Cool runnin' - BVI's January 2012
Tillymint.fortescue
Wed 4 Jan 2012 18:08
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Two years on and the Motley Crew of
Tilly Mint have once again been hauled, legless and reeling, from the
taverns of Peaslake and transported to the pirate infested waters of the
Caribbean. The assizes judge showed great leniency in sentencing the
miserable souls this time round; a mere 10 days of hard labour would not shiver
their timbers to the same extent as the 6 week ARC voyage of 2009, but then he
wasn't allowing time for the luxury of an Atlantic voyage with 15 days of
surfing rollers and gentle adjustment to the 4 hour time difference or idle days
over the next month to sleep off rum punch hangovers in deserted mangrove
swamps. The modern age of jet travel guaranteed that the crew arrived tired and
disorientated after a 20 hour marathon of DVD watching and sleep deprivation.
Jet lag was going to prove a deadlier enemy than piracy and mossie bites, time
is a flexible concept in these waters but we might be pushing our luck to herald
in the New Year at 8pm.
Day One
Rolled up late in the evening
dockside in St Thomas in the US Virgin Islands, a trading outpost of Fifth
Avenue where pirates trade Gucci and Bulgari contraband for local gold trinkets
and rum and more rum and rum.Tilly Mint nestles below the shadow of a Tommy
Hilfiger emporium and First Mate Immy noted that she could purchase 4
brands of handbag without losing sight of the mother ship. We met up with our
recently pressganged crew, Chef Natalie & Captain Bill, who are destined to
ply the waters for eternity looking after Tilly Mint and her charter
guests, but for us it would be a brief encounter as they are
taking a break from eternity and going home tomorrow for a well deserved
holiday......but not before a farewell breakfast of Natalie's fabled
pancakes
Next day
Woke early, Hugo the Powder Monkey
said he'd been reading since 3am (he'll be past his sell by date before
lunch.....). Skipper Alex and Bill spent some hours in a strange male bonding
ritual which involved getting very sweaty in the engine room, taking complicated
bits out of the boat and putting them back in a different order. They ended
up wiser for the experience but without having fixed the problem that drew
them there in the first place, which we all know to be a familiar tale of boat
mechanics. In the meanwhile Natalie whipped up a wicked batch of rum laced
pancakes and gave us a tour of the ample and tasty provisions she had
brought on board for our voyage, there was even tomato puree so we felt at
home! Our voyage has the potential to be most lavish wall to wall gourmet
cooking experience- a nautical "Ready Steady Cook"
The plan for the rest of the day was
hatched with haste and not hugely well prepared for so keen was the Skipper to
cast off (we had no biscuit tin to hand, the voyage was doomed before we
started). We set sail for Virgin Gorda, some 6 hours north of St Thomas.
However after nosing out into the Atlantic waters we quickly changed our mind.
It was the Solent with sunshine, lumpy waters and a wicked wind dead on the
nose, shadows of sea sickness passed over the faces of the feebler members of
the crew and bottom lips were seen to tremble so we changed course, turned left
and headed for nearest of the British Virgin Islands, Jost Van Dyke (no
relation to Dick). There are lots of Virgin Islands, so named by
Christopher Columbus after St Ursula and her 11,000 virgins and latterly by
Richard Branson. Indeed we have been teasing Immy that BVI stands for Branson's
Virgin Islands and she has been casting suspicious side long glances towards the
grown ups wondering if she can trust the tale. It is a great joy to waft among
these islands, even though we were being buffeted by feisty 25 knot winds and
cooled by occasional rain showers and cloud cover. The weather has attitude this
time round so sign yet of the crystal clear calm waters of our previous trip. By
sundown we were safely anchored up off Jost Van Dyke and more than slightly
windblown (who said they were looking forward to lots of fresh air this
holiday?). The galley slaves raided the fridge and effortlessly rumbled up a
quick beef stroganoff followed by the pancakes left over from breakfast.
Culinary stakes were starting high........
The Day After That
Immigration, that ritual of island
hopping, bureaucracy in paradise, was at its most amenable in Jost Van Dyck.
Skipper did the form filling while I sat on the dock of the bay watching the
children frolic in the surf and the palm fronds sway in the wind, next a cooling
drink in a beach side bar, the day was starting tough! Back to the wind, it made
our bay somewhat choppy and unwelcoming for jumping off the boat so we crossed
the channel to a bay with more shelter and passed more of the day in a haze of
aquatic pursuits. By late afternoon we were in bother, a steady flow of
fresh lemonade during the day had done wonders to stave off scurvy but jet lag
was setting in, limbs were limp, heads were nodding and there was mutinous talk
of a 'quick doze' before supper. So we rowed ashore (metaphorically speaking in
the dinghy, with an engine) to look for a local cure. We found it in Happy Hour
at Quito's bar, a local concoction of rum, more rum and a splash of fruit juice
and coconut milk called The Painkiller and it's companion (without the rum and
more rum), the Virgin Painkiller. It worked, the children were once more
frolicking in the waves and the grown-ups' conversation became animated and
witty, indeed the skipper was laughing at my jokes by the end of the second dose
such was the potency of this local medicine. Quito's Friday Night Fry Up from
the beach BBQ completed our rehabilitation and we managed to stay awake til
8.30pm.............
