I must first of all apologise to Deirdre.  This trip is proving to be rather uneventful and so the blogs are probably rather dull.  Everything seems to be in fine fettle, even Gerry.  Fingers crossed, toes crossed and anything else that we can find crossed that this continues.

The girls chose the Whale Boner as our dinner destination and it proved to be a good choice despite the hilarious name.  The bar stools are made from whale vertebra and there are a couple of whale ribs standing sentry at the entrance.  The three of us who had ribs declared them delicious and Pop’s chicken curry very tasty.  A vicious rain storm meant that we had to have another Hairoun before venturing out and high tailing it back to Windy guided in by the new Roxanne shining like a beacon.  We slept well, at least Bob started off well not even stirring when I removed the Kindle from his face.

We set off this morning and took a detour to look at the moon hole houses, that are built into the rock and then set our course, raised just a little mainsail, let out everything we had at the front and took off like a greyhound out of a trap and stormed along, a perfectly poised Windy galloping freely across surprisingly small waves for the wind speed, which oscillated around the 21 knot mark, under a blue, blue sky.  It was a glorious ride for the crew. We enjoyed it so much that Kindles and books were set aside just to revel in the joy of it and we forgot to have breakfast, again.  The only slight niggle was another monohull that we were keeping at arms length snuck out some more mainsail when we weren’t looking, gained on us and then overtook.  So annoying, but of course we are cruising sailors not racers so no matter (harrumph).  We arrived at Cumberland Bay at lunchtime, had a near disaster when we discovered that no beers had been put in the fridge.   Fran went to the rescue, swam ashore and procured some suitable chilled ones and we then tucked into a hearty lunch.

This afternoon was a girls tour.  After being whisked ashore by a ganga smoking Kenny we were handed over to a drug free Colin the taxi driver.  He gave us one of those really fascinating tours where in a short space of time you really get the feel of the place, the traditional way of life and Colin’s upbringing on his grandfathers farm, the volcano and its eruptions in 1902 and 1979, the politics (awful Marxist Leninist in power at the moment apparently who, with an election due shortly, is therefore bribing all the poorest people with hand outs).  We examined the fauna and fauna, sucked on deliciously ripe cocoa seeds and met the multifunctional Tanya plant that serves as an umbrella, a cup, a plate, the star ingredient for callaloo soup and provides a rooty potato like veg.  We visited a multi layer waterfall, marvelling at the first tier tumbling down, clambered up a steep path to the second with a lovely cool pool.  We had it all to ourselves for a while but moved off when joined by a rowdy Brit men only party, disturbing the peace.  We decided to tell everyone that we were Australian.  Colin found it hilarious when he explained to us that one of the villages that we passed through, Petit Bordel, translated as Little Whorehouse.  He was almost beside himself with mirth when he pointed out the Petit Bordel Girls School.

We three girls returned to the boat at tea time, bringing Bob’s afternoon of doing “gentleman’s things” to a close.

Dinner is booked for 7:30pm, Fran has the scrabble board set up and I have a gin and tonic in my hand.  All is right with the world.