Sailing Jeannius

Getting Ready for the Last Trip: 03/10/11 – 04/10/11

2011-10-04T12:24:00.000+01:00

Yesterday, when it threw it down with rain nearly all day I had plenty of time to clean the boat. Now, with guests almost upon us, I am like a rabbit caught in the headlights – there is so much to do that I don’t know where to start. Eventually I get myself together and start with my least favourite job – the bathrooms, more specifically the shower drains and the toilets – ugh!

Still, a pint of sweat later and they are done. I decide to leave the rest of the chores until we are attached to shore power and I can have the air conditioning to dry me off as soon as I ooze. What a lovely picture.

As usual Mike gives me no warning that we are about to move and I hear the anchor coming up before I am ready to help, then ominously it stops and I hear the clomp, clomp, clomp as Mike goes back to the cockpit shouting something that I don’t quite catch. It sounds worryingly like the word ‘rock’. Given that our anchor had caught just before a large shelf of rock I take this to mean that the bloody thing is stuck, ‘Manihi style’, referring to the time that the anchor chain got caught around a coral head in the Tuamotus and we had to get a diver out. Terrific. When I eventually poke my head out to see what is going on it actually looks like being either rock ‘Cane Garden Bay style’ or ‘Tonga style’, where the anchor manages to come up but with a large rock attached to it. Luckily this one turns out to be the former and is able to be dislodged with the boat hook. ‘Tonga style’ would have meant someone getting in the water to get it off.

The radar and weather forecasts show that we should be able to get around the corner to Phare Bleu Marina before the next heavy rainfall dumps on us so Mike puts his foot down (metaphorically speaking) to arrive before it does. Once outside the shelter of the reef it’s really bumpy and uncomfortable and I am once more reminded how quickly my sea legs disappear as we lurch and bounce our way the three miles. Annoyingly if it weren’t for the reef between Calivgny Island and the mainland it would be a mere half mile.

We tie up in the spot we were last time although on that occasion John was there to take the smelly, slimy bow lines to attach and now it’s my job. On with the Marigolds! Kevin takes one look at my bright yellow gloves and asks if I take the same approach with my husband. I reply that Mike gets treated with my wonderful bare flesh, probably more information than he expected to hear but then his fault for asking!

Three of our guests arrived late last night and Mike goes off to see if he can find any of them. I am scooting around with my lovely green Floor Wizard (my broom) when I see two people hovering around the dock and it turns out to be Debby and Fraser. They hop aboard to say hello, shortly followed by Mike and then Fred. We organise for them to have an island tour tomorrow with Rock, our friendly taxi driver and to my delight, they all love provisioning in foreign places and are happy to do the rounds of the fresh produce market and the fish market meaning that we just need a quick run around the supermarket for the tinned and dried goods when Russell arrives on Wednesday.

In the evening we all meet Jutta and Jochem in the Poolside Restaurant at the marina. We have a lovely evening although it is a little tearful saying goodbye to my two ‘little treasures’ at the end. As they are probably doing the Pacific next year, I don’t know when our paths will cross again.

Photo: Fred, Fraser, Debbie, Jochem, Jutta, me and Mike

Photo: Two laughing blondes

First thing the next morning, Kenwin arrives to clean the filthy cockpit and the engineers arrive to try to work out why our starboard engine steadfastly refuses to charge the batteries. It turns out that the alternator is knackered, not a major problem as of course we have another engine to do the same thing, but we like to set off with as much working as possible (everything would just to too much to ask for!) so it gets loaded into a taxi and departs with our guests for delivery to the workshop.

Kenwin makes a wonderful job of the cockpit but as we are paying him by the hour, I don’t stop and chat. By mid afternoon the inside of the boat is spick and span – floors swept and wiped, woodwork polished and beds made. When Debby, Fraser and Fred arrive with the shopping they announce that they have had a wonderful time getting everything especially getting the fish. They have bought some amazing tuna and at $7 EC dollars a pound, it’s a real bargain. They leave it with me to cut into steaks and freeze.

Photo: Now THAT’S what I call a tuna steak!

Tuesday means 2 for 1 pizza in the restaurant but I am just too tired and a bit under the weather to go so I have a nice evening in by myself, finishing up Heather’s disgusting pop tarts (which horrifyingly I have discovered I like), snuggled up in bed. When Mike returns, he brings me pizza too so it’s a fat, full little porker who eventually drifts off to sleep.

Thinking About Being Busy: 30/09/11 – 02/10/11

2011-10-02T15:03:00.000+01:00

I keep thinking about the horrendous two days I’m going to have when we get back to the BVIs and have to prepare Jeannius for bareboat charter again. For the next couple of weeks we have guests in all three spare cabins and therefore have nowhere to organise my nautical worldly possessions into boxes. Even worse, most of the stuff we have in the starboard aft cabin will be dumped on the floor in the companionway to make room for one of the guests. It’s going to be fun and will be interesting to see how long it takes me to trip over everything.

So Thursday passes in a minor haze of mental lists but it’s a different matter for Mike as he discovers that our toilet is no longer pumping in sea water for its flushing activity. By the time he’s discovered this, he’s already been in the sea once, swimming under the boat to check the inlet pipes for the engines which he does periodically anyway. I lie on my bed under the open hatch and the fan full on, watching him poke around with an assortment of long flexible things to clear the blockage but it doesn’t work. In the water he goes again, poking at the relevant sea water inlet pipe from the other end with a piece of old hosepipe. He discovers a partial plastic bag (always a danger when these come anywhere near a boat) and some barnacles. He scrapes them away as best he can and luckily water starts to come back in. I quickly close off the inlet before we sink and the bilges pump it back out. One working toilet again.

On Friday it’s time for me to brave the local buses alone and go and meet Jutta for our trip into town. Mike drops me off at the dinghy dock and I wander along the road to Nimrod’s rum shack where I can sit in the shade and wait for the bus. One comes along after about 10 minutes, thankfully with few people in it as it is now past the morning rush hour. In another 10 minutes I am walking around the outside of the marina. I know I have to wait for a few minutes for Jochem to bring Jutta over in the dinghy to meet me so in the meantime I nip into Foodland to use their customer toilet – only there isn’t one. I get directed to use the staff one upstairs but no one knows where the key is or whether I am actually allowed to use it and eventually I give up and leave – I can cross my legs on the bus!

I am looking forward to seeing the shops and markets in St Georges. Mike has not wanted to visit and as Jutta and I walk around, boy am I glad I hadn’t bothered dragging him there. What a disappointment. I’m not sure what I expected but whatever it was, I must have expected, well … more.

We first head for the large open market and find the shoe repairers that Jutta was looking for. Michael, the shoe man, heels her shoes while we wait but since he is incapable of doing two things at once – mending and talking – and since he is determined to tell us all about the countries he visited when he worked for one of the cruise ship lines, the mending takes rather a long time.

Photo: Jutta at the National Shoe Repair Shop

We say we will return and walk around the fruit and vegetable market. The produce does look lovely but one stall selling this stuff looks very much like another and each trader calls us to inspect his or her wares. It gets a bit tiresome saying no thank you because you know you don’t want to buy anything today and we are deep in conversation and unwittingly ignore a lady plying her wares until she shouts at us for being rude and ignoring her as we walk by. When Jutta tries to explain that everyone is shouting at us the woman retorts that if we don’t like the way they behave in Grenada we shouldn’t bother coming back. Talk about over-reacting!

Photo: At the market

When we return to the shoe stall, the mending is ready but the alteration to a new pair of sandals is not, so Michael kindly arranges for a bench to be brought out and a drink of water appears for us. While we wait, George appears. George is the proud owner of the North Pole Bar and proudly extols the virtues of his cookery skills. By the time he has finished describing his local fish soup I am salivating and desperate to try some. What a salesman! We follow him back through a rabbit warren of market stalls and rum shacks to his little shack where I partake of his soup and Jutta has a rum punch – what else?! Her rum punch is good but I feel he hyped his culinary expertise a little. The soup overall has a nice, spicy flavour and the dumplings thud to the base of my stomach the way they should. But the fish? Well I know there’s something in the bowl resembling something that once lived due to the amount of bone and thick, leathery black skin, but it could be chef’s fingers for all I know and I leave it all at the bottom of the bowl. Still, George at the North Pole is an experience and we are both glad we paid his little establishment a visit.

Photo: Jutta, George and the rum punch (what’s left of it)

Photo: George and his North Pole Bar

After the excitement and local colour of the market, we visit the mall. Zero excitement here. Presumably it was designed for the cruise ships but they must be hellishly disappointed by this one. There’s a duty free shop for perfume, spirits and cigarettes and a handful of jewellers but the rest of the shops are full of tourist tat. We don’t linger long although Jutta manages to buy some clothes. There are some nice old colonial buildings around, some still bearing scars of the last hurricane which devastated the island some years ago but really after a few hours we had had enough and hop on a bus back to the marina.

Photos: Downtown St George’s shows its heritage and hurricane damage

Once back at the marina it’s straight into the pool then lunch (a more substantial callaloo soup this time) then back to Chessie to sew one of Jutta’s dresses for her. Jochem gives me a lift in the dinghy back to Foodland but we only get half way across the marina when he runs out of fuel and we have to row back to the boat and I walk all the way round. Leaving later than I should have, the buses are now full. Most of the ones which pass me are the right bus number (2) but going to the wrong places. I will never figure this out! If they are going to different places, why do they have the same bloody number – insane! Anyway, I eventually get on a bus and everyone shuffles up to make room for me – I manage to set one bum cheek on a seat and cling on for dear life.

Mike is waiting for me at Clarkes Court and we have a rather wet dinghy ride back to the boat straight into the wind and waves both of which have picked up just as I set foot in the dinghy.

Mike has had a fun day of doing engine stuff and trying to fix the rev counter. The bloody thing obviously didn’t want fixing as it fought back and knocked off another chunk of his head. That’ll be more blood on the pillow tonight!

The next day is filled with reading and relaxing although I get very anal about Mike’s filing system on his computer and spend hours re-organising everything. Frighteningly, I enjoy this.

Sunday we are supposed to meet Jutta and Jochem for a lobster lunch at Coco Beach. Typically we have the first rain since Allison and John left and the tropical downpours sweep through the anchorage with alarming regularity bringing with them winds gusting over 30 knots. Mike decides it is not safe to leave the boat as similar conditions a few weeks ago here had boats dragging their anchors all over the place so we have to cancel.

The downpours continue for most of the day but things start to calm down in the late afternoon. By sunset the anchorage is like a millpond again and we are treated to beautiful red skies.

Photo: Red skies over Clarkes Court Bay

Busy Doing Nothing in Grenada: 21/09/11 – 29/09/11

2011-09-29T20:42:00.000+01:00

We now have nearly two weeks until our up-island charter back to the BVIs. After an extra night and most of the next day at Phare Bleu, during which time I manage to get the laundry done, we motor round the corner to Clarkes Court Bay where we plan to stay until just before the charter.

One evening I make the mistake of offering Mike some biscuits after his dinner and when going to get them, I slip off one of the stairs and fall down the lot. My language is abysmal. I hit everything on the way down – my hip, my bum, the tops of my arms and somehow, the tops of the toes on my left foot. (Given that I land on my bum, I have no idea how this happened!) After telling Mike that nothing is broken I continue to swear and curse – it hurts like hell – and inform him that he can get his own sodding biscuits in future!

He also gets me the ice pack from the freezer and I sit for the rest of the evening on one bum cheek with the pack pressed against the other. My skin is frozen after an hour or so and we have no way of telling whether the red mark is my burgeoning bruise or frost bite.

Getting into bed is interesting. For the last few weeks my left knee has been painful if I kneel on it, even if I kneel on something soft, so I have taken to scooting up the bed on my right side. Now with my injured bum cheek, I have no way of painlessly getting up and into bed. For one moment I consider sleeping standing up but eventually settle for slithering snakelike up the bed on my belly before turning over, swearing as my bum scrapes across the sheet.

The days continue to pass in a haze of doing nothing in particular. Having joined in on the Grenada Cruisers’ Net, we find out all sorts of things like the buses for shopping trips, joining in on the Saturday trip to the supermarket and the Tuesday trip which basically takes the cruisers wherever they want to go – supermarket, bank, hardware shops and chandleries. I sit lopsided in the bus as the lack of suspension and a hard ride jolt painfully on my bottom. I feel every bump in the road – and there are plenty!

While in one of the chandleries, I get talking to a nice woman who is looking to buy a catamaran and although Jeannius is not for sale (unless you get me on a bad day in the middle of the ocean where I would sell her for a bloody good price) I invite her and her husband to come and have a look at an example of a well used Privilege 435.

Of course, this necessitates giving the boat a bit of a once over, something I wasn’t going to bother doing until just before our charter guests arrive, although I have to say I just skim the surfaces and make sure that the boat is just above the dysentery line!

Julie, her husband Greg and their friend John, arrive in the late afternoon. After showing them around the boat we sit in the cockpit until it is dark sharing some beer and wine. Basically we have a thoroughly and very unexpected pleasant afternoon in the company of lovely people.

We also get the bus into town to meet up with Jutta and Jochem. Getting the local bus is quite an event for me as I don’t do buses under normal circumstances but not wanting to waste money ($2.5 EC as against $45 EC each way) I take the plunge and amazingly get to the Port Louis Marina via Island Water World without mishap. We have a lovely lunch with them before going back to see Chessie now that she has nearly finished with her ‘Extreme Makeover’.

Photo: Lunch with Jutta and Jochem

Photos: Chessie looking pretty after her facelift

Each morning I ask Mike for an update on the colour of my bruise. Bruising is something I do not normally do - my capillaries must be as tough as old boots – so having something the size of a saucer develop and change each day is a source of constant excitement and I want to see each day’s progress. However, this is something I cannot do by myself. I am unable to see it in the mirror over the bathroom sink even if I stand on the toilet seat, which of course would be to invite further injury if the boat lurches - you have to hold on to the ceiling by putting your hand through the hatch and the one in our bathroom has a tendency to fall down. Of course, I have now given away the fact that I’ve actually tried to do this, to no avail I might add – wrong angle. The solution? Mike takes a picture of it so I can get a good look then delete the image immediately! This is what can pass for entertainment on a boat when one is bored!

Back to Grenada: 18/09/11 – 20/09/11

2011-09-20T17:37:00.000+01:00

Today we start the journey back to Grenada via the Tobago Cays so that Allison and John can visit Petit Tabac which we had to miss out the last time we were here because of the vicious squall. On the way, John puts the fishing rod out but all we manage to catch is clumps of the weed that has come down from the north of the Caribbean. As we approach the islands, he takes the line in but unfortunately it blows up in the wind and gets wrapped around our wind generator. We normally the fishing rod out on the other side of the boat but forgot to move the rod holder over as we have been using it as the holder for our ensign. Duh! John manages to pull the line in without losing the lure and they leave the tangled mess to deal with later.

Photo: It’s Sunday – it must be Petit Tabac!

When we arrive there are no other boats which is good as there’s not much swinging room inside the reef. We put the anchor down but soon after we feel it starting to drag, so up it comes, round we circle and down it goes again. Mike is unhappy about the holding as almost immediately we are settled, we can see squalls developing on the horizon.

Photo: A squall ahead of us

Not wanting to leave the boat alone with a developing weather system, he takes Allison and John to the beach and comes straight back. If the anchor drags we have about 30 feet at most in all directions before we hit either beach or reef!

Photo: Reefs behind and to our port side

I notice a very strange fish swimming around. At first I think it is dead but on closer inspection I can see that its tail is slowly swishing around. However, it looks like it is swimming on its side – if it’s the right way up it is really peculiar. I think it looks like a rabbit!

Photo: A strange creature indeed

Allison and John also keep an eye on the weather, and after a once round the island they wave for Mike to pick them up. Zoom, zoom and he’s off again.

Photo: Mike’s water taxi at your service

They had only been on the island for about half an hour but while there Allison was bitten to death by mosquitoes. Last time we were there with the Roses we were on the beach for ages and not one of us got even one bite. Today, Allison watches in horror as about 30 bites start to raise themselves into nasty bumps – you can even see the puncture holes in some of them. How glad am I that I stayed on the boat?

Although the squalls seem to be bypassing us we don’t hang around but head over to Union Island to check out of the Grenadines. This time, it’s legal for Allison and John to go ashore with Mike, so while he visits immigration, they visit the shark pool at the Anchorage Yacht Club in Clifton.

In the afternoon we anchor just off Petit St Vincent but don’t bother going ashore as it look as though the resort is in the middle of building works along the shore. We notice a couple of speedboats full of young locals arrive from neighbouring islands and are prevented from going further up the beach by the resort’s security staff who stand and glare at them until they eventually give up and leave.

Photo: Retrieving the yards of line wrapped around the wind generator

Photo: John demonstrating what a hard life it is

Photo: Ohh, tea – don’t mind if I do!

Photo: Our last sunset in the Grenadines

The next morning, Monday, we set sail for the last stretch to Grenada. We arrive back at the lovely Phare Bleu Marina and Mike once again checks us all in, glad that this is the last time he will have to go through all that paperwork for a few weeks. We all go up to the pool in the afternoon as it’s so hot, although getting into the pool is like stepping into a warm bath!

Photos: Proof that I do sometimes get in the water … and sometimes even swim!

Photo: Allison, John and Mike – lazing!

We order loads more cheese bread for Mike and I and go back to the boat to get ready for the evening. Rock comes to pick us up and takes us once again to the Little Dipper at Woburn where finally Allison gets her lobster although not quite the monster she would have liked!

Photo: Dinner at The Little Dipper

The next morning is spent packing and swapping photographs which loosely translated means I give John all of mine and he swears he will send me his.

I finish packing the empty holdall that they brought over to me and John is sure the weight is OK. However, every time I pass it as it sits innocently on the bed, I manage to shove ‘just another tiny thing’ in and hope he doesn’t notice!

In the afternoon Allison and I go up to the pool for an hour. Given that she has a plane to catch we are very well behaved and order tea rather than alcohol. We are chatting away when I spot Chrissy, Graham’s wife from the World ARC yacht, Eowyn, strolling in. They are both out here for two weeks working on the boat and are staying in one of the cottages here at Phare Bleu. What a small world.

Back on the boat the Purvis’s put the finishing touches to their packing (John obviously not noticing the extra items as he shoves in another one of my blankets to take home – little treasure) and we walk them up to the entrance where Rock is waiting to take them to the airport.

It’s sad to say goodbye and I note that these are the last friends to visit us on this part of our life adventure. We’re both quiet as we head out to eat at the Poolside Restaurant but the thought of 2 for 1 pizza cheers us. Chrissy and Graham join us for dinner and I have one of the best pizzas I have ever eaten, no doubt helped by the fact that when I say to put lots of extra garlic on it, they really go to town – it is totally smothered – I’ll stink for days! Yummy!! Poor Mike!

Groundhog Days with Allison and John: 14/09/11 – 17/09/11

2011-09-17T19:57:00.000+01:00

Having checked out yesterday we can make an early getaway and at 6.30 am, Mike and John pull the anchor up and we head off towards Union Island. Allison and I wait steadfastly in our beds until tea arrives (me – Allison gives up on that one) or the risk of sea sickness from staying below drives us upstairs (that’s Allison).

Not wanting to be sick, Allison goes for all the precautions – drugs, wristbands and lying down in the cockpit with either her eyes firmly shut or open but fixed on the horizon. Something works because despite her concerns she holds on to her breakfast and once we are in the lee of Carriacou and the waves calm down a bit, she risks getting up and walking around.

Photo: Allison and John – posing at the helm

As Union Island appears close, I prepare some lunch. The cheese bread (actually they are huge rolls) come out with some rather delectable roast beef. In Clifton, the boat boys entreat us to pick up their moorings but we are going for the quick in and out so throw the anchor down instead.

Photo: “Are we nearly there yet?”

For once Mike makes it to Customs and Immigration during hours that do not count as overtime so the charges are less than last time although not as significantly less as we would have hoped. As soon as he returns John pulls the anchor up (he’s the anchor wench for the next week) and we head over to Mayreau for the evening, where Allison forlornly watches for one of the boat boys to approach us, salivating at the thought of huge lobsters cooked on the beach for us. Unfortunately none come. Maybe tomorrow we’ll get lucky in the Tobago Cays …?

Now I don’t know what it is about this boat and the UK TV series, Gavin and Stacy, but most people we have had aboard have not watched it, so major indoctrination has begun. It all started with Johanne and Steve a couple of years ago. They had seen a couple of episodes but not got into it. So we watched all three series on board (hence the frequent use of the word ‘Skiplah’ just to irritate Mike). Then we got the crew of Crazy Horse into it on the World Arc, then Heather and Joe, Ann and Terry and now Allison and John. Basically Mike and I have watched the whole lot three times in the last couple of months, and still roll around laughing each time. Welsh girl meets Essex boy – classic. Anyway, no guessing what we do for the evening’s entertainment!

We are up early and round to the Tobago Cays the next morning. There are only a couple of boats there and we anchor in our usual spot by the turtle sanctuary in front of the reef at Baradel Island. Allison and John take our snorkelling gear and go off in search of turtles but return much sooner than expected. It is a bit overcast so visibility is not good and this is made worse by the water being churned up and full of silt. Still, they both see at least one turtle, but again we are disappointed by the lack of lobster being offered. We have lunch and are lazing around on the boat when Mike suddenly shouts to close all the hatches as he can see really nasty clouds approaching rapidly towards the reef.

Within minutes we are hit by a ferocious squall. The reef offers protection from the waves but not from the wind which quickly picks up to over 40 knots. The holding is not good here at the best of times and Jeannius, despite being held by a hefty anchor and a lot of chain, starts to drag. There is only one other boat left by now so we are not in any danger of hitting anything but there seems to be no let up in the weather and Mike decides to cut our losses, get the anchor up and go for the relative shelter of Saline Bay, Mayreau.

