At 0645 hours, our engine was on, Pete dropped the buoys and I motored away from Bonaire and away from the rising sun. We would return to the island again, in a week's time, with friends, Chase and Natalie, who were waiting for us to join them in Curacao. We put the foresail out on the starboard side, making the most of an early breeze off the land. We passed a new Holland America cruise liner, that was making its way to dock in Bonaire; of interest to us as we have stayed on the old 1950's one, which is now a hotel in Rotterdam. The next point of interest was a pair of pink flamingos flying by us. Bonaire is famous for these birds, which feed on the pink shrimps of the salt ponds, giving them their rich, pink colour. Just before 8am, with the wind having died, we put the engine on. The sea was calm, so I went down below and changed the bedding, before the sun rose too high and made any activity in the cabin too uncomfortable. As we were under engine, we decided to switch on the watermaker and top up the tanks, as we weren't sure what the water quality would be like in Spanish Water, Curacao, it being an inland sea. It turned out to be the right decision. As we left the shelter of Bonaire, the swell picked up and we were surfing down waves of up to 3 metres and picking up speed, although there was still little wind. It was a long time before we could see Curacao, especially the south of the island, as it's very flat. As we closed in, we could see Klein Curacao, about 5 or 6 miles to the south. Along the south of the main island, there was an area for kite surfing and we also passed a few lagoons that almost looked manmade. The north easterly swell disappeared as we had shelter from the land, so I decided to take a shower and wash my hair, using the deck shower, while we had some privacy. A catamaran was coming by, so Pete took some revs off, to slow us down. Once we were both showered, we returned to full speed and headed round towards the entrance to Spanish Water. The Sandals Resort is right at the entrance of the channel into the lagoon. It looked rather nice, despite the manmade beach area. We negotiated the channel, which was quite busy with motorboats and headed for Area B, following the screen shot that Chase had sent to us and at 1345 hours, we dropped anchor, on sand, with 5 metres of water under the keel, not far behind Chase and Natalie, on Benevah. There was no doubt that the hook had gone in and that we would be secure. There was a lot of passing traffic; motor boats of all sizes, trip boats, dinghies and jet skis and some were even cutting through the anchorage. The wakes were rocking the boat and the noise was irritating. Chase came over and invited us for dinner on Benevah, which saved us having to immediately go ashore to buy provisions. We had the prized Hairoun beer, from Saint Vincent, to take with us. It was an enjoyable night and great to catch up again. The traffic died down after dark and back on board, we slept reasonably well despite the wind and rain, at times.
On Sunday morning, we were up relatively early, to catch the bus into Willemstad, to clear in. Pete downloaded the ABC Curacao app, which provides details of the bus stops and timetable. We weren't going to make the next bus but assumed there would be another within the hour, so we took the dinghy to the dock, tied up and locked up and walked up the road to the nearest bus stop. We checked the app and it said 97 minutes to the next bus; damn! There was a coffee bike by the bus stop, so we sat down and had a coffee and a toastie, in the shade, while we waited. Eventually the bus arrived and we paid US$2 each for the ride. The bus went at breakneck speed, frequently slamming the brakes on at bus stops to let people on or off the bus. We had read that the journey took an hour but we were at the bus terminal in less than 30 minutes. Curacao was a Dutch island, so typically, the bus terminal was on the side of a canal. To reach Immigration, we had to keep the canal on our right until we came to the swing footbridge across to the north side. On the way, we passed customs, where we would go after immigration. Willemstad, on both sides of the canal, was stunning, with typically Dutch, colourful buildings, all in immaculate condition. It really was pretty. We crossed the bridge and turned right, went up the hill and located a booth with a security guard. Here we had to show our passports, to be allowed access to the quayside to continue to the immigration office. All visitors to Curacao are required to complete an online immigration form but we had abandoned it as we were unable to complete the fields for airline, flight number and hotel, so we were presented with iPads to complete the forms and advised what to select in the fields that are meaningless to yachties. The lady and man in the office were efficient but helpful and chatty. Immigration complete, we retraced our steps to the customs office. Pete said that Eric was extremely friendly too. We checked the ABC app and there wasn't a bus back to Jan Thiel until 3.30pm, so we took a walk through the streets and squares of Willemstad and stopped at La Boheme for lunch, before returning to the boat. Being the first Sunday after New Year, it was the Faulk, a festival where around 400 boats go to a small, enclosed bay, just outside Spanish Water, anchor and raft up to each other and party like there's no tomorrow. We were happy to have missed it. Chase and Natalie had gone, along with many boats from Spanish Water. With plenty of space, we decided to re-anchor away from the passing traffic. All the boats started to return and the pirate pizza boat tied to a mooring which brought them about as close to us as was comfortable. Next, another boat, full of drunken, noisy passengers pulled alongside and rafted up to the pizza boat and it was dangerously close to us. Pete really wasn't happy. I argued that it couldn't be staying there all night and sure enough, after 20 minutes, all the passengers from the pizza boat moved to the second boat and it left to return everyone to shore. The anchorage became extremely peaceful and there was no wind and we spent a very pleasant evening, in the cockpit, listening to music and had a restful night.
On Monday, we had to return to Willemstad to obtain an anchor permit, as the port authority office had been closed over the weekend. This time, we were at the bus stop in plenty of time to catch the 0750 hours bus and we arrived in town at 0820. We cut across town to the footbridge, only to find it was open and the gates were shut. The free ferry was operating instead, which was rather nice. Once on the north side, we repeated yesterday's route, showed our passports and went to the port authority, which is upstairs in the Pilots building, just beyond Immigration. We completed the forms, paid our dues and had a laugh with the female port officer. Back on the south side, we had breakfast in Cafe Iguana, on the canal side and then visited a couple of jewelery stores to look for watch batteries. P&P offered the service at US$20 each, a bit pricey but it was a classy shop. The staff were great. The 2 guys dealt with the batteries while the lady chatted to us enthusiastically about Manchester United. Unfortunately, Pete's watch was declared defunct but mine was up and running again. We browsed a few shops; well I did, while Pete hung around outside looking impatient. We took a turn down a street and found ourselves in a lovely courtyard, with 3D murals on the walls and a bar, Copa Cabana, offering 3 Caribs for US$10. Pete went for the deal and I had a cappuccino. The enthusiastic proprietor was called Vincent and he sold a variety of beers, as well as cocktails made from different types of Curacao liquor. Pete told him all about Hairoun, which Vincent had never tasted. Pete was 2 beers in when Vincent caught a falling glass and badly cut his fingers. Along with some of his friends, we helped put away all his tables and chairs so he could close up and go to the hospital for stitches. On our next visit here, we found out that he had 6 stitches but only after his friend crashed the car and had all been to the police station. We left the courtyard and ambled through the narrow streets, taking photos of the many murals painted and sculpted on the walls. It was beautiful, colourful and interesting. As there was no bus until after lunchtime, we walked south for 30 minutes, to the Boulevard Market, which we had seen coming and going on the bus. By the time we arrived there, we had 21 minutes until the next bus was due there. We dashed round the supermarket and made it out in 18 minutes but Pete saw the tail end of a bus disappearing down the road. We walked to the bus stop and waited for 15 minutes before determining that the bus had been early and we had missed it. The app said 86 minutes to the next bus. There was a Chinese takeaway nearby, so we went there, sat in the shade and ordered a ribs and chicken meal and a couple of beers. 2 minutes later our 6A bus went sailing by, 20 minutes late, not early. The owner of the takeaway put our fresh food in her fridge, so it wouldn't go off. The size of the meal was ridiculous and could have fed 4 people for lunch. We ate most of the meat and the kimchee but hardly touched the rice or fried potatoes. They went home and fed us for 3 more meals. We retrieved our groceries and walked south to the next bus stop at Mambo Beach and were back on board Muirgen at 1520 hours. Around teatime, a couple of guys fell off a jet ski, while speeding through the anchorage and the jet ski ploughed into the side of the yacht next to us, at 20 knots, causing some damage. The Dutch boat owner was much more cordial with the guys than we would have been. I slept badly, with banging fireworks going off every so often, like canon, making me jump. Pete slept through it all.
