N18:20:02 W064:57:07 Crown Bay Marina, St Thomas, USVI
Bob and Elizabeth Frearson
Fri 8 May 2015 23:48
We had a quiet night in happily watching all the comings and goings of a busy harbour area (although actually it wasn’t quite so quiet with the extremely noisy sea birds who sound like a very badly behaved bunch of monkeys and they are at it again tonight). We had a hearty gin and an enormous plateful of spag bol (I know, not very original but it is just so useful as a store cupboard supper and Bob’s fave) with the bottle of wine from the deli that turned out to be a terrible choice. Perhaps we should have gone for a $100 bottle. It is quite sheltered so we had a good night’s sleep, once the naughty birds had shut up.
This morning we had a slap up full English brunch to use up stores and basically waited until we could enter the Marina. We watched with fascination as they loaded the big ship with little yachts knowing that this was the way that WIndy was going home. It is obviously a chaotic exercise and involves lots of yachts, all fendered down the one side turning ever decreasing circles awaiting their loading time. We read all about this when doing our research and are very glad to be handing over to STT Cargo to do this job for us. While we waited, Bob made loads of water and put the water maker to bed and we kept wondering about the election results. In desperation, with no access to the web, I emailed my sisters and D came up trumps with an astonishing reply. We were quite frankly amazed and were further frustrated by not being able to get our hands on the detail.
At what seemed an appropriate time, we called up the marina to see if the incumbent of our berth had been loaded. It had, and so we prepared to make our entrance with much cogitation and consultation about how high to put the fenders after the Village Cay disaster. I do have to say that this marina is extremely professional and run by a very efficient woman who makes absolutely clear what is happening and when. As ordered by the very efficient woman, we radioed in to say that we were at the marina entrance and given clear and concise directions to our berth (which in all our days is an enormous exception to the normal rule of complete silence on the matter making it a nerve jangling guessing game while under duress). We duly entered, turn right then immediate left (precisely as directed) and looked out for number C22 which was clearly marked and visible to the driver. I turned in and was somewhat concerned to see just how high the dock was. Everywhere else I have needed a really energetic one, two three, hup to board Windy. The American height seems to be that we take a step down from the pontoon on to Windy. I had also forgotten all about Steve’s instructions on what happens in a broadside wind and found that the turn was not quite as easy as I had anticipated. Fortunately there were two lovely chaps awaiting our arrival who took the ropes from Bob and hauled us in. The chap at the front beckoned me forward, which I did as I am very obedient, at which point I then seemed to have everyone shouting (nay, shrieking) for me to reverse. I did. It is really not good for the nerves. The lovely chaps then because quite excited by then fact that there was a lady driver. Hmm, strange how this always seems to be the case, the astonishment not the lady driver.
Once settled in, ie after our arrival beer, we made contact with Stuart of STT Cargo who promised to be with us forthwith. He was. A Danny de Vito shaped man advanced along the dock, took off his shoes and boarded. With much waggling of his enormous eyebrows, each the size of a champion moustache, all was agreed and we know what we need to do to prepare Windy for the cruise home. We then just had time to get to the Marina Office, (although they were formally closed we were invited through the back door) and did all the necessary paperwork, all very efficiently and returned clutching our wifi codes to read up on the astonishing election results. How did the pundits get it so wrong? No doubt this will be discussed at length over dinner lubricated by a rather fine gin and tonic that is at hand as I type.