We sleep soundly through the night, lulled by the gentle rocking of the boat. The air conditioning keeps us comfortable and if I could be woken with the offering of a cup of tea I would be a happy bunny – but alas there is no milk. Or sugar. As we have tea bags and sweeteners though, Mike waits until the office opens then goes to beg a cup of milk from them and all my needs are met.
I divide out the linens but today the guests/crew will have to fend for themselves as I don’t have time to do anything more than scrape the top layer of muck off the inside of the boat and leave the outside completely. Five of our ‘crew’ are scheduled to arrive at 1pm and so are all the supplies. We have all done our own provisioning and I have no idea how much I am about to have to cram into the fridge.
Earlier than expected I hear a little northern voice enquiring whether there is anyone aboard and San Diego Linda from Clitheroe, Lancashire, appears, grinning at the side of the boat. It’s great to see her again and Mike makes the most of the fact that she has a car for a few hours and they go off to do a bit of additional provisioning. Then I hear the familiar thump of bags arriving on deck and peeking out I see the smiling faces of Heather, Joe and Graysen. Again, wonderful to have them back especially if this trip can wipe away the horrible sea-sick experience they had last summer when we went down to Bequia.
Linda and Mike arrive back and Diane arrives to complete the party. Everyone gets themselves sorted out and we sit and wait for the provisioning to arrive. Of course, as everyone is early, the provisioning is late – they must have learned a thing or two from LIAT!
After three phone calls where we are told it is on it’s way (when clearly it isn’t), it finally arrives. We go through it, discarding the decidedly half-defrosted dodgy looking chicken (the manufacturer calls it ‘flying chicken parts’ – enough to put you off) that Diane has ordered (I have learned from bitter experience never to buy any meat, poultry or fish that I haven’t chosen myself).
We set sail into 30 knot headwinds, not the best conditions for the first trip, and half way over to Cooper Island the starboard engine warning alarm sounds and the engine stops. Rushing to the side, Mike checks that water is still coming out (which it is) and reassured that nothing is totally knackered, continues on with just the one engine and sail. This could mean a trip back to Conch tomorrow to get it looked at. Bummer. To top the first trip off, when we arrive, there are no mooring balls left and we have to anchor further out than we would have liked. We are going ashore for dinner and I like as little opportunity of getting wet! Dinghy rides are not known for keeping their passengers dry! If the sea doesn’t get you, the heavens do.
Anchor down, Mike disappears down the black hole to survey the damage. Given the amount of green gloop slopping around under the engine and weed floating around on the sea surface, Mike surmises that some of the weed had probably blocked the engine inlet pipe for a while which caused the engine to overheat, the coolant (green gloop to me) to bubble over and the engine to stop. With the engine stopped, the weed must have fallen off. He starts the engine again and it is fine, happily slurping sea water in and chucking it back out again. Great, except for the headache that Mike now has as a result of a session in the heat of the black hole.
We go out for dinner that night, minus Mike who retires to his bed for the evening, and have a wonderful meal. I am treated to mine by Heather and Joe – Thai green mahi mahi – washed down with Verve Cliquot (Joe has style) and two wonderful bottles of Kim Crawford NZ Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc (courtesy of Joe and Linda).
Graysen also cons the staff into believing that it is my birthday (well, it was on Monday!) and a lovely piece of chocolate cake arrives, topped with a candle.
We just manage to get back on the boat when the heavens open, not for long, just enough to soak us if the timing had been different. Better luck next time!
The next morning we head out for Virgin Gorda, stopping at The Dogs for a snorkel. Graysen discovers the delights of the best seats in the house, so to speak, but there’s quite a scramble for them when the sea is offering a little excitement!
When we arrive at Leverick Bay, most of the other yachts joining the Dinghy Poker Run flotilla are already there and we are enthusiastically welcomed in. I for one, feel quite the celebrity as – so many people come over to shake my hand and thank me for writing about my little sea adventure that I actually begin to believe that it really might have been worth reading. Thank you one and all.
Thwarted by the lack of pizza in the evening, we go back to the boat and Linda prepares hot dogs instead. At least I prepare something a little more healthy – salad – I am yearning green stuff. We try to introduce the crew to the Brit sitcom, ‘Outnumbered’, but Heather and Joe are desperate to see the third series of ‘Gavin and Stacy’ – we settle for both, and some wine!
The morning of the Dinghy Poker Run dawns, and after a breakfast of smoked salmon, cream cheese, bagels and Buck’s Fizz to the our crew get into their outfits, some more enthusiastically than others, and head off for the briefing.
Our crew depart,trying desperately to be the last out so that they don’t get too soaked. Mike and I look after the boat, Jean-speak for doing nothing. I don’t enjoy seawater, either being in it or having it thrown over me. Even when a passing dinghy takes a pot-shot with a water gun, I manage to dive for cover.
They arrive back about 5 hours later, amazingly not too wet, having conveniently been taking photos every time a dinghy passed looking like it was going to take aim. Excitedly, both Heather and Joe look like they have good poker hands, and prize-expectant, we head down in the early evening to the prize giving, where they win second and third.
In the evening we stay on board for dinner. Diane cooks for us and we have some of Mr Branson’s champagne to wash it down.
The next morning it’s the Anegada Lobster Race, a lighthearted (for some) race from Leverick Bay to Anegada, just 12 miles away. The weather forecast is not overly great but we all set off in good spirits according to our respective handicaps. Half an hour into the race, and with winds of about 25-30 knots, there is suddenly a terrific bang and loss of power. We all look around but it is Mike spots that the main sail is now neatly back in it’s bag. That is not supposed to happen and any noise that loud is bound to be expensive. On closer inspection, the cause of the problem is apparent – the ring at the head of the sail has been completely ripped out.
We have no choice but to officially withdraw. At least it gives the others a chance!!! The winds pick up and we speed along at over 7 knots with just the genoa but then the weather takes a turn for the worse and we are soon rolling half of the genoa away as the winds top out at 53 knots.
Three separate squalls pass over us, soaking us each time. Well, when I say us, not me! I scuttle inside as quick as my little legs can carry me but Mike is soaked to the skin, as is Mal, the only two daft enough to venture beyond the relative protection of the bimini. At one point, noticing that Virgin Gorda is no longer behind us but off to our starboard side, I ask Mike why this is. “It’s because we are going in entirely the wrong direction” he replies. Of course it is. Silly me. And this from the man who got me all around the world. Maybe it would have taken us 12 months instead of 16 if I had been in charge of the navigation. Actually, I think not.
Eventually the squalls do pass over and as the sun makes its appearance once more, Mike allows Graysen so drive the boat towards the mooring field.
While the rest of the crew disappears off to explore (drink more like) Mike and I once again look after the boat. Come the evening though, it’s prize giving and it’s obvious we are not going to be quite so lucky tonight.
Sure enough, we get a prize for coming last, a little odd given that we had officially retired, but the award did mention that we were good sports. Let’s hope Mike is still a good sport when he gets the bill for the repairs!
After the prizes there’s a lobster buffet and a disco.
Photos: Après rally
Once the food it eaten it’s back to the boat and on with Gavin and Stacy. What saddos we are. Well some of us anyway. Diane heads of to bed and Mal disappears outside to sleep with the mosquitoes – anything to avoid watching any more Brit TV!
Lovely to read about our wonderful time with you all again. We had such a fabulous time. We are looking forward to the next be it land or sea. ;)
ReplyDeleteSafe travels to the US!
Love to you both,
Heather xxxx