So, it's my last night here on board the fine ship Swiftwing. I started with such good intentions of making sure I post a few blogs per week, but with the fast pace of life out here it has taken to now for me to sit down and blog, so my apologies. I'm sure you'll be pleased to hear that normal blogging service will be resuming soon.

Never the less, let me get on with this blog. Having arrived in the colourful VC Bird Airport we headed back to Falmouth Harbour a lovely setting to arrive to after an 8 hour flight and sight seeing in London the day before.

Falmouth harbour is full of yachts and superyachts, where all the crews go around in white t-shirts emblazoned with the yacht's name, long khaki shorts and a portable vhf radio in their back pocket. We happened to see the boat that Prince Charles had been staying on the week before, Leander, the biggest yacht here.

Anyway, after 7 months of not seeing mum (more commonly know as Bev) and Doug, it was great to see that they are still loving being out here. I personally was shocked by the change in Swiftwing. I have to say from the last time I saw her she has totally changed and the woodwork on board is just perfect with some lovely touches around the port holes. There are also the best looking Ikea chairs I have ever seen fitted on the port side under what used to referred to by our friend Kenny Gilchrist as the ejector bunk.(Pilot berth)

We spent a number of days in Falmouth visiting the sites at Nelson's Dockyard, we also popped up the St Johns, the main town in Antigua. On that day there were four cruise ships in so the place was packed out with tourists. We walked around the local museum and St John’s Anglican Cathedral, this twin spired Cathedral is the town’s dominant landmark. The original church dated back to 1691, but the current baroque-style stone structure was constructed in 1947, after a devastating earthquake. The Cathedral interior is unusual in that it’s completely encased in pitch pine. It was a short trip in to see the sights and make a quick stop at RadioShack to look at new laptops, the ships one now being on the way out. We were soon back at the bus station getting on the bus home. However it turned out that in fact we got on the wrong bus and ended up on a magical mystery tour that ended back at the airport.

We waited a few days in Falmouth as the swells from the north were about 12-15 feet high caused by a low pressure system in the Atlantic messing with the trade winds, or at least that’s what the old Etonian chap on English Harbour Radio told us. One of the highlights of the stay in Falmouth was indeed the English chap coming on at 9:00 am to tell us the weather. It was a race to make sure we were the first to report that we could hear him loud and clear. He then proceeded to give the forecast with what seemed like an aviary competing in the background, with various squawks and cries from a pet parrot. He then took the unusual step of asking if there were any questions and spent the next five minutes advising which bays would be safe to anchor in and the like.

Following our stop at Falmouth, Swiftwing and the crew de camped to Jolly Harbour. Jolly Harbour is a really touristy resort with no locals in site. It is a lovely harbour with houses on the water-side all looking the same with their boats tied up in front. We enjoyed using the pool and also again going swimming off the beautiful beaches that surround this area. The really great part of this trip was a visit to Barbuda.

So what does the guide book tell us about Barbuda it says: ‘Barbuda, 25 miles north of Antigua, remains one of the eastern Caribbean’s least-visited places. Other than it's frigate-bird colony and its beautiful beaches, most of which are best accessed by private boat… The only village, Codrington, is home to most residents and is the site of the island’s airport. Barbuda has three small, exclusive resorts on its southern coast, although these club like places are so removed from the rest of the island that they have their own landing strip and haven’t done much to upset Barbuda’s isolation (Let's stop the guide book there as it is wrong. There is only one very exclusive hotel now running as the rest are currently closed. Under the Barbuda Land Act, these hotels in fact do not own the lands they are built on. The whole island is communally owned by the Barbudan people and if anything needs doing on the island then they have to have a town hall meeting. The owner of a run down hotel is rumoured to want $40 - 50 million for it… anyway back to the guide book) Interestingly, most of the 1250 islanders share half a dozen surnames and can trace their linage to a small group of slaves brought to Barbuda by Sir Codrington, who leased the island in 1685 from the British Crown. The slaves raised livestock, grew food crops, turning Barbuda into a breadbasket to feed the labourers working Antigua’s sugar plantations. The Codrington family managed to keep their lease, which was negotiated at an annual rental payment of ‘one fattened sheep’ for nearly two centuries)

So once we landed we set off to explore. The taxi we ordered to take us to the hire car arrived on time to everyone's amazement. However, there seemed to be some kind of a problem, so through someone’s friend's brother's wife's sister's cousin, we finally got a small 4x4. Though it had, shall we say, very soft brakes and four wheel drive that turned out to be more like 1 wheel drive, we set off down the main road in Codrington to find the caves and the now ruined hunting lodge of the Codringtons. The road turned into a rough dusty track about the same size as a motorway. One of the reasons for this is the fact that Barbuda exports sand to Antigua so the large trucks tend to rip up the roads. We past the so-called highlands, this we figure was someone being ironic as Barbuda is totally flat and the ‘highlands’ are about 100 ft high. Never-the-less, we found our way to the ruins of the Codrington hunting lodge. It was very small and looked more like a traditional highland cottage on Colonsay than the hunting lodge of a rich plantation owner. At the same time every other tourist on the island seem to turn up( 10 people) so we learned a bit of the history from a really friendly local tour guide.

It turns out that if you were a troublesome slave you were sent to Betty's Hope in Antigua for much harder work and closer supervision, Barbuda being visited rarely by the Codringtons and having an easier regime. As we walked past the big Atlantic rollers towards the beach we found a path that led up through a cave and on to the cliff tops. So up we went. All you could see for miles around was the Atlantic rollers breaking spectacularly on the coral reefs and in foreground was a lovely pink coral beach with Pelicans all lined up on it enjoying the sun.

Feeling that it was time for lunch we went into Codrington to look for some malta, a local non-alcoholic malt extract drink that is enjoyed by Duggie but to mum's dismay it contains the equivalent of seven tea spoons of sugar per bottle. However, this is where it all went wrong as the 4 x 4 went into one wheel drive and we got stuck in the sand at the harbour beside the big sea lagoon. But thankfully the locals were all willing to help and we pushed the car out. So, back on the road again to the Martello tower, an ancient guard post, built during Napoleonic times and used to lookout for invading French forces and as a stronghold.  We passed on the road herds of wild horses and donkeys. As we had a few hours left with the car we made the decision to head for the castle at Spanish point. It was not much of a castle, but we did see some of the many salt ponds on Barbuda. It was like being in the outback rather than on a Caribbean island, well worth the stop. With that we went back for a swim, saw a turtle next to the boat  then dinner and a film.

Now this is were the fun starts with the international rescue effort we got involved in to find Doug's wallet.

We were making the boat ship-shape for the voyage back to Antigua when someone (Bev) was shaking the sand out of Doug's shoe and was just in time to see his wallet fly out and drop into the sea. It sank like a stone. After much hunting with a snorkel the rescue team turned it's attention to the other yachts around and a messenger was dispatched to find out if they had a diving tank. Luckily the Dutch did. So one of the sub-aqua experts of the crew (John) got kitted up and in he went to hunt for it. However, an hour later the search for the wallet was called off but we did get another night in Barbuda and one the best days yet so not all was lost after all. (Just £50, driving licence and credit cards...Douglas)

So here ends the blog for the visiting crew member and what a great time it has been. My apologies to all those who have been waiting so long to hear from Swiftwing and have been sending e-mails of complaint. To make up for this we've put on loads of photographs.

As I say normal service should resume soon.

Struan.