The Rock Side Cafe turned out to be one of those lifetime great gems.  We were paddled gracefully ashore by Orlando and only got our feet a tiny bit wet leaping out on to the sand and wandered leisurely up a long flight of white steps, escorted by the family dog, to Orlando and his German wife Rosie’s lovely home in a vibrant tropical garden.  Rosie was out and Orlando was in charge and gave us a silkily delicious rum punch which we supped with the three old men from the other boat in the anchorage.  They turned out to be a hoot: Bill, Bob and Kirt? were very American, very sociable and asked loads of questions without listening to the answers.  Bill smoked, but only fags that he could bum off other people because he didn’t believe in buying them himself.  Bob and Kirt? had just been through the Panama canal after sailing Kirt?’s 36 foot boat down from San Francisco and were full of tales of their derring do.  A flustered Orlando was very much relieved when his sister turned up to help him serve dinner.  It was a feast.  Pumpkin soup, mahi mahi and chicken with a succulent, subtly spiced creole sauce, local veg including rice, pigeon peas, breadfruit and plantains, which we enjoyed so much we were given a plantain to take home with us, and a bowl of salad that would have fed a family.  Rosie then arrived, bouncy affable and making us feel like personally invited visitors to her home. Bob loved pudding, a cheesecake that tasted like raw cake mix, and everyone knows how good that is, with fresh fruit.  We staggered back down those white steps, clambered into Orlando’s boat and were paddled back to Windy where we slept like overfed logs.

We left in good time in the morning and set off into a fairly light breeze.  Setting sail we motor sailed along St Vincent with a fluffy wind that kept dancing about and were somewhat peeved that the three old men were keeping up far too easily in their 36 footer until we met a big blow of up to 30 knots whistling between the islands.  We took in another reef and even with a tiny handkerchief of a mainsail bowled along at 6 knots and didn’t see them for dust. The sea was spiky and kept jumping up and smacking us in the face.  Even with cagoules on we were soaked through.  As always happens, the wind dropped like a stone when we reached St Lucia and with floppy flappy sails we resorted to motoring.  At least it gave us a chance to enjoy the most wonderful dolphin show.  There must have been several pods who had got together for a party because they were flinging themselves out of the water and dashing about like frenzied teenagers.  Lovely to see.

We were heading for Malgretout but were met by Peanut, a local chap in a pirogue who told us that the parking there was full so he guided us right between the towering Pitons where we picked up the last mooring that was conveniently being vacated as we arrived.  Parking in St Lucia is as bad as Devizes on market day.  It is however a stunning setting with the two Pitons going up and up on either side of us, so high and so pointy, and making us feel very small, the sound of the surf breaking noisily on to a rocky beach and rattling like an English pebbly beach, fishing boats bringing in their nets and peace and quiet.  Very nice particularly with a gin and tonic at hand.