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Friday, April 3, 2009, Saba to
With an 0600 alarm and in spite
of neither of us sleeping well during the early morning hours, we both
seemed bright and awake this morning. Usually it takes us a few hours to
get the fuzziness out of our brains early in the morning, but we were spot
on, getting underway exactly at 0700 hours. As expected, we pounded head into
wind and waves, though we must be getting “salty” because it just didn’t
seem all that bad. Musetta too; she fairly danced
in the waves, gracefully meeting them head on, no shuddering, no shaking.
She’s a FINE sailor! Even Mimi, our dink, is finding her
groove. Jeff had forgotten to
bring in his fishing line when we got to the anchorage at 1430 hours, and
when I first tried to back down when anchoring, Mimi caught the line and lure
for us so we wouldn’t wrap the prop. She may look a little rough around
the edges and long in the tooth, but by golly, she’s still a good
girl! While setting anchor, the
transmission decided to give out, refusing to back down. I still had forward gear, but no
reverse. Fortunately there
was enough wind to blow us down and set the hook. Jeff worked on the transmission
cable the rest of the afternoon.
It appears to be functioning now, but will definitely have to be
inspected when we get to a marine facility. We also had a lot of water come
over the deck, and it seems the port lights are leaking again, as the
bedspread and settee were soaked, even though all hatches were battened
down as tight as they would go.
The port lights will definitely have to be resealed, if not
replaced. This bay is remarkably
well-protected compared to the anchorages we’ve been hanging in the last
couple weeks. It reminds me
of Baja: dry, scrub-covered hills surround the flat water, no beach to
speak of, only one small structure on the hillside and a deserted road
leading to a small dock on the bay.
There was one other boat when we arrived, and a charter boat
anchored late in the evening, but both were quiet – no loud music or
laughter – so it was still nice to share an anchorage with so few
boats. We sat in the cockpit,
hoping to catch sight of the Green Flash again, but no luck; did hear the
baby goats though. “Use caution when opening the
overhead bins, as contents may have shifted during the flight.” We have to keep reminding
ourselves of this every time we open a cupboard; we didn’t realize how
bumpy it actually was yesterday until we saw the mess inside the
cupboards. We set our alarm
for 0600 again this morning, but it was so nice to have a calm, FLAT,
quiet anchorage, we decided to hang here a day and rest. Jeff made a nice breakfast - he’s
getting pretty good at making fluffy, whole wheat pancakes. Yum! He also worked on the forward
electric head; even with the new parts he installed awhile back, he still
hasn’t been able to get the dang thing to work properly. He’s decided the problem is a leak
in the vacuum pump; hopefully the chandlery in Last night was so cool I
actually had to put a light fleece blanket on my side of the bed
again. Seven more boats came
in during the day. Sunday, April 5, 2009, St. Kitts to Up through The Narrows between
Monday, April 6, 2009, We were pretty beat from
the long, boisterous passage yesterday, and slept like babes. It’s good to be flat at night,
though it’s a bit hotter here since no wind gets this far in. Thankfully, even without an
external antenna, I’ve been able to pick up a weak signal on the HotSpot,
though it’s intermittent; at least I was able to download my financial
statements, pay some bills, etc., from the comfort of the boat and didn’t
have to lug the computer ashore.
I love technology – when it works! Tuesday, April 7, 2009, When we were here 15+ years ago,
there was nothing here - at least that’s how I remember it – just a
sheltered anchorage. Now it’s
a man-made lagoon complete with condo and mini-mansion lined fingers, each
with docks. We did a power
walk around some of the fingers this morning, checking out all the
homes. Pricey real estate
here. I like to read at night before
bed. The book I just
finished, The Year of Wonders, by
Geraldine Brooks, is beautifully written historical fiction that brings
the past to life. Brooks is a
true wordsmith. I loved her
account of the sea, as told by the character Anna Frith: “For myself, I do not
expect to travel anywhere ever again. But if I do, I am determined that
it shall not be by sea. The
waves that carried me away from Wednesday, April 8, 2009, I worked on building my web
pages today, hoping to get them completed and posted tomorrow. We are completely out of fruit and
vegetables, so I desperately need to go grocery shopping, but have been
putting it off until right before we leave. I’d like to have to make only one
trip to the marina for internet and shopping. We heard Twice Eleven calling on the
vhf; they were coming into the marina to get a slip. We’d met David and Tamsin on the
Sea Cat tour, and really enjoyed their company. I’d told them I would give them
all our contact information later on so we could stay in touch, but we
left Thursday, April 9, 2009, Today is a “ I got my website uploaded
without a hitch today – it feels so good to get that done – and bought
some fresh produce, meat, and goodies at the nice grocery store here. It’s always hard to leave a place
that has high-speed internet and
great provisioning! How
spoiled I am! One thing I
will not miss is the pesky
gnats that bug us at night.
With so little wind, and being close to shore that has large grassy
areas, I guess it’s inevitable; at least it’s not the dreaded
no-see-ums. Interesting sight in the grocery store: there was a
kids' "Obama coloring/activity book," BIG end cap display. Besides a bunch of stuff about him
& Michelle, it had American landscape scenes, hymns, pledge of
allegiance, song lyrics to the national anthem and the "Oh beautiful, for
spacious skies" song - can't remember the name of that one. He's such a BIG DEAL down here,
it's amazing!
There’s a boat in this marina
named Allesandro Primo; if you changed both “o’s” to
“a’s,” that would be the name of our first granddaughter, and, of course,
moi! Friday, April 10, 2009, I don’t know what gets into me
sometimes; for some reason, I was feeling brave today. We’d released our mooring lines
and were headed to the fuel dock.
I asked Jeff if it was a pretty easy dock to get into. “It’s a
straight shot.” I asked him
to coach me, and let me try to bring the boat into the dock. I always drive when we’re
anchoring or catching a mooring ball because Jeff’s on the bow doing the
dirty work, but coming into a dock where there are other boats and narrow
fairways – that’s a whole different matter. I used to practice getting into
our slip when we were in San Francisco Bay, but haven’t parked the boat
since we left there; Jeff always does it, and usually the conditions are
difficult. We had about 13
knots of wind, which would be on our nose coming into the dock, but I
wanted to give it a try.
