The crew decide that they want to take a trip over to Cow Wreck Beach so organise a taxi and disappear, leaving Mike and I alone to read and … look after the boat. I also make dinner for tonight and leave it marinating in the fridge for the day.
Although the sky looks ominous for most of the day, the rain keeps off and by the afternoon the sun is out although still just covered by a layer of hazy cloud. The crew return, jolly from a few hours of cocktails on the beach and ready to eat.
We sit in the cockpit eating our dinner – there’s a coolish breeze and it keeps the mosquitoes at bay. When a glass of red wine (why is it always red?) spills its contents all over the table I am momentarily surprised that Mal isn’t immediately under it, mouth open, catching the drips!
Another day, another island. We head to Jost Van Dyke, stopping at Monkey Point, Guana Island for a snorkel. The wind and current are much kinder to them today.
It’s a lovely sail over to Jost Van Dyke. With just the genoa and a lovely following wind and sea, we make good time over to Great Harbour and get hooked up to a mooring ball. Mal catches the last ferry back to Tortola and the rest of the crew go ashore to sample the cocktails at Foxy’s, come back, shower, and return to shore for their evening meal.
The last day is spent on White Bay. Even I am tempted to go ashore for an hour and walk of the beautiful white sand. It would look a whole lot better though without all the day boats coming in and disgorging their burned, drunk passengers. It was so different 15 years ago when we first came but I guess everyone has to earn a living.
We can only stay until 3pm as we have to make sure we get a mooring at Soper’s Hole. Diane is leaving on a early morning ferry from there. When we arrive, there are loads so we needn’t have worried but you can never be sure. Diane, Heather and I go ashore – they are both looking for presents and I want to window shop. Well, it makes Mike less nervous if I say that! In the event, it is all I do although I see some nice silk sarongs that might still be there in the morning … !
With hardly any water left in the tank, the showers are even more brief than usual. I can almost sense Mike listening for the sound of the water being turned on and off. Still, we all end up clean and fragrant and, unable to find a taxi, decide to walk to The Clubhouse.
The evening is sultry, probably the hottest evening so far, and there is not a breath of wind. After five minutes of walking, none of us are feeling that ‘fresh out of the shower’ feeling any more. Mike and I forge on ahead, along the side of the mangroves then a local comes to meet us. No, not a local person, but a local dog. It barks and lunges towards us and I notice that the rest of the gang are now about 20 yards behind us – sensible people. Mike is totally unafraid of dogs, and determined to show this one that he is the top dog. He starts towards it, stopping the dog in its tracks. But it’s one step forward and two steps back. Every time Mike lunges forward, the dog backs off, only to come round the back of Mike, snapping at him. All the time I am clinging to Mike’s arm, trying not to whimper and all I can think of is … rabies! Eventually though, we must get to the end of the dog’s territory and he gives up.
The Clubhouse is unfortunately without wind. Open to the elements but without a breath of anything to cool you down, it is stiffling, and if the uphill walk wasn’t bad enough, the heat is a killer. It does somewhat detract from the meal as most of us can’t wait to leave and get back to the boat, but it’s the last crew meal so we linger longer than our bodies actually want us to.
Just before we are about to leave, the heavens open and we are treated to a right tropical downpour. We are told that the wait for the taxi will be about 20 minutes so we decide to run the gauntlet of the mad dog and deep puddles and walk back. And the dog is there, waiting for us. This time he actually snaps at Mike and Linda picks up a handful of gravel to throw just in case. But again Mike shows him who’s master and eventually he backs off.
We get back to a lovely wet dinghy, and slowly, oh so very slowly (our dinghy does not like lots of people in it and Mike has not got around to pumping it up) make our way back to the boat.
Diane is the second member of crew to leave. After a 5 minute shower in the dock facilities, she’s off to catch a ferry to St Thomas. We slip the mooring ball and head back to Road Town, a bumpy old ride as usual as it is right into the wind and waves, although neither are particularly bad.
Immediately we are tied up at the dock, staff from Conch arrive to remove the main sail so that it can be delivered to the sail repair guys first thing in the morning. Linda packs and leaves to stay with a friend for a couple of days just along the road. After our showers, the Conklins and Beswicks sit in the cool of the boat and enjoy a drink, discussing the plans for Jeannius, before getting in a taxi, Linda joining us again, to go over the hill to Cane Garden Bay.
Unfortunately when we get to The Elm, we discover that there is no music as Steve has a bad throat but the upside is that Malcolm and Candace are there so the gang is together once more and the ribs, as usual, are excellent.
Finally it’s time to make a move, although Graysen is a little reluctant to get back in a taxi that sounds like it has no brakes (they all sound terrible though) and Mike and I sit in the back as the people least likely to get car sick! We part company with Linda who promises to return the next day to pick up my washing and do it at her friend’s house. Lovely. That’s a job off my list.
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