On Tuesday morning, we moved again, anchoring away from the pizza boat and closer to the dock but well away from the passing traffic, although the traffic was much reduced on weekdays and the anchorage therefore a lot more pleasant. Pete topped up the diesel tank and then went to the fuel dock to fill up the diesel cans and the outboard fuel. I stayed on board and did some banking and updated my cashflow forecast (once an accountant....). In the afternoon, we took the dinghy to T14 bar by the 'beach' and had drinks with Chase and Natalie, Adam and Beverley, from yacht Blu and Mitch and Avie from Miocene, a cat. Everyone had been monitoring the weather for onward travel. We had decided to head back to Bonaire on Friday, which Benevah was also doing and the others were also leaving Friday but for Aruba. Pete and I walked across the wasteland to the swimming beach and had a dip and then went to Brisa Bar for bitteballen, which is a Dutch drinking snack and a drink. I was in bed before 8pm, tired after having no sleep the previous night. Overnight it was eerily calm, with not a breath of wind or a slapping wave.
Early on Wednesday morning, while Pete was still sleeping, I emailed Santa Marta marina (Colombia) and Nanajuana marina (Guatemala) to provisionally book places for our trip. I rechecked the weather forecast and decided that Friday was still the best day to head back east to Bonaire. The winds were dropping and the swell would be at its lowest on Friday. Within no time, we had a reply from Santa Marta and there was a lot of information and documents that we needed to send them, so we set off to find out what was over the hill to the northwest. We knew there was a supermarket, Van Den Tweel but there must be other shops and bars, as the bus route went there. A bar or cafe would be a good place to sort out the response to Santa Marta. What we found, over the hill, was Papagaya Beach, a number of shops, bars and restaurants, the supermarket and plenty of hotels and upmarket resorts. It was all very modern, clean and tidy but still had plenty of charm. We sat down in Mojitos and Snacks, overlooking the beach and infinity saltwater pool, for coffee and worked through the list. With that chore completed, we paid a visit to the supermarket, which was a great store, of the like we haven't seen in the Caribbean. It stocked lots of European brands and was about a third the price of Bequia. On the way home, we took a right turn to cut off a corner but found ourselves at a dead end so, rather than retrace our steps, we took a shortcut down a dry storm drain. After lunch, Pete snoozed on deck for a couple of hours. Chase came over for beers around 7.30pm and we had a late dinner before bed. During the night, a French yacht arrived and anchored beside us and had a very annoying strobe as an anchor light, disturbing my sleep once again.
Thursday, before Pete awoke, I reviewed the weather forecast and completed the Sailclear online submissions for our departure from Curacao and our arrival in Bonaire. We caught the 9.05am bus to Willemstad and visited customs, followed by immigration, to clear out. Again everyone was very friendly and chatty. We stopped at Steve and Friends, for bitteballen and then bought a bottle of gin at a liquor store, before visiting Vincent at Copa Cabana. Pete gave him his last bottle of Hairoun. On the way home, the bus was stuck in a traffic jam, which turned out to be a serious road accident and had to turn around and take a different route. After an hour, we eventually disembarked at Van Den Tweel to buy provisions. There we found that the plastic lid on the gin bottle had broken and all of our documents were soaked in gin. We walked back to the boat, carrying the bags of shopping, as we knew there would be no bus anytime soon. Chase and Natalie had left Spanish Bay to go to Klein Curacao for the night and Blu and Miocene had also departed. We laid all the documents and passports out on the starboard side bunk to dry out and prepared for our early departure next morning, lifting the outboard and dinghy, taking down the anchor ball and the Yorkshire flag ad removing the sail covers. I set the alarm for 6am but we agreed that we would leave earlier, in the dark, if we were both awake. That set the scene for me to have another sleepless night, looking at the moon and trying to ignore the strobe next door.

The ABCs are the islands of Aruba, Bonaire and Curacao, which lie 500 miles west of the Windward Islands, off the north coast of Venezuela. Until recently, the ABCs belonged to the Netherlands but they now have their independence and are three separate countries, although they retain strong ties with Holland. Venezuela is now a no go country and boats that stray too close are open to being boarded by pirates. Not long before Christmas, a catamaran anchored off a small island belonging to Venezuela, was boarded, resulting in a fight. The skipper managed to throw the man overboard, lift the anchor and motor into a rough sea, leaving the pirate boat behind. Other than Los Roques, a group of tiny islands and sandbars, which is extremely expensive to visit, working out at around US$850 for up to a week's stay, there is nowhere safe to land. Long passages are not my favourite part of sailing, so I wasn't particularly looking forward to making this 500 trip. If we managed 5.5 mph, it would take us 4 days and 4 nights to reach Bonaire. It takes me a good while to get into the rhythm of 3 hour watches, so I end up tired and irritable.