Jeff took up my usual position at the bow, dock
lines in hand, ready to jump off and secure us. We both had our headsets on, and
he’d give me pointers. I
didn’t make the first pass; I had put the transmission in idle, to slow us
down, but perhaps did it too soon as the wind caught the bow and blew us
off the dock before I could get close enough for Jeff to jump off and take
a wrap on cleat. It’s such a
L-O-N -G way from the cockpit to the bow, it’s tough to gauge; Jeff says
that you just have to develop a feel for it. He made me circle around and try
again. As luck would have it,
while I was on the back half of my circle to come in again, some idiot
power boater came roaring through, cut right in front of me so he could
get to the fuel dock first! I
had to turn off to avoid him and circle yet again. Good thing this was a wide
fairway, because these old boats don’t turn on a dime like some of the
newer ones. Second pass was
better; still not quite close enough for an easy step off, but better; the
fuel attendant grabbed the bow line and pulled in while Jeff took the
stern. A safe landing, no
damage. When we were finished
fueling I was able to back it off the dock without problem. Gee that felt
good! The horizon outside the bay was
quite impressive. The water
was deep jade green with vivid patches of turquoise scattered here and
there, where clouds uncovered the true color. Above the water line was a thick
layer of rose-colored mist, followed by charcoal gray clouds with fluffy
white tops, then a veil of wispy yellow clouds topped with a brilliant
blue sky. If I scrunched my
eyes and turned my head side to side, it was almost like seeing a
rainbow. It was just a short motor sail
to our destination, highlighted by the appearance of a large sea turtle on
our starboard side. It just
came up for air quickly, but we loved catching that brief
glimpse. Last evening I took the computer
out to the cockpit to see if the resort was broadcasting any wifi. WOO HOO! I hit pay-dirt! Good signal, decent speed! I sent off a few emails, and got a
big surprise when my sister Margaret called me on Yahoo Messenger. What a treat! We chatted, laughed and text
messaged for over an hour. It
was so wonderful to hear her voice, my spirits soared! How I MISS talking with my sisters
and my girlfriends when we’re at sea! There was a bit of steel pan
music from the hotel last night, not too loud, and only until about
10:00. The air was cool
enough that I needed a heavy fleece blanket, but that made snuggling in
bed all the more delicious.
(I think I’ll probably have a hard time adjusting to the cooler
climate up north when we return.)
The wind and swell settled down and we slept well until late into
the morning. There’s nothing
like sleeping with the gentle rocking of a boat at anchor! Projects today – I’ll never run
out of projects. I suppose
that’s a good thing, though; if I were to run out of projects, that means
my mind has shut down. Though
I’ve diligently been doing the exercises the chiropractor gave me, my hips
still hurt, particularly the right one. Jeff started teasing me about
having hip displasia like Abbie did; how he should have had me scanned
before he married me. I
wonder how many of us would lose out on mates or families if we were
scrutinized ahead of time to shed light on all our defects like we do with
dogs. Sunday, April 12, 2009,
Happy Easter,
All! Monday, April 13, 2009,
It’s so nice here, we decided to
stay another day, but we’ll definitely have to leave tomorrow. We think there will probably be a
lot of boats in 
This morning, I woke up from a
dream and was really sad. In
the dream, I had been walking with Abbie. We were following a long
walking-trail in my home town of Tuesday, April 14 2009,
Even with just a short distance,
it took us awhile because we had 26 knots of wind on our nose, with 5 foot
swells beating against us.
The wind would blow the tops of the waves into cascades of angel
hair. We saw several of the
large classic beauties, out there practicing their maneuvers. If the blustery conditions like
this persist, it should be some exciting racing. The anchorage looks like a
shopping mall parking lot on December 23rd. We slithered into a narrow spot
between a cruiser and a Russian race boat, but our anchor wouldn’t
hold. To complicate the
matter, some other rude cruising boat came up and tried to anchor right
behind us while we were still trying to set the hook, not leaving us
enough room to back down.
Wednesday, April 15 2009,
We both had long sessions in “Chirogenix” today; that’s the term they’ve given their multi-faceted approach to body wellness. Mark does chiropractic, bio-energy systems technique, acupressure, physiotherapy; Barbara does the massage afterwards, using differing techniques according to the body’s needs. It’s an interesting approach; at least I was walking better when we left, and hopefully I'll continue to improve. Afterwards, we walked the docks
at the Antigua Yacht Club where most of the Classics were berthed. The crews were all bustling to get
the yachts ready for the race, but I’ve never seen so much SHINE! Every surface seemed to glisten
with countless layers of varnish or wax; stainless sparkled brilliantly;
wood glowed warmly. I loved
the wooden blocks and beautiful filigree gold leaf woodwork on the
bows. Each boat had a basket
on the dock next to the boarding area, filled with shoes – no dragging
dirt aboard! Some of the
larger yachts had wide, flat decks, and NO toe rails - it was amazing to
me; how does the crew stay on when heeling?? Flags and pennants fluttered in
the light breeze, people were climbing and clamoring; the whole dock was
alive. I wish I’d had my
camera with me!
There was one small boat that I
just loved – more for the spunk of the crew than anything else: Veracity, a 30-foot
traditional “working boat” that was painted lavender! The crew wore royal purple-colored
harem pants, the guys topless, the women with purple athletic bra tops;
most of them wore bandannas on their heads – pirate style – and the women
had great fluffy red plumes tucked into theirs. It was GREAT! You could see they were having a
lot of fun; don’t want to take this racing stuff too seriously, now, do
you? They
didn’t have an engine on the boat, so they had to row in and out of the
slip until they could capture some wind in their sails. We would catch sight of them every
afternoon, tacking through the anchorage, trying to make their way to the
dock. What
tenacity! 