The rain comes down so hard that it is like needles hitting your skin. Mike gets soaked at the helm and John gets soaked at the windlass. I think I have got away with a soaking but when we motor around the corner the wind gets under the large starboard side cockpit cushions and threatens to rip them off so I end up having to sit on them to hold them down. Allison turns out to be the only one who doesn’t get soaked after all! I hold the cushions down until we are in the lee of Mayreau but although we are protected from the wind, the rain continues on and off. Even if we had found someone to provide us with lobster, I think the arrangement would have been off!

Photo: Ominous skies – the setting sun is a ball of fire behind the blackness

The next morning we leave for Mustique. As we are preparing to leave, one of the ‘lobster lads’ turns up and offers it tonight. Allison is torn between her desire for lobster and her desire to see Mustique. The lure of Mustique wins and we depart.

It’s a decent enough run up to Mustique and we are able to sail for most of it. Typically as we arrive into Britannia Bay the heavens open and another tropical downpour begins. Also, typically, we arrive 5 minutes before the anchorage staff break for lunch but they have gone anyway (well, they don’t answer the radio) and because Mike doesn’t want the hassle we had last time (when Terry had to leap into the water to help us tie to the buoy) he gets John to set the anchor. Eventually it stops raining and Mike gets the dinghy down and goes to inspect the mooring buoys, finding one which has a line attached to it that we can hook as we normally do. The anchor comes up and we move, managing to tie up again before the heavens open once more. And that’s the pattern for the rest of the afternoon and evening, torrential rain on and off with brilliant sunshine in between.

Photos: Cuddles under the setting sun

Photo: The aforementioned setting sun

There’s no way we are leaving the boat so it’s more Gavin and Stacy after dinner.

Saturday dawns a little brighter. Allison, John and I go to explore the shoreline of Britannia Bay, something I meant to do last time. We come across a huge digger moving sand from the beach into lorries as they are transporting it to another part of the island to make a better beach there.

Photo: Getting the beaches ready for the season

The lorries drive up and down the same bit of road, making huge ruts in the sand covered concrete. Out of the corner of my eye I suddenly spot a tiny tortoise trundling along in one of the tyre tracks, a sure target for road kill the next time a lorry approaches. I pick him up and settle him back way into the bushes, hoping that he doesn’t turn around and head back as soon as I walk on. He is so cute!!

Photo: My rescued baby tortoise

Once past the diggers and lorries, we have the whole shoreline to ourselves. In the distance we can see more squalls passing by but luckily none pass overhead.

Photos: Beaches, squalls and photographic opportunities for posing

We walk the length of Britannia Bay then turn the corner to Lagoon Bay and walk the length of that too. When we can go no further we head inland a bit and attempt to walk around the lagoon itself but the vegetation presses in from all sides and in the oppressive heat the walk is not a pleasant one so after a couple of hundred yards we turn back and walk along the beach once more, this time looking for beach treasures. I find some dead fan coral in the water for Allison and then the most interesting conch shell I have ever seen. Instead of the normal pink and white interior, this one is mottled silver, black and grey, rather like a ‘goth’ conch. If space and weight in our luggage were not an issue, I would have taken these. Instead, Allison is the happy recipient although she continues to hunt for more.

Photo: Looking for just the right conch is like looking for a needle in a haystack

Photo: With one clutched in her hot little hand, Allison searches for yet another conch

We go to the supermarket to get a few provisions, passing the ice cream parlour on our way. Even this is shut for the season now and I just fancy one. Never mind. We walk into the fishing area to scour the huge wall of conch shells but don’t find one better than the one we already have. Even the girl in the supermarket was taken with the conch so we must have found something special in that one.

I call Mike to come and get us in the dinghy and when he replies he sounds in a filthy mood. I watch him get into the dinghy but before he comes over to the dinghy dock he heads over to the large supplies ship that is docked in the bay and I can see him having an animated conversation (and not getting anywhere) with some of the guys there. When he comes for us he explains. They are painting the boat and must have spilt some of the bright orange paint into the water. It floated like a slick until it found our boat and secured itself to the transom, the dinghy and its floating painter. He has spent the last hour trying to get it off. He is not amused.

Allison and John decide not to do an island tour and we spend the afternoon on board. As the sun starts to go down and while the weather holds out we go over to Basil’s for a drink. Last time we went I had a ghastly cocktail and unfortunately this time is no different. My pina colada is quite revolting. Methinks Basil’s is trading on its reputation! Still the sunset is nice from there.

Photos: Nice sunset, shame about the cocktails

We manage to get back on board just before the heavens open once more and give Jeannius yet another wash down. Well, it is that time of year!

A Small Taste of Grenada: 12/09/11 – 13/09/11

2011-09-13T13:19:00.000+01:00

I hear voices in the morning far earlier than I would have expected – John’s internal clock is out – but as Mike is already up and using the good internet that we have here in Phare Bleu, I know he can look after breakfast, and I snuggle back down, cool and cosy in the air conditioning and wait for my tea to be delivered, which of course, it is.

We discover the mini market’s fantastic cheese bread – actually it’s swirls of hot bread wrapped around cheese and herbs then topped with more of the same – and order 12 to be baked for us for tomorrow and have a wander around the small marina.

A few years ago, the marina owners bought and refurbished a Swedish lighthouse ship, the Vastra Banken, bringing her from Sweden to the Caribbean to use as their office, toilet block and restaurant. Unfortunately for us, the restaurant is closed until some time in October but we use the rest of its facilities which are immaculately clean.

Photo: Jeannius by the side of the Vastra Banken

The lounge on this boat is where the previous owner used to store his two cars (he used it as a houseboat) and the huge garage-like doors are left open to let the air through. The room is like a museum, with the ship’s history explained on large suspended charts and artefacts stored in lit under-floor exhibition boxes. It really is rather splendid (not a word I use very often) and different. There’s also a good book swap and DVD library and the lounge has huge leather sofas to flop around on.

Photo: Allison and the Vastra Banken

After some lunch (and after ordering 12 more beautiful cheese breads for tomorrow) we are ready for our half day island day tour of Grenada with Rock.

The weather is somewhat cloudy but we head on up for a long drive around the south and east of the island to Grenville, the second largest town, getting a very detailed history of Grenada from Rock, and Rock LOVES his history. You get the feeling that when he’s finished he’ll give you a test on what you’ve remembered. We all listen attentively, well apart from Allison who feels that because she is sitting next to him he won’t notice is she closes her eyes as he keeps a watch in his rearview mirror.

We stop near the crater lake of Grand Etang (the name showing some of Grenada’s French heritage) and visit the Forest Centre. There are no monkeys in evidence as there were when we visited with the World ARC.

Photo: A couple of likely lads

Photo: Grand Etang

There are trails all through the forest and we take what we hope will be an easy one – we are all wearing flip flops. The rain forest suffered huge damage from Hurricane Ivan in 2004 and is still recovering but it echoes with strange animal and bird noises. We have been told that there are no dangerous critters on the island but those noises do make you feel a little nervous!

Photo: Walking through a rain forest trail

Photo: Huge bamboos and ferns border the trail

We decline to take any tours of rum distilleries, chocolate factories or shopping malls so Rock takes us to Annandale Falls where the members of the ‘Grenada Jumpers’ Association’ wait in the pool at the bottom of the falls for tourists to pay them to jump in from a great height. Naturally, we don’t disappoint and because both Mike and John are able to palm money over to them so surreptitiously, neither of them notice that the other one has done it so the jumpers get two ‘donations’. Still, the jump is a long one into a relatively small rock pool so I think they earn it. They stand at the top, yelling down to catch our attention to make sure that we have our cameras at the ready, then leap out into the air.

Photo: Annandale Falls

Photo: The leap of faith

The huge splash at the end marks the end of the performance and after handshakes all round, we leave the falls where it is now absolutely pelting down with rain.

The rain continues all the way back to St Georges and we abandon all hope of getting a good view from Fort George. Instead we entertain ourselves watching cars with bald tyres slipping backwards as they fail to get a grip on the near vertical roads behind the Carenage.

Rock takes us to the supermarket at the end of our tour and we provision pretty much for the whole of the visit. Luckily by the time we get back to Phare Bleu the rain has eased and we are able to get the stuff aboard.

Deciding to go along to the Pool Bar for happy hour is a bit of a mistake though. Not only do we misinterpret their reductions on drinks (to our disadvantage of course, although the boys are happy with their bucket of beer) but when we leave, it is a real tropical downpour which shows no signs of abating. It’s a good job we decide not to wait it out as it lasts all evening. By the time we are back on board we are all completely soaked through. My thin white linen shirt leaves nothing to the imagination and I look like a contestant for a wet t-shirt competition.

During the evening it rains so hard that the cover for the storm drain just outside the restaurant floats away leaving what looks like a puddle to the unsuspecting but is in fact 6 feet deep. It’s a good job Kevin, the marina manager, came down to warn us about it.

The next morning it is much brighter although still cloudy. After the howling storm last night, Allison looks worriedly out to sea – is it calm? From inside the reef it looks it so we decide to leave. Mike checks us out of Grenada at the Customs and Immigration office at the marina, the process much simpler than having to go into St Georges or stopping at Carriacou. We pick up our cheese bread wondering how long we can keep from eating it as it is still hot and eventually leave the marina in the early afternoon.

Of course, once outside the reef, and heading into the wind, the motor round to the west of the island is rough and uncomfortable, not what was ordered for our guests. Still as we turn the corner at the end of the runway, the sea becomes much calmer and by teatime the water is like the proverbial millpond. We anchor in our usual spot outside of St Georges and stay on board for the night.

Photo: The anchorage bathed in gold from the setting sun

John and I begin our week-long competition of who can get the best picture of the sunset. Of course, with the amount of practise I have had over the last couple of years, it really is no contest although the following is not one of the best, just the best of the night.

Photo: Sunset and storm clouds

Limin’: 3/09/11 – 11/09/11

2011-09-11T12:13:00.000+01:00

Ann, Terry and Alice leave at 5 am for their flight back home. It’s sad to see them go but nice to have the boat back to ourselves again. We wave them goodbye then retreat back to the air conditioning of the boat and attempt to go back to sleep.

We stay there for the rest of the day, sleeping and luxuriating in the cool. No jobs get done. It is bliss.

The next day I get the laundry done at the self service laundry in the marina. The sheets need a bloody good hot wash but everything just has a cold one as the machines don’t function properly. On top of that there are no tumble driers and I have to hang everything up on the sides of the boat and from hangers in the cockpit. It looks like a Chinese laundry.

The next day, before heading back to St George’s, we take the boat round to the marina at Phare Bleu to have a look. It’s lovely and we will probably come here next week to pick up Allison and John.

Photo: Phare Bleu Marina

Photo: The tip of Calivgny Island

We move the boat out of the marina and park it by the resort-in-progress at Calivgny Island, moving it again once we realise that the internet coverage doesn’t quite reach there.

The next few days pass in a haze of doing nothing really. We move back round to the anchorage outside of St Georges. It is hot, exceedingly humid with the occasional torrential downpour – business as usual for this time of year really. We call in on Jutta and Jochem on our way to Food Land. Poor Jutta. She still has the boat in a mess as the carpenter moves from room to room making woodwork adjustments as he goes, never quite finishing one job before he goes on to the next but always giving her warnings that he will finish the previous one tomorrow so she is never able to put things away. I arrange to go back the next day to help her to clear up as he should be finished.

Photo: Sunset strikes

Photo: The lights of St Georges

The next day, I return as promised. As we wipe and wash away the wood shavings and dust, I don’t think I have ever sweat so much in my life. It is disgusting. After a couple of hours we have both had enough and Mike comes to pick me up.

Photo: Making the most of the flat sea – all soon changes

We see them the next day for dinner at The Beach House, a lovely restaurant set on the beach near the airport.

Photo: Out to dinner with Jutta and Jochem

We share a few bottles of wine then make the mistake of stopping for a caiparinha at the bar back at Port Louis Marina. Already over the top for my tolerance, that last little drink is the straw that breaks the camel’s back, so to speak.

The next day I can barely lift my head off the pillow. I feel so sick and to make matters worse, the anchorage becomes really rolly as a swell comes in with a passing weather system. Mike goes off to help set up Jutta’s new computer and I lie in bed like a pathetic lump. By the end of the day with no let up in my condition, I conclude that the hangover has gone and I am actually seasick – at anchor! That’s a first.

It is in this rolling sea that a boat arrives with its occupants wanting to purchase my beloved washing machine, one of the many things that we have decided to sell rather than keep in storage while we are back in Europe. I am heartbroken to see it go but as I manage to sell it for what I paid for it new, it lessens the blow!

By midday the next day, Mike and I are both sick of the rolling anchorage and decide to move back to Clarkes Court Bay to get out of it. As we leave, we notice that half the other boats have done the same. It’s a bit of a rough ride around the south side of the island but once inside the reef again it all calms down.

Photo: Purple skies – hopefully not purple rain!

And there we stay, doing nothing until Sunday lunchtime when it’s time to move the boat around to Phare Bleu Marina to wait for Allison and John arriving from the UK to join us. We have arranged for Rock, the taxi driver, to pick them up and while we wait for them, we watch yet another beautiful sunset develop, partially hidden by the hills which surround us.

Photo: The sun setting between the mainland and Calivgny Island

Mike is in the shower and I have just gone outside to wait for them when I see them both walking down the pontoon towards the boat. It’s great to see them, and wonderful to see that they have heeded my pleas to travel light so that they can take some stuff home for me. In fact, they have done really well and brought an empty holdall inside their one piece of check-in luggage so that they can take LOADS home for me – little treasures!

After a beer on board they are ready to go out to eat. We eat at the poolside restaurant at the marina and I eat a piece of the most tender tuna I have ever had – simply delicious.

Photo: Mike and I with Allison and John

We don’t make it a late night. By the time we turn in, it’s almost 3 am for them (although only 10 pm for us – way past our bedtime!). There’s another 10 days to catch up!

Mustique to Grenada: 30/08/11 – 02/09/11

2011-08-31T22:55:00.000+01:00

We still have the car for a few hours so Terry and Alice go out early to explore further. As soon as they are back, we let go of the mooring ball and leave for Mayreau again.

Having managed to buy some salad stuff and frozen ham (yes, frozen!) we have lunch at sea, arriving once again into Saline Bay in the middle of the afternoon and while Ann decides to stay on board the rest of us go ashore. It’s a whole lot quieter than when most of the WARC fleet were here back in April!

Photo: From the dock, Saline Bay, Mayreau

Photo: From halfway up the hill, the view of Saline Bay

Of course, the bloody hill up to the village is just as steep as it was the last time we were here and half way up Terry and I stop to admire the view and catch our breath (only not in that order) while Alice and Mike stride on ahead.

We stop at Righteous and de Youths, the bar owned by Robert Righteous, a character if ever there was one. He is an engaging man, worldly in his outlook and proud of his island. Although not educated in a scholarly way, he says his education comes from his clientele although they didn’t teach him much in the way of maths as we find out when we get our bill.

Photo: Righteous and de Youths bar and restaurant

Today he is very jolly. Whether it’s the rum or the sweetly scented cigarettes around that are the cause is probably irrelevant. He decides that Alice and I will accompany him musically (and error of judgement on his part I have to say). He hands Alice a drum which she immediately hands to me. He is not to be thwarted though, and another one comes out of the back room and is thrust at her. We play a few … um … tunes … and he is kind enough to not laugh.

Photo: Jamming – of a fashion!

Alice and I excuse ourselves and walk the rest of the way up the hill to the church. Already the light is fading and the reefs around the Tobago Cays are losing their colour. A dog joins us and accompanies us back down the hill, much to Alice’s discomfort.

Photo: Alice and I find a friend

The sun is rapidly setting as we get back into the dinghy. We have no torch and Ann hasn’t managed to switch the outside lights on but as there are only three yachts in the anchorage, we manage to find our way back without mishap.

Photo: Mike and Terry stroll along the dock to the dinghy

On Wednesday we motor over to Union Island and anchor in front of Happy Island. Mike goes ashore to check us out for tomorrow (God this is getting monotonous now) and Ann and I have a wander around. Low season means that many of the restaurants and shops are shut but we find that Bougainvilla is open for business and after having a rather nice cocktail there, we book a table for the evening.

Photo: Happy Island, Clifton Harbour, Union Island

Photos: The shark pool in front of the Anchorage Yacht Club … and its inhabitants

We have a lovely meal in the evening and even manage to fit in the Gavin and Stacy Christmas Special.

The next day, having checked out of the Grenadines, we now have to check into Grenadian territory by going to Carriacou. Once the boring bit is done, we have a great sail down to Grenada. The sea is smooth but the wind just right and we romp along at 8 knots. Of course all good things must come to an end and almost as soon as we are in the lee of Grenada, the wind dies and we end up motoring.

Photo: A laden freighter leaves St George’s as we arrive

We put down the anchor and stay overnight in the anchorage outside St Georges. I have heard from Jutta and she and Jochem, and of course, Chessie, their boat, are in Port Louis marina having work done and we arrange to see them tomorrow morning.

Terry gets the second part of his haircut and despite his protestations, I finally deal with his eyebrows. This causes Ann to have to sweep the decks although she is happy to do this in exchange for the ending of the owl-like expression that Terry’s brows have been creating. The jury is out over the growing of some of his other face fuzz – Ann likes it and the rest of us vary in opinion from it being OK to … dickhead!

On Friday morning we go over to Chessie. Poor Jutta and Jochem are in the midst of a whole list of work and I count five workmen all busily at work on the outside and down below. We stop for a ‘little drink’ of course!

Photo: Terry, Jutta, Ann and Jochem aboard Chessie

We take the dinghy over to the supermarket and Mike stays on the dock with it, along with Joshua, a little local lad with a nice line in patter. Making no pretence of ‘looking after the dinghy, mister’, he just asks Mike for money. Mike says his wife has it all. So he waits for us to come back and tells Ann that he lives alone and has no parents following it up with a request to go and live with her. Even though we know we shouldn’t, we give him a couple of dollars and as our dinghy pulls away from the dock, we see him scampering across the main road to spend it in the shop.

It’s a much nicer day than when we left St George’s, so we take a ride around the Carenage again.

Photo: Ann and Mike

Photo: The Carenage, St George’s

We pull the anchor up and head around the south side of the island to Clarkes Court Bay where we will spend the last night of the Roses’ holiday at the marina.

All week it has been so humid it has been almost unbearable. We have been lucky in that the only rain, apart from a few showers, has been at night. In the marina, it’s only mid afternoon, but attached to shore power, we have the air conditioning on full blast while they pack.

We have arranged for Rock, the taxi driver from the beginning of the week, to pick us up and take us to the restaurant he owns and runs with his wife, Joan, called the Little Dipper. Although it is only a relatively short ride across the bay in the dinghy, you never know what the weather can whip up at short notice, and by going in a taxi, it means that Mike can have a drink.

By the time we arrive, the sun is almost set, but there is still a lovely view over the bay.

Photo: View from the Little Dipper

While Ann orders chicken, the rest of us order the local lobster – and it is delicious. It is served with local vegetables and we have fried breadfruit with Joan’s special spicy sauce to start. Yum. It’s really good value too and I thoroughly recommend anyone visit. I know Mike and I will go again.

Photo: Terry and Alice

Photo: Mike and I

There’s a bit of a flap at the end when we realise that the restaurant doesn’t take plastic but Terry manages to cobble enough together to pay for the meal. He’ll have to go to an ATM for the money for the taxi but as Rock is picking them up at 5 am tomorrow to take them to the airport, this is no problem.

There’s no real time to watch the last three episodes of the final series of Gavin and Stacey but Terry is placated by Mike putting it on a hard disk for him. Given that they have 7 hours to waste at New York, this might just come in handy!!!

A Day in Mustique: 29/08/11

2011-08-29T20:36:00.000+01:00

Ann and Terry go with Mike early in the morning to shore; Ann to buy croissants and Mike and Terry to arrange a hire car. Like most people, we hire a mule, basically a large golf cart.

We all pile into the dinghy, once again forgetting the sensible order of things and letting Terry get in last. Already being in the dinghy when he descends can be dangerous as it shoots 3 feet up in the air. One day, if we forget to cling on as he gets in, we will be catapulted into the sea!

Unfortunately the ‘car’ hire people had forgotten to tell us that they have to take the driver to the airport to get the car and complete the transaction so we wait at Basil’s bar for Terry to come back. Mike wants a Mustique t-shirt but unfortunately the selection in Basil’s has gone downhill somewhat in my opinion since we were last here and they now look like they have been designed by children. Yuk!

Photo: The back end of Basil’s Bar

Photo: Mike and I on the prettier side of Basil’s Bar

Photo: Alice on Britannia Bay beach

Eventually we are sorted and start our drive around the island. Mustique is completely different to the rest of the Caribbean islands. It is owned by the Mustique Company, which in turn is owned by the island's home owners. The island has approximately 100 private villas, many of which are rented out through the Mustique Company. It is beautifully tended and the whole island has almost a surreal feel about it. Behind high hedges, fences and down long drives, hide sumptuous villas, although some are open to the lovely beaches (none of which are private). I have never seen so much proper grass in the Caribbean. Well, when I say proper, if you walk on it, it has the feel of astroturf – a thick, glossy and definitely ‘unreal’ feel to it, but real it is.

Photo: Our mule taking a rest with green grass verges

Photo: Ann gazes across to houses owned by Bryan Adams and Mick Jagger

Photo: Ooh look … another coconut - amazing

Photo: One of the ‘main’ roads – complete with speed bumps

We have a map which leaves a lot to be desired but we manage to find our way to Firefly, the restaurant we have visited before, only to find that it is shut until October. That will probably save us some money!

There are more tortoises walking along the road than people, and we make frequent stops to move them into the vegetation at the side and remove them from the water culverts that side most of the steeper roads. We find one poor tortoise with his nose stuck against the concrete side of the culvert, not sure which way to try to go.

