I forgot to mention yesterday that a passing dinghy stopped in Rodney Bay marina and an American questioned Bob on Windy’s pedigree.  Bob insists that I do not omit this flattering remark, received not for the first time I may add, to quote “a real handsome boat”.

Yesterday’s evening foray to the Ocean Club is best forgotten.  Imagine KFC on a nightmarishly bad day and you will get the picture.  Yeuch.

Customs opening at 8am to check out turned into 9:30am Caribbean time so leaving later than expected we decided to head South just to the other end of St Lucia before leaping across to St Vincent.  It was a good choice as the wind wuffled and snuffled pathetically all day, there seemed to be a current against us and we ended up motor sailing to make even 5 knots speed across the ground.  A most relaxing ride with no waves so I was able to rustle up a decent lunch with no problem, but we had to stay alert as the bit past the Pitons is like the Solent on a Saturday.

Not a good day for technology however.  The batteries are brilliant, the generator is fantastic but a slight tap on the head seems to have killed the camera outright.  It follows my Kindle to the pile of modern devices that just can’t take the pace.

We motored very carefully into Labourie because there is an almighty reef.  Even with my eyes pinned to the GPS and diligently following the safe line, we still ended up having three little boys in a canoe shouting that we were too near the surf for safety.  Thank heavens for little boys!

Once anchored, well away from the reef, we dinghied ashore for a nose around, once we had negotiated the dock which was missing half its planks.  Labourie is a real village with real people living actual Caribbean lives.  We strolled by the fishermen hauling ashore a great bucketload of mahi mahi, black fish and yellow fin tuna.  We wandered by a pile of almonds laid out to dry and a woman shelling them with a scary looking machete.  On the playing field we admired a game of cricket, although we were both absolutely convinced that the fast bowler was throwing the ball, watched small boys on the sand copying their elders with twigs for a wicket and admired barefoot boys playing “keepy uppy” at the other end of the pitch.  The latest test match was blaring from tumbledown shacks yet there were magnificent mansions clinging to the cliff sides precariously with stilts to hold them up.  A man blew a conch, which actually got rather irritating and monotonous after a while, you can get too much of a good thing, dogs barked, cockerels crew and loud music emanated from big, look at me cars with dark windows.  We bought bread and eggs from the bakery because we were enticed in by the delicious smells. Absolutely everyone we passed shared a Good Afternoon with us as we strolled through their lives.  Simply delightful. 

We are eating on board tonight after supping a beer or two and watching the sun go down over St Vincent in spectacular fashion, nature at its best.