The anchorage at Bitter End was crowded with boats because of the President’s Day vacation week, and the noise and wake of zooming dinghies got a bit tiresome. It amazes us how reckless and rude people become when they get to the Caribbean and careen through an anchorage at top speed, cutting close to boats and ignoring the wake they leave behind. It's especially worrisome considering the number of swimmers between the boats an accident waiting to happen. We moved to Leverick Bay, where moorings for Salty Dawg members are only $20 and you get free ice and free water, and we like the people there. With the fresh awlgrip job Tom was very conservative on his approach to their fuel dock, and it took him three tries before he came close enough to land!

Tom made his way to Spanish Town to meet the ferry bringing our replacement roller furling spool (the original one broke on our offshore passage down here). He hopped on a jitney heading to the Baths, was dropped off at the ferry terminal, found the box with our name on it (and just walked off with it with no one challenging him!), and then had to find a way back to Leverick. The first taxi he asked wanted $30, so he asked a van driver heading to Bitter End if he could get dropped off at Leverick. No, but for $20 he would drop Tom at the Leverick Road. Tom then started hitchhiking, and after a mile or so he was picked up and driven a couple miles uphill. Then he walked the remaining couple miles downhill, and got back to Leverick after just an hour and 15 minutes and $30 in fares. It's not like hopping in your car to run a simple errand, the way we do so effortlessly at home.

We had a nice sail from North Sound down the Drake Channel until Road Town, when the wind died out, then we motored on to Soper's Hole and picked up a mooring. In the morning, Feb. 18, we went ashore for another wifi hit and provisioning at the wonderful Harbour Market before heading over to Jost Van Dyke for the Salty Dawg party at Foxy's. Before going ashore I gave Tom a haircut—I’m not nearly as good at it as Sue Todd, but I am improving, and no one has laughed at him yet. The party was an extended cocktail hour, and Foxy and his wife, Tessa, joined us. They're sponsors of the rally, and gave us discounted Painkillers and lots of raffle prizes (I won a ball cap). We were back on Bravo before dark (6:30), but it was an uncomfortable evening—hot and still, loud music from shore and from another boat, horns blaring from one of the three anchored cruise ships departing, which then triggered responding blasts from the other ships and from boats all over the harbor, and we bumped the mooring ball all through the night—bang, ba-bang, ba-bang. Life in Paradise.

The morning was also hot and windless, so we motored across to Brewer’s Bay, where the snorkeling is good. We both snorkeled the reefs, which did a great job of cooling us off. No loud music or blaring horns, but the wind swung us around all night (our Manson anchor did an incredible job of holding us through all those rotations), and a north swell had built up and wrapped around into the bay, so we were rolling as well as swinging. When the sun rose we could see surf breaking on the reef 100’ from us. Fortunately the anchor came up with no problems, and we motored out into big seas. BIG seas. We started to cross back to Jost (we’ve learned that the locals don't pronounce it “yost,” as we do, but they pronounce the J and give it a short o sound), but thought it might be rolly even inside Little Harbour, so turned downwind and went back to Soper's. What a relief rounding the point at West End and going from the big waves to flat calm! Since Tom hadn't slept much the previous night—he had the sense to be worried about whether the anchor would hold—we ate breakfast and he went back to bed. It was all of 8:30 am at that point.

We stayed at Soper's for another day, and with the wind having calmed down Tom was able to tackle the job of replacing the furler spool. It took 4-1/2 hours, and caused him to assume some very uncomfortable positions hanging over the bow. But no tools or parts were dropped overboard, and it turns out he did a fine job. On the 22nd we had a glorious sail up the Drake Channel, and were photographed by a roving yacht photographer, from whom we bought a stunning shot. We picked up our favorite BEYC mooring—close enough to shore to pick up wifi—but the wifi wasn't projecting that day, and when the charter boat upwind of us swung close enough to fend off and the smoke from their cigars filled our cockpit, we decided to move. As we were getting ready to cast off, Glenn and Elsa Gustafson dinghied up to meet us—they have J-46 #25, Windara, and they suggested we join them over in Biras Creek. We picked up a mooring in Biras, and invited them to come for cocktails, but they had already been invited to another boat. Glenn later came back and said we were also invited to join the party on Wild Daisy, a Swan 53, owned by Nancy and Todd Amberger. Also there were Cheryl and Jim Beck, who have circumnavigated on their Westsail 43. The Swan has two cockpits, and I was directed to the upper cockpit where the females were sitting, while Tom and the other men sat aft in the lower cockpit. I expressed surprise at this division by gender, and they explained that “The guys just talk about volts and amps” (this accompanied by fingers raised in a V and turned down to an A). That was the beginning of a very pleasant evening that extended from cocktails to dinner. Lots of laughs and good stories.

The next morning several of us went snorkeling on the reef between Eustatia and Prickly Pear. In the afternoon Bravo moved to Leverick in order to do laundry.. Jazolo was anchored at Leverick, and Mel and Rob invited us for cocktails. They've continued to have electrical and refrigeration issues. After a while of discussing that, I told about my experience with the women the previous night, and the V and A gender separation. Is it true? It's uncanny.

February 25. By noon the Leverick fuel dock cleared off and we were able to go for our free water and ice. Then back to Biras, where we picked up the same mooring. I say that blithely, as if it's as simple as grabbing a line and pulling it aboard. But this mooring has no line for easy pickup. Instead it has a huge vinyl-covered loop of hawser that's heavy, thick, and impossible to pull up with a boat hook. The first time we used it, Glenn came over in his dinghy to help. This time I had suggested that as we approach it, Tom could get in our dinghy and manipulate our lines through the hawser loop. Nah, he said, we’ll try the usual boat hook approach. After several attempts, a couple of which involved me leaving the helm to go forward to help hold onto the hawser and then to try to loop our line through it, I ended up with a flap of skin ripped open on my forearm. Before allowing any blood to drip on the boat, I got a paper towel, applied pressure, and got back to the helm. Tom then got in the dinghy and did it my way.

Jazolo came into Biras Creek, so we had three J-46s in this little cove! We had both couples for cocktails and made plans for all of us to participate in the Dark and Stormy Regatta in March. A low-key (?!) race from Trellis Bay to Anegada, a lay day for sand sculptures and games, then a pursuit race back to Nanny Cay. The other couples are long-time avid racers, as is Tom. I'm a reluctant racer, but will go for the socializing! And because if my home is going to Anegada, so must I.