On Monday the 30th December, having checked the weather again, we decided to depart Bequia on New Year's Eve, meaning we would miss the festivities and fireworks. It was a shame but a smoother passage would be worth it. The forecast was favourable and waiting another day may mean we encountered strong winds and rain on approach to the ABCs. We filled up with diesel, petrol for the dinghy, provisioned for the final time and did the rounds to say our goodbyes to all the people we had met in Bequia. First stop was Rendez Vous bar, for a final beer with Maro and Tita. Having spoken to Chase, now in Curacao, who said the beer there was expensive, we went to the beer warehouse and purchased 48 bottles (2 crates) of Hairoun. John, of John and Darcie, was there, so we exchanged hugs with him. At 4pm, we headed to Open Deck, for happy hour, bidding farewell to Sam & Adrian, John, Nick and Debbie, before returning to the boat for a quick swim and a shower. Our final stop was Laura's for dinner, our favourite restaurant in Bequia and probably in the Caribbean. We had a glass of wine too many, enjoying sitting at the bar, chatting with the barman, waitress and the owner, before saying bye. On the dinghy dock, outside the Plantation, we encountered an English couple who couldn't get their engine started, so we towed the back to their boat. Back at Muirgen, I climbed out of the dinghy before a large swell came side on, tipping Pete backwards into the sea. He climbed out via the swim ladder and then promptly fell in again while retrieving our waterproof bag. Apparently, it was all my fault! We set the alarm and went to bed, sleeping the sleep of the just (or the slightly drunk).
Customs and Immigration open at 8.30am, so we were in town by 0815 to clear out. I left Pete in the short queue and went to dispose of the rubbish. When I returned, the grills were up but the desks weren't open. A French skipper was complaining, so the staff turned away and carried on chatting, delaying opening for another 5 minutes. By 9am we were done and returned to the boat to lift and secure the dinghy and engine and complete our preparations for departure. At 0948 hours we started the engine, then lifted the anchor and motored out of the anchorage, passing by Nessa V to wave goodbye to Sara and Nigel. Bang on 10am, the foresail was out and the engine was switched off. Once we cleared the headlands of Bequia, the swell settled down and we had a pleasant, downwind sail for 3 hours, with 14 to 16 knots of wind from the ENE and averaged 6mph. The weather was partly cloudy, so it wasn't too hot either. The wind started to drop and come directly behind us, so we poled out the gib on the port side and raised the cruising shute on the starboard side for a few hours. Just before dark, we snubbed the cruising shute and removed the whisker pole from the gib, as we were going to need to motor for a while to keep the speed up and the batteries charged. The wind turbine is less effective when sailing downwind, especially in light airs and the solar panels don't operate so well with cloud. The you have to factor in the increased hours of darkness, at this latitude, compared to the UK and Europe. Unfortunately, while rolling away the gib, Pete caught his best Italian Dematsu watch on the guardrail and it popped off and into the 2800 metre deep water. We now picture a giant octopus trying to remember which tentacle he is wearing it on.
We settled into a routine of eating samosas for lunch, pork in some form or other for dinner, Callilou soup during the night and anything we could grab for breakfast, interspersed with hard boiled eggs or ginger biscuits for snacks. Pete had a couple of small beers each day, while I had a G&T before going to bed, ahead of my first watch. We had agreed that I would do my night watches from 10pm to 1pm and then 4am to 7am, as I wanted to see the sun rise, so I went to bed at around 8pm, to try and catch forty winks. With a rolling sea, the swell having picked up and the engine on, I didn't do more then rest my eyes and I was up and ready for my watch at 2140 hours. We turned the engine off and deployed the gib before Pete went to bed. We had a bottle of prosecco in the fridge, as it was New Year's Eve but decided that the conditions weren't appropriate for drinking it at midnight. My first night watch was uneventful. There was no moon but I could determine the horizon in all directions, except behind me, as there was light pollution from Grenada to the south, which reflected off the clouds. Every 15 minutes, I completed a 360 degree check for navigation lights on other vessels but saw nothing at all. Pete took over at 1am, we said 'happy new year' and after filling in the log book, I went to bed, where I dozed on and off. Pete left me in bed for an extra 90 minutes, as he said I was actually asleep at 4am. A bit earlier, he had come down below to investigate a bang, followed by strange noises. He thought something had fallen onto the floor and put his hand out to feel around. He was surprised to come into contact with a wriggling, flying fish which had evidently managed to fly in through the starboard side window, hit the cupboard opposite and land on the galley floor. I must have been sleeping as I missed this event. I am glad the fish didn't come from a slightly different direction, or it would have been with me in my bunk.
I didn't really see the sun rise on New Year's Day, as it was hidden by low cloud but at least it started to get daylight early in my watch. I left Pete to sleep for as long as he liked. At 0825 an oil tanker appeared on the horizon and on AIS, name of Montestina, heading to Vejot. I put on our AIS transmitter, previously switched off so we couldn't be seen by pirates but I wanted this ship to know we were there. It was the first ship we had seen and it passed behind us, almost a mile away, heading south. I pointed it out to Pete when he surfaced half an hour later. Our speed had dropped overnight but the winds freshened with the rising sun and we were soon up to 6.5 mph. After 24 hours, we had covered 135.2 miles, averaging 5.63 mph, so we were on schedule so far.
I hadn't been in bed long when Pete called me up to the cockpit as we had dolphins alongside the boat, which is always a magical experience. They like to play in the bow wave but we weren't going fast enough so they soon lost interest. They returned again about 45 minutes later, just for a few minutes. Other than that, day 2 was uneventful, with no ships and no surprises until we put the engine on in the early evening. It ran for a short while and then the overheating alarm went off. Pete checked the engine while I kept watch. Clouds of dark steam came out of the engine box when he removed the companionway stairs and there was antifreeze in the bilge. He topped it up and ran the engine, in neutral, on low revs so the fan would cool the engine down. When he was happy, we started to motorsail again, just for an hour, touching speeds of 7.8 mph. I went to bed. Suddenly, Pete came down below and said, 'We have company' and he turned off our navigation lights and proceeded to watch the other vessel through the binoculars. It wasn't yet close enough to be picked up by AIS. I went up to the cockpit, concerned at the potential danger. As the vessel came closer, we could see lighted windows but these were obscuring the navigation lights. Eventually I determined that it was either a small cruise ship or a large private motor yacht, so I put our navigation lights back on, along with the AIS transmitter, until the ship had passed. At 10pm, when I came on watch, we brought in the sail and put the engine back on, as the voltage in the batteries was dropping again. Pete pointed out that we had a feathered friend catching a ride on the solar panels. Tonight, I had the smallest slither of a new moon. Under engine and with a big following sea, I felt like I was on a rollercoaster, as did the bird, which eventually fell off with a disgruntled croak. It tried to land again but couldn't. Its underbelly glowed white in the light from our stern light and it was quite a large bird. As it flew low, I could see it was dark coloured on the upper side of its wings, so it was probably a booby. During my watch, I had up to 3 boobies landing on the spreaders and then a pair of terns landed on the A frame. One slid off and ended up hanging onto the backstay and all the while they chattered to each other, or was it to me? I had an on and off conversation with them, which passed some of the time. It can get lonely, doing a 3 hour watch, alone in the dark. At 1am, Pete came on watch and I handed over the relationship with the terns. Back on my watch, we put out the gib again to sail. The birds had all left us, having taken their rest. The wind and swell was building and around 6am I registered 9.9 mph, speed over the ground (SOG), as we surfed down a big roller and at 0630 we were hit by a squally shower, which was mercifully short. At just before 7.30am, we had to gibe the foresail, putting the sail on the starboard side, as we were pointing too high, with the wind coming round to the ESE. Usually we would be slower with the sail on this side but the wind gradually picked up to 20 mph and our speed increased with it.
