This wasn’t like a normal storm. Most of the time we get squalls that are quick about things. Arrive out of nowhere and you better shut the hatch windows before you want a wet bed/sofa/galley/floor. But they’re gone fast too and somedays you feel you’re on stand-by. ‘Close!’ ’Now open!’ ‘Close them again!’  This storm was different though. It took its time building up north in the Grenadines and we watched it on Saturday afternoon after we’d arrived back at Sandy Island and were moaning to our friends, the Spencer-Hudsons back in the UK about how hot it is here. ‘You miss the weather in Wales?’ they asked us like we were telling them we had warts growing all over our noses.. ‘We do!’’ we all exclaimed. Typically, hubris came knocking on our door; no wind, just dark, heavy, hanging clouds until finally, it whistled towards us and swallowed us up. Lightening and thunder cracked and banged while Fin hid under the table and we had to put all our electronics in the oven. It rained too like it would never stop, only reluctantly drizzling at the end as if it was sad it had to go. When we finally went back outside except for the Captain who’d been standing out there the whole time in case the mooring buoy said good-bye to us and looking suspiciously like he was enjoying himself, the dinghy was so full of water we could have done laundry for a week. The next morning the clouds were pink as if in apology while everyone else on Quest was still sleeping. It seemed to be a sausage sandwich sort of Sunday morning so I opened the oven door and saw I was about to cook a speaker as well as the sausages. Good times. 

Love from Quest and her crew xx