Canouan - a successful flop?

Readers of the Telegraph - cast your minds back to October 17 2023. Remember the Headline in the Travel Section?

"What the Sussexes will find on the tiny, exclusive island of Canouan"

Of course the article went on to tell you what they'd find, but just in case you've forgotten, I'll summarise; they would have found not one, not two, but three, hugely successful, very exclusive, holiday complexes for the super rich to play in. The Sandy Lane Yacht Club, the  Mandarin Oriental and the Soho Beach House. Indeed, said the Telegraph, so successful have these resorts become, that they now threaten to usurp the nearby island of Mustique. Canuoan will be the place where Billionaires will go to escape mere Millionaires.

For those, 'not in the know', Mustique is the island where Harry's Great Auntie, Princess Margaret, used to have such a wonderful time with her chums.

Give me a break - what planet are they on? There's no chance, given what's actually going on, or rather, not going on at these exclusive resorts. 

I suppose if tax avoidance is the measure of success then perhaps someone is feeling pretty successful, but as of January 2024, the bizarrely named Sandy Lane Yacht Club and the equally weirdly named Soho Beach House, are in all other respects, complete and utter flops. There's no-one there. This is taking exclusivity to an entirely new level!

The Sandy Yacht Club includes a Marina of 120 berths for very posh yachts in a beautiful setting immediately next to the small airport. You've got to admire the developers, that was a stroke of genius. The guests and crews of the posh yachts will only have yards to walk (or more likely to be driven) from their private jets to their  super yacht moored in the marina. It opened in 2017 and is so exclusive that it's almost completey uncontaminated by yachts! 

Like most visiting non super yachts, we anchored in Charlestown Bay on the west coast. As it happens we're a few hundred yards off the waterfront of the Soho Beach House 

and so are ideally placed to witness all the comings and goings of the wealthy guests. Except, there aren't any. The place seems completely deserted! But I digress...

After walking through the very un-exclusive Charlestown ....

and enjoying an excellent good value lunch at the equally un-exclusive Pompeys...

... we headed across the narrow peninsula forming the southern end of the island, bound for South Glossy Bay.

After 20 minutes or so we came across the very imposing entrance to what turned out to be the Sandy Lane Yacht Club.

"Blimey that looks posh"we said as we walked up the drive towards the security gates. Would my Hooness Yacht Club  Membership card be accepted as proof of my priviledged status? I suspected not and given our recent experience on Mustique, we fully expected to be given our marching orders by the security guard. Not a bit of it, after waving us over, he gave us a broad smile and waved us through - it was almost as if Mr Desmond (the main money bags behind the enterprise) was expecting us! 

As we walked through the grounds, It became increasingly clear that the Sandy Lane Yacht Club was operating in a different dimension to Hooness Yacht Club. This was a very large estate with road signs pointing to different restaurants, bars, offices, shops, hotel, village and of course the marina. 

We followed the sign to the marina and after 10 minutes or so came upon it's northern perimeter. It seemed to go on for miles. We could just make out a substantial waterfront condo type village nestled under the Carriabean's very own Portland Bill in the distant at the other end of the marina.

As you can see these more remote berths were empty and so we continued onwards to very centre of the marina complex (which continued all the way round to the village behind the beach), where we found.....

... empty dock after empty dock after empty dock. There was in fact a grand total of 6 yachts in the 120 berth marina. It must have only just opened I thought, but no, my enquiry at the office revealed it opened in 2017. "But it's so quiet" I said. The young woman behind the desk smiled and replied, a little sheepishly I thought, "we haven't done much marketing yet"!

According to the Telegraph, the Yacht Club's exclusive marina is the missing link that has turbo charged the development of Canouan. It's clearly doing no such thing. December through to May is the peak sailing season in the Carribbean. If the marina is empty now it's going to be empty all year. The very few yacht crew we saw on their boats, looked as bemused as we felt. Very odd!

