on the way home


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Tonight we are anchored in Sopers hole or west end as they prefer to call it in Tortola, one of the British Virgin Islands. Unfortunately it is going to be a beautiful full moon here tonight, and although it is only 5pm some large boats are already partying very loudly. It does not auger well for the night ahead, so I say, if you can’t beat them join them. There is a full moon party about 5 minutes taxi drive away, so why not…more on this later.

The transport of the boat is all organised and when we come home in April, we can leave it knowing everything is under control. Since we decided to send Perthamina home we have made our way up here to the Virgin Islands. Firstly we stopped at Nevis, my cousin has some friends there, Sheena and Gordon, and they made us exceptionally welcome. They have built a beautiful house on Nevis, I am sure they could write a book about their experiences. They also had a lovely rescue Doberman cross called Ginger, a delightful dog which had been abused and damaged in its early months.
They took us to a great restaurant in a plantation house, the setting was stunning, everything you would imagine a colonial house should be, set in beautiful gardens, with tropical flowers and lush greenery, humming birds settling round you. We had a very good meal, and a great visit to their new house, set in a fantastic location, with great views.

Back to the boat and it was a bit rolly on the anchorage at Tamarind Bay so we decided to move on to st kitts, where we had a calm night. Next morning we went ashore to check out , took a few hours, but was done eventually. If I could add up all the time we have spent in different islands sitting in customs offices, watching and waiting for the right piece of paper, to enable us to sail another 4 hours to the next island!
I had a look round the town again, went to the supermarket, was overwhelmed by millions of jewellery shops, and quite happy to sail off about 2 o clock to get to St Eustacia.


We had not been to Eustacia before, and the anchorage notes said that there were mooring balls, but when we got there, they all had, DO NOT USE written on them, so we dropped the anchor and then rolled around as the work boats going out to the oil supply line for ships bustled by. It certainly was a scene of activity, big tugs, large ships, bright lights. Earlier we had walked up to the little town, using the old slave road. It was a cobbled street, with grass growing in the gaps, straight up, we were hot and sweating by the time we got there. We went to the museum, which was quite interesting, some of the history of these islands makes tough reading. The island had been fought over but finally became dutch, and like its’ sister island of Saba was a hard place to visit. That night we went ashore and had a meal in a restaurant overlooking our boat. From the table we could se eour anchor light waving around as the boat rolled. Eustacia is called affectionately Statia, and is 5 miles long and 2 miles wide. 3,400 people live on Statia, they speak English, Dutch and Spanish! Dutch is the official language. The Quill is the volcanic peak which rises 2000 feet, and has a tropical rain forest; we would have done the hike, but wanted to get on to Saba before the weather would make it untenable.

We did manage to get some sleep, except for some violent rolling in the middle of the night; I think it was a huge tug going by. The next morning we got up at 6am and headed off to Saba. It is only about two hours away but we were not sure if we could stay on the anchorage. If you have read our blogs before you will know that this was the third time we have tried to visit Saba. ?The first time was when we arrived there, late at night only to find that the mooring was in 30 metres of water, basically in the open sea. It was so rough that time there was no way we could launch the dinghy. I think we had the most uncomfortable night ever. Then another year,we caught a plane from st Martin. The white knuckles of the pilot did not make me feel that comfortable, especially after the third time he tried to land on the tiny air strip, scratched at the edge of the volcanic tip which is Saba. So here we were with plenty of time. We saw another boat, and decided to just try and see the island. The dinghy was in the water, managing not to rip off anyone’s fingers in the waves and swell and we motored ashore. The harbour was tiny, and a portacabin was the customs and immigration. They were very nice, checked us in and out, and then to the little port office to pay our dues. The taxi driver was standing outside, his name was Wayne, and he already had a trip booked with the only other boat there. The other couple were very pleasant, and we had an interesting day with them. The little town halfway up the rock is called Bottom, not because they are being facetious but a Dutch word, that has been changed over the years, Bottom is a great little place, red roofs, tumbling flowers, really quaint and pretty ,. The churches dated back to 1700s and one had a ceiling which had been beautifully painted. Back in the taxi and Wayne drove us the long winding route up the hill. There were no roads on the island until the 1940s and the terrain is so inhospitable it is amazing the road was built. A memorial to the engineer who did so was on our route, the road is called ' the road that could never be built.’ An amazing achievement which must have transformed the life of the islanders. The top village is called windward, again pretty, lovely houses, little store, and quite a lot of art work. Some ladies selling lace, which they make themselves on the island.
Wayne took us to an eco restaurant in a rain forest, very pleasant, and we chatted over our meal to the other couple. She was very upset as her son and grandchildren are in Tokyo, and the threat of radioactive pollution is very real.
I too would have been beside myself if my son was there. They are really suffering so badly in Japan.

We walked back down through the forest, back to windward, and soon found Wayne,. This island is so small, I am sure it can be claustrophobic, but also the views and the colours are so fantastic, that I am sure they would not want to live anywhere else. When we got back down to the port, we could see our boat thrashing around in the water. Anything to give us some time before we went back, Alan and I went for a walk along the not very nice rocky shore, a man was there, breaking rocks for building, what a hard job it looked, just to carry them to his truck was a major job. Like everyone on the island he was pleasant and had a chat with us. Further on we sat on the rocks and watched the birds wheeling up above us, calling and screeching. The island soared above us, sheer rock face, it felt bleak and isolated. Such a contrast to the pretty villages and flowers, gardens and houses so far up above. There is a lot of diving on Saba, but we were considering the effects on the body, if you were staying at windward village. The highest point of Saba is mount scenery at 887 m and Windward is not that far below it; if you had done two dives during the day ascending to that height to your hotel might be a worry. Saba is only 13 square km and most of it is vertical.

In the lonely planet guide book it says ‘ the waters around Saba are often turbulent’ They are not kidding, after spending an hour or so in the little bar overlooking the tiny harbour, not particularly pretty as they are extending the whole thing, blasting out the rock, diggers, making a cement block plant by the looks of it. The wall one end of the bar was a piece of ply as a lorry had hit it earlier. The bar was closing that day until the new buildings were complete.
I said to Wayne, ‘I suppose Saba will change if it is easier to get to, I don’t suppose some people want change’ He replied: ‘No, and I am one of those. It is great as it is.’ I hope it stays as charming too.


So finally no escape and back to the boat, which was rolling around like a demented horse. Managed to cook up sausage and mash and get the dinghy on board, that was an adventure on its’ own. Went to bed, slid around for a few hours and did get some sleep, by 2.00 am I had had enough, and we slipped the rope and headed out to sea towards the virgin islands, a 90 mile sail.


It was a great sail, the sea was calmish, and the swell not too huge. The wind was perfect, and we raced along. Alan went to sleep for a few hours while I did the night watch, it was a clear night, and we were motorsailing. After a while the wind picked up and we had a smooth uneventful trip to Tortola, except that Alan hooked the biggest mahe mahe we have seen, he thought it was as big as 50lb he had a terrible tussle with it, finally got it alongside the boat, and then his rod snapped in half! It got the upper hand made a huge splash and shot off snapping the line and taking the lure with it. I was pleased to see it go, it was a beautiful powerful creature.

The snorkel at peter island was a lovely refreshing end to a day. A good bbq on the back deck and then the sleep of the dead.


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23rd March 2011
who is that man?

I know him!
The shoes and the top are him......well turned out as usual...thanks to his wife.My best friend. Alan you look so relaxed!!!

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