Sun 10/13<br><br><br>I had been a fairly easy flight down after staying at the Hilton Garden Inn at Bush Intercontinental Airport. The screening process has definitely stepped up and I suffered a low level panic at hearing "You need to stop here, sir . . ." from a plastic glove-wearing woman in Miami International. I never was sure what that was about as I checked with the desk and was told to board the plane. We met a young honeymooning couple at the Cape Air waiting room in St. Thomas. They were spending the next week at Peter Island and I agreed that it would be a welcome change from Cincinnati (no offense, but compare the two as travel destinations). <br><br>Arriving at the new airport, we were picked up by our cab driver and reggae gospel singer extraordinaire Rudy and cruised to the Fort Burt hotel for our first night back in the BVI's. It turned out that the restaurant had not opened for the season and the Pub across the street was closed on Sunday evening. We spotted the Lune de Miel at the Conch Charters dock and it looked a little squatty, but then I am used to monohulls. <br><br>Since John the desk man had 10% discount tickets, a walk to the Roadtown Pusser's seemed appropriate. The dinner was pretty good and the #3 painkillers worked their magic. I hadn't tried them the last time down and after a couple of sips, it was oral bliss. Not to mention mental, as the uphill walk back to the Fort Burt was quite "painless".<br><br><br>Mon 10/14<br><br>The crew managed to get out of bed about 8.00, check out of the hotel, and carry our luggage down to the Lune before breakfast at the Pub. If you've never been to the Fort Burt, the 60 degree upslope of the l o n g driveway accounts for our dropping off the luggage first. This is hardly a trek for any non-Olympic athlete not to mention the difficulty of avoiding the traffic careening around the curves on either side of the hotel. ** <br><br>Adam from Conch came to the boat while we were loading up and told me that there were credit card problems with Bobby's Market. After about an hour and all was said and done, I learned that if you are traveling to the Caribbean with MasterCard, call the carrier first and tell them that you plan on being in the Caribbean for a couple of weeks. Otherwise, you could end up like me and have your $0 balance credit card refused. <br><br>We finally got away about 2.00. Oh yeah, under way. As in "hey, you need to put the port engine in reverse and starboard in forward to kick out the stern but look out aft for that powerboat." And also as in "Huh, I didn't tell anyone to cast lines." Also as in "Paul, isn't that dock a little close?" Finally as in "Go, you've got it" from the dock. <br><br>Anyway we make the short sail to Benures Bay and anchor for the night. We are the only ones in this small bay so the floats get blown up and all are lounging in 30 minutes or so. I look around and decide that maybe I should have anchored farther to the north as I know that we are prone to backwinding at this spot. Soon two more boats show up and take up the rest of the northeast corner, go figure. It's getting dark, Charlie and Carolyn are getting ready to fire up the pit, and the Lune slowly swings her bow(s) southwest. Cool enough, except that I have anchored a little close to shore and the rudders have about 2' of clearance from the rocks. Ok, we quickly motor towards the middle of the bay and put out most of our 180' of chain. Even though it is too dark to see the bottom I know it's sandy and good holding, so we have Charlie's burgers and crash to the sound of, the sound of . . . nothing! <br><br>** As we found on our return, it helps to have pretty girls in front of you to slow the drivers. Especially when you are loaded down with luggage. <br><br><br>Tue 10/15<br><br>Today was the day to take an easy downwind sail to Little Harbour and Sydney's Peace and Love. We took a ball and hung out for the afternoon as we fed Ralph the remora some of our bread. My immediate job was to get some sort of flag halyard up so my new Bob Marley flag could proudly fly. This took a while and several "look out" 's but I finally got it up . . . <br><br>The crew decided to repair to Sydney's for some hair braiding and self-serve cocktails. Rena was on Tortola for the day so her sister Strawberry braided Tracy's hair and another woman put some braids in the back of Caroline's hair. This took a couple of hours so Charlie and I proceeded to over serve ourselves a bit. Upon