But the boat that really stood
out from the rest was Atlantide, a classic motor
yacht – Jeff says probably a modern boat based on an older design. She was stunning, and unlike any
other vessel I’d seen before. She has masts too, I’m guessing for
emergency propulsion because it doesn’t look like she would move very well
under sail alone. I believe
she may have been there just for the Concours d’Elegance, which was judged
on the same day as the single-handed race. Looking over at the yacht club
marina at night is like looking at a beautiful mini city-scape. So many huge yachts, they all have
red lights atop their masts, lights on at each spreader level – the bigger
ones have five spreaders – lights on deck and in the cabins. The stillness of the atmosphere at
night almost makes it look like a painting. Thursday, April 16 - Monday,
April 20 2009, Today was the start of the
Antigua Classics Race Week, the single-handers starting today at
1400. We trudged up a road
leading us over the hill behind the yacht club marina, dropping to
The race was only a couple hours
long – not exactly exciting, but certainly relaxing enough to sit there
and look at the scenery, listen to the bird song. After the boats started crossing
the finish line, we took the trail across the ridge to the opposite side,
leading to Friday, April 17 - Monday, April
20 2009,  
When we walked the docks looking at the boats, I was surprised to see so much new stainless steel on the boats. Then I read the race program and found out the real definition of a “classic:” They are the survivors of that age before the war when all yachts were graceful objects of art, with beautiful lines and acres of canvas. But they also include newer yachts that are built with the same craftsmanship of yore, but rigged with modern techniques and materials. “To be eligible for the Antigua Classic Yacht Regatta, all entries must have full keel, be of moderate to heavy displacement, built of wood or steel, and be of traditional rig and appearance. Old craft restored using modern materials such as epoxy or glass sheathing, or new craft built along the lines of an old design, are acceptable. Vessels built of Ferro-cement may be accepted if they have a gaff or traditional schooner rig. Fiberglass yachts must have a long keel with a keel-hung rudder and be a descendant of a wooden hull design.” Watching the race every day, we
got to where we could identify some of the boats, and picked out our
favorites. The first day,
there was an Italian guy at the look-out who had crewed on some of the
boats; he kept up a running commentary on the ones he was familiar with:
the graceful Mariella, a 79-foot yawl owned by a guy
named Carlo Falcone, who also happens to own a marina and is the Italian
Consulate; Galatea, a 67-foot
yawl, Astor, a 74-foot schooner, and
Juno, a 65-foot gaff schooner. I loved picking out spunky little
Veracity, with its tan-bark
sails and lavender hull.
There were about five boats with tan-bark sails, but none as cute –
or as SLOW – as Veracity. The first race, she hung in there
for the entire 20-mile course; the second day she did the short course;
the third day it was the “shortened short course;” and the last day we
heard her captain call the race committee boat on the VHF, to inform them
they’d decided to stop in English Harbor for a beer and would be dropping
out of the race. J Three cheers for Veracity! Another fun-loving slow-poke boat
was Old Bob, a 40-foot Norsk gaff
ketch with tan-bark sails. 
With staggered starting times to allow the smaller boats a head start, the second start of each day included a contingent of Carriacou Sloops. Though they were all built within the last 30 years, they were constructed of the traditional materials and designs of the island’s famous work boats. I was impressed at how speedy they actually sailed, and with both main and jib fully unfurled, their silhouette was just cute as all get-out. There was one grouping that had a lot of schooners and yawls, and a couple ketches. When they were all jockeying towards the start line, it was such a beautiful sight!
 
Of course, the real excitement
was watching the BIG boats in the last start: Rebecca, a 140-foot Ferman
Frers Ketch built in 1999; Windrose of Amsterdam,
133-foot Dijkstra Staysail schooner built in 2002; Velsheda, a 135-foot J class
sloop built in 1933 and Ranger, her “sister” built in
2004; Eleanora, a 135-foot
Herreschoff gaff schooner. All of
the boats had at least 20 crew members; we were told by one of the
other spectators that she had been chartered by 20 Irish guys who were
crewing on her. I’m sure
there was lots of Guinness on that boat! Velsheda and Ranger were usually running
neck-and-neck the entire course, blasting past all the smaller boats, and
pinching each other around the marks. What a magnificent sight they
were! A couple of days there was a helicopter flying the photographer
around the race vessels; we saw a few of the shots - awesome – and hope
there will be more posted on the Classics website, www.antiguaclassics.com
I suppose, just like watching
car races, it’s the mishaps that really get people going, and these races
had their fair share. One
boat lost its spinnaker when rounding the far mark; we could see it, 10
miles off shore, whipping in the wind; I think there were some injuries on
that boat too, with lines cutting through someone’s hand. On the third race, the beautiful
Eleanora tore her main, ripped
right through, from the leech (outer edge) to the mast; the sheets must
have tangled in the rigging also because they couldn’t seem to get the
sail down until they got into the harbor and worked on it awhile. But they were out there again the
next day, with an obviously older mainsail. 
On the first day right before
the start, Rebecca developed hydraulic
problems; one crewman said hydraulic fluid was spurting all over the
deck. They got it corrected,
but the late start hurt them.
The second day she got to the start line late again; I never did
hear what the problem was that day. When rounding the first mark they
couldn’t get her chute open, delaying them again. On the third day, she took the
lead like the famous race horse War Admiral, but again
developed problems during the race.
Day four was her day to shine, and that she did! On day four, while still
maneuvering to the starting line, the 1954 steel sloop Zeevonk lost her wooden mast;
the whole thing crashed down on the side, the rig trailing in the
water. We’d brought our VHF
to listen to the conversations between the racing boats and the committee
boat, and heard of another mishap - one boat call in that he’d “made
contact” with another.
Neither boat wanted to file a protest, so the race committee said
“just work it out yourselves.”
The guy handling the communications was a crack-up; one morning, he
responded to Veracity on something and
said, “I wondered why we hadn’t heard from you yet; I thought maybe you
were in the loo doing the crossword!” But the big news was the
collision on day four between Ranger and Velsheda. Unfortunately we didn’t see it –
they were too far past the point.
Talking later with a crewmember, he explained, Ranger was on starboard tack
(right-of-way), Velsheda on port tack; one of
the boats was tacking, I don’t know which one, but they got too
close. Their bows collided
then swung out, causing the beams to come together and the rigs to
intertwine. He said four guys
on Velsheda’s foredeck actually jumped in the water
when they saw it coming. Can
you imagine? A 136-foot
rocket heading straight for you???
Velsheda dropped out of the
race right away; Ranger tried to continue, but
sent a crewman up the mast to inspect the rigging and decided it was too
risky to continue. So neither
of them finished the final race. Once the boats crossed the
finish line on day three, they sailed over to 
That week, there was a tallship
training vessel in the harbor, the barque Each day I made a full picnic
lunch to cart up to the top, along with our chairs, binoculars, VHF – full
regalia for sailing race watching.
Just as interesting as the boats were the people we met at the top,
each day someone new. But I
most enjoyed meeting Bob and Beth Schmid, a couple from Tuesday, April 21 2009,
Jeff had another chirogenix
appointment during the races, and I did one again today, but I lucked out:
they were trying out a new technician, Marisol, who specializes in
reflexology. She added a half
hour session after my massage.
What an astounding difference it made! In the previous session, I felt
good when I left, but drained, limp like a noodle. This time however, I was totally
energized, as if the session had completely revitalized my body. I hope that feeling stays with me
at least a day or two. 
We walked the docks afterwards,
so I could take a few more photos of the classic boats close-up – as if I
didn’t already have enough!
