15:16.87 N 61:22.57W

We left Saint Pierre and headed for my old home, the island of Dominica. During the early seventies the Reid family lived in Roseau at a place called Goodwill. My dad, or to give his correct title for once,

Capt. Joseph Reid RN & Bar MBE, was sent out here by the British Government to explore the possibilities of setting up a viable and profit making fishing industry for the island. It had at that time a small subsidiary existence depending on a few local dug out canoes. Neil and I were educated at the all boys Dominica Grammar School whilst my sisters, Alison and Louise were taught at the all girl Convent, run by nuns. My mother, Mary or Mamie, as she is known is a teacher and also taught there. Neil and I were the only white kids in the school as were my sisters.

Anyway, Tuesday morning saw us charging once again on a broad reach with every scrap of sail up towards Dominica. Bev helmed for most of the way and at one point the wind was so strong she was almost calling for a reef. With the wind just slightly abaft the beam Swiftwing , or as she is called in certain members of Campbeltown and Cushendall sailing Clubs, The Brick, owing to her massively strong Ferro construction, ploughed on at 8 knots + on her passage across the Martinique channel. From the moment we cleared the land at the North end of Martinique we could see Dominica twenty five miles away with her four thousand foot mountains in the clouds. As we got closer Scotts head started to become distinguished from the rest of the greenery and before long we could see Roseau, distinguished by a couple of cruise ships alongside the deepwater port. Bev remarked that it looked very similar to Mingulay, with the row of seven volcanoes indeed looking like the seven hills of Mingulay. We sailed on past Scotts head and in towards our anchorage off the Anchorage Hotel. Two boat boys (men) came out to meet us to guide us in, each in their own boats, then started to shout and swear in at each other for trying to steal each others business. At this I put the throttle down and let them get on with it. In an effort to stay in front of us to “guide” us in, meanwhile continuing the dispute, they were both in real danger of being run down by Swiftwing, by this time travelling at 8 knots under engine. The owner of the Anchorage Hotel later apologised for this display and said that they were both to receive stern letters from the Hotel Moorings Association.

Anyway, all is harmonious again and our boat boy took me direct to the Immigration then got us fresh bananas, plantain (a type of banana that is fried or boiled and used as a vegetable or savoury provision)

and fresh pineapple. He also brings us fresh bread in the morning. That evening we didn’t go ashore but swam off the boat and ate aboard.

Next morning we hired a car and visited our old house at No 3, Jepson Lane and found an elderly gent standing on the road outside. We spoke to him, found out that he had bought the house in 1978 and that he was an ex-cop! What are the chances. He was very and asked us in to meet his wife and see the house. Bev was a bit alarmed when she saw two men go into the house with guns, to which John said no, they were huge guns. With visions of Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman, (Long way round) inadvertently visiting a Mafia house, we entered and found that the retired cop now did security for the banks and building societies and sure enough parked across the road was his own security/bullion type armoured van. They were very nice and it was like being beamed back from 1972 except they had a TV - no such thing in my day. The house was in very good condition well looked after and loved by the very gracious lady who was proud to show us around. We said our goodbyes and drove around the corner to our next house No 3, Edens Lane. This house was new when we moved in and was, in that day, absolutely huge , the sitting room is 57 feet long!

They say you should never go back and it was a bit disappointing to see that the house looked a bit shabby

and had lost most of it’s fine tropical greenery that used to give privacy and shade to the front.

I then visited an old family friend, Delia Winstanley then my old mate, Arden Shillingford’s mother, to try and track him down. He is now working in St. Thomas, so we‘ll look him up when we get there.

In the afternoon we drove up to Trafalgar Falls and after a strenuous hike over a boulder field we were rewarded by the lovely cool/cold swim at the base of the waterfall. It’s much bigger than I remember it and well worth the effort. Once back at the Forestry Dept café a guy asked if we were Americans. Bev said no, that we were from Scotland. “Ah Scotland, I used to work in Inverness, it was very cold”. Turns out he worked for the Hydro Board at the dams, on an exchange visit prior to setting up hydro power in Dominica.

Photos to follow.

Douglas.