returning to the Lune about dark we found that the compressor was acting up. Hmmmmm, it's too late to call and I have Ginger Chicken to prepare. After dinner and wine the vote was to call Conch if the reefer actually died and use it as a simple icebox if need be. <br><br> It turns out that upright style refrigeration leaks out so much cold air that it isn't a whole lot better than an icebox to begin with. Freon does keep your food from spoiling, though. <br><br><br>Wed 10/16<br><br>Gee, we (I) are a little slow this morning. The compressor sounded OK so we charged up the reefer then motored over to Sandy Spit for a morning snorkle and walkabout. I managed to drown my camera in about 10 minutes (thanks, Ikelite) and appropriately enough saw a BIG barracuda as soon as I returned to the water. Charlie had never snorkeled before and he had a blast. <br><br>It was getting a little crowded so we winched up our trusty plow and headed to Great Harbour. There were only three boats there and one was leaving! The anchor was holding fine so I rigged the windscoop and declared maritime naptime. See ya later. <br><br>We dinghy'd into shore and stood around Foxy's long enough to determine that it was closed. This fact was not immediately obvious because there were tourists in the hammock, music in the trees, and people moving around behind the bar. Anyway, Ali Baba's was the call for some of the best Coladas of the trip. This is a secondhand appraisal, however, because I was paying my personal piper for the previous day's activities. Well, OK, just a little Mount Gay might have helped me along.<br><br>Caroline and Charlie prepared a wonderful pizza and salad for dinner that night. The compressor also decided that it too, would go on holiday. I called Conch and left a message to that effect. Then we slept like four dead rocks. <br><br> <br>Thu 10/17<br><br>I called Conch Charters first thing and told Miles that we would sail over to Cane Garden Bay so that someone could come check out our refrigeration. I was pretty sure that the sucker was dead - the only thing the switch cut on was the sounds of large cats mating just before the compressor froze up and shut down our port engine. <br><br>Despite excellent holding, we picked up in succession: a mooring ball (yeah, I know, spend those twenties, sucker), a couple of Mount Gays while paying for the ball, and finally the A/C guy. His postmortem confirmed our thoughts, the compressor had died and spit aluminized oil throughout the system. <br><br>Earlier a cat arrived with a big OU flag and we watched with some concern as their vessel was looking a lot like a tropical version of Cheech and Chong's bus in "Up in Smoke". This was only one ball over, so we did the prudent thing and fixed boat drinks while preparing to go below if large yachty-type parts began falling from the sky anywhere near us.<br><br>We decided to eat ashore for a change. After all, we had a chilled bottle of Dom Perignon on board and it could spoil or get lonely or something. Charlie and I loaded up the Donny P before boarding the dinghy and heading to Quito's. What we failed to do was close the port cabin and salon hatches thus challenging the Caribbean rain authorities. During dinner we watched about 2" of rain come down in about 15 minutes. Guess who sleeps in the port cabin? Yep. <br><br><br>Fri 10/18<br><br>Since our refrigeration problems were more or less permanent, Charlie is up at 6.30 to grill our jerk seasoned pork loin. I looked around and declared this a "no travel" day, promptly returning to the rack. The only sheet I was handling today had better be under my butt. Speaking of "rack", I am really beginning to understand the term. I've slept in worse conditions, like under a leaky deck hatch in 8-10' October seas sailing through a Texas norther at 3 AM, but the bunks in the Lune rank up there in discomfort quotient. Using the aft cabin's dry but smaller mattresses could also be the culprit. Anyway, we all walked around the scenic beach and stopped for a cold beverage or two at Quito's. <br><br>Soon the people from the OU boat showed up and it turns out that Kevin had sent me an e-mail before our trip telling me to keep an eye out for him. He said that they had an electrical fire on/in their generator and the flames were dangerously close to their gasoline tanks. Hmmm, had I known that I might have made doubles. Anyway, they were OK and pretty put out with the service level of their charter company as no one had yet come out to take a look at the boat. ** After visiting with Kevin and Kristen, I buy some stuff for the kiddos, including a Quito Rymer and The Edge CD, "Iron Strong".