13:0.60N 61:14.98W 

We are sitting in a bowl again. This time it's not a bowl of liquid silver, under a bowl of sparkling stars; this time we are sitting in the bowl of a volcano, the volcano's caldera. One small section of the cone has worn down and let the sea in, the rest stands steeply around us, stark against the night sky, the bright pin points of lights scattered over it, so high that you are sure they are stars until you look higher and see the real ones, dimmed in comparison.

We dropped anchor in the morning, and went ashore to check in and have a little look around, then went back ashore after dark for some supper. I took a few photos to show you, but there are so many more images in my head from the short time we were ashore. Walking through the fragrant cloud of smoke from the gangly chap in a Rasta hat, sat in the shade of a wall. The creases on creases across the smiling face of the man in the fruit market "In de Caribbean you eat fruit, not ice cream!". The young woman at the stall selling local jewellery, made from coconut shell, leather and cotton string, her eyes wide as she learned we were going to be cruising in the Caribbean for a year, then concerned as she warned us against potential thieves should we go to Venezuela. The blue black delicate bird in the bread fruit tree above us, bright yellow eye gleaming as he trilled and danced and fanned his tail at his drab mate below him on the leaf litter. The perfect silhouette of a gecko on the lampshade, each pad of his feet clearly visible through the yellow silk, where he sat absorbing the heat from the bulb and picking up any insects drawn to the light.

We are going to enjoy being here!