Flight from Gatwick was uneventful, boring even. The two either side of me were not interested in talking. I said a cheery hello got squat back and that was that. After landing at St Lucia I took some pics of cumulus clouds between St Lucia and Trinidad as they were pretty, and extended above our 20000’.

Customs were ok, but I had to go to Chaguaramas next day to check in again with them. Good ole Tim was there waiting, in his flying overalls, and took me back to his place – a lush flat in a high rise in Port of Spain. Next day I was waiting outside with big blue bag at 0800 waiting for ‘Sammy’ - a taxi driver who the guys all use. I nearly had a heart attack carrying the bag down. He didn’t turn up. I figured well its Trinidad and waited. 0845 and he’s there hailing me from his beat up old Toyota jalope with all the windows down. Stuck in traffic he said.

Sammy drives like our lives depend on getting there in record time. He only uses one hand, and one foot. Traffic queues are ignored by driving up on the inside then cutting in. I ask him to take me to a B Mobile shop to buy a sim card for a phone Tim has lent me one as mine doesn’t work here even though its 3G. The first is shut. So is the second even though its gone 0900 by now. We go to a shopping mall, but that doesn’t open until 1000. I am a bit nervous as my bag is on the back seat of his jalope and its not locked. I don’t think it does lock.. I was kindof hoping that he would stay in the car but he came with me to make sure I got what I wanted. Sammy insisted on taking me to another mall even though I said I’d do it some other time, and this time it was open. The girls behind the counter dealt with me in the usual dull desultory bored manner that all shop assistants adopt here, and poker faced, took my $100TT and I was happy to have comms again. When asked for my address I asked if they wanted my UK address – but Sammy elbowed me discreetly and muttered something to them I didn’t understand. They didn’t ask again.

Then we were roaring off, a worn bush clunking on the lumpy road. As we sailed past the gate guard I reminded Sammy that he had to return the entrance card they give you - if you don’t have one when you leave then you’ve stolen the car. But no one had stopped us. He reversed with gusto, cursing their incompetence.

Half way along the hot sunny coast road to Chaguaramas Sammy reminded himself with a sharp cry that he needed petrol – I leant over and it was showing empty alright. If it had been me, I’d have NOT been driving at max chat. We were half a mile past the petrol station when Sammy remembered, spun round and backtracked, but it was shut. The air turned blue.

‘I'll have to take it easy’ he declared, to my relief. We slowed to 50mph along the busy road, until that is he came up behind a slower vehicle. Foot to the boards we are back up to flying speed and overtaking in a cloud of exhaust fumes.

I thanked him for persevering with the hunt for a phone shop. ‘Well’, he said sagely, ‘ in Trinidad I think you need someone to help you’.

‘I don’t mind if you want to go back for some fuel Sammy’ I said encouragingly. ‘That bags heavy. Couldn’t carry it very far…’.

‘Its ok. I will get you there. If I run out (of petrol) I'll sleep in the car. Don’t worry my friend’. We hurtled on.

Back at Peakes Boat Yard standing next to Pinball again, I gave him his money, and a $40TT tip – about £4. ‘Is that ok Sammy’ I asked. He looked coy. ‘Whatever you want to give me’. I liked Sammy.

I went to fetch a ladder from the rack nearby, but they were all chained up. But there was a ladder on the next door boat which I could climb and as the boats were so close, just get on board that way. I surprised a couple of local guys working on the boat but they didn’t seem to mind. I was finding the heat quite exhausting already, and hauling the big blue bag up that ladder and over the lifelines wasn’t easy. I had to go and sit down for a bit, well about an hour actually, before finally getting my stuff inside. Phew! It was 39deg C and humid, but inside PW it was 42deg and completely sapping my energy. Even small jobs were a real effort, and I rested more than worked that first day. The deflated dinghy had to come out for a start as it was blocking up the galley. Plus I had to at least clear a bunk to sleep in.

Everything seemed to take an age. Right, I thought. Cup of tea. Need the gas on. The gas cylinder is in a gas tight compartment in the lazarette at the back of the cockpit. Temporarily I had lashed one solar panel on top of the heavy lazarette hatch to reduce the risk of theft before leaving the boat, as it couldn’t be seen there from the ground. This made the hatch even heavier, so needed a prop to hold it open whilst fiddling with the gas door inside. I selected a hammer for want of anything better. Finally the gas was on. Kettle on. Tea bag in mug. Ah….what about milk? The milk I had bought the day before was cooking nicely at 42deg and undrinkable, and the butter not far behind too. Dried milk then. The dried milk was hard as hell and had to be scraped into powder, but heh. However, when water was added the deep yellow colour of the resultant liquid put me off. Then I remembered the non dairy ‘creamer’ I had never used. This had shrunk to half its original size inside the sealed bottle, and had the consistency of concrete. Hacking a piece off and mixing with boiling water had absolutely no effect on it whatsoever, and I abandoned the attempt and decided to grate some off the main block instead. This worked, and the result didn’t look too bad – at least it wasn’t a deep yellow. I risked it and the tea was…ok. It all took over an hour. You know, people often ask me ‘what do you DO all day on your boat N?’ Beats me.

By 2000 that first day I had hardly achieved anything. Enough space to crash out on, and a cup of tea. Hadn’t even the energy to cook a meal.. The heat was really getting to me, and went up on deck and just sat there, as gormless as a zombie. I could barely keep my eyes open either, so went to bed. Too hot for bedding, I just lay down on top of a sleeping bag – as I had always done in the tropics.

I awoke at 0130 feeling a LOT better. And it was cooler….a LOT cooler. 29 deg now. A good time then to do some work. Right…that solar panel. I set to work putting it back where it should be, mounted up on the starboard pushpit in the cockpit. The night security man came wandering past a couple of times – which was encouraging – and no doubt wondered about me fiddling about with my head torch. The third and final time he stood almost next to my boat for some time – clearly suspicious – and made a phone call. However, I wasn’t arrested. By 0530 it was firmly attached and wired up again, and I retired below for some more sleep. It wasn’t til next day that it dawned on me that I had been suffering not just from heat exhaustion but jet lag as well.

Friday:

Customs and Immigration Day. Got the folding bike out of its bag and was pleased to find it in pretty good nick, just flat tyres. Getting it off the boat was the problem as I was still suffering from feebleness with the heat, and I didn’t think I could get safely down the ladder holding it in one hand. So I lowered it on a rope. Pumping up the tyres I had to sit down to do it, I was feeling so feeble! Amazing. This heat takes some getting used to, and I had reacclimatised to UK temps. Even cycling the half kilometre to the Customs and Immigration place at Anne’s Inn was an effort, and I don’t think I could have walked it – cycling gives you a life saving cooling breeze.

Immigration were ok, as were Customs. Unusual! Afterwards, to cool down, I had a milk shake in the café there, which is air conditioned. I didn’t rush.

I thought I’d have some soup for lunch when I got back and dug out a saucepan. It was covered in mould. In fact everything in the cupboard was, well the whole galley area was. And that was my second day, washing it all off, and cleaning the cooker. Plus fixing the cutlery drawer which was coming apart.

About 6pm Tim arrived in his big black Nissan wagon and took me back to his place. It was Friday night – party night in Trinidad! I had dithered once on whether to go – I wasn’t sure I could handle a late night – but it had been momentary. It was just feeling so lifeless and energy free..