<br><br>It appears that the Lune will need 2-4 bags of ice per day to keep our food alive. Our milk has definitely passed on and the bread looks anxious to follow. I have also determined that the starboard engine is charging sporadically at best. Oh well, we decide to hang out on in the cockpit and go see Quito tonight. Tracy elected to stay aboard so Charlie, Caroline, and I went for a couple of hours and watched Quito. There was even an extra attraction of the dark-haired woman expertly tonguing her drink straw, alternately smiling at me and scowling at her husband.<br><br>Then it was back to the boat - laying on the tramp(oline) with a cocktail and listening to Quito until the wee hours..<br><br>** For various reasons, the charter company shall remain anonymous. Please don't ask.<br><br><br>Sat 10/19<br><br>I'm getting tired of those lazy jacks making me work so hard raising our main. The batten cars (I guess that's the name, you know those big black plastic things holding the battens that invariably hang up in the lazy jacks) keep causing me grief so I show Charlie how to drop them. This, I say, will make raising the main a snap. This, I say, unless you wrap the halyard around a big square fitting where the upper shrouds attach to the mast. This, I say, will make life easier. Beating with only a jib proves nigh impossible. Now it looks like the northern approach to Marina Cay is out. ** <br><br>We jibe in the general direction of Europe and then furl the jib and motor back to Little Harbour. Of course, within minutes of arriving I succeed in unwrapping the halyard from it's newfound resting spot. We wanted to see Rena anyway as I had a complete Bob Marley collection of CD's to deliver. <br><br>Charlie and I went to Abe's for ice and supplies. On the way back to the dinghy, I positively drooled over the lobsters in the trap. We had to keep after our provisions, though, as they were slowly opting to join the milk and bread in food nirvana. Tomorrow we plan to sail to Marina Cay via Thatch Cut.<br><br><br>** I know that most people go through the islands counter-clockwise. I wanted to get to Sydney's at the beginning of the trip, and then we were forced to go to CGB for repairs. Figuring "what the hell do those other people know" and not being familiar with the sailing abilities of a cat, we just took off towards Ginger Island.<br><br><br>Sun 10/20<br><br>Heading south. All was going really well until I realized that we were heading around Great Thatch and not through the cut towards Soper's Hole. I had become frustrated with another design "opportunity" of the Lagoon 37, its thigh-high winches on the mast that angled forward about 45 degrees. They were great for catching the leeward sheet and holding it in place, providing a very secure spot to keep our lines. As a sailor, though, I really didn't appreciate this feature and spent some time directly questioning the designers' lineage concerning farm animals. Unfortunately, this time would have been better used watching where we headed.<br><br>This cat will absolutely NOT go to weather. If you like sailing 75 degrees off the wind, this beast is for you. We slipped our mooring at 8.30 and finally gave up and pulled into the Bight about 2.00 PM. The Lune badly needed some ice as did my drink cup. April, our bartender, said that she had no ice to sell but that we could go to Sprat Bay for a $25 ball that included shower usage. Cool, we say, and proceed to wet our collective whistle at the beach bar. I met "Jack light on the ice" who knows an old friend Boots from Provo. I told Jack that Tracy and I had been to see him in June, 2000 while wandering home from the BVI's. It truly is a small world out there, guys and girls. We watched Jack berth himself in the hammock across from Pirate's, and then we set out on our "45 minute motor" to the Peter Island Resort.