Roosevelt Roads, PR
18.14.009N
65.37.581W

On Monday morning, I thought I would make a quick trip to the Bowling Alley to log onto the internet but ended up staying there 3 ½ hours. The connection was slow and by the time I answered all of my e-mails and updated my posts from the Virgin Islands, Dale had come looking for me fearing the worst; I’d gotten a flat tire and had to walk back in the heat, somehow finding a way to blame him for all of my misfortune.

Michelle had scoped out a seat on the back of the boat and had settled into a routine of reading, taking a quick dip and then returning to read some more.

Dale had been anxious to tear the front cabin apart as the macerator under the deck and the holding tank under the forward bunk were not cooperating when he tried to empty them; fortunately, we have a second head (toilet). Michelle and I convinced him that he should wait until the morning and we would get completely out of his way as we didn’t want to be around when poo might fly. He agreed. There is a great deal of salty language in the air when work is being done on the poo tank.

So that evening, Dale and I taught Michelle how to play the Palace’s version of Mexican Dominos. She grasped it quickly and ended up winning that night.

Tuesday morning, as promised, Michelle and I strapped our inner tubes and noodles to the bikes and headed off for the beach I remembered as having trees very near the water so that I could sit in the shade and read, while she made like a duck and bobbed around. Every once in a while she would emerge and I’d slather her back with SPF 60 sun block and she’d head back out to float around in the tube. Some things never change. I’ve been slathering her snow white skin with sun block since she was born and she’s still trying to tan it before it burns.

Since we were trying to stay out of Dale’s way, we spent a great deal of time at the deserted beach and only headed back when Michelle’s stomach started making the most unladylike noises.

When we returned, I threw some pizza in Michelle’s direction and then asked about the poo tank. It appeared to be a go. He discovered (reading the manuals) that if there are any air leaks in the tank connections or hoses, it won’t work. Exposing a couple of these leaks, he repaired them and sealed it all back up. All we needed to do now is head 3 miles away from shore and let her rip.

Today is Wednesday. I made a quicker run to the Bowling Alley for my internet fix and we are presently heading to Culebrita with the wind directly on our nose. Dale has already tried to use the macerator and unfortunately, it’s still not working. I suspect that although Michelle is nursing a nasty sun burn, on her feet and armpits of all places, we’ll be expelled from the boat again tomorrow, the front berthing area will be dismantled, and repairs will be attempted once more. It’s a dirty job and Dale has to do it.