By 1000 hours, with 48 hours of the passage completed, we had covered 290.3 miles, an average of 6mph, so we were comfortably ahead of schedule. If we maintained this average, we would arrive 8 hours early, in the dark. However, it was too soon to think about slowing down, with another 200 miles to cover. We were aiming for Curacao but had the option to stop in at Bonaire, 30 or so miles closer and pick up a mooring buoy, if we were early. We might even manage that in the dark.
Day 3 was a day with stronger winds and bigger seas and we were sailing at 7.2 to 7.6 mph and were getting excited about the small possibility of arriving in Bonaire on day 4, even if it was in the dark. We needed to maintain our speed, . It was another uneventful day, with no sightings of ships or other sailboats, just endless, rolling waves, flying fish and mostly cloudy skies. Then, at 1915, just after starting the engine, the alarm went off again, as I was settling down in bed. I returned to the cockpit to keep watch while Pete investigated the engine issue. He topped up the coolant again. He could see that the water from the inlet valve wasn't moving i.e. it wasn't travelling through the system. Perhaps there was a blockage in the inlet pipe. There was no way that Pete could go over the side and under the boat, with mask and snorkel to check, as it was dark and the waves were running at around 3 metres. Pete closed the valve and disconnected the hose to the engine and cut a piece of hose to back-pressure the filter, to try to blow out whatever might be blocking the pipe. Pete put his mouth over the pipe to blow, while I opened the valve and then quickly closed it again when he ran out of puff. We repeated the exercise several time, before reconnecting the hoses. The chamber filled with water but it still wasn't moving. The batteries were too low to continue to run the autohelm, so we would need to steer the boat manually all night, taking an hour at a time each. It would be stressful and tiring, with such big waves behind us and sailing at over 7mph. Pete would go first as it was his watch, so I returned to my bunk. I was hyped up on adrenalin, so wasn't going to be able to sleep. 20 minutes later, as I lay overthinking the issue, Pete had a Eureka moment; could it be the impeller? Out of bed again, to assist. The engine was still hot, so care was needed to remove the metal cap and the o-ring from the impeller. We shone the head torch into the small space and 'bingo' the impeller was pretty much shredded. Pete cleaned out all the debris and used some washing up liquid to help push the new impeller into place, followed by the o-ring, then the cap. I went to start the engine, on low revs initially and then up to 1600 rpm and everything was fine. We were both very relieved. It was now 2030 hours and I hadn't had my rest, so we rescheduled the 3 hour watches to start now and I returned to my bunk. I still couldn't sleep, so at 11pm I took over the watch from Pete, turning off the engine, to sail. The moon was ever so slightly fuller tonight although well on its way to setting. The sky was clear and filled with a million stars and there was phosphorescence sparkling in the waves breaking against the side of the boat. It was absolutely beautiful; the best night sailing I have had. As I did my 360 degree lookouts, I saw many shooting stars, so I wished for no more untoward events in the remainder of our passage. Unfortunately I had to put the engine back on after an hour, which somewhat spoiled the experience. For the last 30 minutes of my watch, I turned the engine off, so I could have the beautiful peace before going to bed. At 2am I went down to fill in the log and Pete was gently snoring, so I returned to the cockpit for another 30 minutes. If only every night watch was like this one. Pete took over the watch at 0230 hours and I slept, at last. The boat wasn't rolling in the swell and there was no engine noise and I felt content. When I rose, the daylight was coming, although the sun hadn't risen. Pete said he had seen one ship and that there may also be a yacht or other small boat in the distance behind us. At 0750 hours, I spotted a sail on the horizon behind us but slightly to the south. It seemed to be slowly catching us but then turned north and slowly disappeared. We were slowing down, as the wind had dropped and Pete suggested poling out the gib and letting out the cruising shute. He was up on the foredeck and ready to go when I noticed that the dark clouds that had been more to the south were now coming up behind us, so we aborted the manoeuvre and Pete returned to the cockpit. Within minutes, the wind picked up, being pushed by the rain and at 10am we were hit by a torrential downpour and winds up to 30 mph. Pete stayed in the cockpit, under the sprayhood and I went below to keep dry. With the wind behind us, we had to put the washboards in and it became uncomfortably hot in the saloon. I was overheating and feeling light-headed. When the rain eased, I had to go up for air and it took a while to cool down and recover. The other yacht had presumably decided to head north to avoid the squall but it probably still caught it. At 10am, after 3 days of sailing, we had covered 450 miles and were well on course to arrive in Bonaire before dark, having decided to head straight there, via the south of the island, as we would definitely have arrived in Curacao under darkness. We had been continually gybing, as the wind was directly behind us and so we decided, at 1145 hours, to motorsail the remaining way to Bonaire. We could see land to the north but not the flat lands on the south of the island but eventually we could make out the light on the end. We could also see the other yacht, heading towards us from the north. The swell really picked up as we approached the end of the island and the depths changed rapidly from over 500m to 180 metres but it settled quickly as we came in shelter of the reefs by the kite-surfing area. It was time to have a shower and wash my hair and get the salt spray off. We slowed to let a catamaran pass and then ambled along while we showered in the cockpit. Once clean and dry, we rounded the southwest point and headed north towards Klein Bonaire and Kralendjik, where the mooring buoys are. We reefed the foresail, as we approached a wind line and then put the sail away as the Swedish yacht motored by. At 1615, we picked up a white buoy, just north of Pier Dos, a bar / restaurant that overlooks the sea. With everything switched off, Pete corked the bottle of prosecco and we celebrated the New Year and the end of our passage. We had covered 477.2 miles (in a straight line, so probably more like 500) in 76 hours, averaging 6.28mph. Then Peter, from Ocean Deva, who we had met last year, came over in his dinghy to tell us we were on a private mooring and needed to move to one of the moorings with 2 red and white buoys attached. Even with a glass of prosecco inside us, we managed it first time. We were so close to Pier Dos now that we could have shouted an order across the water. However, we were staying on the buoy overnight under the yellow flag, so could not go ashore. We finished the prosecco and had instant pasta carbonara for tea, sharing a bottle of red wine. It stayed light until 7pm, an hour later than in the Windies, which was lovely and then there were fireworks. At 8pm we went to bed and slept soundly all night. The boat barely rocked. About 0230 hours we could hear the Dutch singing drinking songs in a bar but it didn't keep us awake for long. At first light, we would be away to Curacao.

