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SVHarlequinn
Log of Harlequinn, a Lagoon 380 S2 Catamaran
Happy Birthday Quinn
05/11/2012, 14 28'N:60 52'W, St. Anne's, Martinique

Thhirty-four years ago we were speeding down the highway in a VW van, no phone communication in the area, motor making unhappy sounds. We were rushing to catch Quinn's first appearance, and of course, we were a bit late. Times haven't changed that much. We are heading out tomorrow, excited about Quinn's arrival in St. Lucia on Tuesday. James is fiddling with a mechanica /electrical problem and again, I can't wait until our son gets here!

What cruising is about
05/10/2012, 14 28'N:60 52'W, St. Anne's, Martinique

We're sitting here waiting for the weather to change our landscape into Caribbean blue , palm trees and sunshine, just like in the brochures. James is working on repairs. . . .watermaker pump, head, hatch, etc., Today the sea gods claimed two pair of glasses and snatched the key to the lock that still held our kayak to the dock. Fortunately, Kay, from Finnesteere, who had gone for a short hike with me, was quick to borrow a mask from someone on the dock, and I was able to grab the key back from the greedy god. This afternoon, a glass of wine and a good book sounds wonderful.

A whale spotting
05/07/2012, 14 44.3'N:61 10.6'W, St. Pierre, Martinique

Sunday morning, with still no favorable winds for sailing forecast in the 7 day outlook, we motored the 15 miles between Les Saintes and Dominica, picking up a mooring buoy with Bacco's help and rewarding him with James' fresh caught Mahi mahi. Bacco filleted out the fish for us and happily retained the head for himself to be added to the stew pot with "ground provisions" ( bananas, taro, sweet potatoes, chayote etc.) He and his friend, who got the tail, thanked us again as we chatted with them at the PAYS Sunday night barbeque, a fund raising event to support the security system the boat boys have organized for visiting yachts. Not only is the barbeque a fun place to meet other yachties, PAYS has managed to change the reputation of Portsmouth, an anchorage we avoided three years ago. In spite of the free rum punch we rolled out of our bunks at dawn for the 52 mile passage to Martinique, this time with a whale breeching as we neared the island. It's 5 in the evening, the church bells are ringing across the harbour, a quiet rain is settling over the lush slopes of Pele, the goddess that erupted, killing all but one inhabitant 110 years ago.

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