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West Indies Island News
St. Vincent and the Grenadines: Thursday Feb 7th
The news could not be better. The loo has not become blocked since we instigated our carefully researched
plan of action, so all that remains now is to follow
our preventative procedures, including not swallowing
orange pips as we are sure that they would eventually
become a hazard to the smooth operation of the dreaded
flap valve.
Sandy Island lived up to its promise of superb
snorkeling (on Tuesday) - crystal clear water over
white sand, loads of colourful fish, an octopus to
poke at (not allowed to catch it because this area is
a nature reserve) and a sizeable fish which had made a
home for itself in a hole under some coral.
Then off we motored to Hillsborough the capital of
Carraicou for the night. It is a bit of a hick town.
Supper consisted of chicken and chips for three, plus
six beers - all for a total of 16 pounds (25 US
dollars) - that's less than Stan had to pay (18
pounds) for himself alone for attending my farewell
do. I'm thinking of inventing a new unit of currency
called the STAR (the STan dollAR) worth 18 pounds to
act as a permanent reminder of how pissed off he was
at having to pay!
Then it was off to Clifton (yesterday), capital of
Union Island, just seven miles away and having to
clear customs and immigration both ends as we leave
Grenada/Carriacou and enter St Vincent and the
Grenadines. Cliftin is where all my crew last year
tipped up the dinghy on their way back (of course)
from a heavy night ashore (only Stan managed to hang
on). Entering Clifton harbour provides another
reminder that there are not nearly as many yachts and
people here as last year, a consequence it is said of
Americans staying away because of September 11th and
an economic downturn. Which begs the question: in the
midst of this dearth of Yanks, how come I finish up on
a yacht with one? I'm already counting the days to
when I leave (only another 36 days to do to March
15th). He's becoming a real creep - he's already
almost repainted and revarnished the whole boat, and
done most of the carpentry repairs required, whilst I
seem to have nothing with which to impress the skipper
as a result of my labours. He hasn't however caught a
single fish yet despite having brought half the
contents of a fishing tackle shop with him - and if he
ever does catch one he'll be totally bloody
insufferable.
This morning we've come round the other side of Union
Island to Chatham Bay, yet another beautiful spot for
a swim, lunch, and a bit of a sunbath - you know, the
usual. Talking of suntans: the skipper is ahead of me
in the all-over-tan stakes. That's because he gets his
kit off even faster than me in the mornings. I reckon
that's because he went to an all boys public school
and we all know what they get up to in such places.
Dave is well behind (his isn't even pink yet, ha ha) -
a contributory factor must be that he's spent so much
time below decks painting etc.
Now I know what all my readers will be thinking by
this point in this newsletter. Haven't I got anything
better to do than write this drivel? Well, the answer
is yes and no. I am going for a swim in a while, but
not before I have my first rum punch of the day and
it's still too early for that so I'm spinning it out a
bit.
In fact, interestingly, there is an unspoken tension
creeping through the crew. Whilst I have given a
flavour of the social pressures on board, especially
concerning the representative of the only global power
on earth now protecting our freedoms, values,
lifestyles and economic well-being (we should all
quake in our shoes based on this sample of one we have
here), there is at least a sign that relationships are
becoming stable (with me at the bottom of the social
order). This tension is building because we have a new
crew member joining us tomorrow - Dennis, an old
friend of the skipper. What will that do to the
pecking order, the routines of life on board (e.g. and
especially learning successful loo techniques), who
makes the coffee, does the sandwiches - indeed, is
Dennis an avid interior decorator? - that would really
put the cat amongst the pigeons. These are deeply
important issues that have to be addressed within the
cramped space we inhabit, literally cheek to cheek
(especially with me and the skipper competing for
fastest bare bum every day). Then there are the odd
practical questions, like how do we transport four
people ashore in a dinghy that's hardly big enough for
three? (I forgot to mention that Dave is as heavy as
two normal people but that doesn't seemed to have gone
against him - so far.)
Well, I bet you can't wait to find out how this web of
communal intrigue unravels - it's at least as exciting
as Mrs Dale's Diary for those of you who can remember
that far back.
So it's back to Clifton tonight, hit the hot spots and
get a good night's sleep in preparation for Denis's
arrival at the airport right next to the harbour (it's
from here that one of my crew - Geordie - left for the
sophistication of Barbados last year) at 1 pm.
Bye for now - keep you messages coming. Oh, by the way
- I managed to convert my last newsletter to Word
6/Windows 95 from notepad so I hope you managed to
read it OK.
Coxy
The Yank's Re BUTT al
I'll be glad when the other Brit gets here. I'm
anxious to find out if Brits are all like Coxy or are
some of them sophisticated and intelligent.
I've also given Coxy a head start in getting a tan on
his bare bum. It's so big, it will take him a long
time to tan all of it and I don't want to hurt his
feelings any more. He's so slow. He needs something to
build his ego and make him feel like he's keeping up
with the skipper and I. His bum is so big(in contrast
with what's on the other side) that it blocks out the
sun making it hard for the rest of us to get a tan.
But I don't want him to know that so I'll take my time
and bronze my buff body after he's done.
Poor Coxy, he spills his drink all the time.... going
up the steps to the cockpit one day... all over the
skippers charts on another. I spent 15 minutes making
the perfect rum punch for him and he spills it in 30
seconds. He didn't drink a drop.
He does have a knack of finding tonic, but he can't
find a beer if it bit him in the buttocks.
I think this Dennis that's coming tomorrow will be better. He couldn't be worse than this Brit Coxy. I went out to tan this morning about 10 AM in this
beautiful deserted bay we're in. The sun was just getting right. Coxy came up, blew wind, and the sun
turned green and went back behind the horizon. I could't believe it! It may be dark all day today.
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NEWSLETTERS |
Trinidad to Grenada, plugged loo, Pappy's: Monday 4th February
Grenada, Carraicou to St. Vincent and the Grenadines: Thursday Feb 7th
Union Island, Castella's, St. Vincent and the Grenadines, Tobago Cays
Wallilabou, Bequia, Vieux Fort, a typical day, run over while in the dingy
St. Lucia, Marigot Bay, Soufriere, Rodney Bay, mooring knot comes loose
Martinique, St. Pierre, Mount Pelee
Dominica, Emerald Pool, Trafalgar Falls, Bay Leaf Oil extraction, Granny Jemima
The River Sallee, Guadaloupe to Antigua, Nelsons Dockyard
Antigua, Shirly Heights, St. Johns
St. James Club on Antigua, Nevis, Killer Bee's at Sunny's, Satia
St. Barts....aaaaah St. Barts, and Anguilla
British Virgin Isles, Foxy's on Jost Van Dyke, Tortolla, Virgin Gorda, Deadman's Cove, snokling on Sea Dog Island, Billy Bones on Norman Island
The showers of the Carribean!!!
Final Edition - St. John's and then back to Trinidad
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