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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.


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


Caribbean Sailing / Next Newsletter