Deshaies, Guadeloupe
16.18.477N
61.47.871W

Since all matters move on island time, it took a bit longer to clear Customs than Dale would have liked but we still managed to hoist anchor before 10 am and make our move to Guadeloupe.

The winds and waves had calmed since our arrival to Antigua and we motorsailed south until the winds filled in about noon which allowed us to turn the engine off and travel the remaining distance under sail alone.

When we climbed to Shirley Heights a couple of days ago, you could see Guadeloupe and Monserrat in the distance. Today, however, there was a haze that enveloped Guadeloupe and kept it hidden until we were practically on top of it. Monserrat’s volcano maintained a constant plume of smoke over it the entire time we were on Antigua and with the wind out of the south a couple of the days we were here, we had an incredible amount of ash and dirt covering us. We welcomed the rain that came last night, hoping that it would wash the majority of the grit away.

Guadeloupe is shaped like a butterfly and is actually quite large. It is also very mountainous and green with deep harbors. It took a bit of scouting around before we could find a place shallow enough to anchor in. We eventually found a spot in 20’ that did the trick. Deshaies (day-hay) is hardly more than a fishing village and there appears to be only one dock we can tie our dinghy to. As the evening winds whipping around and down the mountains have already begun, we’ll stay aboard tonight to make sure we remain where we dropped our anchor.

Antigua
English Harbor
17.00.259N
61.45.596W

We dinghied to the chandlery this morning to pick up a gallon of muriatic acid for the de-scale job we had planned. After that, we scooted over to the other side of the harbor to see if our mail had arrived and then decided to kill some time until it did at the Nelson Museum.

It was actually pretty informative, particularly since I really don’t know much about the English hero. As I mentioned in an earlier post, he was stationed in English Harbor when he was a young captain. He met his future bride in Nevis, a small island near St. Kitts, and his best man was the future king of England, who’s ship was also stationed in Antigua.

The museum detailed his career and his personal life with pictures and relics, as well as that of the English military in general during that time frame. It was really very nice to be educated in such a manner.

When our mail finally arrived, we went back to the Palace and got down to work. Dale had saved bits and pieces of hoses and managed to concoct a method of cleaning the condenser with the least amount of fumes inside the boat itself.

Since I can’t smell anything anyway, I volunteered for the initial pouring into the hose up in the cockpit which led through a window, down into the area where the compressor is stored. Then Dale would either allow the acid to flow out or block it inside the unit for a few minutes to ‘bathe’ the unit. I’d pour a small amount into a plastic glass, which was more manageable that the gallon jug, then pour that amount into a funnel stuffed into the hose leading to the condenser. I was only mildly alarmed when the liquid started to smoke when I poured it into the glass. Dale assured me that it was just cleaning the glass. Once I got the hang of how much to pour into the funnel without it bubbling back up on me, the remainder of the cleaning process went smoothly.

We ‘bathed‘ it twice and then rinsed thoroughly. The refrigerator does seems to be working better, so we‘ll see how long this lasts.

Now that we have our mail, we‘ll be moving along to Guadaloupe tomorrow. We were talking with Sue and Robert on Sunday‘s Child when we realized that we had neglected to clear out already, so Dale will be making a quick run by Customs before we leave to make sure our papers are in order.

Antigua
English Harbor
17.00.259N
61.45.596W

After we returned from our hike up the mountain, Dale and I went for a quick swim around the boat. It felt good to cool off. Unfortunately, it seems now as if it only served to make my cold worse, so we didn’t do anything today except wait for the refrigeration guy to make a boat call.

We’ve become more and more concerned that our refrigeration just isn’t keeping up. Dale’s back flushed the system and cleaned the filters and pretty much done everything he can think of to make it more efficient. So we called in a dealer representative to have a look.

When the refrigeration guy came out, he measured this and that and then topped it off with a bit more gas. Then he measured everything over again. He came up with the thought that the cooling system probably needed to be cleaned. Not a problem, just go buy some muriatic acid and dump it in; let it sit a few minutes to de-scale, then rinse it out.

Sounds simple enough; we’ll try it tomorrow.

Antigua
English Harbor
17.00.259N
61.45.596W

I’ve still got my cold but am feeling a little better. When Dale suggested a walk up to Shirley Heights on the hill overlooking the harbor after lunch, I figured that I was up to the challenge. Boy was I wrong!

We dinghied to the beach and walked a bit down the road to where the path began. There was a sign over it placed there by the local yachties declaring that it was the path we were looking for and that it was ½ mile to the destination; not a problem. I park my car a ½ mile from the mall to go shopping on a big sale day. What it didn’t say was that it was straight up!

I probably would have had a better chance of obtaining my goal if I had waited until it was cooler in the day, had actually eaten something for lunch, or bothered to have brought the bottle of water I normally carry around in my backpack. But No, this time, I take off at a little after noon, on a 90* day, after taking an antihistamine and without bringing so much as a stick of gum. I literally had to grab tree limbs and rock outcroppings to hoist my fat . . . to pull myself up in certain areas. Other areas would level off but then you’d go around a bend and would be rock climbing again. I was coughing and wheezing trying hack up a lung and sweating like I’d contracted malaria in the deepest darkest jungle.

Dale, of course, was sprinting ahead like a blasted gazelle telling me how he always feels better after he exercises. He actually likes to sweat. If I could have seen him through the waterfall coming off my brow, I would have smacked him. As it was, I just ignored him.

Needless to say, ¾ of the way up, I sat down, gave him the camera and told him to go knock himself out. While sitting there waiting for the spots to clear in front of my eyes, I thought of our son going through BUDS training. How could I expect him to keep getting up when he was tired, if I didn’t give him the genes to do it with? So, I’d catch my breath and start climbing again.

I’d like to tell you that I made it all the way to the top. But I can’t. I did make it to the back of the buildings that we were heading for but Dale was already on his way back down and I wasn’t going to push it since I still had to make my way back down again. I also prayed that James got most of his genes from his mountain goat father.

Antigua
English Harbor
17.00.259N
61.45.596W

Yep, I’ve got a cold. So it was Dale’s turn to read most of the day while I alternated between sleeping in bed and sleeping in the hammock. At one point while in the hammock, I opened an eye just in time to see a boat that had pulled in dangerously close to us yesterday, come drifting behind us, missing us by mere inches.

The people, a family of four, had left it earlier in the day and were nowhere to be found. I yelled for Dale to come up and ran for a boat hook to push them back the way they had come.
There were black clouds coming over the mountain and the wind was beginning to change directions. I noticed that other boats around us were having problems as well. One small boat further to our port side was dragging into shore and a huge catamaran behind us on the starboard side was already on shore.

The catamaran’s captain had gone in to clear customs and the people left on board were desperately trying to kedge themselves off by pulling up on their anchor. One of the women called over and asked if Dale could take her into the harbor so that she could find their captain, which of course, he was more than happy to do. While they were gone the remaining passengers did manage to get themselves off the beach but then they had to re-anchor.

Two other people saw the little boat heading towards shore on our port side. One had thought quickly enough to bring a second anchor with him in a dinghy. He threw it in and handed the end to the second guy who had managed to climb on board and secure it to a cleat. Unfortunately, they were having problems pulling it back out to deeper water.

So here I am watching the cat on the right with a handful of people who were doing a fine job of saving themselves; a little excited maybe, but doing a great job none the less and the little boat on the left that appeared to be stuck in the shallow water and the one right beside us swinging behind us within 6 inches of hitting us each time, which I would push off and then wait for it to arc out and then back again.

But then, here comes Dale, like a knight in shining armor, like Dudley Dooright on his trusty steed, like the Marines to the rescue, zooming across the harbor he circles around the cat and says something to them and zooms right past me to the little boat stuck on the beach and speaks to the two guys wrestling with it. He maneuvers the dink behind the boat and each of them tie their own dinghies to the sides and they rev up their dinghy engines. With the three of their combined engine horsepower, they pushed the little boat into deeper water, where they were able to hold it in place and reanchor using the boat’s own anchor. Then he returned to our boat.

By this time, I’ve put a fender on our port side and have the timing down to where I can watch everyone and still poke the interloper in the side when it gets too close.

When the catamaran captain returned, he takes the boat, all of the passengers and leaves. Dale decides the best course of action for us is to move over a bit since the one getting too close doesn’t have anyone on board and we can’t keep pushing it off until they return. So, in spite of the gusty winds and a well set anchor, we decide to move to give ourselves some extra cushion.

Of course, the second we do lift our anchor, another boat comes into the equation and anchors in the same area we were trying to move to. It doesn’t matter, we need the room. So after three attempts, we finally get the anchor set again, have more room to swing, we’re a little too close to the new guy but not so close as to warrant another shift in location.

Tonight, as I sit here, we’re all in the process of turning 180* in the opposite direction, the people behind us finally returned and noticed that we were farther away. I think they believed that they may have dragged but looked around and seemed satisfied that they were alright. I’m not sure the owners of the little boat that did drag ever learned what happened unless they saw all the footprints on their boat and started asking questions of their neighbors.

But as I say, we’re all in the process of turning again, so we’ll see what tomorrow brings.

Antigua
English Harbor
17.00.259N
61.45.596W

Tax Time! means stay out of Dale’s way. There’s nothing like waiting until the last minute to prepare your taxes.

Not a problem, he had left his hammock up so I grabbed a book, hopped in and read most of the day. I’ve been feeling like I’m trying to catch a cold, so taking a day off appealed to me.