Photos: Operation ‘anti road kill’

After a drink at Basil’s and lunch back on the boat, Alice and Mike decide they have seen enough of Mustique and opt for sleeping and reading. Terry, Ann and I go back for seconds though, and explore the wilder side on the Atlantic coast. Having spotted this deserted beach from high up on the hillside, we eventually manage to find our way down to it (despite the crap map). I am sure that normally it is even more beautiful but there is that bloody weed everywhere, stinking he place up, the same weed that has been washed up on seemingly every beach up and down the Caribbean. The sand down near the waterline is like quicksand and we sink almost to mid calf before going back a few feet to make sure we don’t sink any further. It’s weird stuff! There are signs along the beach warning not to swim. Looking at the turbulence in the water, there must be some very strong currents here – I’m certainly not tempted!

Photos: A walk on the wild side – Macaroni Bay

We enjoy our tour although we probably have seen more than we should have, having gone down countless drives which do not say ‘private’ and ending up at some staggeringly beautiful homes before having to turn around and make our way back.

Photo: The southern end of Britannia Bay

Terry treats us to ice cream from Ali’s Cafe, where we are served by the surliest person we have met in the Grenadines. Service is not given with a smile, and after giving us our ice creams, she stomps off down the street, leaving the next customers waiting at the cafe. She does return, serves them just as miserably as she did us then stomps off again. The third set of customers don’t bother waiting. I don’t blame them (although the ice cream is worth waiting for!).

Photo: Picturesque boutiques on Mustique

Back at Basil’s Bar, we wait for Mike to pick us up in the dinghy. This takes a while as Mike and I have a communication problem between the handheld VHF and the one on the boat.

Photo: “Come in, Skiplah …”

The evening passes in the customary way although Terry does get his haircut part 1 – part 2 and the eyebrows will have to wait for another day!

The Tobago Cays to Mustique: 28/08/11

2011-08-29T17:31:00.000+01:00

We get up early and motor over to Petit Tabac, the location for the scene from Pirates of the Caribbean where Johnny Depp is marooned by his crew and Keira Knightly blows up his stash of rum.

Again, alone on this island, we wander around. It is idyllic. Truly beautiful.

Photos: Petit Tabac in all its morning glory

Photo: Terry discovers the delights of exfoliating with sand – but exfoliating what?

We watch as other boats arrive in front of the island then disappear as there is only really room for one boat to be anchored – the reef doesn’t allow much room for manoeuvre here. After a couple of hours though, we leave and make room for others.

We sail the 19 miles to Mustique but unfortunately arrive there when all the mooring staff are at lunch – they normally come out to help you tie up to a mooring ball as they are not the type with a floating ‘eye’ or one that pulls up through the centre of the ball. I try to hook it with the boat hook and pull the mooring ball up but end up having to let go of the hook (which thankfully stays attached to the ball and floats) so Terry has to jump into the water and wait for us to throw him the lines so that he can thread them through. He has to pass us the mooring hook back so that we can lean over and take the lines back to the boat while Mike tries his best not to mow him down with Jeannius as from back in the cockpit, he can’t see what’s going on. Anyway, we successfully tie up without killing Terry and he has just got back on the boat when one of the staff turns up for the EC$200 mooring fee. This covers 3 nights whether you want them or not so isn’t as excessive as it first seems (unless you do only want to stay the one night of course).

There’s a bit of lounging around, snoozing and reading in the afternoon. In the distance a squall pass through but leaves us alone.

Photo: A passing squall

Photo: Come on, Mike, that was just one girlie Pina Colada

Dinner on board is followed by more Gavin and Stacy, this now being our usual evening routine, then we are rocked gently to sleep in an anchorage that can be unbelievably rolly, but tonight is behaving itself.

Photo: The sun sets behind a series of squall crossing the horizon

A day in the Tobago Cays: 27/08/11

2011-08-27T15:15:00.000+01:00

We get up disgustingly early and just go around the corner of Mayreau to the Tobago Cays. Motoring, we are there in about half an hour. Just as we enter this beautiful cluster of idyllic deserted islands, Mike has a David Kingsley wildlife moment, shouting at us about an enormous turtle he has just seen. Just as David’s huge ray turned out to be his Hugo Boss towel which had flown off the boat and was moving around on the sea bed, Mike’s turtle turns out to be a load of floating weed with two beer cans attached to it. Jacques Cousteau must be turning in his grave!

We anchor in the middle of the Cays and immediately get our stuff together so that we can so swimming with the turtles before the crowds appear. At first we don’t see any and I quickly give up as my mask is leaking and I’m a bit of a wuss.

Photo: Driftwood (well a tree trunk) on Baradel

Mike, Terry and Alice continue though and are rewarded with lots of sightings. Ann and I go for a walk up the hill on Baradel. The last time I was here, Matt made me climb all the way up and over to the other side with me whingeing all the way because my feet hurt. Again I have no shoes on so I only walk far enough to admire and photograph the views. And what views they are. The reefs are clear from my vantage point and they look beautiful. A band of dark clouds move across the sky and it makes for the most amazing light. In the distance there are some rain clouds and I watch as a water spout gradually forms, moving across between the islands about a mile away. It’s incredible although when she sees it, Alice shoots out of the water – I’ve never seen her move so fast!

Photo: Jeannius and the waterspout

Photos: Views from Baradel

Terry lends me his mask and Alice goes with me back into the water to look for the turtles again. We see lots and they glide gracefully just a few feet away, aware of our presence but unperturbed by it. It’s a fantastic experience until a dinghy full of noisy tourists arrive and all the splashing and noise frightens the turtles away.

We take the dinghy over to Petit Bateau and have a walk along the beach. The sun is now so strong that I wrap my wet t-shirt around my face and shoulders, worried about getting burned. Again, we are the only people on the beach.

Photos: The deserted beach on the island of Petit Bateau

Photos: Proof that I get in the water – and even get my hair wet!

Photo: Uprooted palm tree on this pristine beach

Photo: Ann finds a coconut but it’s obviously too heavy to carry!

Photo: Oops … yoga is difficult on a surface that moves!

Photo: Ann and I attempting to keep the sun away end up looking like a couple of old crones!

By nightfall, most of the boats have gone again and we have the anchorage almost to ourselves. We start watching the first series of Gavin and Stacy as Terry hasn’t seen any of them before and after one episode we have another convert. Terry thinks it’s lush!

We all say ‘goodnight, skiplah’ but Mike is not amused!

Grenada to Mayreau: 25/08/11 – 26/08/11

2011-08-26T18:58:00.000+01:00

By the morning the swell has calmed down somewhat and getting on and off the boat is a little easier. There’s provisioning to be done so the office get us a taxi and off we go to Spiceland Mall via the police station to report the theft in Ann’s luggage. As we thought, the police don’t want to know as it is down to the airport authorities in New York.

Rock (our lovely taxi driver) waits for us while we go around the supermarket which is well stocked with things from Tesco and Waitrose (strangely). We get everything we need and stagger back to the boat with the bags. Then all we have to do is wait for the laundry to come back and we’re off.

Photo: Ann on the back of Jeannius

Photo: Leaving True Blue Marina and the Dodgy Dock Bar

It’s a cloudy day and a little rough as we go around the corner to St George’s, the capital of Grenada. Instead of putting the anchor straight down in the anchorage outside, Mike motors slowly around the Carenage, the main shopping area, so that we can get a good look.

Photo: The Carenage, St George’s

We discover that all the drinking water we made yesterday for the bottles has a sulphurous smell, somewhat farty if truth be told, although it tested as pure, so before we can hit the sack, all the bottles have to be rinsed out, the water maker flushed and the bottles re-filled. There must have been an underwater volcanic spring near True Blue (the water did have a yellowish tinge to it there but I just thought it was sand). This time the water tastes great.

Photo: My crew (Terry’s knickers acting as windbreaks on the port side of the boat)

On Friday morning we head on up to Carriacou eating luch on the way. I make a couscous salad, forgetting how difficult it is to eat in the wind. It seems that more ends up over the table and the cockpit than in our mouths. What a mess.

Photo: Alice and I trying to eat couscous in the wind!

While Mike goes ashore to clear out, Terry and I go for a wander along the main street.

Photo: Arriving in the crystal clear waters of Carriacou

People seem very friendly here, especially a local policeman who chats to me before offering me tickets for a fundraising event to be held at the weekend. When I tell him we won’t be there he asks me for a donation to the cause anyway. I call Mike over and he pays up. Well you have to, don’t you? I tell Mike that next time I will just say we haven’t got any money on us and he points out that if I do that we’ll probably get arrested for vagrancy!

Photos: Life, signage and Jeannius at Carriacou

It’s then on to Union island to clear in. One of the boat boys works hard to get us to take either the dock or one of his mooring balls for the half an hour we need – for a price – but Mike anchors us in front of Happy Island and shoots off in the dinghy, arriving back EC$200 poorer (overtime starts at 1600 hrs!) in time to get the anchor up and get us over to Mayreau before dark.

Photo: Bathed in light from the setting sun as we approach Mayreau, Ann, Alice and I

Ann and Alice decide they want me to cut Terry’s hair and eyebrows – both are looking a little bushy. Terry is unsure about both and gets away with it tonight as it’s too dark to do anything outside by the time the anchor is down. I’m sure they won’t let him get away with it for long!

The Arrival of the Roses: 24/08/11

2011-08-24T00:21:00.000+01:00

Ann, Terry and Alice are arriving tonight so I spend some time cleaning the boat and organising things while Mike gets on with ‘boat stuff’. In the afternoon we motor round to True Blue Marina to await their arrival.

There is a southerly swell as we enter and as we go through the slalom course that is the mooring field in front of the floating pontoons, I can see that it is going to be fun and games getting ourselves secured. The fact that there are three members of dock crew ready to help is instantly worrying. Even more of a worry is watching the floating dock move around the marina in the swell! It’s an ‘L’ shaped dock with a bridge and the three parts are all moving independently and seemingly trying to smash the adjoining parts to pieces.

Tying up is a work of art, and not a very pretty one at that. Mike backs towards the pontoon so that we can go stern-to and a member of the shore staff leaps aboard to pick up the mud and gunk covered lines that are lying on the sea bed ready to be attached to the bow. As he follows the lines along the side of the boat, all manor of marine gunk is strewn all along the sides. Lovely. At the stern, a complex system of warps and big, black rubber tyres has been set up to hold Jeannius in place. Now when I say ‘in place’, I mean they allow her to move in and out with the swell bringing her in about 2 feet from the pontoon then out again to 4 feet away, the tyres acting as springs. If those babies break we will be catapulted out to sea – or into one of the unsuspecting yachts in the mooring field. This could be interesting!

We get the air conditioning running and I go and dump a big bag of washing at the marina office – they assure me it will be back tomorrow morning.

The Roses arrive at 7 pm and Ann looks with horror at Jeannius moving in and out from the pontoon. She stands there, a Johanne-like expression on her face and for a while it looks like I will be making her a bed up on the pontoon, but after equal amounts of encouragement and threats have been thrown at her, she manages to jump on. Getting their bags on is harder than getting Ann on though as handing 5 big bags over the ever changing gap threatens to land both Mike and Terry in the murky waters. (They have been away for two weeks already – hence all the luggage.) However, nothing and no one gets wet and after a quick freshen-up we head over to the Dodgy Dock for a meal.

Getting Ann off the boat is harder than getting her on as she now needs to leap up as well as over, but we manage to get her across again without mishap. Walking along the pontoon requires walking with your legs in a wide stance – very ladylike – but necessary

We have a great meal at The Dodgy Dock even though it gets incredibly full of students from the nearby university – obviously celebrating something given the volume and excitement – I have a spicy coconut conch curry – always a favourite of mine.

Unfortunately Ann discovers that she has been a victim of theft when she starts to unpack her case. They had checked in early at JFK airport and this had obviously given the baggage handlers time to rifle through her stuff and remove cigarettes, perfume and jewellery from her case. Not a nice start for her holiday.

A Bit of Exploring: 22/08/11 - 23/08/11

2011-08-23T17:17:00.000+01:00

We have just over two days to explore a couple of islands in the Grenadines that we haven’t seen before, specifically Petit St Vincent, Petite Martinique and Carriacou. Ann, Terry and Alice arrive on 24 August and we want to see if any of these islands are worth a visit.

The irritating thing is all the checking out and checking in that you have to do around these islands. Half of them belong to St Vincent and the others belong to Grenada. Geographically the islands aren’t necessarily near the main island they belong to. Consequently we sail from Mayreau to Carriacou to check into Grenada, passing Palm Island, Petit Martinique and Petit St Vincent then head back the way we came to Petite Martinique. Theoretically, Customs turns a blind eye to visiting boats not doing this but we don’t want to test that theory and find ourselves on the wrong side of the law!

Photo: Hillsborough, Carriacou

We anchor in the only anchorage on Petite Martinique. It’s a sleepy little place and we are the only yacht there, swinging amongst the many fishing boats.

Photos: Petite Martinique

We clamber into the dinghy and go ashore to look around. There is only one restaurant here and walking along the beach we find it with no problem. The menu looks OK but not cheap for such a remote place. We go through onto the ‘main’ road and discover that this really is a ‘one restaurant’ island. There are a couple of tiny shops, a bank, school and no doubt half a dozen churches but that’s it.

Photos: Local housing on Petite Martinique

Everyone we pass says hello and is friendly but after an hour there really isn’t much more to look at so we find our way back to the boat.

Photo: Boat building on Petite Martinique

Photo: Another beautiful sunset

The next morning we decide to head to Grenada. The sail down is uneventful and we anchor in the bay outside St George’s, the place where we finished our circumnavigation just four months ago. The last time we were here in this bay was when we arrived to the World ARC fanfare having escorted Basia from Brazil after her collision with a freighter along with Eowyn and Tucanon. As I put the anchor down, I think back over those events – it couldn’t be more different!

Down Island with Heather and Joe: 14/08/11-21/08/11

2011-08-21T13:09:00.000+01:00

First stop – the bloody boxes. We get one load in the car (the lightest stuff obviously) and take it down to the boat after lunch, just in time to stop the cleaners making up the bed. Although the boat still being worked on, we arrive at a time when there are no workmen aboard and are able to throw the stuff onto the beds in the bow cabins and leave.

We then go over to CRC to pick up up Heather and Joe. Quite what we would have done without their help I have no idea. With my back still not right, I am incapable of lifting anything heavy and Heather is strict as hell about not letting me anyway.

Mike and Joe make multiple visits to Jeannius, laden up to the roof but eventually everything is back on board. In the meantime Heather and I finish clearing up the house – it looks completely different without all our boxes!

Back on the boat, we start to unpack all the boxes which belong to Penny and attempt to get those stowed first so that we can return them tomorrow then get ourselves cleaned up to go over to Cane Garden Bay where Joe treats us to a lovely meal at Myetts.

I wake up with my back feeling better than it has done all week. One night on my lovely bed seems to have done the trick but I still want to make sure that it is clicked back into position so at 7 am Mike and I head out for the chiropractor hoping that my information about him starting work early is correct. It is. He calls me on the way over and agrees to see me half an hour later.

He’s good and produces a good few cracks. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Mike wincing at the noise but my back is happier for it and my walk is noticeably more comfortable afterwards.

We pop over to the supermarket afterwards to buy the ice cream to replace the stuff we had scoffed at Mandi and Kirstie’s then drive over to do a last check of the house before returning all the boxes to Penny and Peter.

The workmen are still doing things on the boat so Heather, Joe and I go to do the provisioning while Mike goes to do the checking out. Finally, everything is ready and at 3 pm we throw the lines off and leave the dock.

We set a course for heading straight down to St Bart’s but within a few hours the winds change direction and strengthen and we are soon fighting 30 knots straight on the nose. Heather and Joe start to feel seasick and after valiantly fighting it, Heather gives up and feeds the fishes, tied to the boat by the lifeline on her lifejacket. If she moves, a fresh wave of nausea comes over her so she spends the next 18 hours lying on the cockpit cushions, unable to eat or drink. Joe feels almost as bad but manages to lie in the relative comfort (if you ignore the noise factor) of the stern cabin.

Mike and I are not immune to the discomforts either and I swallow sea sick pills too. Checking the forecast, there seems to be no let up in the weather and Mike makes the decision to head for St Martin. It’s always a difficult and uncomfortable trip there, but is no worse than the course we had set. However, the wind and sea state makes the journey that usually takes us no longer than 15 miserable hours, takes just over 20. It is the worst that we have ever had and we arrive in Simpson Bay exhausted. At least Heather can eat and drink again as the horrible feelings disappear almost immediately we put the anchor down.

As we are all so exhausted, we decide to spend the night at anchor and take the short trip over to St Bart’s tomorrow for a treat. An unexpected night at anchor is wonderful and we all have a good night’s sleep, waking up refreshed.

Although it is still relatively uncomfortable, the motor to St Bart’s is short and Heather and Joe’s delight in arriving in the early morning sunshine at Gustavia is obvious (as is mine).

Heather and I take full advantage of the showers on the dock then wander off with Joe to do a spot of shopping (in my case, the window variety). As all the shops start to close for their long midday siesta, we look for a taxi to take us over to Tom’s Beach at St Jean for lunch at the Pink Parrot but all the taxi drivers seem to having their lunch and I have to get the tourist office to get one for us.

The setting is as glorious as ever, and we have a lovely, and as usual, expensive, meal there.

Photo: Lunch at the Pink Parrot, St Barts

We have the usual fashion show with nubile young women arriving at the table showing off the clothes available at the shop attached to the restaurant but they induce Joe to treat Heather to a couple of things before Heather and I wander down the beach.

Photos: Tom’s Beach, St Bart’s

With full stomachs we walk down the road to look at the rest of the shops then call our taxi. Having had a late, blowout lunch, dinner is a quieter affair on board.

Tropical Storm Irene is steadily making her way west and Mike is very keen to get out of her way so the next morning we leave quite early. Back out in open sea, although we now have a better angle to the wind and are able to sail rather than motor, the sea is still uncomfortable enough to prompt the return of the sea sickness for Heather and Joe. This is miserable enough at the best of times, but worse when you are on holiday. The next two days pass immeasurably slowly for them both. Joe watches unhappily as we pass each island – St Kitts, Nevis, Montserrat, Guadeloupe, Dominica, Martinique, St Lucia and St Vincent, none of which we have time to stop at if we are to have time in the Grenadines, especially the Tobago Cays. The unscheduled stop in St Martin and the weather and the fact that their time is limited are all factors.

In the end, they take the decision to stop at Bequia rather than pressing on to the Tobago Cays. Unfortunately the weather is miserable when we arrive and Bequia seems to be shut. All the shops and restaurants which the guide book says are open until September are closed. Watching the predicted path of Tropical Storm Irene has worried Joe. They are due to fly through Puerto Rico on their way home and TS Irene is predicted to become a hurricane as she passes over. Having made the decision to leave a day early in order to get through PR before she arrives they manage to change their Liat flights from Grenada to St Vincent and on to San Juan.

They leave the next day on the early morning ferry to St Vincent. And so begins the nightmare journey home for them, one which is to feature one Liat fiasco after another and which takes them nearly four days to get home.

As for us, after such a miserable day’s weather yesterday, Sod’s Law gives us a brilliant day of sunshine and I wish Heather was still here and sailing with us to Mayreau and the Tobago Cays to swim with the turtles off Baradel. Another time hopefully!

Photos: Calm seas and a gentle breeze on our way to Mayreau

It’s a lovely passage down to Mayreau and the sea is like a millpond. Arriving mid afternoon in the tranquil waters of Saline Bay with only half a dozen boats, a bit different to the last time we were here back in April with all the WARC boats for Annie and Jim’s wedding. I feel quite nostalgic and lonely for a while but a glass of wine and a nice meal aboard, gently swaying in the beautiful anchorage, mellows me out and I relax and enjoy my surroundings.

Photos: Saline Bay, Mayreau

Photo: Sunset from Mayreau (Union Island in the background)

Heavenly Housesitting – 05/08/11-13/08/11

2011-08-13T03:14:00.000+01:00

This is the first island time that Mike and I have had on Tortola alone and I have been looking forward to it. Our intention this week is really to sort the boxes out, do a mountain of laundry, slob and socialise.

This goes according to plan on the Friday. Our only job is to go into town to pick up the new wifi router for the house – de man from Lime says the the existing one doesn’t work. We visit the new Riteway supermarket again and do a little bit of shopping then get stuck into the DVDs, with Mike making the usual Friday night curry.

However, Saturday does not go to plan. Bending over to pick an empty plastic bag up off the floor, there is an ominous cracking noise from my lower back and I struggle to straighten up. I spend the day in bed and the next two days reclining in a chair in front of the TV, getting up slowly to put another load in either the washing machine or dryer. It’s painful and I am walking like an old woman.

Each day gets a little better but progress is slow. I start phoning around to find someone who can crack my back into position again and the general opinion is that I need to see Glen Moore but when I phone him he is on holiday and won’t be back until the day we are supposed to be sailing to Grenada. The only other options are one man whom no one recommends and another one is who is so specialised that he is not affordable! When he learns the cost of just a consultation with the latter, Mike, very caringly, tells me to take more codeine as it’s cheaper. Gee, thanks darling!! (Obviously sick of running around after me at this point!!!)

We discover that we have a visitor. On going to shut the balcony doors there is a frog/toad clinging to the inside, right at the top. Even my flash photography doesn’t shift him and Mike has to poke him to make him jump off. He goes straight under the heavy cooler which Mike unfortunately has to then move out of the way to shut the door as it has been holding it open. I hope he isn’t squashed.

Photo: A horny little visitor

By Wednesday I am well enough to have Candace and Malcolm around for lunch and a liberal internal application of wine and an external application of laughter lessen the pain for a while.

