You have heard me sing the praises of the Rainforest Hideaway so many times that it would be exceedingly repetitive to do so again, in fact almost as repetitive as Bob’s choice of food.  He of course had the scallops and crab cake with banana chutney, sea bass in coconut and the rum cake for pud.  I decided to be very off the wall and went for the chicken samosas then duck breast finishing with coconut mousse.  Truly superb.  We were served by a lovely girl who took Bob’s command to share the wine evenly (he always complains that I get more than my fair share) very much to heart and counted out as she poured wine into each of our glasses, bless her.  I think she did a very good job but Bob claims that I still managed to sneak a bit more.

This morning we had a leisurely start to the day with Bob still nagging me to get up despite telling me that there was no need to rush.  I asked him, rather curtly, why he was being so insistent to which he replied that he “was bored”.  I duly arose and entertained him to breakfast. We made a tidy exit from Marigot Bay, there was very little in the way of anything to avoid because it was so empty, not the usual game of dodgems between the closely parked yachts.

As we motored out, Bob tool the opportunity to pickle the water maker, ready for it to be laid up, sadly the first of many jobs that signal it is very soon time to go home.  Once that was done, we put up the sails and set off at a spanking pace Windy head down, chopping into the waves sending spectacular jets of water aside, at a collected canter of 7 knots, surging through the oncoming undulating sea.  It was an absolutely fantastic sail.  We put in a tack that took us back into Rodney Bay and I steered for the fun of it with advice from Captain Bob on how to optimise the speed as if we were racing.  We just kept sailing as far into the bay as we dared storming up to a crazy boat that was footling along under motor crossing our bows.  They gaped gormlessly at us as we raced past their stern missing their dinghy by inches (well feet maybe, you know I like to exaggerate).  It was very tempting to see if Windy could chop through their painter but I resisted, only just.  Our super sail was over.  In came the foresails, down came the mainsail and an exhausted Bob took a few moments to rest before setting about the “going into harbour” jobs, putting out the fenders, getting out the mooring ropes.  Sometimes I feel very complacent just steering while Bob is dashing about like a mad man doing all the hard work.

We docked tidily, as usual no one from the marina to help us in even though they had just told us which berth to use but a nice man from the next door boat set to to help (although people always seem to haul in the front mooring ropes too much so that the stern then swings out really quite spoiling the line of my otherwise neat entry and making it look as if I have done something wrong, harrumph).  All safely tied up, now the going home jobs commence but we will be taking with us memories of a really spectacular last sail.