With friends departed, it was time to settle into a rhythm in Bequia, which would include shopping, garbage disposal and a morning or lunchtime drink, on most days. Additionally, there would be trips to the chandlery, the sailmaker, laundry and hardware shop, as deemed necessary and visits to various establishments for happy hours. On Monday, 2nd December, we located another sailmaker, Alick and discussed the required sun covers with him, as it seemed unlikely that Grenadine Sails were going to have time to fit our order in. Having shopped and considered that eating out may actually be cheaper than buying fruit and vegetables from the local stallholders, we returned to the boat to create a plan, with measurements for the sun covers, which Alick had said he could do by the end of the week. Being Monday, we had an alcohol and meat free day, enjoying cheese on toast for lunch and aubergine and mozzarella with tomatoes for tea. The wind picked up in the afternoon and we had gusts up to 35 mph all through the night. This would be the state of the weather for another couple of weeks, making it difficult to sleep, just due to the noise. Everyone said that the Christmas winds had arrived early. After a few nights, we decided to close the hatches, which reduced the wind noise but had to put on the fans to keep ourselves comfortable. Each evening, we would also lift the dinghy and engine, to prevent it banging on the back of the boat and also reduce growth on her bottom.
On Tuesday, we took our plan to Alick and negotiated a price of 2800 EC, then went to the bank to withdraw cash for the 50% deposit. We visited, for the first time, the upbeat bar on the corner, opposite the ferry dock, for juice (me) and beer (Pete). It was cheap here, in Rendez Vous, with great, friendly service and a toilet, though we learned to take our own paper. This would become a fairly regular part of our routine and Pete came to know the bar lady, Maro, quite well. Tuesday evenings are for happy hour, 5.30 to 7pm, at the Plantation Hotel. All drinks are half price and there's a husband and wife, Jan and Louis, playing jazz on keyboards and sax. The pizzas here are delicious, so we would share a 14" with 50/50 toppings. We met people from Minnesota and Idaho, on our first visit and went with Andy and Irene (Saracen) on the second occasion. Then we were joined by their fellow Scots, Angela, Mike, son Ben and daughter Annelise.
On Wednesday morning at 8am, we remembered to listen to the cruiser net on VHF channel 68. It's on every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, providing updates on the weather, social events, information for cruisers and treasures of the bilge. Later, the net broadcast days would change to Tuesday to Friday, as the anchorage became busier. With the strong winds, the wind turbine was really coming into its own, with the batteries on float before 9am in each morning, when the sun was hardly reaching the solar panels. This allowed us to make water whenever we fancied, ensuring that the system was in regular use. Today was a day for chores, with Pete polishing the steel work while I dusted and cleaned the saloon, galley and heads. In the afternoon, we had a visit from Sean and Zak, 2 American guys, sailing a 35 foot British built yacht. They always seem to anchor at the outer edge of the anchorage and they told us it's because their engine has failed, so they have to sail in to anchor. Later that evening, Zak returned with a lobster for us. It was huge and barely fit in the bucket.
On Thursday lunchtime, we met John and Darcey, an American couple, in Rendez Vous. They had sailed here for years but had now sold the boat and bought a home in Lower Bay. John still does the morning cruiser net, one day a week. We chatted about sailing standards and Darcey said she was still being annoyed by her pet hate, boats with strobe lights, as she could see them flashing from her terrace at home. We spent another 80 dollars in Dockside Marine, buying lines and clips for our new sun covers and went home, to Muirgen, to make lobster thermidor for tea. The gusty wind continued through the night and then suddenly dropped, at 4am and all was weirdly calm. Then came the torrential rain but the winds did not pick up again.
Friday 6th December we bought a string of fairy lights for the boat, picked up and paid for our sun covers and collected our laundry. Note that the cheapest place for laundry, at 25 EC per load, washed and dried, is behind the church, on the upper level of the blue building. Everywhere else it's 40EC. Today we also found frozen samosas in Knight's Trading, available in beef, chicken, conch, fish or 2 types of vegetables. Over the next few weeks we would try all of them except conch and all were very good, gently baked in the oven, as deep fat frying isn't practical on board. The fish were jumping all around the boat and Pete hooked a jack on his second cast but had no further luck after that. We put up our new rear awning, which had an immediate impact, creating lovely shade in the cockpit. At happy hour, we went to Mac's for drinks, so I could take advantage of the 10 EC cocktail, Paradise Passion.
On Saturday morning, we treated ourselves to breakfast at Sugar and Spice (open daily from 7.30 am to 7.30pm, including Christmas Day). I had a croque monsieur and Pete had the blueberry magic smoothy. Then we had a call from Mark, back in York, to say that Dale was just pulling in on the ferry from Saint Vincent and wanted to meet up with us for a coffee, before he and his friends climbed Ma Peggy. We hadn't met Dale before but know his wife, Jane and many of his friends in York. Back on board, we strung up the Christmas lights and fitted the sun awning on the starboard side, where the sun comes from early in the day. Around 3pm, we met Dale and his friends for a beer. They had enjoyed their walk up the hill and shared their photos of the views from the top. We ate the jack for tea, with chips.
On Sunday morning, we noticed that Andy and Irene had arrived, on Saracen but we didn't bump into them until the following day. We headed ashore for lunch, planning to go to the Fig Tree, where we could listen to the man with the electric violin. However, the lunch menu was pretty basic, so we left and walked around the bay, eventually reaching Open Deck, on the north west side, about 2 miles from where we had docked the dinghy at Jack's. The restaurant was empty and we weren't sure whether they were open, as they like you to book in advance. Pete called out and a young man came to serve us. He brought us beer and said they could do us a pizza, lobster, chicken or vegetable. 30 minutes later, we were served a massive, freshly made chicken and onion pizza, which was delicious and not expensive. We chatted with the restaurant owner, Daffodil, who was lovely and she insisted on us being taken back to Jack's in their laundry boat. From Jack's Bar, we walked the length of Princess Margaret's Beach (so called because she went topless there) to The Original Lion's Den, owned by Lennox. There we met Rob, from South Africa, who we would see almost daily, from then on, in Sugar and Spice, where we often had tea or breakfast, chatting with Rob, his young daughter, Mona and Lars, from Sweden, who we had met here last season. At 5pm, we motored over to Saracen to have sundowners and catch up with Andy and Irene.
