Counting the Pleiades constellation reminds me of counting sperm… I know, weird or what. I’ll explain…. as a clinical embryologist (best job in the world, yeah), there were often cases of samples with few or very few wrigglers. Still you had to find them to make babies and also if you wanted to go home at night. But, if you strained your eyes down the microscope, you could never see them. Well, I couldn’t. The trick was to un-focus, to let your eyes relax and then.. a wriggler.. like the sperm would come to you down the microscope. Trying to count Pleiades on a dark and salty Caribbean night feels the same. Seven sisters sure but can you pin these mamas down? Please, Pleiades!

On the stroke of midnight, Branson Pickle’s fireworks were amazing. By complete chance we’d parked just in front of them, even though me and Fin were the only ones to watch. Actually, Fin watched about two of them before shooting downstairs. And guess where I found her? Oh yes. I dragged her off the bed, tied her to the sofa, piss there, kid and went back upstairs. The others were sleeping, having made it to about 11:30. I tried to shake each of them awake but no one cares about fireworks in their dreams. So I stood alone under the bursts of light to celebrate the beginning of 2017 and thought about our year ahead. On Quest, we’ve been lucky to fulfil a lot of our dreams. Leaving wonderful Wales after years of planning, getting to Europe, crossing the Atlantic and actually arriving in the Caribbean in our own boat. Still, we’d like to fulfil one more thing. Just the one! We’d like to scuba dive. Every day. Or at least as much as we can. We’d like to work/do boat school, have lunch and dive. We invested before we left Europe in dive gear and a little beautiful compressor we’d drooled over for months in Las Palmas. Still, somehow so far, this hasn’t worked out as well as we hoped. 

In Guadeloupe, there were decent enough conditions but we were unable to access reasonably-priced internet data without a having French bank account. Maybe we'd have had better luck if we’d have turned up dressed as Inspector Jacques Clouseau... In Grenada, we found that you can’t dive the nice spots without an official dive guide. A little picky but we love Grenada. Its people remind us most of our green, green grass of home. Plus the truth is, with all those rainy rivers, there aren’t so many clear water dive sites. Antigua perhaps, but recently its waters have been stirred up by all these festive winds. So here we are up in Piratesville. Lots of islands, lots of little coves. As each of Pickle's fireworks spat out its sparkly balls, I wondered. Will the BVI help us realise our last dream? Plenty of dive sites organised into national park spots. The crusty crew on Quest still able to cart the stuff around, fill tanks and enjoy it. I crossed my fingers. Have we found our magic combination? 

Ah and a last note. We did find our friends! The movers and shakers on St. Luce on the south side of Prickly Pear Island. We had a New Year’s breakfast together, a romp on the beach, some vomit-flavoured Bertie Botts beans (you’re not alone now, Gwen x) and even a projector session. This time; Mrs. Doubtfire. ‘How did your husband die, Mrs. Doubtfire?... It was the drink that killed him…. Was he an alcoholic then?… Oh no, he got hit by the Guinness truck.’  Food (or is it drink?) for the soul. 

Love from Quest and her crew xx