Karl was discouraged when we changed watches. While I had flown to the southwest (242 degrees) the wind had softened and he had not made the same progress. We had dreamed of making it to Port Antonio, Jamaica in time to clear customs and get settled in. We might arrive in time to enter the harbor in the light as we would hove to (parking without an anchor) and wait for dawn to enter. I quickly did the math --- if we could make 6-7 knots we could tie up and I often get freshening breezes (stronger winds) in the morning. So, I settled in with my tea to hand steer to make the best of it. Karl has set a virtual buoy atop a shallow area to be avoided where the sea rough be rough uncomfortable of worse. One of those places on the map with a wreck showing – this one occasionally visible. Today I have the terrible kids joke about the Pink Panther and Dead Ants and the theme dead ant dead ant running through my head. The first of my real morning squall brought rain and wind. I am working to remember the best way to get the most out of the squalls. I alter course slightly, still avoiding the ants but align us with the squall line. I used to be terrified of these mornings squally as they can be so tall and full of electricity. The morning sun seems to have subdued the towering clouds but left the wind. At sunrise I watch the tall clouds that framed the sunrise dissipate quickly as the sun rose. If the wind holds, I think we will make Jamaica today and maybe even tie up to the dock.

By 10 am we only have 35 miles left to the entrance buoy to Port Antonio. Landfall is misty blue hill mountains slowly coming out grey clouds that grace them. We roll up the jib (workhorse sail in the front of the boat) and continue under main (the sail behind the mast). We sail past the entrance lighthouse in a gusty 19 knots and begin to smell land – greenery and smoke. As soccer game is underway on the left as we move between the peninsula and an island. We can see the marine. Mr. Edge comes out to meet us. We dock twice once straight in and once backwards. The weather has decided to greet up with a torrential shower. Mr. Edge black uniform is soaking and his untied boots collect water as he secures the boat. We are here.

On to quarantine, immigration and customs and the thickest pile of forms to complete than wait for officials to arrive. We are exhausted but safely here – tropical bird calls and ant avoided.