<br><br> About an hour later we passed Great Harbour, Peter Island. I looked at the many empty balls and wondered if any of the six balls at Sprat Bay would be available. Want to guess the answer? The sun was low in the sky when the crew demanded that we stop soon, I demanded that we find ice, and Deadman's bay demanded that we stay the night even if our chart briefer had specifically told us not to **. Charlie and I dinghy'd over to the civilized side of the island - the prices start at $400 per night in the low season - and spoke to the manager about ice and cokes. The staff was really nice but the clientele looked at us like we had peed in the soup. The stares got even more pronounced as I put the $14 worth of 6 10-oz cokes in Charlie's front pockets while he giggled and called me sweetie. We got the ice and went back to the boat, laughing and generally having a much better time than the stuffed shirts at the PIR. On the way out we saw a really nice Hans Christian Silmaril coming in to the dock. <br><br>After Charlie and I returned, it was time for dinner and drinks to celebrate the end of an eventful day. Maybe we'll get to Marina Cay tomorrow. <br><br>** The holding at Deadman's Bay is excellent if you stick to the SE area. The bottom is clear sand but if you move very far away from the SE corner there is a lot of grass. We stayed anchored through a 4-6 hour storm with no sliding around at all. Sorry, Adam.<br><br><br>Mon 10/21<br><br>It's a beautiful morning at the awesome Deadman's Bay. After breakfast, we strike out for Marina Cay, fighting the aformentioned lazy jacks and their desire to keep our main at full reef position. After about four tacks and the realization that we still would not clear Beef Island, I pronounce the vessel M/V Lune de Miel and we motor the last two miles in. My fingers are stiff and this is a holiday, so there you have it, a funny looking powerboat with a big stick in the middle. (Actually it really was a banking holiday. I tried to raise Donovan's Reef on 16 and was informed me of this fact. Funny, I could swear that there were a couple of these holidays in a row. And wasn't Barclays on strike anyway?)<br><br>This is a nice place. We have fuel, ice, water, provisions, and a restaurant. Friggin' paradise, mon! Charlie and I embark on our now-perfected procedure. We go to shore, pay for the ball, have a painkiller and look around, then return to the boat in about an hour. There are great grounds on Marina Cay but the hilltop bar is closed so any eating and drinking must be done at the beach restaurant. We hang out on the boat in the afternoon and then head ashore for dinner. Tracy had pork ribs, Caroline and Charlie had chicken, and I had a small lobster. The dinner was good and reasonable at about $125 for dinner and a few drinks.<br><br>Back on the boat I ponder the capabilities of a (or our) catamaran:<br><br>The cat is the worst of both worlds. It won't point like a monohull and can't <br>motor like a trawler. It is comfortable, though, and there is a lot of privacy for <br>two couples. <br><br>Having arrived at this pressing answer to what is surely a universal question among sailors, I fall happily asleep.<br><br> <br>Tue 10/22<br><br>The gallant crew has spoken and we will sail no more. We get up early and head to the dock for fuel, water, and ice. As I am readying the lines and others are setting fenders, another cat pulls up to the dock just before opening time. Cool, we'll just sit here for a while. I see the captain taking care of his fuel and water as the four passenger scatter to the bathroom facilities. After they come back to the boat, three of them head over to the Pusser's store. Hmmm, this could take a while.<br><br>As soon as the captain of the catamaran finishes up, he looks around and notices our vessel with its lines and fenders ready. Even though there are still two passengers in the store, he moves so that we can tie up. As we take on fuel and water, the other captain puts his bow right at the dock so the last two people can step onto the tramps. Wow, considerate and someone who can handle a boat. That is rare anywhere you go. I thank him, discover that he is another TTOL'r named Mike Kneafsey, and he replies "no problem, we've all got to take turns here. Have a good trip." <br><br>We motor the 5 miles to the Baths and spend some time snorkeling around. Once again, Charlie is having a blast and one of the last ones out of the water. Of course, considering what it took to get him back in the dinghy - "just kick, dude, and then just kind of roll over into the dinghy" - no wonder he was the final one in. After a light lunch of nearly all our edible food, we venture to Cooper Island for the day.