On Wild Horses, a 76-foot W Class
sloop built in 1998, there were two spaniels: a five-year-old red and
white male, and a 13-year-old black and white male. The younger one was up and around
the boat, nimbly hopping up to his special “viewing” perches; the older
one stayed curled on his cockpit cushion – you could tell it was “his”
cushion because at one point he got up to turn around a few times to
change positions, and there was lots of white hair underneath him. He harrumphed back down, surveyed
all the goings-on for a bit, then lowered his head on his paws to
sleep. I asked one of the
women on board how they do when racing; “Just fine; they just lay right
there in the cockpit, no problem.”
Good doggies! I also got photos of the damage
on Ranger and Velsheda; neither looks like
anything that can’t be fixed right at the dock. Just a drop in the bucket for
these guys as far as cost goes, I’m sure. I love listening to the
mélange of accents here. Not only is there British, but
also Australian/New Zealander (I can’t tell those apart yet), Canadian,
Russian, Italian, German, Dutch, Spanish. There are also lots of great boat
names; we hear their owners calling on the radio: Elvis the Gecko; Silk Pajamas, 1700 Somewhere; Cricket; Flying Duckman. They all have British accents, of
course; who else but the Brits have such a wonderful sense of humor? By the way, for the non-boaters,
1700 is twenty-four hour time for 5:00pm; the common phrase heard on boats
is, “Well, it’s 5:00 somewhere,
so we might as well have a cocktail,” hence the cute
name. Wednesday - Thursday, April 22
-23, 2009, The watermaker has been giving
us problems – yes, AGAIN. How
many times is this now?? Are
they all like this? Fortunately there is a rep for our
system here in I’ve been going through all our
lockers, cupboards, and drawers, clearing out stuff I no longer use or
need. I won’t need to carry
as much in the way of specialty food items either, since here, unlike in
the Latin American countries, I can pretty much get what I need at certain
islands. It feels SO GOOD to
have “space,” not to have stuff cluttering the counter tops and shoved to
the brim in enclosed spaces.
Friday, April 24 2009,
Jeff got the watermaker going
again by tightening some hoses that were leaking. His seal/rings replacement kit is
on order, and should arrive early next week. Though I didn’t have a huge list
of provisions to buy, we still ended up going to two stores to get what I
needed. Between that and
waiting in line at the bank to get some cash (there’s only one in the area
and its ATM doesn’t accept MasterCard), the day slipped away like a child
listening to a bed-time story.
There was a party at a club just in front of where we’re anchored,
open to everyone; the We had lunch with Beth and Bob
and their daughter, Tasha, at their home today, a small two-bedroom
cottage on a hillside overlooking the harbor. It was interesting hearing their
story – how they ended up here in Antigua, hoping to realize their dream
of working and living in the Sunday, April 26 2009,
Bob paid us a visit, picking up
a part that Jeff hopes Bob can recreate in the shop. Spent a little time cleaning
house. Watermaker is working,
but very slowly. Monday, April 27 2009,
I finally felt sure we would
have enough water to last us so I did my laundry that was piling up. Jeff just stuffs his in a bag and
takes them to a service every few weeks, but I don’t have enough garments
on board to do that. He wears
his over and over, even if they’re a tad dirty, whereas I cast them off at
the slightest hint of odor or dirt.
I guess that’s the difference between men and women – or at least
one of them. J Bob couldn’t make Jeff’s part,
but thankfully he was able to get it done at another shop I town. Now that’s one less part we have
to lug down when we return in January. Tuesday, April 28 2009,
Bob, Beth and Tasha joined us
for an early dinner aboard.
They loved the boat, and had lots of questions about living
aboard. Unfortunately it’s
looking like the work is drying up here for Bob, and Beth doesn’t have a
work permit, so their income is pretty shaky. They’re heading back to the states
at the end of May for Tasha’s high school graduation; if nothing turns up
before then, it looks like they’ll have to stay there to find work. Bob had mentioned that there’s a
joinery shop at Spice Island Marine in Wednesday, April 29 2009,
Chores ashore today - dropping
laundry, propane tank for refilling, internet, etc. Our watermaker parts were not
shipped out last week as promised – no surprise there; hopefully they’ll
be in tomorrow. Ever since
the end of the Classics, we’ve had blustery winds during the day, squalls
at night. Too bad the winds
were so light during the race, as I’m sure Eleanora would have made a
better showing in these winds. According to reports, the seas are fairly
choppy, with small craft warnings every day. This pattern is supposed to
continue through May, though there is a slight break predicted for Friday
and The anchorage is clearing out; I
hear locals talk about how it will be quiet next week, after all the
Antigua Race Week participants have left. Clearly “the season” is ending;
there are very few charter boats out, and we hear the horns of boats
signaling their “good-by” every morning as they head out for their homes
across the Thursday, April 30 2009,
We had our final session with
Mark, Barbara, and Marisol today.
Ooof; my body is like a jellyfish. Mark thinks the problem with my
leg/hip is the “iliodal band” or something like that. It’s the band of muscle that
starts at the knee and runs up the quadriceps, connecting into the hip
area. He grasped the inside
and outside areas of my knee and squeezed – I almost hit the roof it was
so painful! He said that band
is so tight, it can’t let go.
“Did you do any running?”
Well, yah, we were fast walking/running up and down hills every day
in Our watermaker parts came in,
but of course, Jeff didn’t have time to install them today. He’ll have to do it next time
we’re waiting in an anchorage for a weather window. Meanwhile, we continue to drink
bottled water. I HATE all
that plastic! Speaking of, I
must mention that it has been especially nice to be able to dispose of our
garbage everywhere we’ve stopped – unlike in the Latin American countries
where that’s a big issue. Friday, May 1, We set anchor about 17:15. Just when we finished, a nice
young Frenchman (Harold) came by to see if we would like fresh baguettes
or croissants delivered to our boat in the morning. How civilized! When I mentioned we didn’t see him
last time we were here, he said he only arrived on island a couple weeks
ago; already he’s found himself a little niche business. Nice when you see enterprising
young men. Harold said he would deliver
between 6:30 and 7:30 tomorrow; as soon as we get our goods, we’ll be off
for Another long day of motor
sailing. Harold showed up at
7:15, but we only had Euros in large denominations and he didn’t have
change. He had to make his
rounds to scrounge up small bills, not coming back until an hour
later. This put us at a later
departure than we wanted, but the fresh croissants for breakfast were
good, and the mangoes he brought were sinfully delicious. We had fresh baguette sandwiches
for lunch – carb overload, but OH SO GOOD! We encountered a few squalls
this afternoon, and when we arrived in Sunday, May 3, Flat, flat, flat. That was the sea this morning when
we left, but it gradually got a bit more swell. We were able to sail just a bit
when we got to the channel between the islands, but soon lost our
wind. We didn’t have any trouble
setting the anchor, but once we swung with the tide, we felt we were too
close to another boat, so we picked up and moved. Being Sunday, the town is quiet;
Péle is again covered in clouds at
the very top, the patchwork of farms tumbling down the mountainside
verdant and fluted around the rims with dark green trees. We’re both looking forward to
exploring this island next season – assuming there’s not another strike
going on! Monday, May 4, I was wiped out this
morning. Good thing we didn’t
have to go far – just a two hour motor sail (again). All the stores are now open here;
we asked Charla in the chandlery how things are going since the strike
ended. She said they are
actually worse off than when they started! Not much accomplished
there. The ferries are running about
every 15 minutes, which sets us rocking with their wakes. It’s windy and the anchorage is
choppy; in fact, when we dinked ashore, one of the dingies tied up to the
dock had been overturned by waves.
