Quest had been hauled. We had a thousand things to do to get her ready for our departure. After the sandals went missing, the jobs hissed like a limp balloon. Jack went back to bed. The next day, a man was questioned. The boatyard told him to leave the yard. This was an uncomfortable moment for us. We hadn’t come here to cause trouble for anyone. ‘Don’t worry,’ the boatyard manager said. ‘When he was putting his shoes on to leave, another guy said, “Hey, those aren’t your shoes either!” He was wearing someone else’s shoes.’ We cringed a little. Really? Was this a shoe fetish? 

Since then, we’ve gone about our business. A week of getting Quest ready. Sails off. Anchor and chain down. Engine winterised. Water maker pickled. I won’t subject you to the boring details! Since we’ve never mothballed Quest before, for us the interesting part has been learning how to do it. Meanwhile, the girls have been largely neglected. Sure, they've helped a little and in fairness, they’ve wanted to help. But learning alongside your children when you’re three metres up in the air, crawling along the deck and there’s a lot of concrete below… tell you what, kids? Want to go watch a movie? There’s a playground here too. It’s underneath the trees and has swings and benches. In between Trinidad's rain showers.. the rainy season's been biting on our tails.. the girls have gone and played. Perfect really. For the grown-ups; back to the windlass. The dive compressor. Washing ropes. Rigging tarpaulin. Oh yeah!

Thankfully, we’re almost done. We’re in packing mode now. Taking the coats out of the cupboard and wiping the mould off. I didn’t say it was glamorous :). Still, there have been some major benefits to boatyard living. Number one: we rented an air conditioning unit. Richard came on the morning of Quest’s haul-out and sealed it through the saloon hatch. So good. Number two, the bathrooms in Peakes boatyard are amazing. It’s an embarrassing fact.. but if these kids take anything away from this journey, it may well be the weighing-up of a public toilet. We've peaked here at Peakes. Air-con. Shower rooms unlike anything we’ve seen so far. Indeed, perhaps Peakes could win the dirty war to get the cruisers to sail through the threat of pirate-laden water to haul out in Trinidad if they advertise this fact alone. Cruisers being not so different..

Back to Jack’s missing shoes. Since we’re getting old and predictable (he’ll love me saying this), this had actually been his second pair of the same leather sandals. He’d bought the first pair in Antigua and a year later, he walked into the same store in St. John’s and bought the second. He tried to get the shop ladies to buy his old pair back. Antiguans do love a good laugh. Back on Quest, he almost threw them away on account of the dissipating soles but I hid them in our shoe locker. Two evenings ago, I was woken by a commotion outside. ‘A dog’s just run off with my sandal!’ Jack shouted. I rubbed my eyes. ‘You’re kidding.’ ‘No! The dog was at the bottom of the ladder, chewing on it. I told him to give it back and he ran off.’  We peered down. My flip flops and the girls’ lay untouched. Seems that dogs don’t prefer plastic and neoprene after all… Jack brought ours up but left his second sandal behind. The next morning it had gone as well. A walk around the boatyard revealed a brown dog trotting along the road. ‘Where’s my shoe?’ Jack asked it. The dog wagged his tail. Followed Jack for a while with soft, chocolate eyes. One sandal lay in the middle of the yard. Chewed and slobbery. The rest of Quest laughed until we cried. Until we remembered. Oh sh**. Did that man with the shoe fetish really take Jack’s first pair of missing shoes? Or had it been the dogs all along??? Help us, Poirot. 

Love from Quest and her crew xx