Position 12 27.38N 61 29.35W Tyrell Bay Cariacou

Sunday 27th April

Chatham’s a great place, calm, sheltered and with no more than half a dozen  boats spread round the bay. There are a couple of fishermen's huts, a new restaurant that's been under construction for three years, is still unfunished and belongs to some Italian, and a couple of vestigial bars cum eating places. One of these belongs to a guy called Shark Attack whose been here for a number of years and does fish and lobster barbeques. He wasn't in evidence when we arrived, but we were approached instead by Seckie who's the new kid on the beach and has set up in catering competition. He has an engaging manner, no doubt honed by the meaty rollup he sported, and charmed us into going ashore to eat, before roaring off in his impressive twenty foot fishing boat. As it turned out, we were the only customers, and had personal service from Seckie and his 'babe' Vanessa, a one-time Moorings Charter cook who prepared an excellent three courser of calalloo soup, snapper and salad, then fruit and banana cake for pud. There's something pretty special about a restaurant that's illuminated by a couple of oil lamps, where you dig your bare toes into the sand as you eat, and the sea laps in a silver, moonlit ribbon thirty feet away. Some additional interest arrived in the shape of Shark Attack's sidekick who started to remonstrate about customer poaching. It was all rather heavy, involving much hand waving and loud and often strong language postulating the macro economic realities of Caribbean beach BBQs. Eventually a glass of rum seemed to reduce the protests to a smouldering acrimony, but this is certainly a dispute with legs. Our host and hostess cleared up, blew out the lights, and we were dropped back at the boat before they creamed off into the darkness for the upwind trip back round the island to home in Clifton.

Wednesday morning we hiked up the northern side of the island to Clifton. It's only about three miles, and once over the first ridge the going's easy. Union Island has sharp volcanic peaks, giving a jagged profile that earns it the label of the little Tahiti. The road winds down the hillside, before running along a stunning beach with foaming surf, and then bends round a salt pond before breasting a small rise into Clifton. En route, there's birdsong, goats, tethered cows, a few chickens, a chap asleep on a pile of stones and just three cars in an hour. Clifton's the port and sailing base, with a couple of small supermarkets and a good, though pricey French deli. After a refreshment stop, the road leads back along the south coast through Ashton. Union's total population is less than two thousand, and Ashton's about the same size as Clifton, but less commercial and with no tourism. By now it's lunchtime, but there's a dearth of cafes or restaurants, till we pass a tiny roadside bar and pop in for a beer and a couple of saltfish and coconut bread rolls - a culinary first. Saltfish is very cheap, available in all the supermarkets and is soaked overnight before mixing with herbs, spices and maybe a little sauce. It's excellent, and just what's needed after a couple of hours walking. From Ashton the road leads back to the hills, passing over the spine just beside the highest volcanic spike that tops out at around a thousand feet. From here there's a great view down over Ashton and then through the hills to PSV and Petit Martinique some five miles away.

Back on the boat, an outboard pulls up, and Dan and Wendy tie up. They're a couple of Canadians who have a venerable and classic Contest 38 ketch. We've met them several times and they're a delight, amusing, interesting and great fun - must be the type of boat. Dan has a wry and lateral sense of humour. For some reason the question of bears in the Canadian hinterland came up, and he explained that self preservation does not mean being able to run faster than a bear, just be quicker than the slowest in your party, though it's unkind to keep referring to them as 'bait' . Anyway, their proposal was to join them and two other Canadian couples for dinner on the beach. Once again Seckie was quicker off the mark, securing twenty customers while S A fumed in the distance. It was a good evening, with kingfish taking the place of snapper. Early Thursday we took Irie round to Clifton, checked out, bought some provisions and then tootled of to anchor by Petit St Vincent (PSV) for the night. Early again on Friday, we crossed to Petit Martinique where there's easily accessible and well priced fuel and water, before sailing on down to Cariacou and Hillsborough to clear in. The chap in immigration was helpful and friendly, though back at the pier customs was more taxing. The ofice is tiny, situated at the top of a narrow flight of stairs and contained three very substantial ladies at desks, leaving only a sliver of space for the supplicant. This was occupied by a very old lady in an extravagantly flowered frock and woven hat, who beat us to the stairs and seemed to be enriching the Revenue with a huge pile of bills. After fifteen minutes wedged outside in sweltering heat, we were admitted, relieved of 70EC and sidled out again, legitimately in Cariacou and Grenada. Tyrell bay's only forty five minutes away, so we motored round, lowered the hook, and will stay here till picking up Geoff and Val in Hillsborough on Monday. In the evening we repaired to the Angel's rest floating bar. This is the nearest thing to a floating pub, and filled up with various couples off boats, leavened with a sprinkling of locals. It's a great spot for a beer and a yarn, though the raft has a dangerous tendency to list heavily depending on the weight of people on any particular side.

Today a few boat jobs were followed by a hike over to Paradise Beach. Everybody you pass gives a greeting, and as it's Sunday the significant sounds are singing from the church, the slam and banter of chaps playing dominoes in the rum shops and the heavy reggae bass from the locals chillin' on the beach. This must be one of the nicest spots we've been to, and Cariacou in general has a very welcoming, uncommercial feel - it's good to be back!