On Monday (9th Dec) Pete started his quest to catch a red snapper. The winds had eased somewhat, along with the swell, so Pete took the dinghy over to the reef, to the north west of the bay, to trawl with his fishing rod. He was soon back, having had a bite but the fish had taken his lure. He returned with a bigger rod and had bites but didn't catch anything. He decided that the fish didn't like the metal lure and would drop it as soon as they touched it. Today, we had a roti for the first time on Bequia, visiting the little food bar opposite Knight's, as recommended by Darcey. The beef roti was fabulous. The lady also makes her own juices, sorrel being my favourite. On Sunday, we had walked by the beer warehouse, so for the first time of many, we headed there to buy Hairoun by the crate. With 15 bottles to return, the cost for a crate of 24 beers was 76 EC. On subsequent visits, with a full crate of empties, the price would fall to 71 EC, much cheaper than the 5.50 a bottle in the shops. Tonight it was calm, with a lovely sunset, making for a pleasant evening in the cockpit.
Tuesday was Christmas shopping day (online), to buy presents for our niece, Kyla and I was finished by 0730. We had fallen into the rhythm of early nights and early mornings, to match the daylight hours of the Caribbean. We found the fishing supplies shop and bought some new squid lures with tracers on, in the hope they would prove more successful. At 5.30pm, we met Andy and Irene at the Plantation for half price drinks and a pizza and were joined by Mike and Angela, their son, Ben and 10 year old daughter, Annelise, whose yacht is also registered in Ardrossan and was previously moored across from Saracen.
Wednesday was a change from the norm, other than Pete failing to get a bite when he went fishing, just after dawn. We met Andy and Irene at Jack's Bar, at 11am and set off to walk to and climb Ma Peggy, the highest point on the island. The route took us up the road behind the beach and over the hill towards Adams Bay, with views of Friendship Bay along the way. After a couple of miles, we turned right up a ridiculously steep driveway for 150 metres. We then proceeded slowly upwards, across scrubland, taking occasional shade from trees. The last kilometre to the top was quite rocky, passing through bushes and small trees, becoming steeper until we eventually emerged on the pinnacle known as Ma Peggy. The views were spectacular, out to Mustique, Baliceaux and Carriacou to the south and over Admiral Bay and Port Elizabeth, with all the anchored yachts, to the north. There were some beautiful, large butterflies around, including cream and black zebras and an orange and black species. We feasted on hard boiled eggs, crisps and ginger biscuits, before starting the descent, retracing our steps for a time, before making a left turn to head towards Lower Bay. The route followed the almost dry bed of a rocky stream and required a lot of scrambling and hanging onto tree branches to swing from place to place or steady yourself down the steep hillside. We made a right turn and came out on the road, which was also so steep you needed to walk down sideways. Eventually we arrived at Keegan's Bar, in Lower Bay, where we had a beer before walking back to Princess Margaret's Beach and collecting our dinghies from Jack's. The walk was 9km and had taken 3 hours, with the stop. It had been very enjoyable and well worth the effort.
Overnight, there was an uncomfortable swell coming into the bay, due to some north in the wind and the boat rolled from 2am, keeping us awake. Eventually we slept from 0530 and didn't wake until 0815. We picked up the anchor and moved further inshore, anchoring off the walkway, just south of the Plantation. Pete cleaned the boat bottom and I snorkelled to check the anchor, which was wedged around and under a rocky ledge. A British couple, on a small Gibsea called Twenty Twenty brought us a nice piece of tuna, having caught a large one as they sailed over from Mustique. We had a little as carpaccio, before tea. There was a fire, over the hill, sending clouds of acrid, black smoke into our part of the bay and as we sat in the cockpit, clouds of tiny, black flies landed on Pete and his side of the boat. Sitting on the port side, I had no flies at all. Pete headed to bed early, with me following soon after. Around 9pm, I could hear very loud karaoke and the singers weren't very good. I assumed the noise was coming from Jack's Bar but it turned out to be coming from the north side of the bay and everyone, on every boat in the bay could hear it. It went on until 2.30am, with the quality of the singing getting worse, as the singers became more drunk. Within 10 minutes of it ending, the boat turned side on to the swell and the rolling started and continued all night, so there was no sleep for me. It was bad moods all round next morning.
I changed the bedding and Pete went off lobster hunting with Andy, Irene, Rob, Mike and Ben but they caught nothing and then we all went ashore for 'doubles', which are supposed to be delicious but the sauce is made with chickpeas, so I declined to try one. We had samosas on board and then went to Saracen for an afternoon of Mexican Train dominoes. At last we had a calm night and I went out like a light at 8pm and slept for 11 hours with very few waking moments.
Saturday was very wet, with rain all day until 4pm, when we went ashore to Cheri's Rooftop Terrace for tacos and mojitos, her Saturday afternoon special. Then it was down to Rendez Vous to await the big Christmas lights switch on. We sat with Mike, Angela and the kids and met Julia and her dad, who were visiting Bequia for a few days. There was music on the stage and the rum punch was flowing. It was 11pm by the time we were back on board, for another good night's sleep.
On Sunday, everyone went swimming down in Lower Bay. The beach is steep and being full moon tonight, the waves were crashing up the beach, making it hard to get out without getting your swimwear full of sand. I avoided that by getting Pete to pick me up in the dinghy, after he relaunched it from the beach. Back on board, we had a WhatsApp video call with Steven and Joanna, who had landed in Barbados and would be flying over to Saint Vincent the following morning. We arranged to meet them off the Bequia Express ferry, at 5pm. We had the fresh tuna for tea.

We departed Saline Bay, Mayreau just before 0700 hours and raised the sails in the next bay, where we had room to go head to wind. We had a single reef in the mainsail, in anticipation of the acceleration zone off the top of the island. We had 25 miles to sail to Bequia and the wind direction wasn't too bad. If we were lucky, we might make it on a single tack. The swell was down from yesterday and the day before too, so all in all, it was a comfortable sail, at anything from 5 to 9 mph, boat speed. At 10am, we had a bite on the fishing line, which we were trawling. Pete brought the line in to investigate and found big teeth marks on both sides of the metal lure. It seemed that the fish had let go as soon as it realised the lure wasn't a fish. Damn! We had a couple of short, sharp showers on approach to Bequia, with the usual gusty wind but nothing too horrible. We put the engine on and dropped the sails just before the southwest headland and turned directly head to wind and waves, to motor the 2 miles into Admiralty Bay. This was the slowest part of the journey by far. We located Magic Pelagic and anchored on their inside, on a large sand patch, with 4.5 metres under the keel. We laid 25 metres of chain. 15 minutes later, there was a massive storm, with torrential rain, violent winds and thunder. How lucky was that! Paul and Tracey arrived alongside in their dinghy, having been in town where they had worried that we were caught out in the storm. The rain continued all afternoon, relenting just in time for the 4 of us to go to Jack's Bar for happy hour, at 5pm and catch up on news from the last few days. We were welcomed with cold, lemony towels, which was a nice touch but the staff weren't overly friendly and the bar was quiet and lacking atmosphere this evening. The weather remained dry overnight but with gusty winds.