We rescued sandals that were floating near-by, and a passery-by
righted the dink, into which we tossed the sandals. Tuesday, May 5, Fort De France to Grand Anse
d’Arlets, Martinique, 14˚29.9320N, 61˚05.1899W Nothing like a little excitement
to wake you up in the morning!
Jeff woke first, got up for morning business, and noticed our boat
was not turned the same direction as the others in the anchorage. And our stern was dangerously
close to the bow of the boat behind us; the guy on that boat was gesturing
to Jeff, all upset – a French guy no less, the French, who usually anchor
right on top of us. Jeff
hoisted our riding sail, thinking if he could cut down on the swing, he
would cut down on the problem.
But that wasn’t the answer.
Looking closer, he realized that somehow the painter and tow bridle
of the dinghy were caught on a small private mooring ball, holding us
stern to the swells when all the other boats had swung with the tide. By then I was up and dressed, and
joined Jeff on the swim platform, where Jeff was trying to pull the dink
closer, to no avail. We had a
rather heated discussion about what step to take next. Jeff wanted to untie the painter,
jump to the dink, use the free end of the painter to unravel it, and row
back to the boat. I wanted to
at least tie another line to the
dink before he loosened the painter, to keep the dink secured to
the boat. I did that, but in
the end, I just did a very ungraceful flop into the dink when Jeff pulled
it close enough, reached over the bow and simply unwrapped the ball itself
from the bridle and the painter.
Then began the task of pumping
out the dink. It had rained
hard and heavy all night long – in fact, it was STILL raining. The water in the bottom of the
dinghy came up to my mid-calf, presumably from waves that toppled in when
the dink couldn’t swing. I
don’t know how long it took me
to pump it out, but I sure felt I didn’t need to do any pushups today in
my exercise routine! Dink taken care of, we turned
our attention to Musetta’s interior. Rain water had seeped through the
port light again – nothing new there – but had soaked through the cloths
we put down, drenching the cushion and pillows below. As we usually do, we had left one
port open over the galley, with a make-shift “awning” over it, to allow a
bit of fresh air into the cabin.
Who knew it was going to rain so much?? Just in that tiny, covered window,
so much rain came in that the range cook-top was flooded; water had soaked
through the towel we’d put underneath it, seeped aft along the grab rails,
down the walls, onto the counter tops, into the freezer, under the range,
onto the floor. An
unbelievable amount of water!
Jeff didn’t feel well today, so
we only motored an hour south to the more pleasant and better-protected
shelter of Grand Anse D’Arlets.
It would have been a wild ride if we’d sailed – winds up to 30
knots, sloppy seas with 4 – 5 foot swells, wind out of the SE. As we rounded Cap Solomon point,
we saw a small monohull beached on the rocks, stripped bare of valuables,
main torn and flapping in the wind.
This wasn’t there last time we were here, so it had to have
happened in the last couple months.
I HATE to see a boat wrecked like that; not only is it someone’s
dreams dashed on the rocks, it’s a ragged reef of emotions: sorrow, loss,
grief, guilt, remorse, discouragement. For some reason, our anchor
wouldn’t bite; it took us three tries again; once it bit, we tugged it
three times too, just to make SURE we’ll hold in this weather. After we’d buttoned up the boat, I
made lunch then set to work defrosting the freezer. Where the rain water had leaked
into the opening, it ran down the sides creating pillars of ice, and there
was a good three inches of water starting to freeze into a block on the
bottom, locking in my Tupperware containers. Amazing amount of water! It continued to rain on and off
all day. Though it wasn’t
cold out, the grayness reminded me of Wednesday, May 6, Grand Anse d’Arlets, Martinique,
14˚29.9320N, 61˚05.1899W Boy it’s stormy. Weather report shows this is one
of the worst areas – naturally.
We haven’t seen the sun for two days now, and have had to run the
generator to keep the batteries topped up. The solar panels have been
working great since we got the new batteries, but hey, no sol, no
juice. As soon as we open the
hatches, of course, the rain starts again; it only takes a few minutes to
become unbearably stuffy below.
I definitely wouldn’t like it here in the rainy season. Thursday,
May 7, Grand Anse d’Arlets, Martinique, 14˚29.9320N,
61˚05.1899W Today actually looked pretty
benign, at least here in this bay: flat water, partial sun, a few brief
squalls. But outside and in
the channel it must be worse.
We dinked to the village this morning to buy bottled water and
happened to catch the produce vendor selling out of his van at the top of
the dock, so we’re stocked for veggies for awhile. Even with the strike off, more of
the shops and restaurants here are closed, I presume because it’s the end
of the tourist season. There
were only a few families on the beach, a few drinkers at the shore-side
tables; the shelves in the little mini mart were almost as empty as when
the strike was on. We don’t
need much to tide us over until we leave, but I’m almost completely out of
olive oil and haven’t been able to find any – Oh
Horrors!!! Thursday,
May 7, Grand Anse d’Arlets, Martinique, 14˚29.9320N,
61˚05.1899W Today actually looked pretty
benign, at least here in this bay: flat water, partial sun, a few brief
squalls. But outside and in
the channel it must be worse.
