The last few times we've anchored lately we've done so behind the protection offered by a reef. It's made me rather decidedly uncomfortable.

Being in close proximity of very shallow waters, playing the "what if" game, despite knowing the anchor is buried deep, is always at the back of my mind.

Perhaps it's the knowledge that we could drift onto the sharp jagged edges of the corals, sometime during the night, or when we are off snorkelling and swimming with the turtles, does not make me a happy camper.

Perhaps it's more about being out in the openness of the horizon there not being any piece of land protecting you, sheltering you from the gusting power of the incoming wind, that makes your boat shudder as the chain pulls.

In the Tobago Cays we found ourselves anchored perfectly behind Horseshoe Reef (way out on the horizon),



in perhaps ten feet of water. The dark blue is the deep(er) water channel which is where you want to be, the lighter blue parts of the picture are the shallow(er) parts of the water (be careful) and the dark green brown are the corals (sometimes awash, i.e.: don't go there) but anyhow, a lesson on visual piloting this is not.

And so after leaving the relative stillness and comfort of Saline Bay, with our next destination barely an hour away (there was more weather coming, and we knew that wherever we ended up would be our home for the next week or so while we waited out this whole Tropical Wave, Atlantic Wave or Shitty Weather Wave all with a whole bunch of added haze) and so we found ourselves, or rather I found myself navigating another expanse of shallow waters surrounded by sets of reefs.

So as we were rounding the corner into Clifton Harbour and intending to come to anchor (back where the boats are in the photo),



with Newlands Reef in Front of us, and Roundabout Reef behind us, and a hell of a lot of churn and shallow water happening all around us, the winds gusting with a ferocity that made going into the wind require much more engine power than I am usually happy to give,



knowing that the shallow depths that were approaching but fast, and boats anchored all around us, swinging this way and that and you need to steer clear of them, but still stay into the wind, and then there was Twids 007 the "boat boy" coming out to greet us as we came into the marked entranceway,



"Welcome, welcome mon" he said with a smile "you want a mooring ball ?"

"Dave" I shout over the pounding surf as he stand at the bow, remote in hand, pointing me towards the reef "We're at 18 feet.."

"What ?" he yells with the wind howling and the seas swirling. He can't hear me.
"We're at 16 feet !!"

"No thank you, we're going to anchor" says Dave with a smile and a wave to Twids 007 who's up at the bow by now wanting a few minutes of our time.

"You don't want a mooring ball??" TWIDS Double-oh-7 says incredulously as he keeps driving his brightly coloured dinghy alongside our boat, bobbing up and down in the waves, making me very nervous,

"Dave !" (I want him to stop talking to the boat boy and pay attention to me as I'm driving the boat dead ahead into ever shallower waters "11 feet, 10 feet..." says I, my voice getting a tad higher and a bit more panic stricken as I can see clear through the bottom,

"You NEED a mooring ball, mon !!"
I'm tending to agree with him at this moment in time.

"No thank you" says Dave, as his pointer finger is signalling me to keep coming forward"
"9 feet, 8.8 feet, 8.2 feet" the numbers are dropping faster and I ultimately sigh in relief as I hear the mechanism of the anchor let go, and as it fell into the water with a splash I knew that momentarily I would be going in reverse and into the safety of somewhat deep(er) waters.

What a view almost right in front of us. Centered in the midst of the reefs protruding out of the shallow waters is the Happy Bar restaurant,



once built by Janti, a local resident who collected a whole bunch of conch shells, built this island, built a house and or bar there, received some gifted palm trees, and made this place his own, welcoming fellow travellers with meals, drinks and such. We heard it has since been sold but continues to operate.

Once we were happy with the knowledge that we were set, we dinghied ashore,



where another young man greeted us, ready to be paid for any and all services he could offer and boy could he offer, anything and everything we could ever possibly have wanted or imagined.

"Ice?"
"I'll watch your dinghy for you?"
"You want fruit?"
"You give me money mon', I'll go buy your fruit"
And before we had even reached Customs Office, he was behind us on his bicycle,
"You want some fresh fish, mon?"

Fisherman's Dock in front of the Customs Office is where we spent some time,



waiting for lunch break and coffee break and I really don't know what other kind of break to be over so the officer would open his door and allow us to clear out of the country, and while we waited we smiled at the forlorn spikes of the flagpoles that had us uncertain as to how official this place really was.



Sometime later, forms in triplicate with re-used carbon paper signed and stamped, we were done and a walk back down through the lively coloured town square



and past the gardens with the many vendors selling their wares, all calling to us to come see them, they had just what we needed. We stopped at the first one where they sweet talked us into some very delicious fruit, several varieties of mangos, and herbed peppers and tomatoes right out of her husband's garden, she promised, picked that very morning.



We decided that next time, we would spread our dollars around and buy "something from everyone" with the realization that that might be hard to accomplish. Competition is tough. And we wondered just how the booths get assigned, obviously the one closest to the street gets the most business from passer-by's like us.

The wind continued to howl all night but Banyan held steadfast in the sand, and when we left the next morning, with full throttle towards the shallowness of clearly visible white sand, a quick 180 turn against the current so as not to hit the boats beside us, I almost smiled with the knowledge that I was getting a tad more aggressive, and decidedly a tad more comfortable with shallow waters and nearby reefs.

We waved bye to Twids 007, as we watched him zoom towards the incoming catamaran hoping to score a sale of his mooring ball.