It was Thanksgiving in the US but the Caribbean Islands had their Thanksgiving a few weeks earlier, so everything was open for business as usual in Bequia. We dinghied ashore early to have tea and juice at a bar, so we could use the toilet. Pete had decided that, given how well the anchor was in, he didn't want to have to move, meaning using the toilet with the holding tank wasn't an option. I would have to regulate my bowels to trips ashore. Lovely! Next stop was the chandlery, where we bought a new, longer lock, which would go through the engine and fuel tank, on the dinghy, as well as locking the dinghy to the dock. Then it was on to the supermarket to get cash back on our return beer bottles (50 cents per bottle), before walking over the hill to the sailmakers, to get quotes for dinghy chaps (sun covers to protect from the UV) and sun screens for the boat, which would provide more shade in the cockpit. Unfortunately they had a backlog of orders and thought it would be difficult to squeeze in the sun covers, although the dinghy chaps might be possible, given we were staying in Bequia until after New Year. We bumped into Rick at the bank and then his girlfriend, Barbara, in Knight's supermarket, so agreed to meet them for a drink at Whaleboner around 3.30pm. We bought frozen red snapper from the fish merchant and some very expensive, home grown spinach from a market stall. 40 EC for the snapper, 25 EC for the spinach but both should feed us for 2 days. Being Friday, we called at the tourist information office for the latest What's On guide for the coming week. Back on board, we set to making water, had a lovely swim and fixed a few bits and pieces with some sikaflex that Paul had going to waste. We agreed to meet Tracey and Paul at the Plantation for drinks at 4.30pm. When we arrived, slightly late after going to Whaleboner, we were told that all drinks were half price for happy hour, so Tracey and I ordered Mojito's. 5 minutes later, the waitress returned to say she was mistaken and there was no happy hour tonight, so we got up to leave. She said the cocktails had already been made but didn't offer to let us have them at half price, so we left and went to a little bar on Princess Margaret's Beach. Back on board, the red snapper, spinach and sauteed potatoes were delicious. Overnight, the wind was strong and extremely gusty, keeping us awake. At 4am everything went suddenly calm, like someone had flicked a switch; bizarre!
On Saturday, we were going out for an early dinner, with Paul and Tracey but met up mid-afternoon to walk along Princess Margaret Beach, over the hill, via a marked trail, then along Lower Bay beach, where we had a beer at Petra's. Retracing our steps, we called in at Da Reef for a drink and found this bar to be much cheaper. Going back over the hill, we all ended up stepping in wet cow muck, as there was no way to avoid it on the path. At least we could wash feet and flipflops in the sea, before walking along the waterside walkway through Belmont. The Fig Tree was closed and Mac's wasn't opening until Monday, so options were limited, despite it being a Saturday evening. We ended up at Frangipani, with the guys having lobster in garlic butter and the girls having Thai red chicken curry. To be fair, although the service was terribly slow, the food was very good. We returned to Muirgen to share a bottle of wine and we all slept well.
Sunday heralded a new month, so my first job was to do some banking and update my cashflow forecast (ever the accountant). We ran the watermaker until the tank was full and then went to the Fig Tree for a cuppa. There was morning entertainment, with a trendy, young man playing great tunes on his electric violin. In the afternoon, we experienced some strong, southerly winds, which was unusual and the boat turned round 180 degrees. As yachts were coming in to the anchorage and anchoring based on this wind, there was potential for trouble later, when the boats swung back to their prevailing position. A rather large, probably £1 million yacht, which was a French skippered charter, anchored close by us, giving us cause for concern, as we were swinging differently and often coming quite close together. During the late evening, the yacht moved to the outer edge of the anchorage, so the skipper must have become concerned too. We met Paul and Tracey for happy hour at Jack's, locking the dinghy to the dock. When we returned, Pete realised he had left our keys on the boat, so Paul had to give him a lift back to retrieve them. It was another very windy and gusty night on board, with lots of rock and roll.
When we surfaced, on Monday morning, next door's dinghy was upside down, with the outboard engine under the water, having flipped over in the overnight wind. Pete shouted over, as they were sitting in their cockpit totally oblivious. Paul and Tracey dropped by on their way to clear out with customs and immigration, as they were leaving for Cumberland Bay, Saint Vincent today. We were due on Pawikan at 10am, to have coffee with our new Danish friends, Henryk and Dorte before they also departed Bequia, for Saint Vincent. We discussed Guatemala, as they were considering it for next season. We said our goodbyes, then headed towards town, crossing dinghies with Paul and Tracey, such that we were able to say goodbye a final time. It was unlikely we would see them again for a long time, as our plans wouldn't coincide this season and we wouldn't be back in the UK at the same time either. We would miss spending time with them. Now we were alone in Bequia but probably not for long, this being an extremely popular place.

Having anchored and with the strong winds, I stayed on board while Pete went to clear in, in Clifton. He took the dinghy ashore in Ashton. The dinghy dock had gone, courtesy of the hurricane, so he left the dinghy on the beach, where 2 guys at a bar would look after it. They told Pete that the bus should come by, so he didn't need to walk up into town. Despite it being only just after 9am, they persuaded him to have a beer while he waited. The bus didn't come, so the bartender, Julio, ordered a taxi, saying it would only be 10 EC. Sure enough, it was only 10 EC, even though the driver waited the 30 minutes it took Pete to visit customs and immigration. Pete gave him 20 EC. More beers were drunk on return to the bar and Pete decided to donate his spear gun to Julio. We needed to be rid of it before reaching Colombia, where they are illegal. For the 2 hours Pete was away, I watched the kite surfers, as well as keeping a careful eye on the anchor holding. There were no problems, fortunately. We lifted the dinghy and engine and had a fast (7 mph +), downwind sail west, towards Chatham Bay, dropping the sail and motoring round the headland and into the bay. We anchored, in sand, with 2.8 metres of water under the keel. Chatham Bay remains beautiful but all of the bars have gone and the boutique hotel, with pool was in the process of being rebuilt. Rumour has it, that the bay will only house the hotel in future, ensuring that the beach remains pristine. It's a shame if the Sailor's Bar is not allowed to return, as this was a meeting place for all the cruisers. Despite the desolation, the anchorage became busy. I saw the green flash, the final refraction of light as the sun sets on a cloudless horizon. It was a gorgeous evening, with a light tropical breeze, the waves lapping gently on the shore and a myriad of stars out, in the night sky.
