After a night beset with leaping up and down to close the hatches every time it rained, we made a concerted effort to fool the grey clouds that were looming ominously.  Bob and Elizabeth put on their cagoules and didn’t take them off for hours, probably rather soggy inside from the sweat, Francesca did not put on sun screen just “moisturiser” that she talked about very loudly so that the clouds would be fooled.  As a result we had a very pleasant morning, the sun peeping through enough to check that we were still expecting rain.  The wind actually behaved normally and wafted in from the east at 18 to 20 knots and we nodded along tamely at 6 to 7 knots.  We managed to keep up the pretence all day and encountered just the one rather messy squall which only managed a paltry few gusts of 31 which we just shrugged at nonchalantly and watched it bumble along on its way.

We arrived at Marigot Bay at 4pm, were enticed by Sylvester to use his mooring buoy right outside the Rainforest Hideaway.  The Cruising Guide says that this a restaurant that is so popular that reservations are needed so Francesca swam over, popped her head up over their platform and booked us a table for 7:30pm.  It has got to be better than Macdonalds! 

Marigot Bay is a very picturesque hurricane hole with a secretive looking, disguised entrance leading to a lagoon surrounded by mangrove trees and a run of coconut palms.   It is a popular spot and we are packed in like sardines with buoys fore and aft as there is no room for swinging.  The moment we were attached securely, we were immediately leapt upon by taxi drivers, tour guides and fruit and jewellery sellers.  Being a sucker I bought some little carved turtles as souvenirs and was berated by Francesca for being the worst ever haggler that she had ever seen.  I did try, a rather puny effort perhaps.

Being so enclosed by swamps we will be dousing ourselves with eau de Deet tonight, a favourite perfume in these parts, and hanging out the mosquito nets. 

A rather repetitive bird is chatting in a monotone, lets hope he isn’t nocturnal.