A very nice Rasta chap kindly went on the beer and water run for us, there being no shops between the Pitons.  This was essential as a) Bob couldn’t face another of my rum concoctions and b) not a lot should be said about last night’s invention test.  I would have been thrown out of John and Greg’s kitchen in a trice, deservedly so, although Bob was very diplomatic saying that his omelette was fine “once you got through the burnt outside”. It required great quantities of beer to wash it down. We washed up, dried up and put away as quickly as possible to hide the evidence, my non omelette offering finding its way over the side under cover of darkness. The rest of the evening was spent feet up on the sofas, reading our books, supping beer and nodding off to the mellow strains of Katie Mellua.  Very nice.

We woke up to the wind whistling through between the Pitons, girded our loins and set off into the fray.  We headed out hoping that if we got far enough out we could get sufficient angle to sail north eastwards, despite the wind being firmly on our nose.  Bob experimented with a new contraption for getting out the mainsail without having to go on deck which most ingeniously worked in its prototype form, such a clever and far more inventive chap than the cook last night, but it is going to be harder to translate it into something that can be made into a permanent fix. 

Experimentation complete, the mainsail was hoicked out, the foresails wafted out with great abandon and we sailed on a rather strange course deciding that we had plenty of time and that the quality of the sailing came top of the list on our last day at sea.  Sail we certainly did.  Waves of clouds bearing enormous quantities of rain and wind rolled over throughout the day.  At one moment we were fighting a 28 knot wind that dropped like a stone to 9 knots in seconds.  Bob ended up playing the main sheet like a marlin as the wind ducked and dived getting to 32 knots at one very blustery stage.  We romped along and loved it despite having to resort to the sexy, and much used, cagoules rather too frequently.

To get at Rodney Bay, the sails were taken down for the last time, engines on and the entry to the marina was serene and solemn, gloomy under a continuous run of grey clouds.  The marina itself was dry as a bone although the head on wind made parking thought provoking.  It was accomplished with ease “A perfect docking” said the Skipper to the proud and perhaps somewhat surprised Crew.

There is a lot to do tomorrow in terms of housekeeping, paperwork, the customary visit from Customs and generally putting WIndy to bed so we are feeling a little bit gloomy now that yet another great holiday is coming to a close.  We are eating out tonight.