Antigua
English Harbor
17.00.259N
61.45.596W

We hoisted anchor about 8:00 am, unfurled our jib and continued on our journey to English Harbor. The seas appeared to have calmed a bit but the wind was coming more and more out of the south which is not the norm. We entered historical English Harbor and threaded our way to the back just to get the lay of the land, so to speak.

Dale ooo’d and ahh’d over the classic yachts med-moored to the quay while I tried not to bump into any of them. The harbor was pretty full. We decided to head back towards the entrance where there appeared to be more room.

We weaved our way in and out and finally decided upon a spot close to shore in Galleon Bay. We dropped our hook and backed down on it hoping that it wouldn’t catch on any of the old hurricane chains that once crossed the harbor in several areas. It dragged a bit before it finally caught and held. We were close to one boat but hoped that we had allowed enough swing room.

The difficult part of estimating where to anchor is that the water in this harbor has a movement of its own. It rises and falls with the swell and has the normal ebb and flow of the tide but it also rocks back and forth. You could sit in the cockpit and watch the boats ride up on their anchors and then fall back. When Dale jumped in to check ours, it was essentially a few feet from our bow, regardless of the 100’ we let out and backed down on. At least the fluke was dug in.

While Dale went to check us in, I stayed back to keep an eye on things. As it turned out, we were fine.

When he returned, we dinghied in for a tour of the old English dockside where a young 26 year old Capt. Horacio Nelson had once served. They’ve done a fine job maintaining the buildings, with signs outside of each one describing what it had been originally designed for. They still have the winches used to careen boats for cleaning and the rock slips used to do repair work. There were massive stone pillars still standing which used to support a sail loft; kind of like a barn on stilts. As I understand it, the ships would pull into the slip built beneath the building and craftsmen could work on the sails without having to haul them up and down the mast. There was even a sign placed on the spot where two lieutenants dueled over who was the most senior.

We searched out a couple of internet cafés and as soon as our taxes are done we’ll make a run in to connect and keep Uncle Sam happy.

Antigua
Hermitage Bay
17.05.197N
61.53.709W

We’re going to chalk this day up to gaining experience. We hoisted our anchor at 6:30 am and eased through the reefs and out into the Caribbean Sea. We rounded between St. Kitts and Nevis through the area known as ‘the Narrows’. We threaded our way through the reefs bordering the islands on the north and entered into the Atlantic Ocean. An amazing thing is that you can see where the waters meet in certain areas.

Once out into the Atlantic, the seas were confused (meaning they were coming from various directions.) The weather reports had indicated that the winds and seas would moderate during the week from their normal 17-20kts and 4-6’ heights. They didn’t moderate. We had the normal winds and seas, except that the waves were wind driven from one direction and swell driven in another. It made for the occasional 8’ wave that would smash into us sending gushing water over our bow and through our less than watertight hatches. One wave actually hit at an angle that sent water up over the bow with enough force to send it up the dodger and over the hard top. It was raining salt water! What didn’t go over the hard top, went down the companion way. As Dale shut the hatch to the companion way, he said that it was a little like shutting the barn door after the horses have gone.

I guess because it was day light and I could see what was happening, the washing machine action didn’t bother me. Since it only happened once, the salt water rain didn’t bother me. Dale was visibly nervous. Finally I just asked, since I assumed I was missing something I should be worried about. He was usurping my position as the Nervous Nelly in the family!

As it turned out, he was upset about our time schedule. He had estimated that we would be traveling at the same speed that we had made in traveling from St. Barts to St. Kitts, or at the very least we could motorsail at 6kts. With the washing machine action, we were in the 5.5 range and couldn’t sail on a more direct route which would put us very close to dusk when we arrived. No room for error.

So we motor sailed the entire way. He asked me what I had done with his wife, the one who didn’t like pounding into the waves or listing more than 20 degrees. Dunno, I’m sure she’s here somewhere, I was busy reading the cruising guides about our next adventure and the Palace seemed to be doing just fine. Since I wasn’t sitting down below, I didn’t hear the pounding hull or feel the water dripping from the hatches.

Another matter on his mind was that the watermaker had developed an airlock from the rough ride. Something that he easily rectified as soon as we anchored, but something he hadn’t encountered or thought about before. Normally, when the engine is running, we’re either making water or cooling the refrigerator.
As it turned out, it was a little before 3pm when we reached Antigua and started coasting down the west side heading for English Harbor on the south side. It was going to be close. We grabbed the guides and started looking for alternative harbors to pull into that would be safe and comfortable with the current wind and wave conditions.

As it turned out, the one we selected (Hermitage Bay, within Five Islands Harbor, if you‘re checking the guides) really didn’t have too much written about it but we could see a couple of boats already anchored in it as we sailed by. As of this writing, its been great. A quiet bay, nice beach, no bugs, not too much swell, not crowded; works for me!

Tomorrow, we’ll clear into Antigua in English Harbor and then set about checking out the local sights. They should be gearing up for Antigua Race Week at the end of April, so things should be starting to liven up. With any kind of luck, we’ll see the vintage yachts come in but be gone before it gets too crowded and crazy for the mega yacht racers that draw the crowds.

St. Kitts
Whitehouse Bay
17.15.015N
62.39.507W

Last evening we decided to deploy a swell bridle to keep us pointed into the swell and keep from rocking so much. I’m glad we did. The poor boat ahead of us was rocking from gunnel to gunnel each time we checked our position. At first light this morning, it was gone.

Midmorning we moved to our present location at Whitehouse Bay about an hour away from Basseterre (by boat). After dropping our hook in 20’ of water and making sure that it was set, we snorkeled over to a place where a ship had gone aground in about 14’ of water. There was enough left of it to see the propeller, shaft, bottom of the hull and various other parts, plus a few things that didn‘t belong to the wreck. Rails from the railroad and a railroad cart; a couple of engines that clearly weren’t big enough to turn the monstrous prop. What was odd, was the eerie feeling I got from swimming over it. Dale and I always seek out old wrecks to dive but this was the first time I just wanted to get away from it.

Later, we went to the other side of the bay and dove the 17th Century shipwreck that was uncovered 4 years ago when a hurricane swept through; found in about 12 feet of water. The timbers that are still present must have been incredibly thick when they were originally set into the ship as they still appear to have some depth to them. In fact, I thought that there appeared to be another layer to the timbers we were looking at but the site has already been excavated by archeologists, so I‘m sure they checked deeper than what can been seen. No creepy feelings here, thank heavens.

Whitehouse Bay is quiet and secluded. The hills in front of us look like what I imagine California looked like a couple of hundred years ago. Late afternoon we watched cattle and goats grazing the hillside, then come down to the water for a quick wade. Most of the day it was just us and another boat with the occasional snorkel excursions but as evening fell, three other boats came into our little harbor. We watched the sun set and hoped for a green flash; none today.

Tomorrow, we’ll point our bow towards Antigua.

Basseterre, St. Kitts
17.17.414N
62.42.761W

What a day! After a night of rocking from side to side, this morning we were awaken by a horn at 5:15am. Any horn in an anchorage tends to brings everyone topside in a hurry. The closest that we can figure out is that it was something from the commercial docks that we are anchored near.

In any event, when we eventually did get up, the Queen Mary 2 was docked right behind us. That is one big boat. In order for us to get to the dinghy dock, we had to pass either in front of her, well within the 500’ security circle, or behind her, out in unprotected waters. We took our chances and passed about 150’ in front of her, keeping as close to the rocks as possible without running into them ourselves. We moved slow and kept our hands in plain sight. All of this was unnecessary since there didn’t appear to be any type of security anyway.

In St. Thomas, a security patrol boat had come zooming out in our direction when we came in the channel behind the cruise ships. In my opinion, no where near invading the 500’ circle, so we were being extra cautious today.

Anyway, we tied off the dinghy and while Dale went in one direction for a trash bin, I went in the other to the Port entry to sign us up for a round the island tour. By the time Dale met up with me, we were teamed with Bill & Christine from England and Jean & Irving from California.

With the Queen Mary being so large, the two couples hadn’t met each other and were doing the ‘where did you get on’ and ‘what table sitting are you’ introductions. When it came time for us to answer, we explained that we were from a different ship, pointed out Gypsy Palace, the little white one to the left, and that we only had one table sitting. Bless their hearts, it took a bit for it to sink in, but they got a kick out of it when they figured it out.

Mr. Delaney was our taxi (mini bus) driver/tour guide. Mr. Delaney gave us his first name, but as Irving had such a hard time figuring out the name Delaney, by the time he understood Delaney, it was all that I could remember. I referred to him as Mr. Delaney throughout the tour and he never corrected me, so Mr. Delaney it is.

We drove up and down a few streets in Basseterre and then out into the countryside. The streets are two lane but without shoulders or medians, they seemed very narrow.

Mr. Delaney was very good about explaining the history and culture of the island as we drove along. Such as: in the old days, the people would bathe and wash their clothes in the rivers and streams that flowed down from the rainforests. Nowadays, however, they have diverted all of the water into catchment systems so that the fresh water isn’t lost to the sea. Now the bridges cross rivers and streams of green areas. That is, until the water overflows the catchment systems and washes down the old rivers and the people go out to bathe and wash their clothes in the streams again.

Apparently, the government of St. Kitts has offered incentives to the less fortunate who live in the shanties that border the old streams, deep in the valleys where they flow. Unfortunately, as soon as they can coax the inhabitants into nicer low income housing, others move into the ones abandoned. Let’s see, houses deep in the valley with tropical rain forests shading them from the sun with free running water; sounds like an up hill battle to me.