We dinked to the village this morning to buy bottled water and
happened to catch the produce vendor selling out of his van at the top of
the dock, so we’re stocked for veggies for awhile. Even with the strike off, more of
the shops and restaurants here are closed, I presume because it’s the end
of the tourist season. There
were only a few families on the beach, a few drinkers at the shore-side
tables; the shelves in the little mini mart were almost as empty as when
the strike was on. We don’t
need much to tide us over until we leave, but I’m almost completely out of
olive oil and haven’t been able to find anything other than the rockgut
stuff – Oh Horrors!!! Friday,
May 8, Grand Anse d’Arlets, Martinique, 14˚29.9320N,
61˚05.1899W I was busy in the galley today,
baking all kinds of things to use up the rest of our staples before we go
home: Peanut Butter- Chocolate Brownies; Pumpkin Pie; Banana-Nut Bread;
Oatmeal-Apricot Cereal Bars with pureed tofu as its protein base; Whole
Wheat Pizza Dough for our Pizza Margarita dinner. The oven was acting up again,
rising off the thermometer scale then shutting off. I had a devil of a time getting
things baked properly, what with the temperature fluctuations. To exacerbate the problem, during
the afternoon we were beam to the swells, causing the boat to rock. When I put the pie in, even with
the gimbals unlocked, the rocking motion caused the filling to slop over
the sides, splashing onto the bottom; what a burnt-on mess! It’s a good thing I didn’t have to
serve any of these things to guests because they all looked like an
amateur did them.
L I also went through the rest of
the lockers to clear out any canned goods or staples that will expire
before we return. I’m sure
we’ll find a worker or someone at the boat yard who would like
them. The weather is supposed to start
settling down a bit tomorrow through Monday, so we’ll leave tomorrow
morning and make 40-50 mile passages each day to reach Wahoo! We actually got to sail most
of the day, only running out of wind the last three miles. Just after we took off, we heard
this loud screeching/grinding sound coming from below the cockpit. Evidently Mr. Sulu decided he was
due for a vacation; the sound was coming from the control arm for the auto
pilot. We took one-hour
shifts in hand-steering the whole way, which actually turned out to be
quite enjoyable. Usually I
don’t like to steer the boat much, but this time, I felt so “in the
moment,” a greater sense of awareness and connection with the boat, the
sea, even me. I can’t explain
the reason for the change, but I experienced the true joy of
sailing – not as a means to get somewhere, but just to be sailing. It was a glorious sail, a
compelling feeling of freedom from not having the engine
noise. We hadn’t seen any boats all
day, then there were handful right at the Pitons, all jockeying for
mooring balls. A boat just in front of us took the
last available ball.
Figures. We had to
back track to the next mooring field up, just around the corner from the
Pitons in Sunday, May 10,
It was rolly last night, even
with the stern line ashore.
My hip throbbed horribly from bracing my weight on it all day (on
port tack so we were heeled to starboard). I took a sleeping pill, but STILL
couldn’t go down. I was a bit
groggy this morning from lack of sleep; even though we left the anchorage
at 0720, we were still the last boat to leave. It was another long day of
sailing, this time in poor visibility. We hit a squall coming into the
Monday, May 11,
With the rolling, we just didn’t
sleep all that well again; that makes two nights running. We sailed all the way here, even
in light winds, but it was behind us so we had a bit of a push. The gentle downwind motion of the
boat, pretty blue sky, bright sun, sparkling water, clean air was a potent
combination, putting me in super-relaxed mode. We happened to anchor right next
to some people we’d met in We had a number of boat boys
visit us, but all were very low key and polite, which is so nice; I enjoy
visiting with them if they’re not pushy or
aggressive. Though we left this morning and
had decent enough wind to sail most of the way until we got to the lee of
the island, we ran into a minor snag. We’d decided to stop at St. George
to check in, rather than going to Wednesday, May
13, I was so exhausted, I ended up
sleeping until almost 11:00!
It turns out, the problem I’d been having with sleeping lately was
not because of rolling or tension; it was our sheets. When Jeff took the laundry in, he
forgot to tell them not to use fabric softener. They must have used those awful
dryer sheets or something because I was reacting to chemicals. I’d noticed our micro fiber towels
and shirts weren’t wicking moisture as well; now I know why. We dinghied into the lagoon to
shop at the Foodland grocery store and Island Water World; with a dock in
front of each store, it’s certainly much more convenient than taking a bus
from Prickly Bay. At IWW we
dropped off six large trash-size bags of things that I’d cleared out of
the lockers and cabinets; they have a bin there for things to go to
charity. Of course, our
deposit overflowed the barrel and we had to stack it all around the floor,
but it feels so great to have that stuff off the boat. We got back to the boat just in
time before a major squall came through. It was so heavy, I couldn’t even
see the derelict tanker that was anchored less than a half mile from
us. It departed over an hour
later, leaving a lovely rainbow in its wake, followed with a beautiful,
sensual evening .
Thursday, May
14, It got pretty rolly during the
night, so we decided to get our last errands done and move on. The produce at the grocery store
was pretty poor, so we walked up to the spice market. I think we were the only tourists
in town! We haven’t seen a
cruise ship since we’ve been here, and the streets are quiet, the
shopkeepers alone in their dark stores. This time I really
enjoyed the spice market – no noise, no pushy vendors, no cars
spewing exhaust; I loved chatting with the vendors, learning about their
produce. We tried a few
unusual fruits that are now in season – sapodillas and wax apples. The perfectly round sapodillas are
rough-skinned, brownish-colored fruits that are eaten when they are mushy
– at least, that’s what the vendor told us. Inside, the texture is a cross
between a cherimoya and a pear, the flavor reminiscent of a pear, but
extremely sweet, almost cloyingly sweet. The wax apple is a pretty little
bell-shaped thing, glossy green and rose-tinged skin; inside, its flesh is
white, crispy but not as much as a Granny Smith, somewhat astringent and
sweet simultaneously. Both
were interesting, but neither were anything we would eat a lot of; I’m
sure they’re an acquired taste. I stopped at another grocery
store next to the market – always love to check out grocery stores. At the check-out counter, a gnarly
old woman was behind me with a fully loaded cart. The cashier said to her, “Ah, I
had not seen you for awhile, I was wonderin’ where you been.” The old lady, with a sly grin on
her face, replied, “I got me a new boyfriend; I been on a moon
honey!” Never too old,
huh? J We crossed paths with a young
man toting a basket in one hand, a large thermos bucket in another. He was selling vegetable rotis
that he made himself; we chatted for a bit and I bought a couple for our
lunch. They were
outstanding! I hope he can
sell enough to make it worth his while to continue. It didn’t take long to round the
point and anchor in Friday, May 15, Prickly Jeff and I both spent the day at
the bank of computer in the Mid-way through the day, we took
a lunch break, ordering from the marina restaurant. We don’t eat out much, so it’s
been a long time since I’ve had such an awful meal, and expensive to
boot. Boy I HATE paying big
money for bad food! The
restrooms were dubious too.
