I know that I said that I was signing off but Bob and I want to keep up the blog as a diary and aide memoire. 

Bob spent the afternoon attempting to mend the outboard: cleaned the sparkplug and fiddled with the carburettor but no use.  We tried to contact Jo on  the given number but couldn’t get through whatever combination of international codes we tried.  So then we tried and tried and tried to contact Haley but unbeknownst to us her phone had given up the ghost.  (Oh, and we had to move again because we swinging too close to a catamaran).

We decided that we would have to: go ashore, check out Jo’s number, raise a search party for the girls.  Bob heroically rowed to shore where we found the girls forlornly awaiting rescue on the dinghy dock.  We retired to a great little cafe, Hothothot for a beer of relief and found Jo who promised to come and pick up the dinghy and outboard really, really early in the morning.  The man just pops up whenever you want him!  We stayed on for a tasty supper and enjoyed listening to the English Harbour equivalent of karaoke.  Anyone who can plays their instrument and sings.  Great fun except that it kept downpouring with rain sending us scuttling under the nearest umbrellas which required joining Rosie and Jim (Peter) the crew from a frightfully smart gin palace.  It was a great introduction for the girls because they could question them about their future career.  We were then joined by Ken and Barbie (Jackie), Rosie and Jim’s neighbours, who were hilariously outspoken in a strong Kent accent.  Many beers later (we drank Hothothot dry of Carib) we hitched a lift back with a lovely American couple of a certain age (anything to avoid rowing) who we proceeded to bump in to at every turn for the remainder of our sojourn.

Jo duly collected the dinghy and outboard reasonably early and said “phone at 1030 for an update”.  (We also moved the boat again because we were parked jutting into the channel). We tried but the new international code agreed upon at Hothothot didn’t work either.  We decided to run ashore via the water taxi (“Call him up on Channel 68” the book says but of course no-one answered.  We just hailed him as he slithered by).  Hothothot confirmed we had the right number and very kindly rang him on the landline.  He had not yet looked at the engine!  We had a leisurely lunch, tried to buy as local phone card (everyone had run out), pottered off to use the ATM (broken of course).  “We’ll go to the bank” (closed of course) and returned to Hothothot to use their phone again.  Jo gave his diagnosis and promised to return the dinghy that evening on his way back to his converted trawler.  We taxied back and got down to planning the rest of our trip to arrive in St Lucia for Friday 13th.  (The girls are splitting the trip and skippering half each to tick another box towards their qualifications gathering).

We “met” the man from Bird as he struggled swimming by, fully clothed and shoed, chasing his dinghy.  He took refuge on our swim steps, introducing himself as “I’m drunk” while a nice man gathered up his dinghy.  He clambered in, fell flat on his face and seemed totally unconcerned that he had no bung so the dinghy was rapidly filling with water.  We never saw sight nor sound of him again after that.

Miraculously, Jo arrived at 6pm with a working outboard and extracted an enormous sum of money from Bob’s wallet.  We were then able to go ashore for dinner to the Admiral’s Inn where we witnessed the extraordinary sight of a sloaney woman in a LBD playing swing the ring on to the hook in the bar.  At dinner (delicious and in a magical setting of the old sail loft pillars) were joined by Pete Townsend (who?) but fortunately not at our actual table.

The next day was a little less fraught and Bob dropped the girls ashore so that they could continue with their coursework in the internet cafe.  Bob newly motivated decided to have another go at mending Gerry with a new filter ensemble in order to vacate the inconvenient contraption from our shower.  A visit to the chandlers became necessary so we cruised over to the boatyard (not the right parts in stock).  We then went to sign out and I entertained myself watching Jerry Springer on the TV while Bob filled out a thousand new forms with exactly the same information as on the checking in forms and again visited the Port Authority, Customs and Immigration in turn.  An exhausted Bob was dragged round to Falmouth Harbour to lunch at Cloggy’s as recommended by Rupert.  After an absolutely  delicious lunch we then hit Bob’s favourite place, the supermarket, before heading back to the boat where the outboard gear lever sheared off in Bob’s hand.  Sigh!

Fortunately he was able to operate the gears by sticking his finger in and wiggling it a lot.  Not ideal but sufficient to fetch the girls at 5pm while I had a good clean through.  I earned myself a delicious dinner at Catherine’s.  (Foie Gras Ravioli and Lobster Risotto to die for).  The girls then headed back in to town to finish their coursework and Bob and I headed for bed for an early night for an early start this morning.

We left English Harbour at just before 7am, set a course, set the sails and wafted over to Guadeloupe on a classically perfect Caribbean wind on a beam reach.  Wow, fabulous sailing.

We are now parked (easily and we don’t have to move one hundred times) in Deshaies, a gorgeous little two street town in Guadeloupe.  The girls have swum and we are looking forward to a Creole dinner this evening.