Photo: Mike superglued to his recliner and PC

It starts to dawn on me during the week that Mike seems a bit too happy with my back the way it is (as long as I don’t groan on about it too much). I am not clamouring to go out and do stuff, stuff which inevitably costs money. Of course, having a car which has sat redundant on the drive for a few days has cost money but it cost money anyway.

On Thursday, Mike finishes sorting the boxes. Having gone through them all, he has managed to sort out one carrier bag of stuff he is willing to throw away. It’s obvious I am going to have to do some more on the quiet!

We drive into Road Town. It’s the first time that I’ve been out in the car since I put my back out and every rut has me clinging to the seat and shouting at Mike to go slowly. Couple that with the speed bumps on the main road, most of which are pretty dammed invisible and it’s not a very enjoyable experience.

On Friday I meet Candace for a goodbye lunch and we have a good old girly natter having another dose of the same with Sayula and Penny the next day. My back, although improving, is still bad although at least I have given up the codeine during the night.

I leave a message on Glen Moore’s voicemail telling him that I will be standing outside his office when he opens on Monday morning. I hope he can fit me in as I don’t fancy being thrown around the boat in this state.

On Saturday evening we get a phone call from Heather and Joe to say that they have arrived at the airport – they are joining us on a sail down to the Grenadines – a new experience for them as they haven’t done any ocean sailing so far. They land early which sends us flying out of the door to pick them up to deliver them to CRC for the night. We stop at The Pub to get them a ‘quick’ take-away. ‘Quick’, in this case, is 50 minutes! With only four tables taken, we cannot work out why they take so long to come out with the food. Mind you, it turns out to be fortuitous as Heather and I wander down the dock and find that the high tide has popped Jeannius so high up the dock that all of her fenders are suspended above it and she is rubbing up against the dock itself but we get her sorted for the night.

Having delivered them into the safe hands of Malcolm, we retire for our last land night for some months. Tomorrow we face the boxes again – that should be fun!

Boxes, bloody boxes – 02/08/11-04/08/11

2011-08-04T01:00:00.000+01:00

We had been supposed to move into Mandy and Kirstie’s house today but with the weather still being so unsettled, they were unable to leave and will leave instead on Thursday. Kindly Candace and Malcolm step in to help us and for two days we stay with them in the apartment at CRC. Of course this means removing all the stuff that we had on Jeannius (thankfully only about a quarter of what there actually is) and installing it there, Mike and Malcolm dragging all the stuff down the steps while I follow with a couple of plastic bags.

By Wednesday, Tropical Storm Emily has passed us by, roughly 200 miles away and we all exhale a huge sigh of relief. Thankfully the job of refitting Jeannius ready for her charter now falls to the charter company.

We arrange to meet Kirstie so that she can show us the way to the house – the road, whilst not quite as terrifying as the one to Penny’s house, is steep but thankfully wide and with far fewer bends. Then we turn off onto a side road and as we go over the ridge separating the two, the road completely disappears as it is so steep. Knowing which way to angle the car is guesswork, but Mike guesses right and is suddenly once again behind Kirstie. This road is single track, untarmaced and full of ruts and runoffs. There are huge puddles of indeterminate depth that the wheels sink down into and I wait for water to pour into the car. It doesn’t, and we arrive intact.

Photo: The steep dirt track to the house

Photo: Built into the steep hill, our home for the next 10 days

We are given the guided tour and I spot with delight a washing machine and tumble dryer of mammoth American proportions. I have tons of washing to do and this will mean I no longer have to sit for hours on the hard, albeit, clean, chairs in the laundrette. I am in heaven.

In the evening I cook curries for the four of us – one a proper dhal and the other a cheat using Pataks. I doll myself up in a long halter neck dress to keep the dreaded mosquitoes off my lower legs more than anything else but the little bastards cheat and head further up my body making a meal of the top of my arms instead. By the end of the evening there are 8 bites on one arm and 10 on the other.

By 10 am Thursday the girls have left and Mike and I drag all our stuff back up the stairs and into the car for the first trip to the house. Having unpacked it we then head over to Penny’s for the first of the two trips to gather the rest of the stuff. For a while it looks like it will be three trips but with a lot of rearranging and brute force, we manage to stuff it all in and for the first time in three months, Penny and Peter have their house back to themselves. Now all we have to do it get it all back on the boat next week … shit!

Photo: Boxes, bags and assorted crap wait to be sorted

With all the stuff piled into a large mezzanine room at the house, it doesn’t look as much as it did piled up at Penny’s – but it’s about ten times more than we can keep so a sort out will have to take place – and soon! But for tonight, we ignore it all, and admire the view from the huge balcony before settling ourselves down into their comfy chairs and making a start on watching movies from their collection of hundreds. I can feel some slobbing decadence coming on!

Photo: View towards Nanny Cay and the Sir Francis Drake Channel

Festival – 01/08/11

2011-08-01T23:31:00.000+01:00

Jeannius is now trussed up like a turkey. In the morning we let the boom down and tie the main sail down. We remove the genoa completely, folding it neatly and tying it up then remove the sun curtains, rain curtains and windscreen. We leave the bimini on as it as tight as a drum and as it would be a real pain getting it back on the decision is made to leave it to the last minute, only removing it if it becomes absolutely necessary.

Photo: Mike on a stripped down Jeannius

Apparently the BVI festival has been on in a somewhat subdued way for a couple of days although we have seen no evidence of it apart from all the hire cars being out. Today, however, it starts in earnest with a three day holiday and a huge procession which begins on the main road right outside Conch Charters.

It is supposed to start at 2 pm and the amount of noise from open trucks full of ghetto blasters and mega speakers suggests that it might actually start on time but at 2.30 they are just teasing us, doing their warm ups, each truck trying to outdo each other as they wait their turn to leave their position and head into the centre of Road Town.

The effort and co-ordination that must go into the preparation for these processions is incredible – the costumes are works of art and there are hundreds of people wearing them. Harness that effort and the islands might just have road surfaces that are safe to drive on, electricity and water supplies that don’t go off at the drop of a hat and people who turn up to do work when they say they will. Dream on!

At around 3.30 pm the first truck takes off but the others still hang around in the ferocious heat, practising their routines and waiting for their turn. With sweat pouring down their faces, I feel sorry for these people. They start off eager to perform and by the time it is their ‘go’, they must be exhausted and bored. I just hope the spectators appreciate it all.

Photos: Images of Festival

For a community that frowns upon beachwear being worn anywhere but on the beach, there sure is a lot of flesh on show, and I mean LOTS of it. There are some big girls here and they sure as hell don’t mind shaking their wares. Maybe us skinny obsessed females should take a leaf out of their books!

As the individual floats and performers take their turn to go into Road Town, we go back to Jeannius, passing piles of rope waiting to be used if the weather takes a turn for the worse.

Photo: Let’s hope these prove to be unnecessary

Hot and sweaty, we take advantage of the air conditioning. Without the batalyne covers over the windows which we have removed, the a/c struggles to keep the temperature inside the boat below 85 degrees but it’s still better than the heat and humidity outside.

Tomorrow we should really know what Emily is doing.

Watching the Weather – 28/07/11-31/07/11

2011-07-31T14:39:00.000+01:00

Something is gathering in the Atlantic. A weather system is trying to build itself up into either a tropical storm or a hurricane. Whichever one it turns out to be, she will be called Emily.

Mike gets on with jobs and Javid from Conch Charters gets going on his list. By the end of the day we have a working freezer once more (it turned out to be just a leak) and the doors out to the cockpit are sliding along just fine again (it’s amazing what a block of wood, a sturdy hammer and a bit of grease will do!).

The stern cabins get tipped upside down as the engines get oil changes and as usual I am trapped in my cabin for a while while all the bedding is strewn along the companionway.

While Mike is kept busy, I am not. I have nothing to do. Absolutely nothing. Conch is doing the turnaround so I have no cleaning (and to be honest I have kept up with it as I have gone along anyway). We have no car as yet so I can’t get out and do anything.

This is not good for me. Given too much time doing nothing makes me homesick and miserable. Mike knows this and is sympathetic but he has to get on. I lie in a grumpy strop while he gets on with trying to fit the new rev counter with the aid of the on-line installation drawings which of course don’t match up with the wiring on the boat!

Late in the day he delivers the news that due to the fact that next Monday to Wednesday is a public holiday and the cleaning staff won’t be in, we have to get off Jeannius on Sunday and move to another boat until we can move into Mandy and Kirstie’s house, a situation which I can understand but is guaranteed to put my bad mood into a filthy one! Talk about nomads!

The next day is more of the same. We keep a constant watch on what is now known as Invest 91L, the weather system that is rolling steadily and inexorably towards the Caribbean. It sounds really mean to wish that it would hit anywhere but here, but everyone thinks that way and it makes no difference to where it actually goes so what the hell! It’s too early to tell whether the system will develop and become ‘Emily’ of some description.

I look at our strange collection of dried and tinned foods and try to concoct something edible. Selecting three products – a pack of Jambalaya rice (BVIs), a tin of sardines (Panama) and a tin of peas (Reunion Island I think) – I put together a strangely tasteful meal, multi national definitely, but not something I would serve up to charterers! As usual there’s enough for another meal. Never mind, Mike!

By the weekend, it definitely looks like the weather is heading our way. The average of all the forecast models shows the system as going straight over Road Town. Mike spends ages trying to hire us a 4-wheel drive car for two weeks but most of them are apparently booked out for the three day holiday/festival. Why do so many people need these for festival? I have no idea.

Mike manages to source one eventually and comes back with the good news that we don’t have to switch boats as the cleaners are working on Tuesday so we can stay on Jeannius until then. In the event that the house isn’t empty by then, Malcolm has offered us the use of the apartment at CRC.

With a car comes freedom. Mike knows he has to get me off the boat and doing something, even if it’s just a trip to do some laundry and explore the new (to us anyway) huge Riteway supermarket in Road Town.

We have a great night out on Sunday at The Elm. Steve and George play along with two other now regular musicians, one on vocals and harmonica and another on the saxaphone.

Photo: Steve and George, The Elmtones, do their thing

Our table is for 20 people; we are there with Malcolm and Candace, Gary and Teri and their friends and Land Crab with family and friends. Land Crab (a white calypso contest winning teacher from the US) is persuaded to get up and sing about a donkey and there is much dancing and general hilarity.

Photos: Candace, Malcolm, Mike and I

Photo: Gary and Teri

I become firm friends with two 17-year old beauties who decide they want me to adopt them after I give them some dubious sexual advice.

Photo: Taylor and Caroline with Auntie Jeannie

Just as we are leaving, we spot Marta, the lovely young woman Matt and I met at Leverick Bay and we pose for a photo to send back to him.

Photo: Marta and I

Chartering again – 21/07/11 – 27/07/11

2011-07-27T14:36:00.000+01:00

We have to wait for the provisioning to arrive and despite many phone calls to Bobby’s the delivery is late. Since they started putting this order together yesterday, there’s really no excuse for this.

They manage to get the order wrong by not using the correct spreadsheet, duplicate some stuff, leave other stuff off and substitute incoherently. I am really pissed off with the service especially as I went into the store to talk to them about the order yesterday. I will not use them again but will use Riteway next time and do it myself.

The engineer arrives and refills the freezer with gas. Just in case, we add lots of blocks of ice in the bottom to keep it cold.

Mason and Matthew, 7 and 10 respectively, are so eager to get in the water that they get one of the kayaks out so they can paddle around the docks while they wait for the boat to be ready, then finally we head for the Indians but the mooring balls have all gone and go instead to the Caves at Norman Island before heading to The Bight for an overnight. In an attempt to wear the boys out, Donna and Bryan take them over to the beach in the kayaks but they still seem full on energy when they return and swim around the boat.

The next morning, on our way to Soper’s Hole, one of the blocks holding the dinghy to the davits suddenly breaks and the the dinghy plunges into the sea, left dangling from the one davit. Luckily it’s the front end that takes a dive, not the outboard motor end, and although the gas tank comes detached, Bryan is able to grab it with the boathook. We lose one of the oars though.

Once we reach Soper’s Hole, Mike finds another block and fixes it on, clears the fuel hose of salt water and once again gives us a working dinghy.

From Soper’s Hole we head around Steel Point for White Bay, JVD, then Great Harbour. I cook all the food in the freezer. The continual dripping from the freezer as the ice blocks melt is a pretty good indication that re-filling the freezer with coolant has not solved the problem and the freezer is only working like a fridge. I marinate shrimp for that evening’s dinner, chicken for tomorrow’s dinner,I and cook a huge vat of bolognaise sauce. Generally it’s a hot sweaty day in the galley

The promised clouds appear and we have some intermittent rain on the way to Monkey Point for snorkelling, which reduces the visibility for everyone, then we go over to Trellis Bay. We head for Marina Cay first but the weather turns nasty and Mike changes his mind. That night the tropical depression blows through and the wind gets up to 38 knots, howling all around with really heavy bursts downpours of rain.

Sunday its over to The Dogs for more snorkelling. Someone spots Jeannius and comes over to the boat to say hi and that he’s been reading my blog. Fame! After that it’s off to Leverick Bay in the hope that the Puerto Rican Navy has left after the festivities of Christmas in July. Quiet as anything until about 6 pm then they all come screaming back and party until about 3 in the morning. With the air conditioning on and the fan, I block the noise out. Safely attached to the dock, Mike takes a pill which does the same thing.

Monday sees us at The Baths. Although we arrive early, all the mooring balls are taken and we anchor. Then its off to Spanish Town for our guests to do some shopping before going over to Marina Cay for the evening.

Tuesday is the last full day so Mike takes us to just off Salt Island so our guests can snorkel over the wreck of RMS Rhone. The visibility is excellent when we arrive and everyone can see the different parts of the wreck.

We spend the evening on Cooper Island for dinner, courtesy of our guests. The re-modelling of the bar and restaurant areas have been completed since we were last here two years ago and it looks absolutely fab. The setting has always been a favourite of mine. Not so good is the fact that you now have to walk along the beach to get to the restaurant (there used to be a path) which means that you end up taking your sandy feet back to the boat.

On the final day we back to Tortola although kids are out on the water before breakfast – they never stop! It’s great to see that there’s not an electronic device in evidence with these two! Unfortunately, hoping for a great last day’s sail, instead we return to Road Town under a heavy tropical downpour. Bryan stands and rinses off in the rain, Mike takes the helm but the rest of us scuttle inside and put the air conditioning on. After a quick exploration of the shops in Road Town, our guests depart after lunch and Mike and I take our first afternoon nap. Well, that’s not strictly true. I did manage some afternoon cabin time a few during the week!

Back on Jeannius – 20/07/11

2011-07-20T01:50:00.000+01:00

Jeannius is being cleaned and prepared for charter so we are unable to get on her until 4 pm.

At around 2 pm and with the car fully loaded with all the stuff from Penny’s as well as the stuff we brought with us from the UK (thankfully not much) we arrive at Conch hopefully thinking we might just get on early. No chance. Instead we go off and get some shopping for our guests to have breakfast tomorrow, as well as Supavalue to buy our frozen supplies of shrimp and chicken.

When I put my hand into the freezer to get the large size shrimp out, I can feel the packets are soft, even the ones at the back. The smaller ones on the next shelf down are fine so I call an assistant over and point out the problem. She ignores me and walks away. I find someone else and drag them over to inspect the shrimp. She stuffs her hand into the pile, agrees that they are not frozen (no, really?) and tells me to take the smaller ones which are below. She doesn’t seem to want to get the point. I tell her that the defrosted ones need to be taken out of the freezer now and disposed of. She mutters something unintelligible (but probably not polite) and walks off, leaving the stuff where it is, no doubt to re-freeze and poison a whole host of customers over the next few days.

We turn up again at Conch at exactly 4 pm and thankfully are allowed on. It takes forever to get everything over to the boat as we are parked about as far away from the car as you can get. My first priority is to get the frozen stuff into the freezer, so you can imagine my horror to discover that the freezer is not working again. It has started once more with the intermittent problem we had had since South Africa (although it had behaved itself since Brazil). Seeing my mounting panic, Ross from Conch Charters goes to The Pub next door and Princess allows me to use her freezer to store the stuff until the freezer engineer arrives tomorrow. Phew.

Looking at Jeannius is strange. She has none of our stuff and looks empty and bereft. I cannot believe this was our home for the last three years but heyho, there’s work to be done and no time to dwell on things like that.

I get most of the stuff stowed but have to leave some stuff in boxes – there is no time to unpack before our guests call for a lift from the ferry dock. I am unhappy that I have no time to prepare but get my happy face arranged to greet them, three generations of the Zigler family.

Having been travelling for almost two days, they are exhausted and hungry. As Mike still has the hire car, he takes them to Spaghetti Junction for dinner, discovering on his way back, that the staff there had just been given notice to quit as the restaurant is closing. Luckily they return have a really good meal – I was a bit worried that disgruntled staff might make less than decent food but they are obviously professional enough to put on a good show). Mike and I eat peanut butter sandwiches on board, and flop into bed as soon as our guests are ready to collapse.

Preparing to Charter – 19/07/11

2011-07-19T21:07:00.000+01:00

Mike discovers that spending the night with his legs pressed against the mosquito net is not a good idea – he has about 30 bites on one knee alone. Given that he is not normally prone to being bitten, and if he does get a bite, it doesn’t normally itch, these itchy buggers come as quite a surprise. The whole of the lower part of both legs have been got at – he looks like a skinny kid with measles!

I am fast running out of clean clothes so we arrange to go to Penny’s to pick a few things up. Malcolm takes us to the car hire place and guess what, the hire car we had ‘booked’ has been given to someone else. The lady says that she has another one due in if we want to hang around and wait, which we do, but when it comes in, it’s a tiny little thing which won’t make it up the steep hillside. In the end we settle for their old van which at least has 4-wheel drive and lots of room to put the boxes in.

We head up the coast road towards Penny’s then turn off up the hill towards her house. It has rained a lot in the last couple of weeks and the road is in even worse condition than it was when we were last here. The vegetation all around is lush and spreads inwards from both sides and the edges of the road are all chewed up and disappearing over the edge. I grow even more nervous as we climb. When I see the state of the dug up bit at the end of Penny’s drive, I get out and walk the last few yards then watch, heart thumping, as Mike attempts to get the car round the 120 degree bend and over the large step to the tarmac. The wheels spin and the car slides backwards towards the edge. I am now crying with terror even though Mike has his seatbelt off and the car door ajar so that he can leap out if the worst happens. It nearly does but thankfully the car just gets stuck at an impossible angle and he is able to go no further.

He abandons the feeble wreck of a car and joins me to walk the rest of the way. We look once more at the mountain of boxes and bags that Penny has babysat for us for the last few months. We feel bad about not removing it all now but there is nowhere to store it all at Maclolm’s so we just take a few clothes to tide us over, promising to be back in a few days time to take some of it away at least.

Candace goes to St Thomas with Robin so I cook for the three of us introducing Malcolm to Patak’s sauces. I find a willing convert.

The next day Mike gets a replacement car although it’s still not the one we ordered. In fact it turns out to be the one that he backed into the wall at the Bananakeet Cafe in May. Surprise, surprise, the repairs that we paid over $400 for are still not done, the damage there for all to see!

However, at least this one gets up Penny’s drive although I walk up again. We sort out some boxes and take away about a third, as much as we can stuff into the car. Soon, Penny, soon, these boxes will be a distant memory – promise!

We discover that the treacherous BVI humidity has got to our bed linen giving it that unpleasant earthy smell, so a visit to the launderette is required. No more Freemans for me – I find a brand new one near Sea Cows Bay, beautifully clean and well ordered. They sell drinks and pastries, have a huge table for folding stuff and the most enormous fan I have ever seen. Only the biggest, strongest mosquitoes can get through the door when that thing is on, and of course they find Mike and I for their dinner and desert! Buggers!

In the evening we go out with Candace and Malcolm for a meal. I am amazed to see a bottle of Amarula behind the bar and order a large one. It was one of my favourite discoveries in South Africa, sort of like Baileys in taste and consistency, but not whiskey, just fermented fruit. Better than Baileys any day. Yummy – cheers, mine’s a large one (well there’s no Sauvignon Blanc).

Just lazin’ – CRC, Tortola – 17/07/11

2011-07-17T20:12:00.000+01:00

We have a charter starting on 20 July, just a few days away, but with Jeannius out on bareboat charter until the day before, there is nothing we can do to prepare so we spend a couple of days at CRC (Chateau Relaxeau Caribe – Malcolm’s tongue firmly stuck in cheek when he named it) doing absolutely nothing.

There has been a lot of rain over the last few weeks here and consequently millions of mosquitoes have emerged and they have emerged absolutely ravenous! In the night, some got through the opening of the mosquito net and being trapped inside with us, chomped voraciously all night on our nice sweet blood.

Photo: Escaping from the mosquitoes with my cuppa

Photo: Mike with the wonderful view from CRC

Photo: What a view

We have lunch with Malcolm, Candace and Robyn downstairs on the apartment terrace and although we are under cover, a torrential downpour soaks everyone except Candace and I. A couple of glasses of Pinot Grigio send me crashing to sleep in the afternoon, going under so soundly that I am unable to wake up to go to the Elms in the evening for the last night of the band. When Candace and Malcolm return afterwards, they find Mike and I huddled together under the relative safety of the mosquito net (now with pegs holding the opening together) watching the final of The Apprentice through our slingbox attached to the TV at our apartment in Worcester. Ah, the wonders of modern technology.

Back to the BVIs – 15/07/11

2011-07-15T14:47:00.000+01:00

After 10 weeks in the UK, the day dawns for us to return to the BVIs. We travel down to Gatwick in our funny little hire car the evening before and stay in a plastic room at the Ibis.

The flights the next day are uneventful, for which we are extremely grateful given the nightmare that was the journey back to the UK. All flights are on time leaving and arrived on time or early. The food on the BA flight is good – not just edible but actually good. It’s Friday and they provide us with quite a spicy chicken curry.