I'd gone into the office to enquire whether we could borrow two of what looked to me like curtesy marina bicycles propped up outside the office - so that we could explore the rest of the marina and the 'village' in the distance more easily. "Yes of course - just sign this form, they're usually 5 dollars but you got me on a good day"!

So we cycled to the village anticipating an expensive cold beer in cafe on a bustling water front.

"The village", with a view over the Atlantic Ocean to die for, and comprising holiday apartments and houses, was, with the exception of a couple of guys in a yacht charter office, completely deserted. No cafe or bar. Not a single soul was on holiday and there must have been a few hundred properties!

By now we were thoroughly non-plussed.

The Telegraph must have hired 'rent a crowd' for Harry and Megan to escape from!

Now then, where's Mr Desmond's tax return?

Mustique - Paradise or Workhouse?

Well, it depends on who you are! If you're one of the very rich property owners, it's no doubt paradise. The island, once at the heart of the Caribbean's sugare cane industry and therefore the slave trade, was bought from the sugar cane landlords when the industry collapsed with the advent of european sugar beet, by the Englishman Colin Tenant. It is now owned by the 'Mustique Comany' which in turn is ownwd by the property owners. It's purpose is of course to provide that paradise experience for the very rich and their guests and the not quite so rich who can afford to rent one of the 100 or so houses or stay in the plush Plantation Hotel. 

If you're one of the 1500 or so workers on the island, the answer is probably more complicated and I suspect will depend on what job you have and which of the very rich people you work for - if any. We didn't manage to speak to any of those who directly service the very rich property owners, but it seems reasonable to surmise that cultivating good relations with them will bring both financial and social rewards and benefits. Those working on developing and maintaining the infastructure and environment of the island must be completely dependent on their wages from the Mustique Company whilst those working in services such as in the few shops, the cafe and (apparently world famous) Basil's Bar, probably benefit from generous tipping. 

Our abilty to roam the island was heavilly curtailed by the need to preserve the guests privacy, but we got to know a French couple on another boat who managed to slip through the courdon and found the fishing 'village'. They were quite appalled by what they encountered - bare huts with bunks. The fishermen were obliged to sell their catch to the Mustique fish market and whilst I cannot be sure of this, I suspect, for a price dictated by the Musique Company. The fisherman who sold us some of his catch for an extremely modest price was risking his job and in so doing demonstrated the very low prices he must typically get from the Mustique fish market. 

We did talk to a couple of charming young women working in the island's services sector who confirmed that jobs on the island are plum jobs in the economy of Saint Vincent and the Grenadines, paying more than equivalent jobs in other parts of the country. However, the catch is of course, that wages for most local people in the islands are pretty low. A plum job for the locals in Mustique probably pays less than the minimum wage in most developed economies. We heared first hand from the two ladies that the employment of workers is subject to Dickensian-like terms and conditions. Only those employed or engaged directly by the Mustique Company are allowed to live on the island - no children or any other relatives are allowed. Any misdemeanor or perceived shortfall in conduct or performance is dealt with summarilly by instant removal from the island. The unhappy 'victim' is removed by plane the very same day, even if that means the compny has to arrange a special charter flight to perform the deportation! 

The 'elephant in the room' in all this is of course the history of slavery and racism. Today's Mustique workers (99.9% of which are black) aren't forced to work there and they are paid for their services (albeit under terms and conditions that most advanced economies outlawed years ago) but in terms of structural inequality, are they really much better off than their enslaved ancestors? Is the gap between their resources and lifestyle and the immense wealth and priveledge of their property owning 'clients', any less than that between slave and plantation owner? Who is really benefitting from Mustique? Local people in desperate need of work, or the immensley wealthy British and Americans who, as a direct result of the legacy of slavery, now own this carribbean jewel. Presumably the government of Saint Vicent and the Grenadines would point to significant tax revenues they raise from the Mustique Company, but even so...! 

