Fai Tira Blog 16.00 UTC  Friday 11^th December

Fai Tira still in Antigua .   17:03.98N 61:53.02W

The last couple of days have seen a mixture of recreation and preparation work,

The last of boats are now in, the numbers also increased by the arrival of 3 extra yachts that have made their way here independently. Already the numbers seem large and it starts to become difficult to imagine the size and the related logistical reporting problems, that could be encountered, once the final total of about 35 is reached, in Panama.

Pete and a number of guys from the other boats, decided to take the first opportunity, since arrival, to indulge in an organised dive.

Although the chance was there for me to join them and perhaps do some snorkelling. Think that I might have felt a bit out of it, so decided to take myself off and with the use of my trusty velocipede pay a visit to the main town, St Johns.

I must admit, at this stage, to having reservations about this decision. Our organised trip, the day before, as it passed through the streets, did little to fill me with any sort of enthusiasm for what I’d seen. It looked very run down ,drab, deserted and uninviting. And I found myself questioning the wisdom of tackling the unruly traffic as it battled with the unforgiving, beaten up and potholed road surface.

So it was with some trepidation that I set out on my journey. The day was hot, nothing new there then. The trip wasn’t long, about 6 or 7 miles and, I thought, flat. Wrong!!!  Nothing new there then, either.

Apart from having to stop to inflate a tyre and take on some liquid to replace what I’d lost, the journey was uneventful. And, before long, I started to approach the outskirts of the town. Straight away it felt different from the day before. There were stalls set up on the side of the road and what, yesterday, had seemed scruffy, tired, untidy and plain rundown, was now full of colourful people and noise. It had come to life. Their culture was now shouting and making an unmistakable statement. It seemed to me that they’re irrepressible fun loving countenance was never going to be suppressed, with or without materialism and orderliness.

As I rolled into the congested streets and picked my way between line after line of second hand Nissans, it started to rain It was absolutely great. Although warm, its’ moisture was having the desired cooling effect.

I passed the impressive looking building of the indoor fruit market, making a mental note that this was a place that had to be worth a visit.

The rain was now serious stuff, and when the locals decided to take shelter, it seemed to me that the right thing to do was follow their example.

I approached the waterfront riding between rows of brightly painted, but distinctly, second hand looking timber clad buildings. And massive, above them, on the skyline, were the huge structures of 3 cruise liners.

The really strange thing is that even though they’d disgorged their occupants the, perceived, attractions of the waterfront bars and designer labels, seemed satisfaction enough. They didn’t bother to venture any further. What a treat they missed. Just a few streets back the town buzzed with genuine colour and sound, with music coming from all directions.

I parked my bike under the watchful gaze of two elderly guys, who were sitting each on upturned crates with a barrel for a table, playing a traditional game involving beads counting and elimination. A sign pointed upwards towards an art gallery. I needed no further invitation. And I found myself in the small local art and craft shop of Jane seagull. How serendipitous. I was immediately greeted by a friendly hello with an American accent that just invited conversation. Fortunately, for me, business was slack and we spent the next 30 to 40 minutes discussing art, travel and the Caribbean. Surreal, there I was in the capital City of Antigua on a hot December day talking to an American lady about Bridge North in Shropshire. Brilliant!!

Back in the street, the scene of Hemmingway’s Cafe demanded that I get out my sketch book. And as I sat crouched, hastily trying to capture an image, a voice interrupted my concentration, it was that of Anne Mitchell the latest owner in a line of generations. It transpires that the building inspires many. (most of whom can actually paint) Another great chat followed.

So there, just how wrong can you be about a place. Without its’ inhabitants it had no character and yet the character of the inhabitants is deeply engrained within it.

Cycling back, the sounds of music were inescapable and the rhythm, belting from the speakers strapped to the back of a large passing truck, conjured up the classic Stereotypical image. And I just Couldn’t help thinking that the main reason for the selection of a pick -up, was to allow for the accommodation of the sound system.

To-day it was down to preparation for tomorrows’ trip to Barbuda. We drew up the list of jobs and set to.

As priorities go, It’s difficult to put much before the necessity of a sound reliable engine. Ours falls into that category, but only if it’s feed correctly. We’d noticed the occasional missed beat on the way over, and our experience had us questioning the fuel supply. Although the pre filters had only completed just less than 200 hours (should do 1000) I decided to take a look They were absolutely chocked. The good news is they’re working, the bad news is we’ve got a tank full of crap.

Spanner in hand, my head disappeared down into the bilges

That was my day taken care of then!!!

Oh, and to my family, having a Christmas get together on Sunday. The planned Skype call, might prove difficult as we’re on the move. So I apologise, in anticipation, wish you all a merry Christmas. Want you all to know I’m missing you and that we’ll catch up soon.

Bye for now.

Pete and John