Excitement is offered to us in the form of being allowed to sit in first class for half an hour while security checks are performed on the plane while we sit on the tarmac at Antigua. As we settle ourselves down in chairs that lie right back like beds, a kindly flight attendant demonstrates all the luxury features before sending us back to cattle class after the checks are performed. Actually, he is sadistic, not kindly!!

Our little Cape Air flight from Puerto Rica consists of the pilot and 10 passengers. There doesn’t look like there is enough room for the luggage and in fact the hand luggage is placed in little compartments in the wings, causing me to wonder if the bloody things will drop off – Mike’s bag alone weighs a ton as it holds two computers and all the paraphernalia needed to go with them.

We arrive intact and get through customs and immigration in record time – thank god for small planes and short passenger lists. Then it’s outside to haggle with the licensed bandit in a taxi to take us to CRC (Candace and Malcolm’s house over the hill at Little Apple Bay). His charge is more reasonable than usual which helps us ignore the inconvenience of having to stop for 15 minutes at a grocery store on the way for his other passenger to do some shopping!

We arrive at CRC at around 8.30 pm, for us 1.30 am. It’s great to see Candace and Malcolm – it’s been nearly 2 years and there’s been a lot of water under the bridge (literally). After sharing a bottle of wine we collapse into bed under the protection of a mosquito net and fall asleep with just the light of the moon through the huge open doors and the rhythmic noise of the waves crashing onto the beach just yards away. How different they sound to when they are crashing all around you in the middle of an ocean!

Tortola, BVI to the UK – 06/05/11

2011-05-06T08:55:00.000+01:00

Mike sets the alarm for 6 am, not because we have to leave really early but because we have to pack the remainder of our stuff in the now pristinely dry and clean bow compartment. We allow half an hour for this. No chance. I get in the compartment and he starts to hand stuff down – pumps, hurricane lines, genoa, gas barbecue and strange bags of stuff that we have left out of the boxes that went up to Penny’s house. It is full when we have finished, I am dripping with sweat (lovely) and completely knackered again. It takes an hour. However, we are ready to leave Jeannius at 9 am and Mike drops me off at the ferry terminal while he delivers the car back to the hire company. So far so good.

We buy our ticket, pay our departure tax (cheaper when leaving by ferry rather than by plane) and sit and wait in the ‘departure lounge’. The 9.45 ferry leaves and we could have got on that but our tickets are for the 10 am ferry. This leaves on time but from then on, our journey home turns into a travel nightmare of great proportion.

Half way to Charlotte Amalie, St Thomas there is an announcement that there is a problem with the engine and the ferry will instead go to St John where we will clear customs and go immediately on another ferry to Charlotte Amalie. Minutes later we hear a really ominous knocking noise from below and the ferry slows to a crawl, so much so that at the time we should have been arriving at Charlotte Amalie we are only just getting to St John. We all have to disembark and line up for customs and immigration. Our luggage is at this point still being brought off the boat and when we get to the immigration officer (an officious bitch with pre-menstrual tension and a very bad case of attitude) she won’t let us go through without our luggage so we go back out, pushing through the 100 or so passengers behind us, find our bags (both naturally at the bottom of the piles) and drag it back in again to run it past the customs officer who doesn’t seem interested.

So we wait for the next ferry (which we were told would be waiting for us). It doesn’t arrive and we start to twitch as it is now 11.30 am and our flight leaves St Thomas at 1.10 pm. We wait. Still nothing happens and no one knows when the ferry is coming. The one we arrived in has now buggered off from the quay and three smaller vessels are occupying the space by the ferry dock so even if a new ferry arrived we would not be able to get on it. Frustration starts to mount.

Eventually a group of us get together and pay a local guy to take us to St Thomas in his fast motor boat. We all pay him $10 (giving him $110 to take us to somewhere he was going anyway!) but instead of taking us to Charlotte Amalie, just a mile from the airport, he drops us at Red Hook which is a much longer taxi ride.

Photo: Mike on the fast motor boat – but not fast enough unfortunately!

He calls a cab for us and it is waiting as we pull up at the dock. Unfortunately the taxi driver is in no hurry and although I explain that we have a plane to catch in less than an hour he stops for every pedestrian crossing, lets every car out of every side roads he can find and manages to turn every traffic light on the island red. We consequently arrive at the airport 5 minutes after the gate has shut for our flight to San Juan.

We explain that the ferry broke down but the ground crew is adamant that we cannot get on our flight even though there is still 25 minutes until its scheduled departure. Mike wanders down to the other desks but no other airline has flights available which would get us to San Juan in time to get our British Airways connection to London so our airline puts us on standby for the next flight which will give us exactly one hour to get our luggage, check in with BA and get through security - if we can even get on it!

Mike and I are further stressed out when a phone call to BA reveals that they can’t get us on the flight the next day (in case we don’t get the standby to San Juan), and we would have to wait until Monday and pay nearly $300 each to change our tickets. Worse still, they say if we don’t get to San Juan before the flight takes off, we will lose our tickets completely, including the return trip. This means that getting on the standby is imperative even if we know we have little to no chance of making the BA flight. How stupid. Add to that the prospect of also staying in a hotel for three days and the cost of that broken down ferry just goes up and up.

Amazingly, we manage to get on the flight as standby a couple of hours later and after a hiccup with Mike's luggage (US security goes through his bag with a fine toothcomb), that makes it too.

So, we arrive at San Juan, 5 minutes late, so 55 minutes to go. Our luggage eventually appears then we try to find the BA desk. Now what we don’t know is that BA is handled by another airline and no one we ask knows who it is. Mind you, finding someone who speaks English is a trial and none of them seem to have heard of BA. We spend 20 minutes wandering around a confusing airport with bags weighing nearly 60 lbs. Poor Mike's bag doesn’t even have wheels so he has to carry it as there’s not a trolley to be found, not even one manacled to an overcharging, opportunist porter like they are elsewhere in the Caribbean. There are no signs which tell you which concourse you need and we don’t see any departure information screens that every other airport I have ever been to seems to have. Eventually I find someone who says that they think American Airlines is handling BA and we retrace our steps almost to where we had started but the desk is empty. I nearly die. So near and yet so far. The lady on the next desk says that there might still be some staff around and calls for a BA rep to come which she does a few minutes later. By this time I am almost crying. She starts to process our tickets then makes a phone call and is told that the gate is shut and they can’t let us through. At this point I burst into tears, blubbing through our sorry little tale of travel. She picks up the phone and gabbles away in Spanish for a while then there is a flurry of activity although we don’t realize what is going on until they take our luggage away - they have decided to re-open the gate for us. I lean over the desk and kiss her and a guy arrives to rush us though security, taking us to the front of every queue. Of course, sod's law dictates that I am the one picked for a random security check and have to be patted down and have my palms swabbed for explosive residue and they do the same with Mike's carry on bag. But we get to the gate and discover that they haven’t even started boarding!!! However, there are only 27 passengers for a 380 seat plane so this doesn’t take very long. We stop in Antigua for an hour and that's where the plane fills up.

The amazing thing is that no one charged us for excess baggage. We had nearly twice what we should have had on the first flight, and about 10 lbs over on the BA one. I suppose they didn't have time!

We get a hire car home but have to stop on the way so that Mike can have a half hour sleep but make it back in one piece although getting the bloody bags up two flights of stairs is the last straw that nearly kills us.

I open the bags and look at the amount of stuff that we have had to bring home with us, all of it personal and none of it being things we don’t ‘need’. Wherever are we going to put it all? Victoria isn’t yet home and I start to pull some stuff out – souvenirs etc – and try to find homes for them, rearranging some of Victoria’s stuff as I go. The before I know it, I hear a key in the lock and my baby girl flings the door open and I’m there for a hug.

World circumnavigation – done!

Homecoming – done!

Blog – done (until we return to the BVIs in July)

Bye and thank you for reading. xxx

Tortola, BVI – 05/05/11

2011-05-05T09:03:00.000+01:00

Today Mike pickles the watermaker. This involves disconnecting the seal water inlet from the sea cock, disconnecting the seawater outlet from its seacock and putting the ends of both hoses into a large bucket of water. The first step is to put citric acid into the water (to remove any lime scale) and flush it through for half an hour, then you repeat the process of some other alkaline chemical which removes oil, grease and algae. Finally you repeat it with sodium metabisulphate which you leave in there until we next want to use it.

In between all this he goes around with Mandi showing her how all the bits of the boat work. Mandi is really competent but every boat is different and quirky in their own way so this is really important.

While all this is going on I spend the whole time packing what is left of our personal stuff and the bits that I understand, you know, food and galley equipment and we make the terrifying and to my mind, precarious trip up to Penny’s. The pile behind a sofa in her bedroom is growing.

Back at the boat once more, the stuff continues to come out of cupboards. All that is left now is boat stuff and to show Mike just how much there still is I drag everything out into the cockpit and let him see what there is left to pack into the remaining boxes. There’s some stuff which I swear has never seen the light of day and quite a bit goes into the large bin in the corner of Conch Charter’s car park.

Photos: Packing a small proportion of the boat stuff

It’s almost 7 pm when we’ve finished loading the car. On the way back to Penny’s we stop off at Nanny Cay to find the Thomas’s and arrange dinner. We find Rosemary who has no idea where Bill and Matt are although she presumes they are still working on Crazy Horse and we arrange to pick them up on our way back.

This last trip up to Penny’s is the most terrifying so far. By now it is dark, which is sort of a blessing in some ways as you can’t see the sheer drop. However, as we turn the 90 degree bend onto Penny’s drive, the car tyres slip on the loose rocks that have fallen onto the concrete and we slide backwards just for a few seconds as the car fails to grip, even though we are only in first gear and in four wheel drive. It feels like my heart stops and I hold my breath until the tyres find their grip once more.

We unload the car and make the boxes as inconspicuous as possible, not easy when there are 23 of them plus four huge fabric bags of – oh, and the washing machine. Poor Penny and Peter are in Rome and are going to have a bit of a shock when they get back. I hope they will continue to speak to us.

We have the last heart-stopping drive down to the main road and head back to Nanny Cay. Rosemary is waiting for us – Bill is in the shower and Matt is not present but wants to come out with us, so we leave Rosemary to round them up and get a taxi to our boat while we race back and shower.

The boat is empty except for the ridiculously heavy sail bags. It’s so empty in fact that I have had to borrow sheets, pillows and a towel for our last night as all of ours have now been packed away.

The Thomas’s arrive while I am still in the shower, but with no hairdryer available (packed away), titivating myself takes less time than usual and a few minutes later we follow them around to The Pub, just next to Conch Charters.

We have a lovely last night with them. We had been so tired earlier that the thought of going out for dinner was not a particularly appealing prospect but I am so glad we changed our minds and were able to say goodbye to these people who have become such good friends.

Photo: Dinner with Bill, Rosemary and Matt

After dinner we take them back to Nanny Cay and say our farewells – lots of big hugs and kisses but this time, no tears! I am quite sure we will see them again!

Back on Jeannius, we flop into bed. There’s just the stuff to be put into the bow compartment tomorrow before the laborious trip home. I’m glad I did not know at this point just how laborious this was actually going to be otherwise I would never have got to sleep.

Tortola, BVI – 04/05/11

2011-05-04T17:41:00.000+01:00

God, I can’t believe it. The day continues exhaustingly the same as yesterday. Our cupboards are like a tardis – bigger on the inside than on the outside! I swear our stuff has been having sex and multiplying as quickly as I can pack it.

I manage to pack our two bags for bringing home. I can’t lift them off the bed though and just hope that this is because the bed is nearly 5 foot off the floor and the angle is wrong. How much excess baggage are we going to be paying for? We will be OK for the BA flight from San Juan to Gatwick but the flight from St Thomas to San Juan is only an island hopper and we only get 15 kilos free. Yikes.

Ruth comes over to say hello and we drink a toast to Walt and discuss the last months. Sad to say the least.

In the late afternoon I have run out of things to do so drive over the Nanny Cay to see the Crazy Horse gang. Again I expect to see them back on the water but the problems continue and they are still on the hard with a view to going back in on Friday. Bill wants to take us out for dinner but I know Mike is too exhausted and stressed (and I’m not far behind him on both counts) to enjoy himself even on a free dinner so we postpone to tomorrow and hope that things will be better then. Somehow I fear they won’t be.

We continue into the evening doing little jobs that we have been meaning to do for ages. Mike keeps crossing things off his ‘to do’ list but as quickly as he does, we think of new ones.

Shitty day!

Tortola, BVI – 03/05/11

2011-05-03T17:40:00.000+01:00

The day starts with more emptying of cupboards. I swear that when all this stuff is off the boat (and into poor Penny’s house) the boat will float about 3 inches higher in the water.

Mike’s jobs today include re-routing all the rigging so that the electric winch cannot be used for pulling up the main sail – the charterers will have to do it manually, just like we did for 7 years. Mike only had it changed before the World ARC so that neither of us had to be up at the mast in a heaving sea, and considering some of the weather and sea we did have, it was a bloody good move! However, around the BVIs the sailing is so easy that pulling it up with a manual winch won’t be a problem and at least it will mean that the lazy jacks aren’t ripped apart every time the main is hauled!

I make him stop work at 4 pm so that we can have a rest before going out to meet Suzanna and the Thomas’s for a drink up at the Bananakeet Cafe at sunset. When we arrive at Nanny Cay, we expect to find Crazy Horse back in the water, Bill having worked on the propellor shaft bearings for a couple of hours but not so. Unfortunately (as always seems to happen with bloody boats) something broke while he was working on it and now BVI workmen are involved, the boat is on the hard and they don’t know if they will be back in the water tomorrow. See, it’s not just us! That’s the bad news. The good news is that we will probably get another opportunity to see them rather than having to say goodbye tonight!

Rosemary’s phrase about herding cats comes to mind. We find Bill and Rosemary, but lose Matt then find Matt and lose Suzanna. Eventually though, we are all in the car and heading over the other side of the island. We just make it in time to catch the last of the sunset.

Photo: The sunset behind JVD

Photo: Rosemary, Bill, me, Mike, Suzanna and Matt at the Bananakeet Cafe, Tortola

We have an excellent meal, really, really excellent as far as I am concerned. My lamb is actually called ‘unforgettable’ in the menu and I think it will be!

Photo: Rosemary, Matt and Suzanna

Photo: Mike, me and Bill

We deliver everyone back to Nanny Cay then head back to Conch Charters and our messy boat. Once again, I am hit by the sight of all that bloody ‘stuff’. Glaring at it, I walk past and to our cabin where I don’t have to look at it. It’ll all be there tomorrow as I don’t think the fairies will do anything about it over night!

Tortola, BVI – 02/05/11

2011-05-02T17:42:00.000+01:00

We wake up both feeling completely better thank goodness. While Mike continues with his exhaustive list of jobs to get the boat ready for chartering, I start to sort out my stuff for packing. Amazingly, all the clothes I am leaving fit into one box. I make a separate pile of things I am taking home as I have quite a few warm things that I needed for Australia and South Africa which I definitely won’t need here again.

Photo: The stern cabin starts to fill with things I want to pack to take home

As the day goes on, the boat gets more and more untidy as things get pulled out of cupboards and sorted. Looking at the mess, sorted seems the completely wrong word to use!

Photo: The boxes start to pile up – you can just see Mike’s leg peeking out at the side as he works on the computer

I just can’t believe how much stuff there is. Our personal stuff – clothes, shoes, toiletries – is just a tiny proportion of it and in fact about half of this is going home – and staying there. No, most of it is boat spares, parts, ropes, tools, fluids, cleaning materials, bedding and hundreds of bits that you keep – just in case! We’ll still potentially need a lot of this so being ruthless is not an option at the moment. It’s a nightmare and I just can’t see us being ready for Friday. On top of that, there’s canned and dried food, bottles of drink and the additional high quality kitchen equipment that needs to be removed from the galley.

In the late afternoon, Mandy comes aboard to go over the boat and see what needs to be taken off or put on. By the time she has gone, Mike and I are exhausted and fit for nothing but showers and bed.

Tortola, BVI - 01/05/11

2011-05-01T17:41:00.000+01:00

Mike and I both wake up feeling a bit dodgy although Mike feels decidedly worse than me. We only had two glasses of wine each so if wasn’t that and I don’t think it was the food so we must have both picked up a bit of a stomach bug. I leave the boat 5 minutes before I have to pick the Thomas’s up from Village Cay Marina, to find that a car is double parked behind me and there are no keys left in the ignition (which they normally do if it’s one of the employees).

I race around with Kirsty trying to find the owner. Eventually we do and he moves it for me just as a taxi comes in and blocks the entrance. I wait while a ton of shopping is unloaded, practically hopping from foot to foot. I get Mike to manoeuvre out of the tiny car park – this is the first time I have driven in the BVIs and I’m nervous enough as it is without having to worry about micro- manoeuvring!

The driving here is all to cock. All the cars are imported from the US so they are left hand drive but they drive on the British side, the left, so instead of being on the inside of the road, you are on the outside. As I drive into Road Town, now 15 minutes late, I keep repeating my mantra – keep by the curb, keep by the curb. It seems to work and I pick them up and deliver them to Nanny Cay without hitting anything and by this time I am feeling a lot better.

Rosemary and Bill end up joining the committee boat for the start of the race but the boat looks pretty crowded and Matt and I decide not to join it.

Photo: The committee boat prepares to leave for the Americas Cup start line

Instead we go back to Jeannius and Matt helps load some boxes into the car, take down the genoas, expertly folding the spare one up then putting the original one back up again.

Photo: Mike watches as Matt folds the genoa, folding not being of Mike’s ‘things’!

Photo: Hoisting the genoa – the hard way – no electric winch

Photo: Figuring out the furling line

For nearly two hours they work together, Mike making as much use of Matt’s help as he can, then we reward Matt by taking him on the drive to Penny and Pete’s to deliver the boxes and the washing machine. He agrees that it’s a bit of a nightmare and the last bend nearly gives him heart failure and he’s really looking forward to going down that one. After unloading, playing with the dogs and admiring the view, the evil moment arrives. We have to negotiate that bend going down. Matt practically turns green and shuts his eyes which is amazing as I’ve never seen him scared on anything. I too turn away from the edge of the cliff, not able to look. I think Mike keeps his eyes open as we manage it once more. We vow that we will make as few trips as possible to minimise the opportunities that the Grim Reaper has to claim us.

We pick Rosemary and Bill up from Nanny Cay and take them back to their marina arranging to pick them up later for a night at The Elm over on Cane Garden Bay but during the afternoon Mike doesn’t improve and I get decidedly worse, so much so that we have to cancel at an hour’s notice because I can’t be away from the loo for more than 15 minutes at a time. Nice. We spend the evening in bed, drinking water, eating dry crackers and feeling sorry for ourselves.

Tortola, BVI – 30/04/11

2011-04-30T12:48:00.000+01:00

Mike goes down to pick up our hire car early in the morning. We have decided to get one for the whole week so that we can get around easily and the taxis here are so bloody expensive that it even works out cheaper, or probably will anyway.

Shortly after he gets back, Penny arrives to say hello. It’s lovely to see her familiar, smiling face. Apparently I could have watched the Royal Wedding yesterday with her and a friend but I’m not bothered to have missed it – I’ve seen the dress on the internet and presumably there will still be lots of coverage once I get home if I need to see it (which I won’t).

We chatter away for a while – it’s hard to summarise 16 months worth of travel to someone – then Penny sorts our storage problem for us saying we can put all our personal stuff at her house, in fact probably everything except large boat bits. She even has new boxes – 12 of them – to pack our stuff into.

There’s a shout from a boat arriving at the fuel dock next to us and it’s Jock from TMM, another familiar face.

Penny leaves to do some errands but then comes back for us and I go in the car with her and Mike follows in ours so that we can learn our way to her house, find out where to leave our stuff and collect the boxes. It’s a terrifying drive. The road (to us) is practically vertical, with hairpin bends at crazy angles. In places, the single track road is crumbling at the cliff edge and there are small landslides on the inside edge. As if that isn’t bad enough, at the bottom of Penny’s drive the government have dug the road up and then just left it for over two months and you have to go over rubble then a sudden clamber over a step back onto concrete – all done on a hairpin bend and between the two huge concrete pillars at the bottom of the drive. Scary stuff even in a 4-wheel drive truck type car. I don’t know how she does it all the time.

We natter for a while with Penny and Peter, once again admiring their fantastic views over the Sir Francis Drake Channel and all the islands then load the boxes into the car and with our hearts in our mouths, head back down the drive to face THAT bend. It honestly looks like we are going to go over the edge. I hold my breath. I think my heart stops. Then we are round and safe. After that one, the rest seem like a doddle.

Passing Nanny Cay we decide to go into the marina to see who’s around and find Suzanna in the office. We arrange to take her and the Crazy Horse gang to the Bananakeet Cafe for sundowners on Tuesday. That really will be the last goodbye of this trip (unless we bump into Suzanna at San Juan airport on Friday ).

On the way back to the boat, we stop off at Island Department Store to see if they have any other storage stuff and some things for the boat (I am swapping out some of my galley equipment). This is the funniest store ever. Never, in the history of man, have so many ugly things been put together in what looks like a warehouse, for people to buy. The decorative ornaments and fake flowers are worth a trip to give your mood a hint of hysteria. Clocks adorned with plastic birds and flowers over a foot high are just the beginning and on an island with so many flowers growing naturally, I can’t believe the garish, unbelievably shiny fake flowers that are on display in ugly abundance. And people obviously buy this stuff. Amazing. We escape with two of those cheap tartan bags (cheap but twice the price they are in the UK) and two huge laundry bags for some of our bedding and towels.