<br><br>Charlie and I embark on our ball-paying looking-around ritual. This was referred to as "taking a lookout" on Great Harbour. Anyway, we met James Leonard and Daniel on the beach near the Cooper Island resort bar. After a few beers and painkillers between new friends, we broke the pattern and Charlie went back in the dinghy to pick up Tracy and Caroline. I was comfortably limin' away on the beach when I hear a loud engine noise. Since ours was the only dinghy on the dock I had to assume it was our loud engine noise. I checked down the beach and indeed Charlie was performing a 3/4 throttle backward maneuver. I figured it could be that he was showing off with a reverse Williamson turn in case someone on the dock went overboard. After all, Charlie was in the U.S. Navy. Oh, did I mention that Charlie has never been on a boat before this trip? He must have read about it. <br><br>Eventually Tracy and Caroline returned with our temporarily itinerant captain (or itinerantly temporary captain, I couldn't decide) and met us on the beach. It turns out that my brief instructions to Charlie, consisting of "you've seen me do this for a week now. Pull the dealie on the string to start it, the little pokie uppy thing is the shift lever, and twist the handle to go" lacked one important detail. He had no idea how to stop. Tracy and Caroline had a lot of laughs at his, then my, expense. By this time, James, Daniel, and I were getting on famously. Tracy soon decided to move to the bar, then the rest of us warmed to the idea and got out of the rain. Many fish tales later, we returned to the boat to clean up. The Lune's tanks were full of water and I intended to shower as much as I wanted for the next couple of days. Oh, James Leonard asked me to "tell Mistah Wahkah hello, mon." Hi, Walker, I hope I represented Texas well. James was definitely impressed with you.<br><br>Tracy had developed a rash a couple of days before and it was really bothering her so we stayed on board tonight. Caroline and Charlie went ashore for dinner and a little privacy. I requested the pork chop dinner and it came back warm and tasty. <br><br>This was another successful day on holiday.<br> <br><br>Wed 10/23<br> <br>We returned to Marina Cay today. The crew has pointed out that instead of eating our remaining provisions of angel hair and sauce that we could go to Donovan's Reef provided it is not another "bank holiday". I call the restaurant on the VHF and make reservations for 6.00. The voice on the radio also pointed out that they had a "free" ball in front of the restaurant. Charlie points out that "free" may mean "available". Oh well, we drop trash at Marina Cay and move the Lune to a ball in front of Donovan's Reef restaurant. Soon afterwards, the Silmaril takes the other mooring next to us.<br><br>It's only about 2.00 so we decide to imbibe a few. I had earlier searched for rum in the Pusser's store and all they had was Pusser's. Go figure. Pusser's is fine in painkillers but lacking a bit mixed with Coca-Cola. So, we resorted to the Absolut and grapefruit juice - greyhound anyone? I saw a fishing boat coming in the cut between Scrub and Great Camanoe and we all took interest. Soon, a guy comes down from the restaurant with a 5 gallon bucket and proceeds to fill it twice with fresh Anegada lobster. Ooooh, guess what the captain's having for dinner tonight?<br><br>We dinghy the 30 feet to Donovan's dock and enter the bar area. This place is cool and they only have six tables. We soon move to the table after a couple of drinks at the bar and discussions about football. The restaurant is decorated in a combination Hatari - hey, it's still John Wayne - and Caribbean fusion. If you go, be sure to check the restroom sinks. Anyway, the dinner was fabulous. Charles and Caroline had steaks, Tracy had a stuffed chicken dish, and I praised the lobster as I dunked it in the drawn garlic butter. <br><br>I also met Mike Kneafsey at the bar. He is a friendly and informative guy who is more than a little sold on cruising cats. Mike has an Island 37 and swears that he points up much better than our old-design Lagoon **. He also pointed out that the Moorings used Lagoons until they realized how badly they barked and switched to the Robertson & Caine models for charter. Interesting, that, as Mike's AristoCat is also of South African vintage. You never know, though, because I've yet to meet a boat owner that did not have the fastest and easiest handling vessel around. <br><br>Finally we waddled back to the dinghy for our last night aboard.<br><br>** I have since heard from others who agree that Mike is indeed correct in is appraisal of modern catamaran design. And as proof that "it's not bragging if you can do it", his boat took first in Foxy's Cat Fight a week later.