end up buying one (at a special Christmas price which is probably double the usual one!) although he fails to sell me the three he insists I need. He also does island tours, and informs us that he would give us a lovely tour (in our hire car of course) and bring along his girlfriend and baby too. We can’t help but grin. He is truly engaging, calling me ‘Angel’ and ‘Sugar’ all the time. No wonder he seems to be fathering babies all over the Caribbean!
We drop Elon off and manage to find the doctor’s surgery in Grand Anse (hang on, isn’t that on St Martin?). The doctor is a local guy who has spent 37 years training and working in Dublin before coming back here. He’s very pleasant and chatty but there’s no hanging around, and wallop, my first Hep B is done, then Mike gets one in each arm. We pay $450 EC (about £120 for the three, cheaper than in the UK as none of these are available of the NHS) and we are done. Before I go he also gives me a prescription for antibiotic ear drops just in case I have problems next year. However, getting it filled out was another matter and we have to go to three pharmacies before we find one that has it in stock, maybe because most pharmacies seem to sell a myriad of things that have nothing to do with pharmaceuticals at all.
We also have to visit Island Water World to get our boat papers and credit card details faxed over to St Lucia where Mike has managed to locate the 300 feet of new anchor chain that he needs. Eventually, just before noon we head back to the boatyard, stopping off at the supermarket to buy a couple of things and the bakery in Westerhall to buy meal pie, including a piece for Sandy and John as I have been raving about it so much I want them to try it. Unfortunately, when we get back, they have already left, so we eat theirs – no point wasting it.
Back on the boat, not much work has taken place. When we left this morning, Mike locked up the boat and forgot to leave the key. Well actually he did leave the key, but then realised he had left his hat inside, went back for it and didn’t leave the key the second time. This means that neither the riggers nor the electrician have been able to do anything in our absence. Nice for everyone to have an excuse for a change!!
Everyone immediately gets to work. The coach roof of the saloon is stripped away so that the clutches for the lines can be bolted to the roof. I can’t bear to watch as my boat is ripped to pieces in front of me and escape outside to start painting the crossbeam instead.
Photo: Louis and Nicholas ripping my galley roof to pieces
The finish is not as good as on the boom as we put a thicker coat of primer on but Mike is happy with it. It looks better than with all the paint chips anyway.
We clean the anchor and chain then take the hose underneath the hull and Mike sprays the underneath while I scrub the mud off, then it’s back to the hotel for showers. We both sit outside but once it gets dark I retreat inside as I can’t stand being bombarded by all the insects that are attracted by the lights. Even lighting a mosquito coil only helps a little, and anyway, the wind keeps blowing the smoke directly into my face. Inside is a lot more comfortable, and with no glass in the windows, only screens, it feels and sounds (with the very noisy tree frogs) like you are outside anyway.
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