We’ve arranged to meet the Thomas family at the Dove, so after a rest, a shower and change, we drive down. We love this restaurant and are so looking forward to the meal. Being pretty expensive, it is usually a venue for a treat but tonight our main courses are a little disappointing. Both Mike and I choose their signature steak dish but everything is a little over-salted and we can’t really taste the difference between the three components of the meal. However, the wine, the starter and desert are fantastic and the company is exemplary as usual. Despite the meal, we have a wonderful evening.

Photo: At the Dove with the Crazy Horse Gang

We drive them back to Village Cay Marina where Crazy Horse is currently berthed and arrange to pick them up tomorrow to go over to Nanny Cay to watch the start of the Atlantic Cup rally. Back on Jeannius, we heave our extremely full bellies into bed, groaning and bemoaning that we ate so much. So much for the diet! Again!!!

Virgin Gorda to Tortola, BVI – 29/04/11

2011-04-29T19:15:00.000+01:00

We are awake early and preparing to leave for the short trip over to Tortola to deliver Jeannius to her new home at Conch Charters.

I go up to the marina office and buy myself a lovely conch shell then wave goodbye to Crazy Horse as they pull away from the dock heading for Trellis Bay for the night. A few minutes later we are off ourselves, pulling out of the slip just as Monica and Nick come running to say goodbye moments too late.

We motor out of Leverick Bay passing through the narrow channel between Virgin Gorda and Mosquito Island, Crazy Horse going the other way out because they are so much deeper than us.

Once out of the protection of the island, the wind picks up and we are able to get the genoa out and have a good sail down, the last for a few months.

We get tied up and sitting in the cockpit, it really hits home what we are doing. Once again we are handing our ‘home” over to someone else. It’s just like renting your house out to strangers. I have cursed this particular home regularly over the last couple of years but it’s ours, and mine, and we have spent a lot of money and put a lot of care and attention into her. She has taken us to some fantastic places and through some horrid, horrid seas but always kept us safe. Now we are abandoning her again and I feel very, very sad.

However, the World ARC blew our budget and the coffers need filling. Putting Jeannius back into bareboat is sensible and sometimes I need to accept that the sensible option is the only option so I will grit my teeth, strip her of our personal stuff over the next week, return to the UK and probably moan like crazy when the time comes to go back on her. The grass is always greener and all that!!!

We spend the afternoon meeting the staff at Conch Charters, showing them around the boat and discussing various features. The rest of the time is spent with our noses in our computers again before some dinner (prawn curry – it is Friday), comedy TV and bed. Tomorrow we will be social again as Penny is coming to see us and we have arranged to have dinner with the Crazy Horse gang at the wonderful restaurant in Road Town, The Dove.

Our position is: 18 deg 24 min N, 64 deg 36 min W

Distance so far: 25065 nautical miles

Virgin Gorda, BVI – 28/04/11

2011-04-28T13:07:00.000+01:00

Mike’s day is one of Groundhog Day proportions – he has his head bent over one of the PCs the whole time. My day is much more exciting – I have the laundry to do.

While it is in the machines, I take the opportunity of taking a closer look at Necker Belle – she’s not ostentatious – just big! Apparently she was a day charter boat and a total re-fit has changed her into a luxury cruising cat. From the outside though, she certainly still shows her origins.

Photos: The Necker Belle

All I need is Richard to come out, hand me a glass of champagne and offer me a guided tour. Of course this doesn’t happen as he isn’t there but if he had been, and armed with the information that I have a Virgin mobile account, a Virgin pension and some Virgin PEPs, I’m quite sure he would have done! Mmmm. Or maybe not!!

By the afternoon Jeannius once more looks like wishy washy’s laundry itself – all the things that I can’t tumble dry are hanging in the cockpit or over the sides of the boat. At least the wind ensures that everything is dry quickly. I then have a go at trying to sort the boat out ie which things are going home and which things are going into storage, but I get myself in a tizz and give up, wandering around to take photos instead.

Photo: Crazy Horse and Jeannius at Leverick Bay

I go over to Crazy Horse to introduce the Thomas’s to the comedy drama series, Gavin and Stacy. I love it when they love it too and I leave them watching it when Mike comes to tell me that I have 15 minutes to shower and get ready to go up to Monica and Nick’s for drinks and pizza. In record time, I am ready, although if the hair had required attention it would have been a different matter.

We pile into Nick’s truck with Angie and Kelly and take the 1 minute drive up the hill. Nick gives a toast to us and Angie and Kelly (they have just done a 4500-mile nightmare boat delivery) for all coming back safely. He doesn’t give us a didgeridoo recital tonight – a bit more practise is still required apparently although he has managed to get one note out which is progress!

Photo: Angie, Nick, Mike, Monica, me and Kelly at the Duck and Dive

Photo: Now you know why it’s the Duck and Dive!

We spend a lovely evening drinking wine, eating pizza and swapping stories of the sea. We don’t make a late or drunken night of it though as we are off relatively early in the morning for Tortola. However, we have been told that Rick is down and the bar and before retiring to Jeannius for the night, we make a quick detour to say hello.

Virgin Gorda, BVI – 27/04/11

2011-04-27T13:04:00.000+01:00

The wind is quite strong overnight and we bounce around a little in our slip but we still have a comfortable night.

In the morning, I finally see Nick – he was unwell yesterday and had been unable to come down to the dock to welcome us in like he wanted to. It’s great to see this giant of a man and he is eager to see his didgeridoo that I bought for him in Darwin and which has travelled half way around the world with us. Even Mike hasn’t seen it yet as it has been wrapped up and carefully stored for over 9 months.

Unwrapping it, he is delighted (thank goodness). I had chosen a large one so that it will rest on the floor when Nick sits down to play it. I had also chosen it for the smoothness of the wood, the very simple decoration and the fact that it had a good tone (as demonstrated by the salesgirl at the time).

It comes with instructions, and as Nick tries to get his head around breathing in and blowing raspberries at the same time, he decides that a bit of practise in private might be required! Well at least it will make a good decoration if he never gets the hang of it!

Richard Branson’s huge catamaran, the Necker Belle, is berthed here at the moment, and at about 105 feet long, it dwarfs everything else in the marina.

Photo: The Necker Belle at Leverick Bay Marina

The day is spent doing really interesting stuff like cleaning toilets etc and tidying. I really am a bit of a slut when at sea. After all, there’s nothing like sticking your head over a toilet bowl and the small of bleach to make you feel sick even if you didn’t feel seasick before! But all good things come to an end, and land means that I have no further excuse to ignore the housework.

Mike spends his day preparing computer number 3, the one that he bought in Richards Bay. Although up and running, he has to try to make Outlook work on it so that he can get his e-mails and also transfer all his navigational software onto it. As the USB port on the old one is slow, transferring anything is a tedious process.

We have arranged to eat on board Crazy Horse tonight, and while Matt prepares his chicken soup from scratch, makes corn bread and brownies, I trot up to the grocery store and manage to buy frozen tiger shrimp and a can of mango slices (the fresh ones are as hard as iron) and make tiger shrimp with mango mayonnaise as an appetiser. I cook them at the last minute so that they are still warm when I take them over.

We have a lovely evening with them. Marta joins us too and is once again great company. Bill has put aside two bottles of very good Sauvignon Blanc that he bought in South Africa. I feel very honoured and try not to drink the contents of both bottles!

Photo: Dinner on Crazy Horse – Bill, me, Mike, Marta, Rosemary and Matt

Photo: Marta and Matt

After dinner, Marta and Matt go back to the bar and I join them for a short while (all of us drinking water – really) before I decide that I really need my bed.

Iles des Saintes to Virgin Gorda – 26/04/11

2011-04-26T15:05:00.000+01:00

Well we get everything during the night except much sleep. It’s noisy as the boat crashes through squalls and we both get woken up when not on watch.

There are yachts, quite a few container ships and tankers and more cruise ships than you can shake a stick at. They are very confusing as they go round and round in circles, wasting time at sea, waiting for early morning when they can go into port. Of course, we should have expected lots of these because it is prime cruise ship time and one of them is the P&O Aurora on its way from Tortola to St Martin and further down the Caribbean chain of islands.

We can see the haze of light as we pass St Croix, 30 miles to our west, then through the gloom of the grey early morning light, I can see rocky outcrops of land, the British Virgin Islands, starting to appear.

Photos: Approaching the BVIs and a the wreck of a boat who took a short cut

We pass between Ginger Island and Round Rock, noting that the wreck of a ship which took a short cut between Round Rock and Fallen Jerusalem is still there, acting as a grim reminder of why you should need navigational charts!

Of course, once we are into the Sir Francis Drake Channel, the sky turns a nastier shade of grey and as we approach the anchorage outside of Spanish Town, Virgin Gorda, the heavens open. Mike slows the boat down to put off the evil moment when I will have to step out into the elements.

Photos: Rain welcomes us back to the BVIs

Stripping off my clothes down to my knickers I retrieve my waterproof jacket from Mike (which just covers my bum) and venture out to put the anchor down while Mike sits in the relative dry of the cockpit. Luckily it sets first time.

Poor Mike then has to get in the dinghy and go off to customs and immigration to check in. $78 dollars it costs to do this (and we later find out that someone else was only charged $46). For what?

We motor round to Leverick Bay and as we approach the marina I can see that our welcome committee is there – Monica and Angie are standing on the dock with a red carpet for us – well a red towel actually but who’s splitting hairs! We get tied up with help from David who gives me a big hug, then I walk up the ‘carpet’ and get a huge huge hug from them both.

Photos: Getting the red carpet treatment at Leverick Bay Marina

They both have to rush back to work, Angie to Necker Belle, Richard Branson’s huge catamaran, and Monica to run the office, but no sooner have they gone than Crazy Horse arrive and we are there to take their lines.

They come on to our boat for a drink and I make rather strong Dark and Stormies for Mike, Bill and Matt while Rosemary and I share a bottle of SB, before Matt and I head off to the Jumbies Bar. There we meet the lovely Marta, a young writer/photographer from Spain who is now living in Puerto Rico but who comes regularly to the BVIs to engage in one of her hobbies, kite sailing.

Suddenly it seems a good idea to get in the dinghy and go and watch her friends engaged in this sport. Well it seems a good idea to Matt although Marta and I have second thoughts once we are a couple of hundred yards out into the bay. The sea is choppy and we are going into the waves and the wind, flying up and landing with bumps every few seconds. I end up sitting very uncomfortably on the gas tank, having slithered off the side of the dinghy. However, watching her friends skip across the waves and fly into the air on their kites is exciting although with my non-affinity with the water, it’s not something that I would ever do. After half an hour or so, the sky turns an ominous black colour and the wind starts to pick up. Being less adventurous than Matt I start indicating that we should go. The ride back is slightly less wet although we do get rained on just as we approach the marina.

The evening is spent with Rosemary and Bill, sharing pizza. Matt stays at the bar for the evening with Marta – I don’t know how he has the stamina to continue. All I know is that my neck is killing me from the bouncing around on the dinghy, and I want my bed having only had three hours of sleep last night.

Our position is: 18 deg 29 min N, 64 deg 23 min W

Distance so far: 25048 nautical miles

Iles des Saintes to Virgin Gorda – 25/04/11

2011-04-25T22:15:00.000+01:00

It’s a bumpy old night but we both manage to sleep. We sail with just the genoa and by the morning the sea has calmed down a lot and the motion of the boat is back to being pleasant. I find the last hour of my watch quite hard in that I am sleepy and have to lie down with the alarm clock set at 15 minute intervals. Luckily Mike wakes early and I escape back to bed, waking up just before midday.

We trundle all day with the weather and sea getting progressively worse. We get absolutely soaked around teatime by a cloud that just opens and tips its contents on us while the sky all around it remains blue. While we are in the middle of it, it appears that evening has come early as it gets so grey and dark. It’s an amazing sight when you can see them coming and can’t do anything about it but wait for it to hit.

Photos: The clouds arrive, do their stuff and leave

Photos: Our last sunset at sea for some time and more squalls arriving

By early evening there are nasty squalls all around and it’s only a matter of time before a bad one finally gets us. I am in bed, having been awake for two hours but trying to get to sleep when I hear the sudden roar of the wind and the deluge of rain. I lie there for a minute trying to ignore it but my conscience gets the better of me and I get up and ask Mike if he needs any help with the sails. He doesn’t but I hang around for a little while until the squall has passed then go to bed and fall asleep.

Our position is: 17 deg 49 min N, 64 deg 10 min W

Distance so far: 25006 nautical miles

Iles des Saintes to Virgin Gorda, BVI – 24/04/11

2011-04-24T20:29:00.000+01:00

We are leaving today and starting our 240 mile sail to the British Virgin Islands but first there’s some shopping to be done. I want the top I tried on yesterday and there’s a couple of things I forget to put on my very small shopping list.

We presume that the shops won’t be open until about 10 am so we get the boat ready for leaving and make sure the up to date blog is posted. It rained quite heavily overnight and the sky still looks overcast and somewhat threatening until around the time we are about to get in the dinghy then the sky clears and the sun comes out, fit to burn. I can’t be bothered with the nasty cream again so go out with a sarong around my shoulders.

The clothes shop I want is the only one that doesn’t seem to open at 10 am. Typical. We do our other bits of shopping, the heat increasing all the time then hang around, moving from bit of shade to bit of shade until 11 am. I promise Mike that if she doesn’t open at 11 am we will leave it. For once he is quite content to wait as he actually doesn’t want to leave this lovely place.

Although it’s a Sunday, in high season it is buzzing, and people are out and about in the cafes, shops and at the little beach. Hobie cats are being got ready for pleasure cruising – I can’t believe that the first time Mike ever got me on a boat almost 30 years ago was on one of these little things.

Photo: Brightly coloured hobie cat being prepared for the day’s sail

Eventually, at just past 11 am the shop opens. I have had to pacify Mike a little with a double caramel magnum ice cream – even he has his limits for waiting around – but it works a treat and I get my new top.

We walk slowly back to the town dinghy dock, taking in the smells and colours all around us to keep us going until the next time we come.

Photos: Lots of colour and traditional buildings – that’s Bourg des Saintes in a nutshell

We get the dinghy back to Jeannius, both getting wet because there are so many ferries and small craft that are criss-crossing the anchorage that the waves are breaking all over the place and immediately pull up the dinghy and the anchor and head for open sea, just half an hour later than planned – not bad.

As we cross the channel between Les Saintes and Guadeloupe, a huge racing trimaran crosses in front of us going really fast, about 12 knots in very light winds. We wonder whether he is practising for Antigua race week.

Photo: Racing trimaran

The wind starts to pick up shortly after and we get the sails up but unfortunately, our lovely sail is short-lived – after about an hour the wind all but disappears (it goes down to about 3 knots – more a sigh than actual wind) and we come almost to a stop – just 1.5 knots. On with the engine again!

We continue to motor sail up the west coast of Guadeloupe, current building against us and wind on the nose. This is not what I had expected from these seas. The sea starts to change in the late afternoon, and my cockpit lazing is cut short by a rogue wave which comes over the starboard side and soaks me. I am not amused and my camera, which has been sitting on the table, narrowly escapes a dose of salt water. By 6 pm when I am talking on the SSB to Rosemary from Crazy Horse and Sandro from Lady Lisa, it is continuing to get worse. The wind whips up to 25-28 knots and we start to race along, so much so that we have to take the main down and just go with the genoa. The seas become more and more uncomfortable as waves slam into us. Oh boy, this is like open ocean stuff and this part of the Caribbean is not what I consider to be open (even though technically it is).

We shut ourselves in the salon for the evening with the air conditioning on, amazed that we have so quickly become unused to these type of weather conditions, having been away from ocean cruising for a whole two to three weeks. We had become land lubbers already without even realising it.

Our position is: 16 deg 28 min N, 62 deg 35 min W

Distance so far: 24886 nautical miles

Iles des Saintes – 23/04/11

2011-04-23T23:21:00.000+01:00

We are both awake fairly early so after making pancakes for breakfast (have to use up all the food no matter how fattening it is!), at just gone 9 am, we take the dinghy over to town to try to check in at the gendarmerie behind the Mairie. The gendarme says ‘non’. Well actually, that’s not quite true. The gendarme doesn’t actually say anything because once again, there’s no one there. What are you supposed to do when you arrive in these islands – stay on your boat for 5 days until they open again? Well, probably but bugger that. I’m sure the island’s patrons prefer us off the boat and spending money.

We then walk to the hairdressers and try to book me an appointment for today. Last time I came and had my hair done here the place was empty but today it is buzzing. There’s a guy there who takes my booking and looking up and down at his somewhat ghastly shirt and socks with crocs, I hope he’s not doing my hair as he obviously has no sense of style. I leave with the information that I need to return at 3.30 pm and my wash and cut will cost me 23.30 euros. He has rattled it off so quickly in French though at it could be costing me 330 euros and I need to be there at 11.30 pm. I presume the former is true and leave to find Mike.

We walk around town for a little bit, somewhat aimlessly, then go back to the boat. It’s so hot that I disappear to bed with the fan on and actually fall asleep for an hour or so. When I wake up it’s almost time for the second fattening session of the day (as if I need any extra fat) – bacon sandwiches.

At what I take to be the appointed time, Mike takes me over to the town dock and I walk in the blistering heat once again to the hairdressers. It is full. I sit down regretting that I didn’t bring anything to read as all the magazines are in French but at least I have my glasses (to read my French phrase book if anything gets too technical) so I can look at the pictures.

They are running behind – a lot behind – and I wait for well over 40 minutes before being ushered into hair wash station by the guy which fills me with a little trepidation as he appears to be the barber but so far the woman is showing no interest in me at all. I have my hair rather too enthusiastically washed and then am ordered to one of the chairs where I am ignored while he goes back to his barbering. Then the lady approaches and it turns out she is doing my hair, thank goodness. For the most part, the cut is good. A little gets lost in the translation about the slightly longer twiddley bits at the sides but basically I can live with that – my hair grows so quickly that they’ll be back before I get home.

I go shopping with the left over euros but only find one thing that I really like. There’s no changing room – one has to stand in the corner of the shop and strip off (in the part of the room that seems to sell men’s clothes, which is a little disconcerting). I do it all so quickly that I decide I don’t want it, changing my mind once I am back in the dinghy that I do. Maybe I’ll go back tomorrow when I’m thinner.

There is a beautiful sunset again tonight but a rather garishly painted catamaran has the audacity to park right across it so my photos are of the town instead.

Photos: Bourg des Saintes in the reflected light of the sunset

During the evening it absolutely throws it down with rain although there’s no real wind with the deluge, thank goodness. I remember the day our anchor dragged half way across the bay in a night time squall some years ago and only stopped when the anchor got caught on one of the old hurricane chains that still lay on the sea bed.

Tomorrow we head for the BVIs (unless Mr Change Your Mind Daily decides otherwise!).

Iles des Saintes – 22/04/11

2011-04-22T22:27:00.000+01:00

We sleep well and wake up refreshed. It is a beautiful day and by late morning we have ourselves together enough to venture into town to get a few provisions and attempt to check in. Now I know it is Good Friday but you’d think there might be one gendarme around. Do criminals not work on public holidays in this neck of the woods? Ah well, their loss. Our pile of euros stays in Mike’s wallet instead of handing it over as a check-in fee, until tomorrow that is. The hairdresser’s is also closed but the sign indicates it is always closed on Fridays so I presume and hope that it will be open again tomorrow.

We wander around town. I have been a good girl and slathered myself in revolting factor 50 sun cream after the burnt zebra episode last week, so in the heat, my face, neck and chest quickly become disgustingly slippy slidy – I hate the stuff.

We walk down to the restaurant that we are booked into tonight and check that stuffed pig’s feet are still on the menu. They are and Mike beams with delight, licking his lips in anticipation. Bless!

Photos: Views of and from the beach at Ti kaz’la

The main supermarket that we remembered from last time has now closed down and it takes time, patience and four shops to get all the provisions from the very small list that I have prepared but all the fresh stuff is of good quality, grown locally from people’s gardens.

I don’t know why I love it here so much. There’s nothing outstanding about the place at all. It’s just so … nice. I’ve never been here in high season before and it’s very much more crowded than I am used to, but it still has a gentle, calm feel about it. It’s very, very pretty and colourful, provisioning is acceptable (although don’t come here if you need boat stuff). The beaches are ordinary but then after some of the beaches we have been to they would have to be spectacular to win on that point. It’s French so it’s not cheap either. I think it’s just still just a hidden surprise, as far as most Europeans and Americans are concerned. The majority of tourists here seem to be French coming on day trips from Guadeloupe just a few miles away (given the way the ferries are packed to bursting).

We buy one of the bright tablecloths in one of the local madras fabrics for the boat. I buy one big enough to cut out napkins from it too. I have been meaning to do this each time I have come here and with the table looking so nice now it has become a necessity.

Photo: Madras tablecloths galore – I buy the fabric on the far right

Photo: The waterfront, Bourg des Saintes

We decide to just eat the pineapple for lunch so we really have an appetite for tonight. It’s so hot, neither of us is particularly hungry anyway.

Just as we are getting ready to go out in the evening it starts to rain so I grab my fashion statement waterproof jacket. In Day-Glo yellow and blue, it is the perfect accompaniment to any outfit but who gives a toss if it keeps my hair dry and stops me getting a wet bum from the dinghy.

We are first to arrive in the restaurant. We have spent so long eating with Americans that we have forgotten that the rest of us tend to go out later in the evening. Still, it means that there will be pigs’ trotters galore for us, but unfortunately that is not the case. The first thing the pleasant waitress says is that pigs’ feet are off. Mike nearly cries and the waitress looks uncomfortable for a while as she thinks he is going to throw a wobbly. Mike asks if they will be available tomorrow and she goes off to beg the chef but comes back saying that they take too long to prepare. It is obviously a dish which is only available when trade is slower. However, their wonderful beef Carpaccio is available and we are able to choose other dishes which are good but just not what we really want. I can’t even have the dessert I want because if you want the mango soufflé you have to order it when you order your starter and main. It says this in small writing on the dessert page. Who the hell reads that when they are ordering their first two courses? Well, obviously people who have been here before. As the restaurant fills up, I watch three soufflés being carried out from the kitchen, looking very nice too. I hope that the chef will relent after the pigs’ trotter episode, but he is French and very definitely says ‘non’. I contend myself with white chocolate ice cream smothered in Chantilly cream. Very non-fattening.