The Last Day of Last
Year
Another day dawned windy and overcast
and the Tilly Mint headed northward towards Virgin Gorda, Neckar Island and the
Bitter End Yacht Club where beautiful people in outrageously large boats would
be gathering to see out the old year. Concerned that we wouldn't blend in
amongst the locals ashore (on so many levels but especially as we had not yet
seen diners in the pyjamas by 8.30pm and this was New Year's Eve with the
unspoken expectation that you would stay up til midnight), we choose a
remote anchorage away from the melee and decided to throw our own Private Island
Party. A large security cordon was thrown around the boat and the Skipper set
off with the youth in the crew to knee board around local waters in search of
the 'ultimate wipe out' to entertain guest with later over dinner. As the
sunset Hugo was put in charge of security and made sure that no riff raff
slipped in alongside the A Listers on the guest list. Laurence turned his
hands to cocktails, I prepared dinner and then Immy & Alex cooked up a storm
on the topside BBQ. Bob Marley played live(ish) in the cockpit. We dined in fine
style and excellent humour and partied hard til 8pm when tidings of New Year
from the homeland came rolling in. Then we settled into watch some unexpected
after dinner entertainment. Abromovich had booked the Red Hot Chilli Peppers
(they're a band Pops, not a BBQ ingredient) for his New Year's Bash
but I bet he didn't have what we had....sharks circling the boat....just
vegetarian ones mind you (in case Nana is fretting). Immy was adamant that she
would never swim again and tested the claims of vegetarianism by chucking it an
apple (which was ignored). We thought about chucking Hugo in to further test the
theory.....but thought better of it. Anyway we partied on with a board game and
the last die hard guest rolled down the companionway to bed at well past
9.30pm.
Somewhere in dreamland the horns and
hooters from the city of yachts moored in the distance roused us from our
slumbers, it was now definitely Next Year
Happy New Year
Well it's still very windy but apart
from that it's picture postcard perfect. We spent the morning eating more of the
ship' supplies as Immy and Hugo made us brunch, then off to a beach to do,
well ,nothing really, apart from get wet and marvel at the gorgeousness of it
all. Then off to another beach to marvel some more and take the first Painkiller
of the day. Then back to Tilly Mint for another Painkiller which reminds me of
the quote of the trip so far. Laurence is our cocktail maestro and in charge of
the bar. Hugo has his own responsibilities, one of which is to open and close
the valves to the holding tanks which contain the waste from the heads when
we are at anchor. When offered this role of great importance he
said....'What!!! Laurence gets to make the cocktails and I get
toilets...!!!!!!! Well it was funny at the time, maybe that's the
Painkillers at work. Off ashore to dinner now, hoping to find the chef sober and
some food left after last night's revelries!
Ended up in the Pub at the Bitter End
Yacht Club eating burgers and watching American football as the restaurant
couldn't find us a table til 9pm, which by our reckoning was breakfast rather
than dinner
Today
Another cloudy, windy morning, we
nearly need sympathy where it not for the inevitable sunshine and turquoise
waters that will emerge later....An early start saw us slip anchor from The
Bitter End and head south to the other end of Virgin Gorda to a beach called The
Baths which is, in a phrase, a beach as designed by Fred Flinstone. The small
stretches of beach sits along the edge of a peninsula strewn with vast
glacial boulders (and I mean vast - bigger than a house). The thought that
a glacier passed through these parts is intriguing to the crew, it would explain
the cooler moments in the weather for one thing.....eh.
We had a good snorkel and then a
scramble through the boulders, half rock climb and half pot holing, to the
remote and desolate bar at the end of the beach, just near the
car park and across from where the cruise ships moor.....Despite the crowds it
was the most idyllic beach, sugar crystal sand and crystal clear turquoise
water. Back to Tilly Mint for lunch then a meander to Spanish Town for a new
bottle of gas so we could continue cooking up a storm on Tilly Mint. Skipper
disappeared off in a taxi to find the gas and the children and I took refuge in
the marina bar, and guess what, they ate burgers and fries and watched American
football on TV.......
We then had a beautiful sail into the
sunset to Cooper Island where we have found a tranquil ( i.e. no blessed wind)
anchorage for the night. We dropped anchor and Laurence dosed his parents up
with Painkillers again and all is calm aboard, everyone with their heads in a
book, sated from day of swimming and sun. It's dark now, nearly 8pm and
thoughts are turning to sleep, after all somewhere on the planet it's
bedtime....
Later that night...
Careful what you wish for on a boat. The flat calm up
top at bedtime was a sinister lure like the siren song of a
mermaid.....sometime in the night someone turned on the nautical washing
machine, the waters around Tilly Mint went onto a gentle wool wash cycle and the
night's slumbers turned into a slow motion roller coaster ride. We woke early
grumpy and cross and it was raining, bother and dash said all, there's trouble
in paradise this morning. Anyway, before you worry too much our troubles
soon evaporated, the sun came out and we went ashore to to find a really cool
bar next to a mangrove fringed beach, sun loungers in the shade, lovely
calm waters for canoeing and donuting and the ongoing spectacle of herons diving
for fish...the day flew by and it was happy hour before you could say 'mine's a
painkiller'. Next off for another fine dinner aboard, fish pie and chocolate
mousse on the menu tonight
Tomorrow and the day after that
Another glorious day, we have decided to hang up our anchor
here at Cooper Island for a couple more days as we lack for nothing. All
the boys are going scuba diving to look at the old wreck of the Rhone tomorrow.
Sounds like Skipper and me after a bottle of Chateau Neuf du Pape but it is
apparently a wrecked ship...
Pancakes for breakfast, Lunch on board and supper ashore
today just to mix up the routine and the other big news is that I've finished my
book and have to decide what to read next, busy, busy,busy...!!
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