At 3:30 a.m., I get up to “do my business” off the back of the boat in the solitude of the night. Then suddenly Darl comes out of his cabin with the same biological urge, but he is more polite and makes his way to the head. It looked to him like I had been up all night watching the anchor, so I let him think that. Then as I settle back down and Darl returns from the “head,” he insists that I get up and flush the toilet in the dark so I can see the phosphorescence that appears in the dark. He says, “Go in there and flush that toilet. I want you to WITNESS this so you can verify that I’m not crazy.”
We sat around the cockpit for an hour and a half watching the other boats leave and people getting up and birds diving for fish. One frigate bird flying high overhead let go a bird-dropping almost hitting two guys sleeping on deck. We saw more goats walking on the island.
Up anchor at 9. Motored to Sandy Cay where everybody but me went ashore for sandy beach type stuff. I took a shower, watched after the boat and enjoyed some solitude. That’s been hard to come by this week. It’s hard to find time to write or read. I’ve been too busy. Busy navigating, setting sails, setting or clearing the anchor. When it’s daylight, you just want to keep looking to make sure you don’t miss anything and that you remember it ALL. It would be a shame to forget a single moment.
I looked through the binoculars occasionally to see what the gang is doing on the sandy beach. Darl and Pat were snorkeling hand-in-hand in the shallow water. Andy and Will tried to get a coconut by climbing the tree then by throwing rocks. Sarah laid in the sun then sat in the edge of the water. Will dug in the sand and played in the surf.
We are anchored in 15 feet of crystal clear water, and I enjoyed watching the schools of fish swim by and the pelicans dive on them. This was another absolutely beautiful perfect day. Perfect temperature. Near cloudless sky. Ten to fifteen mph winds. Perfect.
Will and Chico have been inseparable for the whole trip. Chico is the monkey-puppet he bought in Charlotte Amalie. It’s been great entertainment for him, but then it doesn’t take much to entertain Will. He’s been in a good mood the whole trip. Today he said, “Daddy-O, what’s for supper?” Daddy-O! What a kid!
I admired Munro out of St. Thomas, VI. It looked like a 30 foot Pacific Seacraft with green bottom and an obviously retired older couple carefully maneuvering her into position last night just two boats over. Spotted them again sailing by Sandy Cay. Couldn’t help but wonder about them and hope that when I retire, I’ll be doing something just like that.
About noon when the gang had their fill of sand, they returned to the boat, washed off and we headed for Roadtown, the last leg of our sailing venture. The winds steadily decreased all day until, by the time we sailed the last few miles, we were barely moving. But we were in no rush, so we just waited out the occasional breeze. It was wonderful to experience this kind of sailing, so much the opposite of what we have had all week. Most of the week, we have been heeled over or facing big rollers or strong wind. Today the boat was perfectly calm, ghosting along allowing people to park all over the boat for our last chance at sun.
We hooked to a mooring ball in the bay and headed to shore. Tim from Conch Charters told us to take the dinghy under (yes, under) the cruise ship dock to get to town. Pat and Sarah were really nervous about going UNDER that dock. Made you feel pretty small going under the dock and then looking right up at the back of the Seaward towering several stories high right above you.
We spent several hours shopping in town. Main Street, Roadtown, was a quaint shopping district with a road just barely wide enough for one compact car. We shopped at Pussers and in the craft district across the street. We all agreed that Roadtown was far too busy, too many people, too touristy.
We saw Flying Cloud pull into the harbor while we were eating supper at Pusser’s. Sarah had chicken roti which is a West Indian burito with chicken, potato and onion stewed in light curry sauce, wrapped in soft pastry and served with mango chutney.
We all laughed when we read the menu carefully because we had been making fun of Darl all week about calling “Pusser’s” “Purser’s.” Turns out Darl was right. According to the story on the menu, Pussers is a corruption of the word “purser.” For hundreds of years, the jack tars of the Royal Navy have referred to the purser as the “pusser” and anything which came from the purser was called “pusser’s,” and still is today.
We talked at length about how compatible we all were. Just bragging on ourselves right and left. We talked about how pleasant the boys had been, how they had fussed with each other hardly at all, how they were polite, and agreeable with whatever we planned to do, and how they both took to big-boat sailing just fine. Then we waxed eloquent about how compatible the adults were. Nobody was a big talker. Not that there is anything wrong with that. It’s just nice when everybody is about the same when it comes to talking. There’s time to talk and time to keep silent and we were able to do both.
What kind of person does it take to enjoy sailing? It DOES take a special kind of person, you know. Not just everybody could survive cooped up with six people like that for a week. Not just everybody could take the tight quarters, tiny showers, tilted and bouncing boat, abundant sunshine, and all that water for so long. Yup, takes a special person. Someone just like the six of us.
Out of the blue Will says, “You know the people who live in these islands don’t have any children.” What? Where does he come up with such things. But then he explained, “They can’t, they are all virgins.” And the best part was that he said it all with a straight face, deadly serious.
End - Day Ten - Motherofallvacations Vacation