We also toured the workshop and gardens of the woman who developed batik designs, Caribelle Batiks, located at the foot of the rainforest. Her designs and method of coloring sea island cotton are still being produced at her workshop, demonstrated and sold to the busloads of tourists that come to her doors. Her gardens were as spectacular as her designs and obviously where she derives her inspiration.

Next, we were off to tour Brimstone Hill which is a British built fort at the top of one of the higher elevations on the island. The French eventually captured it by starving the British out instead of fighting. Since no shots were fired and the British surrendered with full honor, it was declared a non-war and the British were shipped off to another of their islands. Some time later, (after it was passed back and forth between the French and British a couple of more times) the fort was abandoned, after which it fell into disrepair and vandalism. Eventually, its historical value was recognized and it has since begun a major restoration. I particularly liked the use of all of the extra cannons in the walls as upright posts among all of the stones.

We were shown the black rocks and black sand beaches indicative of the volcanic origins of the island. Mr. Delaney said that there are no roads that lead to the top of the volcano but that all day hiking tours could be arranged. Since none of us were up to that task, he told us that he had been to the top of the volcano himself and described how you could boil potatoes in the lake located inside the “dormant” cone. He said that you could also see crevices where the lava was still visible and that the sulfur smell around Brimstone Hill emanates from an off shore volcanic vent. Between you and me, that doesn’t sound very “dormant” to me.

Another observation was that the green that is so evident from far away is from the sugar cane growing everywhere. However, as of last year, there is no market for their crops. What grew this year is left over from the roots of last year. The St. Kitts government is trying to decide what crop to plant in its place. They encourage the farmers to produce more fruits and vegetable in order to make the island more self sufficient but offer no market for what they grow. It should be interesting to see what happens here. It would seem that they are on the brink of a great change to their economy but hopefully not to the detriment of the beauty of the island itself.

Basseterre, St. Kitts
17.17.414N
62.42.761W
We were flying low most of today. We slipped our mooring line this morning at 7 am, put a reef in the main and one in the jib and headed south towards St. Kitts. The cruising guide called Saba, St. Eustatius, St. Kitts, Nevis and Monserrat, the islands that brush the clouds. Clearly, at one time, they all had been volcanoes; Monserrat being the only one to remain active.

The wind was blowing its normal 17-25kts but it was directly on our beam so we were screaming along at 7-8.5kts. Dale kept adjusting the sails, since he knows I prefer not to have my home completely on its side.

Five hours later we reached the island of St. Kitts and started to round the island to the west so that we could sail down its southern coast. We had marveled on our approach how much it reminded us of Hawaii. A tremendous volcano rising out of the sea with beautiful green hillsides covered in sugar cane and pastures gently reaching back to the water. Old sugar mills and their chimney stacks made of stone dotted the flatter areas. Little villages of pastel colored houses nestled in the valleys, each village with its own church steeple rising above the rooflines.

All of a sudden, the winds picked up from 20-25kts to 34kts sustained for about 4 minutes. The autopilot was on, so the Palace rounded up into the wind. The noise was incredible; sails flapping, lines slapping, the wind howling. When the wind started to calm, Dale brought us back to our course. Then there was nothing. Obviously, the wind was directed rather abruptly around the sides of the volcano until the mountain completely obscured the wind from us. We eventually brought our sails in and motored the remaining distance.

We anchored around 2 pm and dinghied into Port Zante. There is quite a bit of construction being done here. The port facility is new, although only the customs and tourist offices were located on scene. Immigration is still located at the Police Station in the middle of town. The big plan is to have everything in one place. When the construction is finished, it should be a beautiful entry port. It has already been discovered by the cruise lines as one was here when we first arrived.

After checking in, we walked around town a bit. They have their own version of Piccadilly that they call The Circus. We sat in an upstairs café and watched the ‘circus’ of cars and people negotiating their way around the large clock in the middle of a round about. Their cars have both right and left handed steering but the driving is strictly on the left.

We also found a café that has free internet for their customers. Tomorrow, we’ll dinghy in again to be their customers.

St. Barts,
Anse du Colombier
17.55.457N
62.52.191
Today we read books and relaxed. The wind was blowing like stink, so we were grateful that we were snug in this harbor. There were a lot more boats that came in for the day, amused themselves on the beach and then left before dark.

The Chinese junk is back again. So is one of the larger yachts. I couldn’t even hazard a reliable guess as to how large it is; well over 100’. Anyway, it came in fairly close to drop its anchor. I took a picture when it was close to a regular boat to compare sizes. I guess it’s all relative as to what your idea of cruising is.

I finished the day by giving Dale a haircut. He is now officially sporting a pony tail; about 2 inches long. (It’s a very small pony.)

Tomorrow we’ll head to St. Kitts and see what’s happening there and to show off his new do.

St. Barts,
Anse du Colombier
17.55.457N
62.52.191
We spent today cleaning the Palace. While Dale dug out the ‘Surface Dive’ hookah and cleaned the bottom of the boat, I dug out the mop, broom and sponges to clean the inside. Four hours later, I was done and Dale was still on the bottom.

After listening to that little motor for 4 hours, it was easy to get Dale’s attention; I turned it off. A minute or two later, he surfaced. I figured that 4 hours was long enough to be underwater. The Lock Ness Monster could have hidden in the crevices on his hands and feet they were so deeply wrinkled, but the bottom of the boat was clean. He informed me that he had just finished. (Yes dear, I know.)

We spent the rest of the afternoon just relaxing and watching the other boats. We have a couple of families around us. We also have a couple of mega yachts on the fringes.

The most interesting boat was a gaff rigged, two masted, Chinese junk. From behind it looks like a barrel with a flat top placed on it with railings around. It slowly putt-putted it’s way in, stayed for a couple of hours and then, slowly putt-putted it’s way back out again. It looked to be a unique day-sailer that people hire for rides.

St. Barts,
Anse du Colombier
17.55.457N
62.52.191

While I attended to finances in the internet café, Dale checked us out of customs in anticipation of our departure from St. Martin and entry into St. Bart’s.

A couple of hours later, we hoisted our anchor and motorsailed out of Marigot Bay and headed north around the island. We turned off the motor as we rounded between St. Martin and the little island of Ilet Tintamarre and sailed the rest of the way to St. Bart’s on a single tack. Although it felt as if we were speeding along, we were only doing between 4.5-5kts most of the way.

The Leeward Islands are much like the Virgin Islands and Bahamas in that once you get here, they are all in line of sight of each other, just a little further apart. In the Virgins, you can sail from one end to the other in a day. Here, it may take you the better part of the day to reach the next island, but you can see it on the horizon before you leave.

We took turns reading the cruising guides about each island and although I’d like to visit each one for a day, we’ll probably just see a couple on our way down and save the rest for on our way back.

We entered Anse du Colombier about 3:30 pm and took a mooring. The cruising guide indicated that we didn’t have to check into customs immediately as St. Bart’s only has one location and sometimes its easier to check in and out at the same time by the time you reach it.

Anse du Colombier is a nice little u-shaped bay; not crowded but not isolated either. Since we’ve arrived on the weekend, we’ll probably stay until Monday, then move over to Gustavia where we can check in and out on the same day.

Marigot Bay, St. Martin
18.04.078N
63.05.682W
Today I sought out an internet café and spent the better part of the morning there catching up on mail, bills and blogs. Sounds simple enough but when you factor in the time that it takes to dinghy in, walk to the site, check in and wait to be authorized to connect, it’s a morning shot quicker than you can say Bill Gates.

We stopped at a bistro for a quick bite to eat before heading back to the Palace. We’ve really enjoyed the French pastries here but I truly prefer the Puerto Rican ‘water bread’ for making sandwiches.

When we arrived back at the boat, there was a message from Michelle on our satellite telephone telling us that one of our accounts wasn’t recognizing our checks. Instead of heading on to the next island, I guess this means another trip back to the internet café to see what’s going on.

Marigot Bay, St. Martin
18.04.078N
63.05.682W

After reading the cruising guides and walking through town, we couldn’t see where there was anything more for us to do in our little corner of St. Martin. So, we rented a tiny car and drove around the island today.

We pulled off the main two way road and drove on a single lane road to a high peak on the island. If someone came towards you on the road, one of you had to stop and pull off for the other to pass (even with tiny little cars). When we reached the top, we walked along a foot path to a location where you could see just about the entire island of St. Martin. We could see the islands of Anguilla to the north, St. Barth’s, and Saba (island not rock) to the south in the distance.

Next, we followed the cruise guide directions to a ‘must see’ place. We drove to the end of a paved road that lead to a dirt road and when it ended, you got out and walked until you found a little restaurant on the beach. The restaurant offered more than the usual hamburger/hotdog entrees and catered to families. They had shovels and pails, swings and slides for the kids, as well as the thatched covered picnic tables or colorful umbrellas shading coordinated lounges for the adults. The guide had listed it as one of the author‘s favorite places. I’m glad we searched it out; good food and not too crowded.

Our next stop was at a butterfly farm. It consisted of a huge garden made up of butterflies’ favorite plants and flowers enclosed with netting to keep the butterflies in and the lizards, frogs, snakes & birds out. There were koi ponds with little bridges and feeding stations where fruit was laid out for the butterflies to drink. We listened to a short talk about how the farm came into existence and the care, feeding and habits of butterflies, snapped a few hundred pictures, then jumped back into our little car and continued our circumnavigation of St. Martin.