Photo: Mike and I at Ti kaz’la

In between courses, I get a bit arty farty with my camera like Moe and Bob do. It’s the first time I have really fiddled with night exposure, camera wise anyway, but the effects are not quite what I hope for, but practise will perfect I am sure (well that and reading the dreaded manual).

Photo: I need to understand more about exposure!

It rains hard while we are eating but luckily has stopped by the time we get back to the dinghy although there’s a good couple of inches in the bottom which Mike has to bale out before I get in.

Martinique to Iles des Saintes – 21/04/11

2011-04-21T21:33:00.000+01:00

In the middle of the night Mike decides not to stay another day in St Pierre and sets the alarm for 5 am. We get the anchor up and slip out as the sun starts to come up, noticing that Wild Tigris leave about half an hour after us but overtake us easily with their much bigger engine.

Photos: Leaving St Pierre at sunrise

It’s a day for motor sailing although I don’t really think that the main gives us any help at all. At one point we have two knots of current against us and have to use both engines to power us along, burning through gallons of diesel no doubt.

The sea is dead flat calm and there are only a few other yachts around. We leave Martinique and after a few miles of open sea, start to pass the wild and lush green coastline of Dominica.

Photo: Dominica

The wind situation doesn’t change at all and at 4.30 pm we turn right out of the Caribbean Sea and into the channel between the Iles des Saintes, past the windmills on Terre d’en Bas and the conspicuous rock, Pain a Sucre, then into the town anchorage of Terre d’en Haut. It’s beautifully familiar as we have been here for down island trips as well as wonderful holidays with Johanne and Steve.

Photo: The town of Bourg des Saintes

Mike reckons that the best meal he has ever eaten was here at the restaurant Ti Kaz’la (beef carpaccio followed by stuffed pig’s trotters). We watch through the binoculars to see if the shutters come up tonight. Neither of us is hungry enough to go out for a good meal, preferring to go tomorrow night. However, being Easter weekend we are not sure whether it will be open then so immediately I see the shutters up, I am on the phone reserving a table for tomorrow as, wonderful news, they tell me they will be open.

Photo: Anchor down with Guadeloupe in the background

Sitting in the cockpit, the setting sun puts on one of the most amazing displays. The sky lights up in different hues of blue, yellow, orange and eventually bright red. The reflection on the water makes it look like we are anchored in a sea of blood. It is extraordinarily beautiful. Mother Nature is amazing. I actually film it as well as take photographs as the scene changes before my eyes because then I can prove that I didn’t fiddle with the colours.

Photos: An amazing sunset changes before our eyes

We eat dinner on board and watch a little Ab Fab before retiring, my head still full of the colours of the sunset.

Our position is: 14 deg 44 min N, 61 deg 10 min W

Distance so far: 24821 nautical miles

St Lucia to Martinique – 20/04/11

2011-04-20T18:47:00.000+01:00

The last day in St Lucia starts with Maggie and Bob arriving to say goodbye. Of course this starts another little flurry of tears as Maggie has been a great friend, cemented over a coconut milkshake in Tonga when I was feeling particularly homesick and pathetic one day (so bad that I even got in the dinghy and planed it over to her at high speed). Thanks, Maggie, for your support and friendship.

Photo: Maggie with Mike and I

Photo: Maggie and Matt do a slow motion run up the dock to say goodbye

I go up to Crazy Horse to pick up my book, Rosemary and Matt’s words being the last ones I wanted to have. We hug goodbye but it’s only a little misty eyed thing as we will meet up with them in the BVIs as they wind their way back up to Maryland.

Photo: Bill, Rosemary and Matt on Crazy Horse

We then stop off at Chessie to say goodbye, but again we should see them even earlier, maybe this evening.

Mike checks out of the marina and we slip our lines to motor over to the fuel dock. Two diesel spillages later (don’t ask) we are filled up and ready to go. As we pull away from the dock, I look back at the last of the fleet, just 6 or so boats left now. It really is over.

Photo: Heading out to sea once more

We leave Rodney Bay and turn right out to sea to go north to Martinique. There is little wind but we put the main up in the hope that it gives us a little extra speed. At one point, for about half an hour, we turn the engine off and sail nicely but then the wind drops and go back to motor sailing for the rest of the 42 miles.

On the way Mike puts the fishing rod out and within a very short time the line is running out but whatever we hook manages to get off even before Mike starts reeling it in but at least it leaves us our lure and hook. The second bite is something much bigger and the line screams out before Mike can catch it. The rod is bent right over and it takes two of us to try to pull it in even when we have stopped the boat completely. Then there is a sudden jerk and the line goes slack. This time, whatever we had caught escapes with our lure and leader go with it.

We are now down to our last, very tatty lure. Mike puts a new leader on and throws it out. About an hour later we have another bite. He starts to reel it in and it’s very heavy. The strange thing is though that it keeps coming to the surface far more regularly than a fish normally would and Mike suspects that we have caught a large piece of debris rather than an fish. In the end I turn the boat around a full 180 degrees and go back the way we came to help Mike reel it in. When it first comes into view we think we have caught a large bird but as he brings it to the side of the boat we realise that it’s part of a large, and very dead turtle. The lure is wrapped around one of it’s flipper and the fact that there is no blood around in the water means that it has been dead for some time. Not wanting to pull it up on the back steps to retrieve the lure, Mike cuts it away. That’s it. No more fishing. No more lures.

Sean calls us over the VHF to tell us about the nice mahi mahi that he has lying on the foredeck of Wild Tigris ready for dinner. Thanks, Sean. It was probably the one we caught and tired out for you!!

Photos: St Pierre, Martinique at dusk

We arrive in St Pierre, Martinique around 5 pm. Wild Tigris and Lady Ev are already there and we are surprised when Annie from Ocean Jasper calls us from the north end of the bay. We go over in the dinghy to say hello taking pictures of the glorious evening sky as we go.

Photo: Jeannius and Wild Tigris at sunset

Photos: The sunset – unadulterated by computer software - honest

We discover that they are having major problems with their alternator drive belt which has broken and they had been unable to change it or find anyone else to do it for them. Mike has a name to give them so Jim, Twee and Lee come over to get it and Twee has a quick tour of the boat as she hasn’t been on a catamaran before.

We have dinner with Sophia and Sean, discussing our futures, theirs as open and undecided as ours. It’s a lovely evening but we don’t make it a long one as we are all tired and Sophia and Sean are heading out early for the north tip of Guadeloupe on their way to Antigua. Mike changes his mind once again about our plans north and decides to fit in a quick visit to Antigua on the way too but who knows. We decide to stay another day here in St Pierre as we liked it so much when we came here before.

Our position is: 14 deg 44 min N, 61 deg 10 min W

Distance so far: 24746 nautical miles

Rodney Bay, St Lucia – 19/04/11

2011-04-19T16:33:00.000+01:00

I wake up at 5.55 am with a start as I know Basia and Michael are leaving early. I am about to leap out of bed when Mike tells me there’s no point as he has already been up the dock and to the taxi area and they have left already.

Having had less than four hours sleep you would think I would lie back and drop off again but no, it’s like those pesky night watches when my mind and body just will not do as they are told. Dammit!

At 7.45 am I am up, washed and dressed and half way up the dock to say goodbye to Ocean Jasper when I spot them over the other side of the marina on the fuel dock. I knew they were leaving early but not that early but at least I think we’ll see them further up the islands. Even Rosemary didn’t spot them leaving.

Back on the boat I become convinced that Cat’s taxi is coming for her at 8.30 am and I go over to Destiny to see if she’s up and about. Ingrid says her taxi is coming at 11 am because her flight isn’t until the early afternoon but I am so convinced I am right that she goes down to wake Cat up. Poor thing. I am wrong and she hadn’t gone to bed until her parents left first thing so has had even less sleep that me and is travelling to Texas today. Whoops! Sorry, Cat.

Graham and Chrissy from Eowyn come over to say goodbye then slip their lines and sail off.

The day is spent swapping photos and trying to nap (at which I don’t succeed). Sean and Sophia pop over to pick Mike’s brains about good stopping places on the way to Antigua. Charlie and Richie call in looking for Sophia and Sean. Oisin comes over with Eline to get his photos. Then Maggie comes over with a lovely bottle of SB which we share, convincing Rosemary that she too needs a glass as she is on her way to the shops.

They are all going to eat at a sushi restaurant on the strip tonight but Mike and I don’t fancy venturing far so in the end we opt for H2O, the restaurant at the marina, joining Bev and Moe, Moe’s parents, Gaff and Rafat and his friends Katy and Kirpal. We have a great meal in lovely company.

Photo: Mike unfortunately gets chopped in half by the waitress

Tomorrow we leave but having talked to other people during the day it looks like Chessie, Thor VI and Wild Tigris will aim for St Pierre at the north west tip of Martinique tomorrow night.

Rodney Bay, St Lucia – 18/04/11

2011-04-18T16:13:00.000+01:00

Bev’s dad took Mike and I out for a great meal last night – a really good curry at Razamataz. We ordered so much (it all sounded too good) that the fridge is full of leftovers that we brought back with us.

Mike slowly comes to the conclusion that he can’t be bothered to leave tomorrow so he has more time to do a couple of little jobs and has today as a lazy day.

I pick up my World ARC picture book and wander down to Crazy Horse to get them to sign it and find Rosemary in tears which makes me start off too. We have all been together through some brilliant and some tough times and it’s hard to accept that we will all go our separate ways soon. Drying our eyes on her tea towel (just our eyes – no runny noses) we gradually calm down again and I leave to get some other people to sign before they leave.

And leave they do. Brown Eyed Girl leave, later than Judy had anticipated. Lady Lisa sails off heading for the BVIs where they will join ARC Europe to take their boat back. Heidi and Casey from Wild Tigris leave to fly back to the States. Susan and David leave to fly home for 10 days before returning and taking the boat back to Grenada for the hurricane season.

My morning is spent trying to catch up with people, say my goodbyes and pester others for signatures and musings in my book. My afternoon is spent collating photos I have taken of other people and their yachts so that I can give them out. I can’t believe how time consuming this ends up being. Moe cleans and scrubs his little heart out, conscious that this will be last time for a long time that he can perform his beloved duties while Mike and I pile into some of the leftover curry for lunch. Maggie drops by for a natter but because she and Bob are now off Ocean Jasper in a hotel and they are frantically sorting out things for their return to the States in a couple of days, she can’t stay long.

Rosemary invites us to go out for a meal with them but as we are not hungry, we just finish off the dregs of last night’s Indian. Bev, Moe and Stuart go out and Mike and I are contemplating an early night a few hours later when Bev returns to the boat with strict instructions to drag us out. She wins me over but Mike takes the early night option.

I eventually manage to track Annie and Jim down and give them the photos I have of them and get Jim to sign my book then I head back to the bar where the rest of them are drinking but it is close to shutting up so we wander back down the dock, gathering bottles from various boats before deciding which one to end up on. I manage to stay up until just gone 2 am (Cat guilts me out as it’s her last night) but judging from the photos, I should have gone earlier! The photos of me are unpublishable (I am far too vain) but Bev’s is a classic!

Photo: The beautiful Bev

At 2 am with the others still going strong, I give in, defy Cat and stagger back to Jeannius.

Rodney Bay, St Lucia – 17/04/11

2011-04-17T19:08:00.000+01:00

Today is not one for photographs. There’s a lot of hugging, kissing and a fair few tears as the realisation that the adventure, for most of us, is over.

Tucannon slips her lines before most of us are even up and about and sails away. Amongst the people flying out in the morning are Anna from Basia, Mike from Eowyn and Ann from Wild Tigris, who all go off in a taxi together. Then Jared from Brown Eyed Girl leaves.

People are wandering about getting crew members to sign their World ARC flags and flag pictures but I spend ages trying to choose pictures that truly represent the atmosphere of yesterday afternoon. I don’t think I manage it. Nothing can really capture it.

I start to watch the recording of Bev and Bob singing “The Southern Cross” and at that point stop trying to do anything constructive because the tears come too fast and furious. I go out onto the dock to see who is around and end up on Crazy Horse with Matt and Bill, both dry eyed but sympathetic to my snivelling.

Get a grip girl.

It’s difficult to put into words the conflicting emotions surrounding the ending of something like this. We always dreamed of sailing around the world – both of us did. But for me it was always a pipedream, something that was nice to dream about but which would never actually happen. There was always work, family, and the hum drum of normal day-to-day routines of life which stopped it becoming a reality.

Then we bought our beautiful boat, Jeannius, and the dream came a little bit closer, but still too far away for me to actually be overly concerned. Chartering years came and went and Mike started to get more and more twitchy, wanting desperately to retire early, and getting frustrated by the fact that everyone was sailing his boat but him. Then we made the decision to charter the boat ourselves but reality still didn’t set in, not even when we sold the family home. After all, we were only going to be away for a couple of years, weren’t we?

We had hardly started our new life in the Caribbean when the World ARC opportunity came our way. Living at the time in the BVIs, joining it seemed such a small step on from what we were doing anyway so unbelievably (and I don’t think Mike has ever been more surprised) I said yes. Then began the slow and painful crawl towards the date, at that time, over a year away (but hey, still ages away, nothing to worry about yet).

Then, suddenly, back in the UK for a couple of months at the end of 2009 the enormity of what I was about to undertake started to penetrate my brain but there was no turning back.

I have been periodically seasick, homesick and miserable but, and it’s a huge BUT, the happy memories far outweigh any miserable ones although I’m sure that to Mike, especially when we were going through stormy seas for days on end, my misery must have been a trial to put up with.

I have some memories that will last for ever and have had an experience that very few people will ever have the chance to go through. I have met some wonderful people and had some great times with them, getting and giving support when times have been tough going.

I’m older, fatter, blonder and probably none the wiser for my experience but I’m a circumnavigator and not many people can say that. On a good day, I might even say I am a sailor but I’m still not quite sure I believe that, more a truculent passenger.

The World ARC lasted for 465 days and almost half of them were spent at sea. We crossed three oceans and a few seas totalling nearly 25,000 miles and have set foot on 50 different countries and islands over half of which were in French Polynesia. We have used 17 different currencies and failed miserably to speak far too many languages. I have taken literally thousands of photographs on 3 different cameras; Mike has taken about 30 and only when I’ve nagged. We have spent … no, that’s one statistic too many and one I can’t bear to think about. Suffice it to say that we spent a lot more than our budget.

My thanks go to Mike who allowed me to see so much more of the world than I would otherwise ever have been able to, for looking after me and taking all the pressure of driving and maintaining Jeannius and to Jeannius herself for being the tough little cookie that she is. The only problems we ever had were mechanical or electrical and when you consider the conditions that these boats were subject to and the forces that Mother Nature threw at them, I don’t know how any of them survived at all.

Day 465: Marigot Bay to Rodney Bay, St Lucia – 16/04/11

2011-04-16T15:27:00.000+01:00

With more visitors arriving this morning, I rush around the boat trying to clear up a little. Thankfully the guided tour can take place in the port hull where Bev, Moe and Stuart have been staying so I don’t have to worry about our side and just sling everything down there.

Photo: Getting a hug from Maggie before we start off

Mike and Moe tie all the courtesy flags together in the order we have visited them and string them up with our rather pathetic signal flags so it looks a bit better for the parade. The visitors arrive bringing gifts of Amarula, Baileys, Veuve Cliquot champagne (from Kirpal and Katy for when we cross the finish line), chocolate and biscuits as well as a lovely bottle of pure Iranian saffron from Rafat, Moe’s mum. They are shown around the boat and settle themselves down ready for the off.

We have been give a strict order of sail and we are to pull out behind Destiny, our sister ship, who is liberally decorated with balloons (most of which fly off during the sail).

Photo: Destiny bedecked with balloons leaves ahead of us

Photo: Bev and Moe

Once out into the Caribbean Sea once more, we hang around until all the boats are out and then start our Parade of Sail. Heading up the west coast of St Lucia, the boats start to put up their mainsails and motorsail to the capital, Castries, before turning into the bay to motor around it in a huge circle. There are two huge cruise ships in but they seem to have disgorged their passengers out on day trips around the island as no one is there to watch our little parade. However, flyers had been put out to the yachting community regarding the end of our little adventure and lots of them greet us in small yachts and power boats waving and blowing horns and generally making as much noise as we are. Bev and I dance on the deck as we pass the boats whooping with glee – I hope we make a good spectacle.

Photo: Dancing and making a noise on the deck

We have two horns on board and make good use of them. Then we discover that Kirpal can do an alarming loud whistle so he does them – frequently!

Coming out of Castries we continue northwards for a few more miles to Rodney Bay. Moe cracks open the champagne and Voyageur start the musical ball rolling by playing Scottish music over the VHF with the other boats following suit. “We are the champions”, “Rocking all over the world” are just a couple of the renderings. Kirpal searches for “Ferry across the Mersey” as being a fitting tribute to a Liverpool registered boat but fails to find it on his iPod and we run out of time to play anything as the finish line approaches.

Then “What a Wonderful World” by Louis Armstrong comes on, a song which brings, with each hearing, strong emotional feelings for my late father. What would he have thought of his little girl sailing around the world? For the first time, the enormity of what we have done really hits home and I weep for just a little while but the finish line is approaching so I tuck the emotions away, dry the tears and a few moments later we cheer and hoot our way over across.

Photos: World ARC – done!

Photo: The boats enter Rodney Bay Marina one by one

The entrance into the marina is narrow and we file in one by one, like a line of little ducks and get tied up almost in the order we enter then immediately head over to the Boardwalk Bar for a welcome in drink. My bright coral dress is recognised by quite a few local sailors who were out there in their own boats to welcome us and they come and hug me for giving them something to watch – they had nicknamed us as the ‘dancing boat’. There are a lot of tears and hugs over the next few hours. I think the pictures say it all.

Photos: Well done everyone!

Unfortunately, all that afternoon sun provides me with something that I have avoided on the whole trip – red skin and ridiculously obvious strap marks. By late afternoon I am glowing uncomfortably with my own central heating system. Add this to the stifling heat outside and the old menopausal flushing going on inside as well, I look like a burnt zebra. Very appealing. Having had no lunch, a couple of beers followed by a few rum punches necessitates an afternoon sleep for Mike and he disappears back to the boat. When it’s time to get ready to go out for the evening, he is less than ready so I go over to Lady Lisa but decline a rum punch. Lisa has been busy during the day preparing some canapés which she hands out to everyone. I go back to the boat and Mike still isn’t ready although he is now in the shower which is progress of sorts. Ten minutes later he is still putting in his contact lenses. Ten minutes later he is looking for his watch. By this time everyone has piled into the taxis and gone to the hotel for the final prizegiving. Half an hour late, I drag him off the boat to join Eline and Oisin who have been holding a taxi for us.

There are a lot of people from the tourist board at the function joining us for dinner and we happen to sit near two very nice members of their staff, along with Jutta, Jochem, Eline and Oisin. The food is buffet style, very good and lots of it. The wine flows and, oh joy, it is Sauvignon Blanc and not Chardonnay! Mike is on water and only just staying awake.

After dinner is the prizegiving. Each boat is presented with an engraved plaque, certificates, a bottle of rum and a ‘mystery present’, a lovely book full of photos of the countries we have visited and of us and our boats. It is a lovely record of our adventure.

Photos: Paul and Suzanna present the prizes

Paul finds something unique and personal to say about all of us. He talks about my frank, no holds barred blog and the fact that I always leap off the boat for hugs and kisses wherever I hit land. Jutta and Jochem present Paul and Suzanna with presents for all their help then Bev and Bob sing “The Southern Cross” by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, which is poignant for all of us.

Got out of town on a boat Goin' to Southern islands.
Sailing a reach
Before a followin' sea.
She was makin' for the trades
On the outside,
And the downhill run
To Papeete.
Off the wind on this heading
Lie the Marquesas.

When you see the Southern Cross
For the first time
You understand now
Why you came this way

It’s a fitting end to the formalities.

Photo: Bev and Bob singing “The Southern Cross”

Of course, it’s not the end of the evening. Mike heads back to the marina on the first taxi available, by now with a splitting headache and I stay on for a while longer, eventually coming back with the others to find that the bar is closing at the marina. However, not to be thwarted they buy enough beer and rum punch to last a good few rounds. I have one drink before tiredness claims me and try to sneak off without anyone noticing. Of course I don’t manage it and they all take the piss out of me for being such a wuss! I don’t care. I’m shattered.

Our position is: 14 deg 04 min N, 60 deg 32 min W

Distance so far: 24704 nautical miles

Day 464: Marigot Bay, St Lucia – 15/04/11

2011-04-15T13:59:00.000+01:00

I awake with a need for the loo and not wanting to use the heads with the holding tanks on the boat, I take my chance with the early morning mosquitoes and head for the facilities on shore. Once back on the boat, getting back to sleep after walking up the dock is a non starter, but ever hopeful, I lie there trying until my cup of tea arrives and Mike plonks my laptop next to me on the bed and tells me to get blogging.

The weather has certainly turned for us. Gone are the grey, laden and overcast skies with their frequent, heavy downpours. Whilst it’s not a completely clear blue sky, the clouds are very broken and fluffy and white.

I wander around the few shops with Rosemary and find a white halterneck dress – very Marilyn Munroe – and with my hair almost platinum now with all the sun, I can imagine myself fitting the picture until reality sets in and pointedly looking at my chest, the shop assistant announces that they don’t have one in my size. I obviously need a full length mirror on the boat so that I can stop having these self delusions!