Both stalls in the women’s restroom were out-of-order, with signs
on them to use the bathroom next door, meaning the men’s. No problem there, but in the men’s
there was one urinal and one stall – without a lock on the
door! Hmmmm, good thing there
weren’t a lot of customers in the place swilling half price beers! It wasn’t until I left the stall
that I realized there was a small line tacked to the outside of the door;
you’re supposed to bring it inside and wrap it on a cleat that’s nailed to
the door frame. You gotta be
flexible here, folks! The office was closing up at
1730, effectively ending my marathon internet session; I’ll have to attack
it again next week, as I’m not even close to finishing. When we got back to the boat, the
guy I the boat anchored next to us was practicing his trumpet; we sipped
cocktails in the cockpit, serenaded with standards until darkness. These beautiful evenings are the
precious moments I love. It got so uncomfortable last
night, my stomach was unsettled all night; we weighed anchor and moved to
the west side of the bay where we had room to set a stern anchor, keeping
our bow into the swells.
Hopefully we’ll be much more comfortable
here. I read an article in the May
issue of Caribbean Compass about a British cruiser that was attacked off
the Sunday, May 17, Prickly 
This afternoon we joined five
other cruiser couples for a late lunch at The Aquarium, a restaurant on
the beach near the airport.
It was a lovely setting with very interesting artwork on the wall,
and the bar-be-qued meats were delicious. Of course, not having been out to
a decent restaurant in months, I got into it right away, starting off with
one of those deceptively potent tropical drinks. Nothing like a frosty, pretty
drink with fruit garnish speared on the brim of the glass to put you in a
festive mood! Our pinotage
wine with dinner was delicious – had never had that varietal before, and
it was fun getting to know the other cruisers. The restaurant had an interesting
way of tallying our tab: they put all our orders on one tab, drinks
included, then each of us went up to the cashier and told her we were
“from the big table,” and gave her what we ordered so she could tally it
and we paid her individually.
Let’s see, “We had a lamb loin filet, baby back ribs, two salad
bars, one baked potato, a bottle of Pinotage, one Mt. Gay Extra Old rum
and one Sex on the Sand.” The
casher cracked up, “We charge extra for the sand.” I couldn’t figure out what
was so funny; she had to explain to me that the drink was called “Sex on
the Beach,” not “Sex on the Sand.”
Fun either way though, no??? As soon as we dinked
back to the boat, a couple Swedish guys stopped to visit. We had been anchored next them on
the other side of the bay; they were admiring Musetta’s
lines and wanted to know more about her. Obviously they have taste,
recognizing a pretty lady when they see one! J Both are
single-handers, heading to
Monday, May 18 through Thursday,
May 21 Prickly Bay,
We’ve both been immersed in
projects. Jeff’s finding all
kinds of things are breaking now that we’re ready to put Musetta to bed, so he’s got
even more to do. He was
trying to avoid replacing the seals on the watermaker until we return next
year, just limping by on the little water it produces each time it
runs. Tuesday it gave up the
ghost; kaput. He spent all
day Wednesday doing the replacements, got almost all the way through, and
a different part snapped off – one that wasn’t supposed to! It was some tiny elbow with
tubing, which, of course, is not stocked anywhere. He spent the rest of the day and
all day today trying to get the new parts shipped down express (AGAIN) so
he can get the dang thing put back together. The problem is, in order to
“pickle” the system for dry storage, he has to have it running to pump the
chemicals through. He decided
it was best to move our haul-out date to Thursday morning instead of
Monday, to allow time for the parts to arrive and put the watermaker back
together. The only problem
with this is, now we’ll have to weigh anchor every few days to go to the
docks to fill the water tanks.
What a pain. My projects have been coming
along well. So far I’ve
repaired two dinette cushions, pulling the fabric tighter because it had
stretched so much. I’ve
repaired two skirts and four pair of running shorts in which the elastic
had disintegrated in the heat.
The running shorts were a pain because of the built-in liners. I also re-did the three Sunbrella
cushions for the master stateroom mattress. The new mattress we’d brought down
was only six inches high compared to the eight-inch foam that we had in
there before. It normally
wouldn’t be too big a job, but the problem was the beveled edges of the
mattress along the bulkhead – very tricky. I saw a chiropractor/osteopath
also, a young woman from Our stern anchor has been keeping us comfortable enough, bow into the swells so we only rock (fore and aft), don’t roll (side to side). It’s been windy, with scattered squalls each morning, but the humidity is running around 84% now, with 84 degree temps so it’s a bit warmer than we’ve been experiencing these last few months. Still, I sure love it here!
Friday, May 22 through Tuesday,
May 26 Prickly Bay,
My sewing projects continue,
completing two fender covers, a pad for the salon table, and the repair of
more cushions except I wasn’t able to do the cockpit cushions like I’d
wanted; the zippers are so badly stuck, no amount of lubricant will budge
them, so I can’t get the covers off.
Maybe it’s time for new ones anyway. I had another session with the
osteopath/chiropractor, who noted that she could detect improvement in the
muscle. A few more sessions
with her and I would probably be well, but she’s leaving for 10 days,
returning the day we fly out.
Meanwhile, she made an appointment for me with Dion, one of the
blind massage therapists – the BEST one, according to her. My appointment with him was today
(Tuesday); it was definitely an
experience – different from any massage I’ve ever had. He had incredibly strong hands,
and really worked on that psoas muscle; he said two more sessions and he
could really help me improve, so I booked one for “Sometimes. Like I can tell you’re very
young.” “No, I’m not young; I’m
old.” “You’re about
35.” Hah! You gotta love em, don’t
cha? On After the tutoring session, we
bussed to St. George for lunch with Mary from Reverie, the cruiser
coordinator for the tutoring sessions. We had a nice, relaxed afternoon,
stopping at the Spiceland Mall on the way back for a few groceries to tide
us over until we leave. By
the time we got back to the boat, I wasn’t feeling well – major headache,
hot. No aspirin or migraine
medication would knock out the pain, and by the end of the evening, I was
in extreme pain, nauseous, feeling like I had a fever. Clearly it was a reaction to
chemicals again. I had crab
at lunch, and though it said “fresh” on the menu, I suspect it wasn’t; I
SHOULD HAVE asked. Shellfish
is often treated with STTP when frozen, to retain moisture; my body just
cannot tolerate it. I’ve found this out the hard way! The anti-nausea medication my
doctor had prescribed for this kept the vomiting at bay, though I wasn’t
able to eat anything for days.