We continued around the Dutch side, observed 5 cruise ships docked at their piers and stopped at a marina where the big boys stay. Remember when I told you about the Atlantis Marina in Nassau? La Palapa is St. Martin’s version. At least this time we didn’t embarrass ourselves by pulling in and being the littlest boat in the marina. We walked the docks with Dale saying “look at the size of those winches” every couple of slips. (Winch envy is really very scary.)

Eventually, we ended up where we started from, with a side trip to a hammock shop Dale had seen when we first started our trip. He doesn’t like my hammock, so now he has one of his own that won’t leave diamond patterns on his delicate skin. He has it strung between the roller furling and the mast where he can lie up there and dream of big, grease guzzling winches to his heart‘s content.

Marigot Bay, St. Martin
18.04.078N
63.05.682W

Ahh another day in paradise. Today we climbed to the top of the hill to see Ft. Louis, a 16th century fort with commanding views of the harbor and the island of Anguilla next door. Unfortunately, I forgot to take my camera and I certainly wasn’t going to climb that hill again for the panoramic photo-op; it wasn’t far, just straight up. A hospital was built just below it. I wondered if that was to save time and money on tourists.

When we came down from our hike up the hill, we dropped by the pharmacy in town to see if I could get a refill on some medicine. I’m not sure if it was because Dale was standing right next to me explaining in physician vernacular exactly what I needed or the fact that I was sweating bullets, but there didn’t seem to be any problem in getting the refill.

We walked to a nearby corner café to sit, nibble our croissants and people watch. There was quite the mixture of personalities and an incredible diversity in colorful apparel. Some were clearly off the cruise lines that pulled into the Dutch side and bused over to the French side. Some came down from the resorts on the hillsides. Others were local. Some were Rastafarians. Some were merchants. Some were Rastafarian merchants. Some were school children in their uniforms. Some were gendarmes in their uniforms. There were cruisers like us; not local in any stretch of the imagination but not exactly pale/sunburned tourists either. The streets are narrow here and the cars, for the most part, are tiny. All of these people and cars and scooters came by that corner just so that we could see them. Amazing.

We walked through the town stopping at various stores that caught our attention and then over to where a marina was located on the interior part of the island. We chose a restaurant on the waterfront for lunch and enjoyed a wonderful meal.

On our way back to the Palace, we commented on more than one occasion that Michelle would love it here. There is a shoe store on every block with shoes in every color, decoration and heel selection known to man.

Marigot Bay, St. Martin
18.04.078N
63.05.682W

We arrived in St. Martin’s waters about 3:30 am sailing most of the way at 6 and 7 kts. I say most of the way because when we came to within 8 miles of our waypoint, we decided to do zigzags to kill some time; we aren‘t particularly fond of entering an unfamiliar harbor after dark. Then when the wind died, we turned on the engine pointed the Palace in the direction of the current and motored at 2 knots, not going anywhere.

When Dale came on watch at 5 am, he increased our speed to about 4 knots and we slowly crept into Margot Bay, the French side of St. Martin. As day broke, we turned and entered the harbor, found the nearest shallow spot and dropped our hook.

As luck would have it, the boat closest to us had an anchor Nazi on board who came out in her underwear and assumed the universal ‘I’m not happy’ pose (hands on hips, scowling in the direction of the offending party). Unfortunately, what she met was another ‘hands on hips’ person who desperately needed some shuteye. I shouted over to her that we only needed some sleep. I don’t know who was more surprised, Dale or me. I’m not usually the confrontational type.

In any event, we didn’t move the boat but dove for our pillows. Dale slept topside just in case we did swing closer in their direction than we had allowed for. I went to bed. About 3 hours later, we got up and moved the boat closer into the town and re-anchored.

We took the dinghy in to clear customs (conveniently located at the dinghy dock). Wahoo!! It didn’t cost anything; just the customary paperwork. Neat trash bins lined the street in front of the dinghy dock; more French restaurants than you can shake a fork at within walking distance; grocery stores, laundries and pharmacies all within a couple of blocks; this is a boaters heaven.

We spotted a restaurant a little off the street with a sign declaring it as a new enterprise. We climbed up the steps to see what they had to offer and stayed for lunch. The food was wonderful and, unlike the reputation of French restaurants in the States, plentiful.

For some crazy reason, we were still tired, so we headed back to the Palace for another nap and will save our sight seeing for another day.

Anegada Passage
18.13.372N
63.39.005W

We tried to sleep in this morning in anticipation of our crossing but instead, we arose early and kept ourselves busy by reading the cruising guides for St. Martin and becoming familiar with the charts of the area. Since I was able to access the internet from the boat, I took advantage of the service one more time.

Later, while we were sitting in the cockpit reading, a couple of boats caught our attention. They were crisscrossing each other and at first seemed to be racing for a point somewhere near us. When they came within feet of us, we really took notice. That‘s about the time we figured out that it was a group of charter boaters learning how to sail in 1 easy lesson. A group of three boats, 2 catamarans and one monohull, all of which were in the 36-40’ range, were being wrangled by one instructor on a radio zipping forwards and backwards; coming within inches of them himself in the boat he was on.

First, they all appeared to be trying to snare mooring balls. They would run over them, back over them, drift down over them; how they kept from fouling their props, I’ll never know. Next they were transferring people back and forth from one boat to the next. For the life of us, Dale and I never could figure out the purpose of that exercise. They were still in the midst of their careening all over the harbor, when it came time for Dale and I to leave. We never got to see the man over board drill, which probably would have been worth sticking around for.

Don’t get me wrong, Dale and I have chartered boats too; some of our best friends charter boats. However, I liken it to driving on a crowded street with a car that has “student driver” signs pasted all over it but only one person in the car. Chances are it’s the instructor at the wheel but you still have a tendency to keep an eye on it.

In any event, when it was time for us to leave, we dropped our mooring and scooted out between Saba Rock and Virgin Gorda before the sailing class came in our direction again. There’s a shallow, narrow passage between the two islands and an opening in the reef further out that saved us about an hour in transit time.

Once we cleared the reef, we turned toward St. Martin, unfurled our sails, set a course and have sailed the whole way doing between 6 and 7.5 kts. This is what I enjoy. The beautiful water, a steady breeze, slow swells that gently lift you up and down, the only clouds are too high to pose a threat; what can I say? Another day in paradise.

Virgin Gorda, BVI
Bitter End
18.30.092N
64.21.589W

Happy Birthday Valerie! We love you.
Happy 50th Gerry! We love you too but Valerie is cuter.

Today we sailed! Actually, we raced but the two boats we were competing against didn’t know it.

We left Trellis Bay about 9:30 am and once out into the channel, we unfurled the sails and turned off the engine. We only had about 15 miles to travel, so it didn’t matter if it took us all day. As it turned out, the light winds filled in and we had a nice sail for most of the trip.
We slowed to a crawl as we rounded Virgin Gorda to the north where the mountains shielded us from the wind but then our speed picked up again when we came from behind the mountain to get the first gusts of a squall developing.

We had originally thought that we would anchor at the Bitter End Yacht Club but with the skies darkening we changed our minds and took a mooring. The bar that had been located on Saba Rock, the tiny island next to the Yacht Club, has expanded to include a restaurant, hotel and gift shop and has a nice dinghy dock running the breadth of the front. The Yacht Club itself appears to have expanded a bit but still looks pretty much the same as it did 12 years ago with the exception of an expanded dinghy dock and the nurse sharks in the pen are quite a bit smaller. We visited both establishments to explore a little and then returned to the Palace before the rain came.

We only caught bits and pieces of the weather information on the single side band this morning but we caught the information that the weather is pretty unsettled for the next week. Light winds except in the slow moving squalls where the wind gusts can be pretty extreme.

This evening as I sit here, the wind is howling; 20 kts with gusts up to 30 kts. The rain moved through more quickly than I thought it would but the gusts have continued for a couple of hours now. I’m glad we not out in it.

We watched as a sailboat came in after dark in the midst of the wind and rain and tried several times before they were able to snag a mooring. We guessed that there were probably only 2 people on board, like us, and that the one on the foredeck was juggling a flashlight, a boathook, a mooring line and trying to direct the helmsman which way to steer in the gusting winds. They were not having fun. We empathized with them greatly.

We’ll download the weather tomorrow before we make our decision as to whether we’ll take off tomorrow afternoon for St. Martin or sit here for another couple of days.
As always, wish us luck and good weather!

Beef Island, BVI
Trellis Bay
18.26.848N
64.31.891W

After a leisurely breakfast, we hoisted our anchor and left Charlotte Amalie Harbor and eased our way out into the ocean. We tried to radio Gate and Darby on Nicolino but no one answered. Dale made a quick check to make sure the dripless seal was still dripless and then off we went.

The winds were light, so we were forced to motor all of the way to Beef Island. Once into the Sir Francis Drake Channel, the wind picked up a bit and we were able to unfurl our jib to add another knot to our speed. At one point, we were making about 9 kts. over the ground in the relatively flat seas. We weren’t really sailing but I enjoyed our transit in the sunshine where we passed two “races”. One with spinnakers (the big colorful sails) and the other was with little day sailers.

We pulled into Trellis Bay about 2 pm and easily found a mooring ball. I was entertained throughout the remainder of the day by a hawksbill turtle who would poke his head out of the water to give us a cross eyed look. I snapped a picture of him during one of his circles around us and wondered which one of us was on display.

Several young boys on the charter boat next to us caught a small shark on their fishing line. They brought it up to the back of their boat, called for a camera, posed with it and then released it back into the harbor.

When dusk fell, we went in for dinner at The Last Resort and met Dave and Joanne who were chartering for the first time in the BVI’s. Though we sat at different tables, we enjoyed a conversation with them throughout the evening.