Mike and I go off to one of the local restaurants for lunch. Having been at the back of the food queue and getting nothing last night, and knowing that tonight’s function is another buffet, I don’t want to go in with a completely empty tummy today although this could end up enforcing the start of the much needed diet.

In the restaurant, we bump into Jutta and Jochem, and a little later Jim joins us but just for a drink. We have a great lunch but I strictly stick to water to wash it down. We have two more nights of World ARC functions and I want to remember them both!

I am just walking out of the restaurant when I notice a sign hanging up on the wall – it makes me laugh as my sister has the exact same one hanging in one of her bathrooms in Norwich. What a small world and what a true sentiment for me!

Photo: From Norwich to the Caribbean

When we get back to the boat, Moe is just finishing cleaning it. What a little star as the decks are all bright and shiny now. I try to nap in the afternoon with Mike but don’t manage it so I offer to go out instead for ice cream which is the first time we have had any since South Africa where we were able to get Magnums.

Tonight’s function is a formal buffet dinner in the Discovery Hotel at the marina and for once I am ready before Mike. Bev and Moe rush off as Moe’s parents and friends have arrived in St Lucia today and are meeting up with them at the function.

At the bar I wait ages for a drink as the white wine of choice appears to be Chardonnay and being I fussy bugger I want my Sauvignon Blanc. Eventually it arrives, as do the other members of our table, Rafat and Gaf (Moe’s mum and dad) along with Kirpal and Katy (his best friend and girlfriend). They are all so happy to see each other that me makes me wish even more that Victoria had been able to come for the finish as well. I invite them all onto the boat tomorrow for the ‘Parade of Sail’ from Marigot Bay to Rodney Bay. Oh, and the food doesn’t run out.

Mike goes off to bed before me and I stay for a while chatting at the table.

Photo: Me and Sophia

Photo: Eline and Matt

Rosemary persuades me to go up to the bar for a nightcap but I only stay for one drink as my bed is calling me too. On the way back, I slip off my high heels – I nearly caught one of them in the gaps between the wooden planks of the deck and don’t want to do that when walking back alone. Wandering along the deck, I slow down enough to take stock of the night scene. There’s chirping from the mangroves around the marina (although thankfully very few mosquitoes as they spray the area once a week). Apart from that it is silent as I pass all the boats, their dress flags fluttering in the slight breeze. The stars are out in patches although a few clouds remain. I can’t believe that tomorrow is the end of the rally.

Day 463: St Vincent to Marigot Bay, St Lucia – 14/04/11

2011-04-14T14:00:00.000+01:00

It’s grey again in the morning and has rained overnight again. Joel arrives promptly to untie us and brings us some pumpkin and some wax apples as a gift. The wax apples are strange but in a nice way. They don’t have a lot of flavour but do have lots of juice and are really crispy, sort of a cross between a pear and an apple.

Photo: Leaving Wallilabou under dismal skies

We leave at 8 am with Chessie just behind. We have rain showers but the wind allows us to roughly sail the course we want until we leave the lee of the land and a squall hits us in the open sea between St Vincent and St Lucia. Moe and Mike reef in the genoa quickly and get soaked in seconds.

I put on a loaf of bread and get the last of the sausages and bacon that Stuart brought out from the UK. It’s butties for lunch then and we manage to eat the whole loaf.

Photo: St Lucia’s Pitons just visible in the gloom

The pitons, the twin peaks at the south of the island come into view, just visible in the gloom and as we start to sail up the west coast of yet another island, the sun starts to come out.

Photo: Pitons now more visible in the brightening sky

It’s so good to see the sun again after all the gloom of the last 5 days although it very quickly turns steamy and hot. Sigh. It never quite gets it right! For me anyway!

Photo: Mike puts up the last of the World ARC flags for St Lucia

Photo: Moe at the helm

Photo: Bev and I as we enter Marigot Bay, St Lucia

Marigot Bay is a beautiful place to enter St Lucia. It’s very different from when we were first here 32 years ago (no big hotels and condos then) but they have managed to retain the backdrop from the original ‘Dr Dolittle’ film although the row of hobie cats with their bright sails weren’t in the film!

Photo: World ARC boats at Marigot Bay

Photo: The ‘Dr Doolittle’ beach

There’s a bit of confusion at first about where we are to be berthed and Mike goes right into the back of the marina before having to turn around in a very tight spot and go back to a much better spot on the fuel dock. I’m off the boat immediately in search of people to hug and kiss. There’s so little time left now to be with our ‘WARC family’. I quickly find the usual suspects, everyone excited to be back together again.

Photo: Receiving our fruit basket and cocktail from the marina

Photo: Me modelling Anna’s killer shoes

There was an impromptu cocktail party last night hosted by the Discovery Hotel and there are quite a few quiet faces around but most have perked up by the time the evening function starts. It’s drinks on the dock right by our boat. Unfortunately the choice is rum and coconut water or beer so I have to drink rum and even though I ask the barman to make mine weak, it’s strength is not to be sneezed at (as I find out later). I chatter away so much that I fail to notice how quickly the buffet is clearing and by the time I arrive at the table with a plate, all the hot, savoury food is gone and I just eat a few bits of pudding.

Emilio invites everyone back to his boat for further drinks and after about an hour on board, some drift off to bed (the sensible ones including my husband) and others get on the ferry over to Doolittles, the bar and restaurant on the other side of the bay. We have a great time, some of which I can remember and some of which I can’t.

Photos: On the last ferry home

We get the last ferry back and amazingly some want to carry on the party on the dock but thank goodness, I eventually realise that my bed is the safest place for me, and take my leave. Moe makes sure I get back on the boat without mishap!

Our position is: 13 deg 57 min N, 61 deg 01 min W

Distance so far: 24696 nautical miles

Day 462: Bequia to St Vincent – 13/04/11

2011-04-13T16:15:00.000+01:00

We leave around 10 am with Chessie. The rain hasn’t let up in the night and the morning is grey and drizzly, turning to real heavy stuff as we leave the bay.

The sea is a bit lumpy and uncomfortable but the wind is in a relatively good direction and we put the genoa out and motor sail. It’s only a 13-mile passage but it still takes us nearly three hours giving Moe plenty of time to peel all the potatoes.

Photo: The craggy coastline of St Vincent

Photo: Moe hard at work

Last night it was decided that as the weather was forecast to continue to be grotty, and there was no real rush to get to St Lucia, we would stop off for a night at Wallilabou (isn’t that a fantastic name?) on the west coast of St Vincent. This is the main location for one of the ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ movies. We have never spent time on St Vincent and it is not thought of as a particularly safe haven for yachts, but going in with another yacht and with five on board, we thought it would be OK. I am so glad we do.

As we enter the bay, boat boys come at us from all directions. Chessie is already tying up and has three such boats in attendance. I sigh with resignation – I hate being hassled especially when I am still trying to deal with the boat. Mike rejects all the mooring balls as he thinks they look a bit dodgy and tells me to put the anchor down while he reverses the boat towards the shore, intent on attaching a stern line to the shore. Enter Joel Browne. He is the only one who seems to know what he’s doing at this point. Moe ties together two of our long hurricane lines and Joel takes them ashore and ties them to a huge rock. He comes to talk to us and explains that he is working with the government and tourist industry to try to ‘educate’ the boat boys into not hassling the yachts immediately they come in. He’s got his work cut out!

Photo: Joel comes to take our lines

The bay still has some of the film sets from ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’, a bit dilapidated now, but interesting all the same even though we discover that some of them are only facades. Moe organises a little walking tour with Joel for later on in the afternoon.

Photos: The film set that is Wallilabou

Ashore we meet up with Joel and go for a walk to the waterfall. On the way he tells us about the experience of having a huge film crew on locations there and how the full set (most of which has been destroyed by the elements) took 6 months to build. The remains are looked after by the locals to encourage visitors to the area and houses a museum of sorts (mainly filled with old radios, sewing machines and telephones for some reason).

Photo: Hanging on the telephone

It’s only a half hour walk to the waterfall. The land all around is lush and green and now that the government has sold small plots off to individuals, we can see little areas being cleared and cultivated. Joel points out all the fruit growing and is generally very informative. He knows his St Vincent. As we walk, cars streak past us occasionally, coming so close we have to jump into the verges to avoid them. They are mad drivers here and like in Grenada, many of the men still walk around with machetes.

Photo: At least this guy looks like he uses his machete for professional reasons

Photos: St Vincent is lush and green – it must be all that bloody rain!

We pass an amazing garden filled with iron works and sculptures. We meet Junior, the guy who makes them just as decorations for his garden, out of old bits of engines and other scrap metal. Some of them are really good.

Photo: One of Junior’s creations

When we get to the waterfall, Bev and Stuart go in. Joel explains that because there has been so much rain, the pool is not as deep as usual as stones and sand has been brought down from the hills and filled the pool up. It is usually chest high but now only comes up to Bev’s thighs. She does her familiar wet hair flip.

Photos: At the waterfall

On the way back Joel picks us some nutmegs enclosed in their bright red webbing of mace and the outer ‘fruit’. They are beautiful.

Photo: Fresh nutmeg

We arrive eventually back at the black sand beach, meeting Anthony (The Shadow) Edwards at his restaurant shack on the way through. What a character. This scrawny little man with bright, shiny intelligent eyes chatted away to us in six different languages, going from one to the other. Obviously I could only understand the English and French but could recognise the others enough to know that he could speak them well.

Photos: Anthony (The Shadow) Edwards and his shack

Photos: The beach at Wallilabou

We stop to look at the ‘museum’. In one of the buildings there is the filming schedule for all the different scenes, along with photos of all the cast members and plans for the film sets. It’s really interesting but everything is covered in dust and it’s dark so difficult to see everything.

Photo: Jeannius ‘on location’

I can see that the dinghy has gone from the boat and know that Mike has gone for happy hour with the crew from Chessie so we all go to the Anchorage Restaurant to join them. Joel comes too and over a couple of bottles of Guinness, he chatters to Mike about his sailing experience (he has skippered for Barefoot Yacht Charters). He ends up leaving for a while but comes back with some Sunset rum for him, which at 85% alcohol, would probably strip paint. Frighteningly, the label on the back, instead of giving a government health warning, says flammable liquid, do not open near a flame!

Photo: Mike and Joel

Photo: At the Anchorage Restaurant with the odd pirate or two

We head back to the boat after a couple of drinks and finish off the marlin that Joe and Jared caught. We leave in the morning for St Lucia. I hope our warp is tied onto the shore securely!

Our position is: 13 deg 14 min N, 61 deg 16 min W

Distance so far: 24654 nautical miles

Day 461: Bequia – 12/04/11

2011-04-12T22:30:00.000+01:00

Another rainy day. Actually it’s torrential when we wake up and the wind is strong even with the protection of the deep bay.

Crazy Horse and Ocean Jasper leave early in the morning to try to get to St Lucia before dark. E-mails from Rosemary during the day though say it it horrible outside the bay for a few hours although it improves as the day goes on. I hope it is better for us tomorrow although the weather forecast doesn’t hold out much hope.

During the night Ocean Jasper had pulled back on their mooring ball and their solar panel had suffered damage from the ridiculously long bow sprit of the boat behind. He hadn’t discovered this however until he was out at sea and the weather conditions were not conducive to coming back into the bay. Rosemary asks us (by e-mail) to go over to the boat and get their names etc which Mike does, but the skipper declines to give us any information. That’s the trouble with these mooring balls. In some places like this, the holding is not good as the sea bed is muddy sand and you have no real choice but to go on a mooring ball. Now they are supposed to be set far enough apart to allow you to swing in all directions without hitting the boats around you. If they are properly regulated, they will give the maximum length of boat that should use them. If they are not regulated, like here, it’s all bloody guesswork and there’s no legal redress if accidents happen. Crazy Horse had moved after the first night to a new ball as they were too close to another boat – if they hadn’t, they might have been on this guy’s bow sprit too as they and OJ were alongside each other.

So anyway, the skipper declines to help, but we do notice during the day that he removes his bow sprit, so has obviously realised that it is a potential danger to other boats in this crowded anchorage. What a pity he didn’t do it earlier.

Mike clears customs in the afternoon so we are ready to leave. It is so bloody humid with all the rain that all I want to do is sleep but I try not to in case I don’t sleep well tonight. I spend a lot of time getting movies from Moe for our overnight passages and evenings in, although we won’t need to view much now before we leave for the UK in a few weeks.

Chessie call us and invite us for drinks tonight. This means that I need to get the dinner prepared before we go just in case I am in no fit state to do it afterwards. I took out the huge piece of marlin that Joe and Jared caught and by the afternoon it is nicely defrosted. I cut off five big steaks and marinate them for tomorrow’s lunch and prepare the rest for dinner. Tonight we are having ‘marlin catalan’, my onion, garlic, tomato and wine stew that we have with any white fish that is available.

The crew from Kalliope arrive in their dinghy to say hello. They too are going over to Chessie and as we are unsure of exactly where Chessie are anchored, we quickly get in our dinghy and follow them over. When we arrive we find that Chessie and another boat are touching but they quickly get the situation under control while we wait in our dinghies and no harm is done to either boat.

We have a lovely evening with them all and the rain manages to keep off which is very welcome. Jutta gets out one of her wonderful bottles of Constansia SB that she bought in South Africa – totally moorish! We meet some really interesting friends of theirs, a German couple, Cora and Stan, who are jazz musicians and have spent the last 25 years sailing around the world earning their living from playing at clubs and bars. They stay somewhere until they want to move on.

Photo: Emilio, Mike, Maria-Jose, Jutta and me

Photo: Bev, Jochem and Cora

Reluctantly we leave, arranging to travel with them to St Vincent mid morning tomorrow. The rest of the Jeannius crew heave a collective sigh of relief that we are not going to drag them out of bed at 4 am to go the full way to St Lucia. The weather forecast is still for foul weather all the way and at least this way we will break it up.

The rain holds off for our journey back in the dinghy and everyone enjoys the marlin – thanks Brown Eyed Girl! Mike and I go to bed leaving the others to continue their evening on shore with Eline, Oisin and Cora.

Day 460: Bequia – 11/04/11

2011-04-11T20:07:00.000+01:00

We wake up to more rain. It’s dreary and grey. Annie comes over early for Mike to sort out her computer as she couldn’t send e-mails but after looking at it and finding nothing wrong with the settings, Mr Computer Fixit Mike, manages to send one.

Bev and Moe go off for a dive in the late morning and Stuart goes ashore for a look around. I catch up with the blog (how many times do I say that?) and generally laze around feeling apathetic.

Matt comes by and says they are going for a snorkel right out in the bay in the afternoon so after some leftovers for lunch, Bev, Moe and Stuart start the dinghy up and go over. About an hour later they are back. The dinghy decided to pack up again and they are towed back by Eline and Oisin.

In the evening Jutta and Jochem invite us to join them at a restaurant where friends of theirs are playing. We decide to eat on board and join them for drinks afterwards. Matt offers us a lift but after dinner he doesn’t turn up (or so we think at the time). In the end it’s getting so late that when the others decide to take our dinghy over, we don’t go. It is still raining on and off and I just don’t fancy a soaking. Once they get there they discover that Matt had been hammering on the side of our boat but when he got no reply he presumed we had either gone or didn’t want to be disturbed. With 5 people talking on the boat, plus the hum of the air conditioning and with the doors shut, we hadn’t been able to hear him.

We would really like to leave Bequia tomorrow and head out just 10 miles to Mustique but if the weather continues like this it just isn’t worth it. Maybe we will break the journey to St Lucia with a stop in St Vincent. Who knows. We’ll look at the weather reports and decide – there’s no real hurry.

I intend having a really night but don’t get one. I feel really tired at the moment. I don’t know if it’s the humidity (which is very high with all the rain) or the strange anticipation of the end of the rally.

Day 459: Bequia – 10/04/11

2011-04-10T15:01:00.000+01:00

We wake up to torrential rain which continues on and off all day. This is not good because tonight is the long promised Jeannius Curry Night and we have between 8 and 12 additional people (depending on whether Chessie makes it to Bequia in time) coming over and it won’t be as nice if it is soaking wet in the cockpit.

I start to cook at 10.30 am. I am never very sure about cooking for large numbers, in terms of estimating the amount to actually cook. I am OK with chicken dishes (count the breasts – easy) but I am also cooking lentil and chickpea curries and these are harder to estimate. However my motto has always been, if in doubt, cook more!

Given that I can’t use the oven and the pots that I am using will only fit on the stove one at a time, cooking is more time consuming than usual but I am happy to do it as payback for the number of times we have been aboard the other boats and been looked after.

By late afternoon, everything is cooked. In this heat, at least re-heating will only take a few minutes as nothing will actually get cold. We then hear Chessie on the radio as they enter the bay and Mike calls them to tell them that Curry Night is tonight. So that’s 12 guests and 5 of us. I have enough assorted bowls etc but they will have to bring their own cutlery!

The rain continues although it eases off in the late afternoon and there is a hint of sunshine and blue sky. Sod’s Law prevails though, and just before people are due over, the heavens open and the rain pours down.

The Crazy Horse crew are the first to arrive, dripping in water but undaunted as they unload crudités and a wonderful dip, as well as some rather good Sauvignon Blanc (these crews know what I like). Shortly after, the Ocean Jasper dinghy discharges their soggy crew with more wine and a wonderful squash and blue cheese appetiser that Maggie has put together. Finally Chessie arrive, again, dripping wet. Thank goodness Jeannius has so many bathrooms – we just hang all the wet weather gear on the doors and hope it will have dripped the worst off before they have to leave.

To prove that catamarans are the true party boats, we pose for a photo – all 17 of us.

Photo: The abominable 17

With 30 year old rock music blasting out of the speakers, Moe reheats the dishes and we put everything out on the table. Some of our guests have never really eaten curry before and it is interesting to see their take on it. I deliberately have not made anything too hot.

Photos: Curry Night

After we have eaten, Maggie and Bob show us all the film presentation that they have put together of Annie and Jim’s wedding day. It is fantastic. Everyone squeezes around the table to watch, then they make way for some of us who couldn’t fit around the table the first time to watch it on the second run.

Photos: Watching the wedding ‘movie’

With full bellies (hopefully) people start to leave in a lull in the rain. Bev Moe and Jutta have done nearly all the washing up and wonderfully there are leftovers for tomorrow.

Another great evening with friends who will shortly disappear.

Day 458: Tobago Cays to Bequia – 09/04/11

2011-04-09T19:56:00.000+01:00

Bob comes to pick up Bev, Moe and Stuart for an early morning snorkel/explore of Petit Tabac, the ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ island. I am too lazy to go but just steal Moe’s photos when they get back as the island is so lovely.

Photos: Early morning on Petit Tabac

We arrange to leave at 9.30 am and five minutes before, I give a pseudo countdown to Crazy Horse and Ocean Jasper then we are off, CH then OJ following close behind.

Photos: Leaving the Tobago Cays, Crazy Horse and Ocean Jasper following behind

We motor for a while then get the main up and motor sail. After about half an hour we are able to put the genoa out and cut the engine. The wind is with us and once past the short choppy waves around Canouan, we fly the rest of the way to Bequia, averaging 8.5 knots. It’s a great sail although I have to admit to spending most of it in bed trying to go back to sleep (and failing).

Unfortunately, Crazy Horse starts to smoke as we leave the Cays and they suspect her engine cooling inlet pipe is blocked with weed from where they were anchored. (Bill manages to clear this later.)

We arrive in Admiralty Bay, Bequia and expertly attach ourselves to a mooring ball. Immediately we are approached by one of the boat boys who tells us that the buoy we have chosen is not suitable for a large boat like ours and tells us he has a much better one further into the shore. We slip the lines and prepare to follow him when the owner of the one we had moored go arrives and says the buoy is fine for us and asks for our lines. As we tie back on, the second guy comes roaring back saying again that it’s no good for us and the two of them have an argument about it. Apparently this happens all the time as they all vie for the same business. We are not a heavy boat and Mike is quite content to stay where we are. Moe negotiates a good price for us and we settle back to have some lunch.

Crazy Horse come in next and gets given the ball that the other guy wanted us to have and Ocean Jasper comes in a little later.

Matt, Rosemary and Anna come over after lunch to see if we want to have a little explore around town and takes me, Bev, Moe and Stuart over to the dinghy dock then shoots back to the boat to help Bill sort out the engine problem. Port Elizabeth, the town at the head of Admiralty Bay, has most things that yachties need – chandleries, fishing supplies and supermarkets which are well stocked by small Caribbean island standards. There is a good choice of bars and restaurants.

We straggle along the road in little groups, sometimes meeting up and sometimes disappearing from sight and hanging around waiting for other to reappear. Rosemary describes it as trying to herd cats.

Photos: Views of Port Elizabeth and Admiralty Bay, Bequia

We arrange to meet up with Crazy Horse for dinner at the Devil’s Table, an interesting venue built underneath the Yacht Club and into the side of a hill. When we arrive, we find Annie and Jim eating at the bar and the crew from Ariane at one of the tables.

Photo: At the Devil’s Table, Bequia

Here I have one of the best steaks I have ever had. No special steak knife is needed and the ordinary one just slips through my perfectly cooked meat as if it is butter. It is covered with a rum and peppercorn steak and is just scrumptious, as is the potato with garlic and gruyere cheese that comes with it. We are a little disappointed with the music when it starts as it is more like soul/pop than the reggae we were promised. However, as the bar starts to fill up with locals and people coming in to the bar rather than just eating, it livens up and the reggae starts. The house wine is good too although when they run out of it and refuse to give us a different bottle for the same price as the house (which, for God’s sake, is only EC$9 different) we refuse to buy another bottle on principal.

Maggie and Bob arrive as we finish eating and join us for drinks although. It’s a lovely evening but we are both tired and leave with Rosemary and Bill earlier than the others.

Our position is: 13 deg 00 min N, 61 deg 14 min W

Distance so far: 24641 nautical miles