Overnight, we suffered the extremely gusty katabatic winds, blowing up to 35 mph and making sleep impossible until they calmed around 5am. After a couple of hours sleep and having consulted the latest weather forecast, we decided to head to Mayreau today. The winds were going to continue to increase, over the next few days, with the swell getting higher. We weighed anchor at 0910 hours and raised the main, with 2 reefs and the foresail with 1 reef, while still in the bay. The swell was around 2 metres and the wind was gusty and not in a fortuitous direction. Consequently, we did 3 long tacks north, with 2 tacks east, in between, to arrive in Saline Bay. The trip took 2 hours for a distance, as the bird flies, of just 4 miles. Sean and Zak were anchored, way off the shore. We tried hailing them, as we passed but they didn't hear us. We anchored quite close to the dock, so we had the option to row ashore. As we were sitting in the cockpit, watching yachts and catamarans anchor, the common pastime of sailors, the Bequia Express came in, sounding its horn. It came very close to Sean and Zak, before approaching the quay. It needed to reverse onto the end of the quay, so swung round and nosed its way towards our stern, almost within touching distance, before engaging reverse gear to turn around. As there was no horn sounded, we made the assumption that we weren't in the way. On departing, the boat actually went on the inside of Sean's boat, again very close.
Mayreau had also suffered at the hands of Hurricane Beryl. The little beach bar was closed for repairs and we could see roofs being repaired up the hill. We rowed ashore and were met by a local named Aswell, who said his was the only bar available, essentially a cool box and a bench under a piece of polythene, tied under a tree. We sat down and had a Carib each, Pete quickly moving on to a second. We were joined by 4 Danes, so had another round of beers with them, exchanging information. The owners of the Danish boat were Henryk and Dorte and they had 2 young friends with them. We talked a lot about insurance and they said they had managed to get insurance, quite cheaply with a German insurance company, although they had to use Google Translate to decipher the forms. We said we would all probably catch up in Bequia, where we planned to sail tomorrow. We were back on board before sunset and in bed by 7.30pm, asleep in no time at all, being very tired after 2 nights without much sleep. We slept well and awoke briefly around 5am, actually feeling a little cool. I was wide awake by 0615, waiting for Pete to rouse himself, so we could depart Mayreau for Bequia.

As we entered Tyrell Bay, we were hit by a heavy squall and the wind instrument went blank. We had a spare cable but it would be a hell of a job getting it down inside the mast, while at anchor. This time, luck was on our side and the instrument responded to being switched off and on again. Here, at anchor, we are surrounded by battered boats; the victims of Beryl. Many are derelict but others have their owners living on board, attempting to clean up and repair damage, 4+ months after the hurricane. Most are missing their mast and boom but the catamarans are the worst. You can clearly see where they have been upside down in the mangroves, with a waterline of growth on the top halves. It's soul-destroying to look at. We launched the dinghy and made our way to shore, stopping first on the beach, so Pete could take in the laundry and dispose of our rubbish. The dinghy dock has all but gone, so I stood on the beach, holding the painter while Pete carried the laundry bag over the road. We motored up to Tyrell Bay Marine, where we could dock the dinghy and walk back into town. The outer dock had gone but the concrete inner one, near the mangroves, was available for use. We walked down the street, stopping at the Gallery Bistro, which was re-opening this evening, had a chat to John and Ann and booked a table for 6.15pm. Then we walked down the beach to Las Iguanas for a light lunch, calling at the Original Slipway, on our way back, to book a table for Sunday lunch. It's our intention to spend money here with the businesses as they slowly re-open after rebuilding their properties. As we walked from the beach, up to the road, we bumped into Paul and Tracey, who had walked over from Paradise Beach, so we had a beer at Lambi Queen. Enough of the eating, drinking and socialising, it was time to go shopping for provisions. There are 2 supermarkets in Tyrell Bay but stock in both of them was quite low, with very little fresh food available. A small deli-counter had some local salt ham, so we decided to try that, after a local explained that it's boiled before roasting, to remove most of the salt. It turned out to be delicious. We were only back on the boat for an hour before it was time to go back to the Gallery for dinner. There we had a cracking curry, from the extensive Indian menu. You would never know that John is from Wales! Overnight, there were frequent rain showers, so we were up and down, closing and re-opening hatches but at least there were no mosquitos out here.
Next morning, we repeated the beach landing, to collect our laundry and then set the watermaker going again, having assessed that there was no oil in the water from leaks on broken boats. Mid-afternoon, we returned to Las Iguanas, where I enjoyed a frozen margarita. From tea time onwards, it rained and the wind blew hard, so we had an early night. Unfortunately, the wind had blown the mosquitos out to sea, so we had to spray before bed. All night, we could see lightning through the hatches.
We had a lazy start on Sunday, swimming, reading and waiting for Magic Pelagic to come round from Paradise Beach. At 1.30pm, we all went over to the Original Slipway for Sunday lunch, with wine. Tracey and I had lamb, Pete had pork and Paul opted for the Asian style tuna. It was all very tasty, with generous portions. At 5pm, we went back to Magic Pelagic for sundowners. It had been a lovely day.
Tracey and Paul were departing on Monday, so went to clear out by Carriacou Marine. They were given 1 hour to leave the island. We went to provision, ready to leave on Tuesday. There was no fresh meat or fish and very few vegetables either, so we bought what we could, including frozen chicken thighs, frozen tuna steaks, a couple of packs of bacon, corned beef and instant mashed potatoes. We would have to manage if, as expected, there was nothing available in Union or Mayreau, with both of these small islands being crushed by Beryl. Having unpacked our meagre provisions, we went out in the dinghy again, over to Carriacou Marine, taking our boat papers and passports with us. We filled up with dinghy fuel, on the dock and had lunch at Las Iguanas, while waiting for customs and immigration to open. Pete was successful at clearing out, paying 50 EC for outstanding cruising tax and 20 EC for airport departure tax, which was due because we had arrived by air. We had a letter from Clarke's Court to confirm the dates the boat was on the hard, which significantly reduced the cruising tax. We met Meike, who has a Westerly Oceanlord, which was sadly damaged in the hurricane, although was lucky to only lose the mast, boom and sails and not suffer water ingress. Back on board Muirgen, we lifted the dinghy and engine and prepared the boat for our early departure next morning. Paul and Tracey had suffered a slow trip to Union Island, under engine, head to wind and swell, taking over 3 hours for the 10 mile journey. Hopefully we would have better. Gale force winds blew until 10pm and then everything went completely still.
On Tuesday morning (26th Nov), we were up at first light and were soon ready to leave. The wind started blowing hard again at 6am. At 0634 hours we weighed anchor and motored through the mooring field, leaving the wounded boats behind us. We raised the main, with 1 reef and motor-sailed the short distance up the coast and through the gap towards Sandy Island, where we put a second reef in the mainsail. We were 25 to 45 degrees off the wind, which was blowing around 20 knots and the swell was sometimes 2.5 metres but the current was helping us. The sail kept us steady although there was plenty of water over our decks. We motor-sailed, at between 5 and 6.5 mph, directly across to Frigate Island, on Union Island, dropping the main as we rounded the little island and found a modicum of shelter. The trip took us 2 hours. We were now in Saint Vincent and the Grenadines.