Tomorrow we’ll make our way to the Bitter End in Virgin Gorda where we’ll wait for a weather window to make an overnight crossing to St. Martin.

St. Thomas, USVI
18.20.250N
64.55.584W

There are several phrases that I really don’t want to hear during our Sabbatical and one of them is ‘we’re taking on water’.

The day started as planned. I had pedaled my way to the bowling alley to renew our Florida registrations and see if the insurance company had acknowledged receiving our survey and then returned to the marina. During that time, Dale had loaded the remaining items out of the dock box, his bicycle and had washed, dried and folded the last of the laundry (what a guy!). We loaded my bicycle and then backed out of our slip and moved to the fuel dock where we pumped as much fuel into our tanks and jerry cans as the Palace would hold. We spoke at length with the base CO, who had come down to wish us well on our trip, about the fate of Roosey . Then about noon, we radio harbor control and eased our way out of the harbor that will always be dear to us.

We passed through some rain sqalls but no thunder or lightening associated with them. Dale and I both noticed on separate occasions that the bilge pump would cycle emptying a good amount of water but with the rain, dismissed it.

By the time we had reached the end of Vieques a couple of hours later, the rain had passed and sunshine ruled the rest of the day. However, the bilge pump kept cycling. By the time we reached St. Thomas, Dale had become concerned and went down to take a look. That’s when I heard “we’re taking on water”. I mentally told myself not to panic.

Dale checked the usual culprits, the watermaker hose, loose strainers, etc. and came back that the dripless seal on the shaft was leaking, significantly but the bilge pump was keeping it in check. Since it was already a little after 5pm, it was more important to get into Charlotte Amalie and anchor rather than stop to attempt a repair. Needless to say, I didn’t slow the boat until we were well inside the entrance. With both the sail and the motor, we were traveling in excess of 7 kts at times.

We saw Nicolino anchored nearby and try to radio them. No response. We waved to Gate who was sitting on the back but he didn’t seem to understand that we were trying to radio him. We kept going.

We crept through the narrow and shallow Haulover cut and dodged a taxiing sea plane making its way to its hanger. We were somewhat surprised when we rounded the turn into Charlotte Amalie to see all of the boats pointed south towards the main channel, instead of the usual north or east. We wound our way though the anchored boats and dropped our hook in our favorite area.

Dale no sooner had the anchor set, when he went below to raid his tool box and disappeared into our aft stateroom. A few minutes later he came out to say that the leak had been stymied. He sopped up the remaining water and returned his tools to their home in the big red box in the front stateroom.

I think that I’ve said this before: I wouldn’t be out here if I didn’t have confidence in Dale’s abilities and I will never complain about the amount of tools he has on board. He saved the day.

Roosey Roads, PR
18.14.009N
65.37.581W

I’m sure you can tell by now that I love my computer. It’s a complex toy that I enjoy playing with. When it works. When it doesn’t work and I know that it’s operator error, it can be the most frustrating piece of hardware on earth.

For example, when we received an e-mail from our insurance company indicating that they wanted a recent survey on our boat before renewing our policy, it should have been a simple act of scanning a copy of the one we had done last fall (thank God and Jim Campbell) and e-mailing it back to them. Except that when I connected my new HP laptop to my old HP printer, the computer wouldn’t recognize that I had connected it. What a pain in the patoot!

Since we hadn’t brought along the CD containing the printer drivers that came with the old printer, we had to pack both the laptop and the printer into backpacks and schlep them into the bowling alley to connect both of them to the internet to download the software. Even that was more problematic than it should have been. The long (an hour for the download) and the short (Dale’s temper by the time we were completely done) of it, is that once the laptop and printer were happily clicking in the same direction, I was able to scan the document and forward it on to our insurance company (another hour of uploading the information). The things we do to keep that particular industry happy.

With the morning completely gone, we started our trek back to the boat. Along the way, the base CO spotted us and flagged us down to tell us that the package we had been waiting for was in his office. It had been mis-delivered (since it was clearly addressed to the marina) a few days before.

We quickly went through it and found 3 of our 5 Florida registration renewals; one of them was for the Palace, so I’ll be heading back to the bowling alley for one more connection before we leave. As I started out, when my computer and I are working as a cohesive unit, you can hardly tell that we’re out of the country. However, when there is a break in communication between my computer and its operator, I can tell that we are in the farthest reaches of the world without Cherie and the IT crew to back me up.

Roosey Roads, PR
18.14.009N
65.37.581W

There was still no mail for us today, so we pedaled our way to the Bowling Alley and uploaded the blog posts, made sure our bills were paid and answered our e-mails. The rest of the day we spent rearranging book shelves and cupboards. Unfortunately, this makes for a boring entry.

We did finally hear from Rainbow Rider. They made it to Luperon, DR. At this rate, we won’t see them until we make the turn to come back. I guess that’s better than not seeing them at all.

Roosey Roads, PR
18.14.009N
65.37.581W

We spent most of Sunday, returning the items removed from our guest berthing area back to where they belonged and vacuum sealed my larger purchases into smaller ones for storage. I even pre-baked several 2 person meatloaves for freezing, saving one for dinner. We repackaged anything that originally came in cardboard into plastic and then swept, mopped and shook all of the rugs. We’ll give the Palace a thorough cleaning, inside and out, before we take off.

This morning, as is our usual habit before we undertake a big crossing, we started listening to the weather. This time we were waiting for information on crossing the Anegada Passage. We had hoped to cross either tomorrow or Wednesday depending upon when we received our mail. Unfortunately, our mail didn’t come today and as of tomorrow, the weather is predicted to deteriorate with the seas picking up to over 9’ in the Passage. It’s not anticipated to calm down until the weekend, so we slowed our pace and ended up reading for most of the day.

However, this afternoon, earlier than forecast, the wind picked up. With any kind of luck the front will move through more quickly than predicted. We’ll pick up our pace again tomorrow and once we get our mail, we’ll move on to the Virgin Islands to wait for the first opportunity to cross from there.

We’ve really enjoyed our time back at Roosey and look forward to returning here next year on our way back home. Hopefully, it will still be open.

Roosey Roads, PR
18.14.009N
65.37.581W

Too soon, Michelle is leaving. Spring break is over and we were delighted that she wanted to spend it with us. She seemed to have enjoyed herself just floating in the water or reading a novel as opposed to the text books she been pouring over for the last couple of semesters.

On her last day here, we decided that we would indeed start heading south shortly after she left. Since we had rented a car to take her back to the airport, she was kind enough to go provisioning shopping with me before her departure which included buying some things in bulk and yet others in as small of a container as we could find. She helped load and then unload all of my giant purchases of toilet paper and paper towels and helped bag and contain all of my little jars and cans of this and that.

We headed back to the Palace and set up a bucket brigade of unloading the cart from me on the dock, to her in the cockpit and then to Dale down in the salon. We hastily put those items that needed refrigeration into an ice chest, placed a couple of bags of ice on top, and then loaded the car with her bags to head to the airport.

We stopped for a bite to eat on our way and then kissed her goodbye at the airport. There would be no place to sit and watch the planes take off for us this time. Probably for the best, it was hard enough saying goodbye to our friends, this time it was our daughter.

The drive back was pretty much in silence. We stopped by a hardware store to pick up some more bungee cords (you can never have too many) with our minds already checking off the things that needed to be accomplished before we left.

I had mentioned to Dale that I should probably get a hair cut before we left. He had seen a hair salon near the base so we stopped to see what their hours were. Lucky for me, the proprietress was there and offered to cut my hair right then. She did a great job. As of this date, my hair is officially shorter than Dale’s. Any day now he will sport the pony tail he’s contemplated since the 70’s, not an easy thing to do with the curly hair as he has.

Culebrita, PR
18 19.173N
65.13.699W

As we approached Culebrita on Wednesday, Dale and I recognized Nicolino (a sistership to the Palace,) sailed by Gate & Darby, whom we had met in Luperon. We hailed them and told them that we were planning on mooring in the harbor beyond where they were anchored and promised to catch up with them in the Virgins next week.

Michelle recognized the harbor we entered and we sat reminiscing about our adventures here 12 years ago. You see, the first time we ever anchored in this harbor, it was after a rain squall had broken our genoa halyard. In the pitching seas, standing on the pulpit, Dale had done his best to jury rig the sail but the pitching and rolling was more than he could take.

In order to be better able to help Dale sail our first boat, Michelle (about 16 at the time) and I had just finished our basic sailing course and passed the test to get our skipper‘s card. We were pretty proud of those little cards but that particular rain squall put us to the test more than any pencil, paper, or trial runs ever could. Before going down to hit the rack, he pointed to the closest island, showed us which harbor to go into on a chart and asked us to take us in. We did. In fact, we only woke him to help us anchor. I guess that’s when Dale’s dream of cruising became more of a reality; when I realized that I could sail the boat too and would have some control of my own fate at sea.

Yesterday of course, was a gorgeous day and the most we’d be tested this time would be how much sun block we could use in a single afternoon.

On Thursday, Dale decided that not only was he going to work on the macerator pump again but that he was going to make a better repair to the rub rail that had been damaged in a storm several years ago. He pried the rub rail off with a screwdriver, cleaned the old caulking off with a knife, applied some new adhesive, hammered it on with a rubber mallet, and slipped a couple of ropes completely around the boat sandwiching the fender board over the repair and then twisted the ropes into a tourniquet holding the fender board in place over the repair. My assistance in this matter was limited to handing him whatever tool was needed when required and tidying up the repair with “GooGone” when he was done. I swear I’d make a good nurse.