The pain killer he prescribed merely dulled the pain, didn’t make
it go away. For three days I
suffered the symptoms, unable to eat, too groggy from the meds to do
anything but lay down. Today
was the first day I was up and around. When I had the massage, I got
pretty dizzy. Dion asked if
I’d had breakfast, “No, couldn’t eat,” “Dinner last night?” “No, couldn’t
eat.” “You MUST eat! Eat some callaloo soup!” That’s the Poor Jeff, he’s been stressing over this watermaker. The parts he needs arrived in Grenada, but you have to wait for FedEx to deliver a form saying they’ve received it, then take that form to the customs office in Prickly Bay to get another particular form, then to the customs office in St. George to pay duty, then go to the FedEx office to pick up your package. It’s a whole lot of running around. Well, the bus driver got him to the St. George customs office just a few minutes before 4:00. The office was still open, and there was an agent there; he took one look at Jeff’s papers and said, “No, come back tomorrow.” I guess he didn’t feel like doing it; it was go-home time. So Jeff will have to go again in the morning, and hope that he can get the parts back here, install them, and get the watermaker working before the day is over, because we haul Thursday morning. It’s never easy to get parts shipped in.
Friday, May 27 through Tuesday,
June 2 Prickly Bay,
Well, Jeff got the customs stuff
cleared the next day, got the parts installed, got the watermaker working,
but it’s not working any better than it was when all this started – still
producing poor-quality water, even though the membrane tested good in
Antigua. It looks like the
problem will have to be dealt with when we come back. At least he can now pickle the
system for dry storage. I
didn’t get all my sewing projects done either – just lost too many days to
chemical reaction; there’s always next season. We were at the slipway on time
for our 9:00 scheduled haul-out, but they weren’t ready. Seems they had a mix-up with the
scheduling and needed to launch a pilot boat before they could haul
us. We had to circle around
outside the channel; of course, the “just a few minutes” turned into an
hour. When we got to the
slipway the second time, we were told we had to BACK in because the lift
wasn’t big enough; oh lordy!
Why didn’t they tell us before?!?!?! We had a cross wind, were at
low, low tide, and the depth in the basin was 6.8 feet – we draw 6.5. I requested dinghy assistance, to
help push our bow around because Musetta just doesn’t back down
well – she only goes forward.
The guy on the inflatable didn’t know what he was doing; I’m on the
bow trying to show him where to place his bow against our hull, but he
wasn’t comfortable with that and had to go back ashore and get someone
else to drive the boat; meanwhile, Jeff is stressing on the wheel because
he sees muddy water being churned up as we’re trying to turn. What a stressful mess! Jeff was cursing, ready to throw
in the towel; I kept telling him relax, we can do it, almost there. Finally we got in the slipway
backwards, we got off the boat (insurance regulations) and they hauled her
out. It took a couple hours
more to get her bottom pressure washed then place her in a row with the
other boats in the yard. They
pack them in so closely, it’s amazing; I don’t think they’ll be able to
fall down like dominos here because there’s no room for them to fall. We spent the whole week preparing
her for dry storage – I was sweating down below doing the “pink jobs,”
Jeff outside doing the “blue jobs.”
We rented a furnished apartment for the week just a block from the
yard, so at least we were able to shower and sleep in air-conditioned
comfort.
May 29th was the
opening day of the first annual “Rock de Spice” music festival. Coinciding with Morris Bishop’s
65th birthday, the organizers offered free admission for this
opening event. It was also a
big celebration for the official re-naming of the On one of our last nights, we
ate at a locals’ restaurant called “Patricks.” It’s in a tiny, purple
house just outside of St. George; dining tables are on the front porch and
lawn areas. We arrived at
6:30, and were the only diners all night – makes me wonder how they can
possibly afford to stay open.
When our server seated us, we noticed the plates serving as
chargers were overturned; right away, Jeff turned his right-side-up. When she returned for our drink
order, she scolded him – it wasn’t time to turn them over! Since it was one of our last
nights on the island, we opted to start our meal with their special rum
punch. Oh lordy, were they strong!! They weren’t overly sweet like
most, and the dash of nutmeg was intriquing; they went down all too well,
prompting us to order another round.
We didn’t need to order anything from the menu – in fact, there
wasn’t one; they just make the same dishes every night, and you get small
servings of each thing they make, in course after course, like tapas. Now was the time to turn the
plates over; they acted as a pedestal for tiny bowls of delicious
vegetable soup. Following in
quick succession: Spinach Rice, Fish Cakes, Fish Fingers (with heavy
clove); Stewed Pumpkin; Baked Eggplant; Sauteed Plantain; Ginger Pork;
Stewed Beef (short ribs with a coffee-brown colored sauce); Cou Cou (like
polenta); Chicken Salad; Soy Bits; Crab Salad; Beef with Vegetables; Green
Papaya (prepared au gratin); Fish Creole (with clove, anise & nutmeg,
but not hot); Tania Fritters; Steamed Okra; Breadfruit Balls. Topping all this off was a simple
slice of Chocolate Bundt Cake – utterly exquisite: though the chocolate
flavor was intense, the texture was fluffy and light, and there was the
barest hint of nutmeg lurking in the background; no icing or topping was
needed, and it would only detract from the ethereal texture. I would have to say, it was a
“benchmark” cake. The next day, I was regretting
that second rum punch and the whole bottle of wine we consumed with
dinner. My stomach was not happy. To make matters worse, that was
the day I had to hoist Jeff up the mast so he could pull off the
windvane. Now picture this:
we’re in a dry, dusty boatyard tucked behind a mountain; not a breeze
reaches us; the temperature is in the high 80’s, humidty the same. With
every crank of that winch, I groaned and almost hurled, sweat pouring off
me in buckets, feeling as if my muscles were simply wet noodles. I had NO strength. Jeff was sweating at the mast,
progressing up by mere inches.
It took me over 30 minutes to get him to the top, where he needed
only a few more minutes to unhook the vane. Oh, the woes of rum punch!
We finally completed all the
chores that we’d intended to do, and were packed and ready for our early
morning taxi ride to the airport.
I was somewhat sad to leave, because I really love these islands,
but I don’t like the heat, so the
timing was perfect. Besides
that, we have a whole exciting trip planned for our return – a visit with
our friends in |
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