03/03/14
12.52.72”N 061.11.35”W
After several false early starts we are off to Mustique which is an island full of the rich and famous, names such as Mick Jagger, David Bowie etc. own magnificent property, or so we read. We motor for the first five miles as we are headed by the wind and want to sail once we have cleared the gap between Petit Nevis and Island De Quatre. This is not so bad as we can run the water maker so that we can be free with the post swim shower.
We had a small drama when going through the tightest spot that the plotter decided to switch itself off and we had to resort to traditional navigational means such as plotting and clearing bearings, although a little fraught we managed without hitting any sharp bits. The problem with the plotter was that there was no neutral in the power supply there must be a break in the cable somewhere as the connections at both ends are good. For the time being I have shared the neutral supply from the compass light and the plotter is now functioning.
We pull in at Britannia bay as there is no anchoring allowed, staying here is rather steep at $75 us per night but with each night you get two nights free. I think this is because the bay is quite rolly and if you were not due the two nights free you may be tempted to move on prematurely to a bay more conducive to static sleep. The bay however is beautiful, the water crystal clear and the houses amazing. There is no crime on this island and it is like a well groomed garden for the well heeled to play in.
We retire to Basils bar, the famous hangout virtually on the water for sundowners. The service is superb and the vista perfect. Every now and then a wave comes up through the floorboards to remind you where you are and to wash the sand off your feet. There is a barbecue and jump up night this Wednesday and we vow to go, perhaps David or Mick will show.
Swimming three or four times a day is the norm, only curtailed on odd occasions by a large barracuda cruising the anchorage. The first time this was spotted Stefan leapt from the water into our dinghy lest the animal was into limb removal.
A walk round the island has been planned for today and as usual we end up walking up hill in the scorching midday sun. The beaches are fringed by reefs and we find a pile of conch shells that have been discarded, on other islands these are for sale in every souvenir shop but here they are everywhere. Now and then there are beach barbeques and thatched shelters which are for use by locals, there are even plastic bags in boxes for rubbish and emergency telephones. I do not know what constitutes an emergency round here but the only graffiti we have found mentions that “Justin Bieber does big jobs in his pants” so perhaps this is what the emergency telephones are for. The absence of criminal vandalism and so little graffiti is a credit to this island and it has a certain creepy utopian feel. Halfway round the island walk we notice that the sand has been raked either side of the path for literally miles?
We stumble upon a sculpture of mating tortoises and then the airport, we wait for a plane to land as the approach is quite tricky and this would be a good photo opportunity, but melt in the heat and decide to head to the beach. We hit an exclusive beach front bar and have a few ice cold beers and rub shoulders with the elite, though they do seem in their twilight years and if there is a plastic surgeon on the island I bet he lives in a big house.
Everybody is so friendly on this island and to prove this Stefan flags down a passing vehicle for a lift back to the bay. This is not British behaviour but as it is so hot and my feet are burning so I decline on this occasion to point it out.