Next, he moved to the macerator pump and poo tank. I handed him some latex gloves and moved to the farthest reaches of the boat and read silently; Michelle went swimming; trying to keep most of her body underwater and away from the sun.

When Dale emerged, snapping his gloves off and tossing them into the garbage, he declared that he had done what he could for the patient and that we would have to wait and see if it would work. He pushed the button for a quick check. A small dark cloud emerged from under the boat; Michelle screamed that we should have warned her and paddled her inner tube up current towards the beach and away from the discolored water as fast as she could. At first blush, it appeared to be working. We all went snorkeling and hoped for the best.

On Friday, he removed the tourniquet from the rub rail; the repair looked good and seemed to be holding. After allowing me to finish my book (remember the back of the boat?) we hoisted anchor and when we reached the proper distance from shore, we pushed the button and held our breath. Thank heavens, the gauge indicated that the tank was emptying. We put some disinfectant into it and sealed it up. We’re now ready for anyone else who might want to visit.

In the meantime, do you recall that I told you Dale and I had taught Michelle how to play Mexican Dominos? She loved it! In fact, she wanted to play it every night she was here. She was pretty dang good at it too! Be careful if she tries to get you to play a game with her, she’s a bit of a ringer now.

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.

Roosevelt Roads, PR
18.14.009N
65.37.581W

Did you know that weights for dive belts come in colors now? I’ve had mine since 1982, so I hadn’t paid much attention to them since them.

With only a slight glitch in getting the rental car, we headed off to pick up Michelle from the airport.

We stopped by Puerto del Mar and bumped into Gate off Nicolino. He and Darby had probably arrived there shortly after DocNoMore and MTNest left. He anticipated that they would be heading to the Virgin Islands this week and would more than likely spend the better part of a month in the area before moving on. We expressed our hope that we would see them again down island..

We stopped by the local Home Depot to pick up another pair of dive gloves for Dale as one of his was cast to the deep when the buckets we rinse them in took a leap off the back end last week.

Michelle arrived pretty much on time and without too much drama; except for the fact that she had gone to the wrong airport in Orlando to catch her plane. Obviously, she found the right one with time to spare.

We had a quick lunch at Fudruckers, one of Dale’s favorite hamburger joints, then sought out a dive shop to replace the dive belts and weights that had gone for a swim without their owners at the same time as his glove took a dive. It was the only time, including the day that it happened, that I mentioned, casually and in jest, that it was an expensive lesson . I never mentioned or even alluded to the fact that I had suggested securing the buckets for sea but had been advised in that manner husbands save for their wives in front of guests, that it wasn’t necessary. Not that I would remind him of any of this but since there were some bright pink weights that matched perfectly the snorkel and fins I have, I took advantage of the captive audience I had in Michelle and told her the story. With emphasis added--at just the right places--to poke some fun at him. We all had a pretty good laugh, including the shop manager.

Michelle is spending her spring break with us says that she just wants to float in water where she can see her toes for a couple of days. I think we have that covered.

Roosevelt Roads, PR
18.14.009N
65.37.581W

We hoisted our anchor and slipped out of Charlotte Amalie at 6:30 am. We passed Calaloo bobbing silently at her anchor without a dinghy which would indicate that Rick & Connie (whom we had met in the Exumas) were elsewhere. As silently as we could, we left St. Thomas behind. The cruise liners were just arriving, so we left by the west side of Hassel Island and out through Haulover Cut.

For the longest time, the anonometer indicated double zeros but once out into the ocean, it started registering a slight breeze; we kept motoring in the calm seas. We adjusted course to skirt a tug and barge near Sail Rock. We motored past a white research vessel, more than likely on its way to the coral preserve off St. John.

Between 8 and 8:45 we listened to the SSB for DocNoMore and MTNest, periodically hailing them. We motored past the sail boat race on Culebra that Dale had originally wanted to participate in but visiting with Gerry & Nicky until Friday and picking Michelle, our daughter, up in San Juan on Sunday, was more important. We looked for Dotty II, the boat Chuck McLaughlin would have been racing on but didn’t see her.

We did pass St. Christopher on her way to St. Thomas from Roosey to pick up guests and spoke to Tom & Jordan briefly regarding their plans for heading south. For old times sake, we hailed Rainbow Rider on the radio, just in case they might be within range. No response.

The wind never did pick up to more than 6 or 7 kts. We motored the entire way back to Roosey Roads and arrived by 1:00 pm. Once we were tied up at our slip again, Dale set about scrubbing the salt off the Palace and I started getting caught up on the laundry. Tomorrow we pick up Michelle.

St. Thomas, USVI
18.20.236N
64.55.605W

For some crazy reason, we all were up early today. We had a leisurely breakfast before Gerry & Nicky set about packing for their return trip. We spent the rest of the morning scavenging St. Thomas harbor side for great duty free deals.

I finally got a chance to rummage through the straw market that is set up right across the street from the dinghy dock. They actually had the best deals on souvenirs throughout the Virgin Islands. We stopped by a store that specializes in Rolex watches. I believe Gerry said that the watch he had priced on the internet was $1000 cheaper here. Nicky & I found Liberty Jewelers again and each came away with a pair of ear rings. Our eyes were tantalized by the crystal fish, turtles and parrots in the House of Crystal but both of our husbands reminded us that we live in houses on water and crystal really didn’t mix well with water.

We ate lunch in a restaurant called Herve’ that was located next to the Hotel 1629. Great food at reasonable prices. We sat at a window table overlooking Charlotte Amalie Harbor and watched the boats and sea planes come and go. There were bananas growing outside another window; for some reason I get a kick out of seeing bananas hanging from their trees.

Too soon we had to make our way back to the boat to pick up Gerry & Nicky’s luggage. We sat for awhile talking in the cockpit before we had to dinghy back in to take them to the airport. It was a very quiet dinghy ride. I guess none of us really wanted to say goodbye.

Dale and I thought we would ride with them to the airport but when the Jeepney stopped, Nicky turned and gave each of us a hug and said goodbye. Gerry was next and then, they were gone. A few seconds later, I thought it would have made a good picture of them sitting in the open air taxi.

We made our way back to the Palace even more quietly than we had left. I asked Dale if he thought we would be able to sail her by ourselves again. Once we had developed a new routine, it was nice having extra sets of hands. I know for me, it was especially nice to have another female sailor onboard who could, with a simple look, assure me that she knew what I was thinking and felt the same way.

A big jet just took off from the airport, banked over the harbor and headed out across the ocean. Hopefully, it was theirs and they saw us waving farewell to them from the Palace.

St. Thomas, USVI
18.20.222N
64.55.607W

It was a quiet night and we awoke to wild donkeys braying on the beach near where we were moored; alternative alarm clocks are unique to each island, I‘m learning. Due to the genset malfunction last evening, however, Nicky and I knew that we should probably make ourselves scarce when the tools came out in spite of the possibility of donkey spotting from the boat.

You’ll probably remember from my previous post about Leinster Bay, there is a nice little snorkeling island called Waterlemon Cay right here. So when the guys started demolishing the salon, we took the dinghy and went snorkeling. We saw rays, flounder, sergeant majors, about 20 barracuda (young ones with one big one patrolling the posse), butterfly fish and tiny little silversides. We even saw a couple of hermit crabs living in fairly large conch shells crawling along the bottom.

At one point we looked up from our snorkeling and saw the guys on either side of the boat hanging off the standing rigging, rocking the Palace from side to side. We didn’t want to hazard a guess as to what they may have been doing.

When we thought we were as waterlogged as we could possibly get, we headed back. We approached the boat slowly, so as not to disturb geniuses at work. We could see that the genset was running again; that was a good sign. We boarded the Palace and learned that the genset impeller had not disintegrated as they had speculated but instead had sucked up a gob of seaweed. How it got through the strainer is beyond anyone‘s imagination. In any event, it was working and we’re all happy campers again. (They had been rocking the boat to look for the cooling water being expelled from the genset).

We slipped our mooring lines and motored over to Soper’s Hole on Tortola to check out of Customs. Once that was done, we dinghied over to the brightly painted stores along the waterfront to peruse their wares. Inside the grocery store, Nicky and I had fun looking at what was available. Nicky was pleased to see several items from England. I was pleased when Nicky found some canned cream for me. I had been looking for something that didn’t need refrigeration.

We found the guys drinking ‘pain killers’ at Pussers and joined them for lunch. We placed our orders then took off for the jewelry store to see what they had to offer. We got back just as they were setting the food on the table. I think we’ve got this island time down to a fine science.

We left Soper’s Hole and pointed our bow towards, St. Thomas. We were all rather quiet on the sail back. I know I was thinking that the week had flown by and that they were leaving too soon.

We anchored in Charlotte Amalie Harbor in pretty much the same place as before. We cleaned up and headed to The Green House for dinner. As luck would have it, the same waitress was assigned to our table. She was a good sport, as was the man at the corner table to whom we sent our bill. (Another table had previously sent us theirs.) He plopped down a business card and sent our check back. We pondered what it would be like if we had the resources to pay a bill that someone sent to us in jest. Wouldn’t it be fun to be able to make someone’s day by paying it?

It was another fun filled day but tomorrow they would be leaving us. Dale and I both wish they had been able to stay longer. It’s going to be hard to say goodbye.

St. John, USVI
Leinster Bay
18.21.928N
64.43.366W

We awoke today to the roar of airplanes taking off over our mast. Apparently, there is a runway just opposite the restaurant where we ate last night and just beyond where we moored. Not your usual alarm clock.