<br><br><br>Thu 10/24<br><br>We get up early and slowly begin packing. I don't think anyone slept too well last night with the shifting winds and eddying current between Scrub, Great Camanoe, and Marina Cay. Next time I will definitely moor on the west end of the reef. <br><br>We proceed to motor back to Road Harbor and find a, uhhh, oh no, cruise ship! We got the Lune to the dock and Charlie figured out what a spring line was as in "throw him what?" We had burgers at the Pub and the ladies went up to the Fort Burt with the carry-on bags. After checking out with Miles, we made TWO trips up the driveway from hell to the hotel. I promptly went to the pool for a few minutes of near death and resurrection.<br><br>Tracy and Caroline decided to shop so Charlie and I placed ourselves at the end of Pusser's bar reveling in the A/C and marveling at the loud cruise ship passengers. No worries as we were under the expert care of mix master Vicky. When Tracy and Caroline return, we venture to the Spaghetti Junction and find that it's their first open night for the season. Cool! as was the BatCave, the adjoining air conditioned bar. It is non-smoking as John pointed out but you can smoke out on the bat-deck if you wish. The view is outstanding with the Moorings base to one side and the public marina to the other. <br><br>We went into the restaurant for our 6.00 reservation (make them to ensure seating) and discovered culinary Nirvana. I had a jerk chicken and herb angel hair dish while Tracy had the best beef marsala allowed by law. It was 2 inches thick and it cut apart like roast. Caroline also had a pasta dish but Charlie had the chicken special. The special is an herb and bacon stuffed macadamia encrusted chicken with a creamy macadamia sauce, guaranteed to send your tastebuds into close earth orbit. Afterwards it was Bushwackers and a Pina Colada for three, Mount Gay for the cap'n, and home to bed for everyone.<br><br><br>Fri 10/26<br><br>We woke up to bright sun and a moving bed. (11 days of sailing . . . my randy readers) so we walked across the street to the Pub for a muffin and cheese. The activity of the day seemed to be another walk around Roadtown with another load of cruise ship passengers in town. After an hour or so, Tracy and I headed back to the Fort Burt and the swimming pool. <br><br>We had dinner reservations again at the Spaghetti Junction. Before dinner, we met Adam from Conch Charters out on the deck and he said this was one of THE local hangouts and today was the first open Friday of the season. He was right - the BatCave's deck was packed. And apparently John has no problems with large Golden Retrievers or non-smoking toddlers in his bar, provided neither chews the furniture too much.<br><br>Tonight I had the chicken special, Tracy had angel hair with marinara, and Charles and Caroline split the jambalaya pasta dish. Careful readers will note that my angel hair and sauce was deemed unacceptable two days ago on the Lune. Once again, thus armed with Bushwacker and Mount Gay bat-travelers, we taxied back to the hotel for our last night in the current iteration of paradise.<br><br><br>Sat 10/27<br><br> Phhffffthtttttt! At 6.00 AM, we trudge to our waiting taxi for a 25 minute ride to the new airport. As we were pulling in to the parking lot I caught a last glance at Marina Cay and pondered a swimming escape. The security guys are very thorough on departure here. My backpack held my batteries, GPS, digital camera, various charging mechanisms, and other item that surely piqued the interest of the X-ray screener. When someone asks if "you have any objections, sir" to searching your bag, what exactly do they expect for an answer?<br><br>Oh well, we boarded our Cape Air Cessna and 15 minutes later we were in St. Thomas airport, near hell. Four hours later we took off for Miami more northerly of hell, and about 9.30 PM we arrive at Bush Intercontinental airport north of Houston. Only 1 1/2 hours to drive to Galveston and we're home and really jazzed about the trip. This has truly been a holiday and we look forward to the next installment. <br><br>Trav McGee had it down, taking his retirement a chunk at a time. Thank you, John D.<br><br>Paul & Tracy Bryant <br><br> We wish to thank all of the people who were so kind and helpful during our two week holiday. Especially John, April, Jake and everybody at Conch Charters. You are the best.<br><br><br>
