Why can’t signing in every where be like in French Guadeloupe? Pop
into Le Pelican internet cafe in a two street town and fill out a form on screen
(using AZERTY keyboard with letters all over the place). Print it
out. Leave. Yes it really can be as simple as that!
DInner was good solid creole fare with lots of things in batter, which were
tasty, and boudin noir which was flavoursome and spicy but had the appearance of
merde de chien which didn’t really tempt the palate.
We dodged torrential rain in town and managed to return in the dinghy
before it got the chance to get going again. Overnight it battered down
but we survived, unscathed but soggy where the rain had crept in through
ventilation vents, to set off at 7am, with Haley in charge, to head for “The
Saints”. Haley and Fleur awoke looking as if they had caught the bubonic
plague overnight. They had been chewed to pieces by mossies that had
munched their way systematically down their legs. Yikes!
The sail down to the Saints was odd. A curious combo of no wind, lots
of wind, hot hot sunshine and driving rain. The sailing didn’t really
amount to anything but the scenery was suitably scenic as we skimmed down the
Guadeloupe coastline and wended our way between the picturesque Isles de
We are parked tucked up behind pain de Sucre (with a Frenchman in a
catamaran inconveniently smack bang sur le ancre. He is going to get a
rude awakening in the morning). The girls and I have spent the remainder
of the afternoon snorkelling amongst the giant sized sea urchins and pretty
coloured fish in the heated swimming pool sea. (Yes, you read that
correctly, I was snorkelling. I find that the fender step makes a