After breakfast, we slipped our mooring and pointed our bow downwind in Sir Francis Drake’s Channel between the islands that comprise the British Virgin Islands. We rounded Beef Island, with Virgin Gorda on our left, rounded again along Tortola leaving Ginger Island and Cooper Island behind us. When we reached Norman Island, we headed toward “the Indians,” which had been too rough for us to snorkel on our way up to Virgin Gorda. Today they were decidedly calmer.

We had to pace back and forth a couple of times waiting for a mooring ball to become available but once we snagged one, we pulled on our snorkel gear and jumped into the water.

Again, we were awed by the fish and coral within the nooks and crannies of the Indians. Dale did his usual trick of free diving through the underwater tunnels while the rest of us bobbed around until he appeared on the opposite side. I’d tell him to his face that he was showing off but in truth, we probably all wished we could do the same.

We returned to the boat and Nicky and I looked through the fish book trying to identify all that we saw. I guess the most interesting were the pale blue filefish.

The guys slipped our mooring lines, raised the sails and again, we raced against anyone who dared to go in the same direction; we almost always won.

This time at Leinster, we dinghied to the beach and walked the path that led to the Annaberg Sugar Mill. We climbed the wooded steps that the Park Service built up through the trees up to 1700’s stone structures that had been a windmill, boiler room, furnace, storage rooms, and slave quarters surrounded by stone fences. We poked around the buildings, marveled at the view from the top of the hill, took a few pictures and then turned around and headed back down the road, walked the long path back to the dinghy, and dinghied back to the Palace. Another full day.
While I was making dinner, Dale was running the genset. Then it quit; all by itself. Not a good thing. When Dale and Gerry opened up the access panel to the genset, it was extremely hot. Dale was very calm about it all; in fact, I was very calm about it. He said that it would take a long time to cool and that he’d look at it in the morning. I agreed. If the dang thing was going to break, I was glad that an engineer was on board. Dale can fix a lot of things but its always better to have two mechanically inclined heads instead of one.

Beef Island, BVI
18.26.919N
64.31.943W

Before we untied from the trees, hoisted our anchor and prepared our sails for the upwind beat to “the Baths” in Virgin Gorda this morning, Nicky and I conducted an experiment. She had told me about making omelets in a ziplock bag and since omelets were on the menu for breakfast, we tried it.

The way its done is, you put all of the ingredients into a ziplock bag, mix thoroughly, then place the bags into boiling water for 13 minutes. Since they didn‘t appear to be completely cooked after 13 minutes, I added another 5 minutes to the cooking time. The result was an omelet that tasted pretty good. We decided that the next time, we should use a bigger pot to boil them in since they seemed a little squished in the pot I used. Anyway, it’s worth trying again as it is a method that allows everyone to eat at the same time.

After breakfast, we sailed. Since there were other boats in Sir Francis Drake’s Channel going in the same direction, we raced. The Palace did well in the 20 kts winds with a full jib and a reefed main. We teased Gerry that he couldn’t complain about not having any wind in which sail on this trip, we had more than we knew what to do with.

Along the route to the Baths, Nicky spotted a run-away dinghy without a motor drifting toward Beef Island. We debated whether or not to drop sails and go retrieve it but a catamaran coming up behind us veered off and picked it up. Most of the dinghies out here belong to charter companies and have identification numbers stenciled on their pontoons. Since it was a charter cat that picked it up, we figured it would eventually find its way back to the rightful owner.

We were lucky in finding a mooring right away at the Baths and moored 2 boats behind MTNest who were showing their guests the same attraction. We dinghied into where we could tie our dinghy off on a line well outside the swim area and then donned our snorkel gear for the swim in the rest of the way.

We stooped through the rock overhangs, waded through the tunnels that flooded with the waves from outside and clamored over the boulders that make up the Baths. Then once we had explored our way through, we pulled on our snorkel gear again and swam around the boulders and coral heads on the outside. I never tire of playing and exploring among these rocks and am so glad we were able to show the kids these sights while they were young and imaginative. I think Gerry and Nicky liked them too.

With Gerry at the helm, we slipped our mooring ball and headed to Trellis Bay on Beef Island. With just the jib out, we were surfing along at 8 kts + crossing between Virgin Gorda and Beef Island. We were definitely in our groove, except for the following seas, which I really don‘t care for.

On the way over, we heard MTNest say that CheSerah had lost her dinghy near Beef Island. We radioed to them our sighting and the fact that a large cat had picked it up. CheSerah picked up the transmission and said that they had in fact lost their dinghy and that after a diligent search, had located it at the back of a large catamaran anchored in Beef Island. They went on to say that the cat was more than happy to relinquish their hold on the dinghy and it was returned to them. They were very lucky!
When we finally arrived in Trellis Bay on Beef Island, every mooring had been taken. We tried to anchor within the mooring field, but the anchor wouldn’t bite. We circled around and started to anchor again between two mooring balls, when a boat we were passing offered us the one that was being held by a kayak. We accepted eagerly and snagged the mooring without further embarrassment to ourselves or our guests. They didn’t offer any explanations as to why they were holding another mooring and we didn’t ask. I was grateful that I didn’t have to worry about swinging into the moored boats around us.

We had a nice dinner at The Last Resort, a restaurant located on tiny Bellamy Cay, an island hardly bigger than the building on it. After dinner, dinghied across the harbor to where the local artisans and craftsmen were holding their monthly full-moon festival.

They had dancers and musicians and crafts of leather, basket, wood sculptures, tin sculptures, beaded jewelry and coconut creations. Then at 10 o’clock pm they set two orbs aflame to top off the celebration. The orbs were made of metal designed into shapes of dancing people all over it. So when the orbs were set ablaze, it looked like people dancing around a fire. We had already left by that time and watched from the Palace. What a sight.

A full day spent with friends completed by an enchanting night.

Peter Island, BVI
18.21.208N
64.36.036W

Instead of heading to ‘the Baths’ as was our original plan, we changed our minds because the weather was deteriorating and decided to go to Peter Island.

Peter Island is only a few miles away from Norman Island but since there were a couple of other boats going in the same direction, we raced the whole way. Due to the high winds, we only had our jib out, but we were we were speeding along at 6+ kts often hitting 7 and better when a gust would catch us.

As was with the other anchorages, this one was filled to capacity as well. We ended up following the others in the harbor by dropping our anchor and then backing to the trees along the beach to secure ourselves; similar to a Med mooring but with a little more space between the boats. It took a little tweaking, but we finally felt secure with the arrangement.

Neither Dale nor Gerry seemed content to sit and talk, so they grabbed hand brushes and started cleaning the Palace’s hull, which had already started growing its own little eco system below the waterline. They kept themselves busy for the better part of the afternoon and had just finished when the rain came.

After the rain had cleared, Dale and I took Gerry and Nicky up to see what was left of the old mansion on the hill. We walked up the old cistern path through the undergrowth of scrub trees and cacti. An old eucalyptus tree was still standing along with more than a few aloe plants that had gone wild. The buildings were primarily constructed with cement and rocks so the ’bones’ of the place were still there. What had been a barely recognizable garden 12 years ago, was completely gone. The raised beds surrounded by rock fences were still intact but the roses and plants they once contained have been replaced with the surrounding vegetation.

Twelve years ago, you could peek through the shutters to see slivers of what lay behind them. The end room, a ballroom of sorts, was the only one that had its doors open. Today the entire home is open. I noticed that the locks are still in place but the hinges holding them to the wood have rusted away and they now swing still locked from the open doors and windows.

Much to my surprise, it appeared to be a single bedroom home with a formal entry, dining room, and living room. Termites have climbed to the highest rafters and the roof has collapsed in many areas leaving holes to the sky. The unique frescoes that once adorned the several nooks that contained fountains have been vandalized. I’m glad I took pictures of them long ago as not one of them had been spared.

The iron fence surrounding the covered patio leading from the house to the view overlooking the harbor is rusted and worn but still standing barely parting the patio from the encroaching elements beyond. Only the granite tiles on the patios and walkways seemed to be impervious to nature reclaiming what once was hers.

We walked around for a little while trying to envision what it might have looked like in its prime, speculated about what had happed to the original owner, daydreamed about what it would take to bring it back, before making our way back down the cement trail we had followed up.

We made our way back to the boat and barbequed dinner on the transom at sundown, watching the moon rise over the island surrounding us. Gerry was the first to see that we had a barracuda that had taken a position under our boat, looking for hand outs no doubt. We had just finished our after dinner margaritas when it started raining again. Seeing how it was after 9pm, we decided it was time for bed.

Norman Island, BVI
18.19.026N
64.37.048W

Much to our surprise this morning, there had been no collisions during the night and only one boat had left; a large motorboat. We noticed that he had been conscientious about setting his anchor but must have run into problems during the night as he left well before dawn.

We said our goodbyes to MTNest; they are trying to make their way directly to Virgin Gorda so that they can make a crossing to St. Martin by Friday. DocNoMore thought that they would transit the BVI’s slowly and stick around with us for a while. We wanted to show Gerry and Nicky some of the sights, so we took off for ‘the Indians’.

Gerry was at the helm and seemed to truly enjoy racing the Palace against anyone who happened to be going in the same direction. We were able to sail from Jost Van Dyke to Norman Island quickly but since we still had the 20+ kt gusts periodically, we elected to snorkel ‘the caves’ on Norman Island instead of ‘the Indians’. The caves were more protected than the exposed Indians and assumedly offered better visibility.

