Our travel arrangements worked very well.  Jean Claude picked us up in is dinghy and took us to Soufriere where we mountain climbed our way, the three girls trying ineffectually not to flash our knickers, on to a dinghy dock ably assisted by two small boys who in combined pounds were not really up to the job.  They earned a dollar for their endeavours, they had certainly earned it.  We were then handed over to our taxi driver Janis, in a battered old car complete with backseat rubbish, clearly not a real taxi at all, and only just made it up the steep and winding roads (both through the lack of engine power and Janis’s driving ability) to Ladera the hotel that nestles between the two looming giant Pitons.  I was particularly pleased to get the “Wow” from the two sisters as they caught their first glimpse of the spectacular view. 

Can you imagine a Rastafarian steel drum player jamming with a bearded Canadian monk, complete with traditional habit, playing a flute brilliantly?  This was not a result of the rather tasty cocktails but the live entertainment for the evening.  Not the first thing that comes to mind but a wonderful and most entertaining spectacle.  Dinner was ok, very American and just missing the boat in all respects, some things overcooked and others lacking flavour but it was worth it just for the view and a rather nice bottle of Sancerre or two.  Our travel arrangements in reverse also worked out with Janis in her poor old car finding it easier on the downhill run, calling up Jean Claude, clambering down to the dinghy (in the dark so no dignity problems) and guided home by Roxanne.  JC then rather spoiled it all by saying something stupid when asked for the bill but hey we had a great evening.  We slept well, cocktails make good sleeping draughts, and didn’t make contact in the night with the French boat next door, although we were very very close.

This morning we flew down to Cumberland Bay in an absolutely classic Caribbean sail.  WInds were on the beam, 18 to 22 knots, a rolling sea and bright uninterrupted sunshine, Windy’s absolute favourite and we rocked along very happily plunging forward at 7 and a half to 8 knots, reaching 9.4 surfing down a wave (except for Admiral Susie Nelson who won the chunder challenge).  We expected the sudden drop in wind as we sailed into the lee of St Vincent and were happy enough to switch on the engine to keep up momentum but were somewhat surprised by sudden gusts that had Bob playing the main sheet like a monk on a flute.  We pottered into Cumberland Bay and were ably assisted with parking by Mr Rasta Man, while the driver less ably wimped out on reverse thrust and lost way again, when will she learn.  Bob had forgotten just how many ropes it requires to reach the tree on shore and did his Grommit impersonation madly tying bowlines to link yet more together in a complete, fast forward panic.  We settled and after lunch felt so exhausted from sitting on a boat sailing gaily along that we all took to our Kindles before flopping into the sea for a swim, even Bob complete with his fins, mask and floating cockpit cushions.  Meanwhile we entertained numerous visitors selling anything they could lay their hands on and I did my Mrs Fearsome impersonation to some cheeky little boys who were threatening the jewellery vendor with a rock, mind you he was suggesting that he retaliate with his mother’s mango knife, this is after all the Caribbean. 

The suns over the yard arm, the ice is chinking in the glass and we are set to run ashore for dinner.  Cheers.