The water was brisk and presented an array of coral and fish, including a spotted moray, along the route from where we moored to the 3 caves we had come to see. From the direction we took, each cave we entered was larger that the previous one. The first had a few fish and some interesting orange coral ‘flowers’ along the rocks. The second you could go further into with a school of fish (glassy sweepers) at the entrance and the last was bigger, deeper and went further back to where Dale was able to climb out and stand up in the back most portion.

On our snorkel back, we checked out the coral formations leading up to the caves and played among the sergeant majors guarding every entrance.

I really do think that the moorings are allowing the coral to return as there seems to be more live coral now than there was 12 years ago. Again, there doesn’t seem to be as many schools of fish but more varieties of the ones we do see. Maybe the hurricanes have something to do with it.

We had a quick lunch and sailed around the corner to ‘the bight’ where the Willie T Floating Restaurant is. The Willie T we knew sunk in a hurricane but the new one provides food and drink for those brave enough to cross the many dinghies tied along her rails to the dock to gain entrance. We noted that even along the opposite side, the go-fast boats come from afar to quench their thirst at her bar, rafting 5 and 6 deep in rows of 3 along the side that used to be the exclusive domain of the cook’s ferry.

Of course, we’re brave and had little problem scooting our dinghy into a spot almost underneath the aft section of the boat, so that we could get a foot up on the corner of the dock.

We soon discovered that several young ladies (extremely young in my opinion) had already jumped naked from the uppermost deck into the waters aft of the bar to receive their commemorative t-shirts. The last of the group was resisting extreme peer pressure, who were literally pulling her bathing suit off her, and was able to at last declare that there were boats in the way and couldn’t jump.
Needless to say, Dale and Gerry were very attentive in getting Nicky and I our drinks from the aft bar as we held the table waiting for our dinner. Being gentlemen, not once did they ask us to offer our bodies for belly shots! Our knights in shining armor were actually willing to cut through the crowds just for us.
After dinner and an evening of watching people leap frogging from dinghy to dinghy, we made it back to the Palace just as it started raining. Perfect timing.

Jost Van Dyke, BVI
18.26.596N
64.45.099W

After a leisurely breakfast, we hoisted anchor, tucked in a reef and motorsailed out of Charlotte Amalie Harbor and started our voyage around St. Thomas to Yost Van Dyke. We had no sooner exited the entrance to the harbor when we had to practice a man overboard drill; actually it was a bucket overboard drill.

Gerry was on the wheel, so Dale grabbed a boat hook, while I went to the swim platform for a second chance in case Dale didn’t catch it with the boat hook. Our first attempt looked the best. Nicky rolled in the jib, Gerry brought us up close but the bucket was upside down and Dale couldn’t get the hook around the handle. I actually grabbed the bottom of the pail but couldn’t get enough grip on it without letting go of the boat. As it was supposed to be a practice and not an actual man over board, I resisted the urge to dive in and get it.

Two more attempts in 20 kts of wind and Dale and Nicky were able to retrieve the run away bucket. Unfortunately, our weight belts and one of the four gloves that had been in the bucket made a clean escape.

We finished our voyage without further interruption and I think Gerry enjoyed sailing the Palace in high winds.

When we made Great Harbor in Yost Van Dyke, we did an anchor dance rarely seen on the Palace, thank heavens. We tried to anchor in a sand over marl bottom. Our first attempt, looked good after it stopped skipping along the bottom but when Gerry dived down for a look, the anchor was lying on its side. Not a good thing.

We circled around and tried another spot. It wouldn’t bite. We circled around again and tried a different spot; again, it wouldn’t bite. To be honest, I lost track of how many times we tried to anchor before we decided to let out 120 feet of chain, added the 35 lb kellet and hoped the winds would remain moderate within the bay itself.

We settled back and watched other boats come in after us. A few dropped their anchors and stayed where they had dropped them; oblivious to the bottom conditions. Others did as we did and dropped their anchor, backed down, tried again and backed down until they either gave up, left, or dropped a ton of chain then, like us, sat in their cockpits to see what would happen.

Once we felt comfortable with our anchor, we all loaded into the dinghy and went to check in with Customs and Immigration. Roger had told us that the day before, everyone was grumpy but today, probably because Mike, from MTNest, was pulling everyone’s leg, was in much better spirits. We smiled broadly, wrote legibly, and paid in cash.

In the evening, we joined DocNoMore and CheSerah on MTNest before we all went into Foxy’s for barbeque on the beach. When we approached the dock, one side was filled with dinghies, so we scooted over to the other side which had signs declaring that it was Foxy’s private docking space. I pointed the signs out to Dale and we kept working our way down the dock when a man on the dock said to toss him our lines that he knew Foxy’s boat wasn’t that big. When we climbed out and onto the dock, I recognized that we were speaking with Foxy himself. He didn’t perform at the barbeque as I had hoped he might, but it was good to see him again. The barbeque was tasty, bountiful and filling. Some of us danced to the music that was provided, while others preferred to sit and talk with those around them but in the end, I think we all had fun.

St. Thomas, USVI
18.20.204N
64.55.523W

Today’s the day! Gerry & Nicky come in.

We walked to the side of town the cruise ship people miss to do our laundry and stock up on fresh fruits and veggies and make sure that I had all the ingredients for my recipes for the week. Dale was very gracious in not saying anything when I returned to the laundry mat where he was guarding the laundry, loaded down with groceries. The wheels on my poor little cart that I use for hauling both laundry and groceries were barely able to roll on our way back to the boat. I didn’t dare let him carry the bag on my shoulder as it was overloaded too and I didn’t want him to know. When he helped me lift all of the bags out of the dinghy, his only comment was ‘where are you going to put all of this?” I did manage to tuck everything away so that the boat was presentable.

Once again in the anchorage, we had moderate winds punctuated by extreme wind gusts. At one point, Dale had raised one of his pirate flags to welcome our guests. A couple of hours later, a gust of wind tore out one of the grommets and he had to climb the mast to retrieve the flag halyard.

MTNest had also returned to St. Thomas to pick up guests and when they didn’t arrive within a couple of hours of their appointed time, Mike started a grid search of the harbor side trying to locate them. After a couple of exasperated hours, they located Brad & Angie, who had arrived without luggage and were trying to track it down. Something has to be said about priorities when the guys were more concerned about finding the missing meat than they were about finding the missing clothing and jewelry.

Gerry & Nicky arrived pretty much on time and with all of their baggage in tact. We promptly took them out for ’pain killers’ the local rum drinks to welcome them to the Virgin Islands. It’s so good to see them again.

St. Thomas, USVI
18.20.204N
64.55.523W

We awoke during the night to gusts of wind that caused the mooring lines to strain against the toe rail of the boat. We peeked up to make sure that our day mooring was holding us through the night; it was doing a fine job. By morning we started dancing around the mooring with the gusty winds well into the 20 knot range. Apparently, a high pressure system was moving through the area bringing the winds out of the north.

We radioed to our buddy boats inside the harbor and told them that we wouldn’t be snorkeling in 20 kts winds as it would stir the water up too much but would instead wait for a break in the winds to sail over to St. Thomas to start preparing the boat for our guests. The break never came, so we tucked a couple of reefs in the mail sail and the jib and headed out.

With gusts up to 28 kts we scooted over to St. Thomas doing speeds of 6.5 -7.5. Thrilling just bordering on nervy. Thank heavens the seas hadn’t had time to build into anything dramatic.

Even in the protected Charlotte Amalie Harbor where the wind stayed at 6-7 kts for the majority of the time, suddenly would gust to 30 and 40 kts unexpectedly.

We anchored in just about the same place as we had a few days earlier and started to unpack the guest berth and forward head to incorporate those items into our stateroom in the back. That task done, we joined MTNest, who had also returned to St. Thomas to pick up guests for dinner at The Green House.

St. John, USVI
Salt Pond Bay
18.18.115N
64.42.243W

We tried sailing today but as we didn’t have more than 5-8 knots, we weren’t going anywhere very quick. Eventually, we gave up and turned the motor on.

Each time we fire up the engine in these waters, I’m reminded of when James (about aged 10) would ask in an extremely frustrated manner, why we couldn’t just turn on the engine when we wanted to go a short distance. Why did we have to go so far in the opposite direction just to turn around to almost come back to where we started? Today it was his father who was getting frustrated at not being able to make the progress he had hoped for.

By noon, we closed in on Salt Pond Bay. Unfortunately, there were not enough moorings left for the 3 buddy boats. As we were the last one in, we took a day mooring to the side of the entrance hoping that another boat would leave by night.

We grabbed a light lunch and then dinghied to Booby Rock to snorkel. What a treat! There was a colorful array in both fish and coral. Finally, there were the schools of tropical fish that I remembered as once being here. There was also a wonderful underwater topography of canyons, walls, huge crevices, and all sorts of rock formations and places to explore. We swam around the entire cay twice; first one way, then the other.

We then dinghied to the reef that was located near the anchorage where our friends were. This was a good place to snorkel but paled in comparison to what was only a short distance further out. We told the other 2 boats about Booby Rock but by the time they tried to go out, a dive boat had taken the only mooring ball available and didn’t want to share the rope. We told them that we enjoyed it so much, we’d probably go back tomorrow morning. They’ll try again at that time as well.

Friday, Gerry & Nicky (our friends from home) will be coming for a short visit. We’re so excited to see them! Tomorrow, we’ll head back to St. Thomas to tidy up a bit and pick up a few fresh veggies in anticipation of their arrival. Then off to the British Virgin Islands for a week.