Enough ranting - it is for all that, and perhaps partly because of it, a beautiful island surrounded by torquise waters....

.... with lots of turtles - which having lost my gopro in the surf in Barbados I was not able to photograp - sorry Ursula!

A Blues fesitival was also in full swing at Basils Bar whilst we were there and our French neighbours persuaded us to part with the $30 per head entrance fee (which apparently is donanted to a Children's charity on Saint Vincent). There's a rather bitter-sweet irony to the fesitival. The island that goes to such great lengths to keep the riff-raff like us away from their mega rich visitors, actually needs us to turn up to the festival to make up the numbers! To be fair at $30 per head it wasn't such a bad deal for some pretty good Blues!

   

       

A Pump and Light, Part 2; the cooker; solar panels; another hike; good bye Bequia, hello Mustique

(intrepid Hikers, Laura, Me, Rob (Mick behind the camera)

I've lost count how many times that dam pump was removed and reinstalled but it must have been at least half a dozen. Whenever it was out and tested it worked fine, as soon as it was reinstalled it only worked intermitently! The only thing that couldn't be inspected was the inside of the pressure switch and it was therefore this that was now the prime culprit. 

The very well stocked Piper's Chandlery had a number of pumps that we could use as a replacement but the cheapest was about #300. Similar pumps seemed to be available in Grenada for half the price and so I decided that if we couldn't get the existing one to work we'd just have to make do without for the next few weeks and I'd buy a new one there. The same applied to replcing the broken port navigtion light. However, we were extremely lucky in that Rob had a spare/broken water pump with a pressure switch which turned out to be the same type as the suspect one and he very kindly gave it to us.

Mick then spent considerable time removing the old switch and replacing it with Rob's and .......low and behold it worked. We had running water once again and could use the shower. A great bonus in this hot sticky climate (with apologies to those freezing at home).

Around the same time the pump was fixed one of the two cooker burners started misbehaving and by the time we got to Mustique it had completely faiuled. The cast iron rusts in the salty climate creating both gas blockages and air leaks within the burner. I had succeeded in removing all the rust deposits earlier in the year which helped enourmously but now there is just too much air getting into the burner for it to burn stably. I tried repairing it with liquid metal but it didn'y help much and then that started to burn. 

It looks like we may have to make do with one burner for the forseeable future! 

I'm hopeful that we may also have a solution to our solar power shortfall. The Chandlery in Grendad stock suitable panels and a reasonable price and I have therefore ordered and paid for two 115W panels that we will use to replace the existing 150W panel on top of the arch across the back of the cockpit. Our hope is that the existing panel is underperforming and that we'll end up with a significant performance increase from the new panels. However, we wont know that for certain until the new installation has been completed. Hopefully we can also find a way of retaining the existing panel in the system too even if only while we are anchor/moored up. 

Of course we will have to manage with what we have until we get to Grenada in a few weeks and we will no doubt have considerable fun and games removing the old panel and installing the new ones. 

Before leaving Bequia we met up with Laura again for one final Hike.

Laura is an adventurous woman. A rower and a sailor from Woodshole, Massachusetts, she has travelled extensively and rowed in the London River Race 2023 and has sailed for most of her life. She's now on to her second ocean capable trimaran; the first she lost off Bermuda a few years ago after a collision with an unidentified object. Her partner Rob is a boat builder and owns a classic 1960s 28 foot Herreshoff yacht that he restored.

Our Hike with Laura and Rob was to the top of Bequia's western hills to take in the glorious view of Saint Vincent. 

On the way up we passed the delightful pakm tree lined bay shown at the top of this post.

My goodness what a climb it was; up some of the steepest roads I've experienced - but at least they were roads (hardly any traffic) and not the dense undergrowth Mick and I had fought our way through a few days previously.

The view certainly lived up to its reputation....

By the time we got back down we were desperate for beer, ice cream and lunch that we consumed rapidly in that order.

The next day, Friday, after a long chat with Rob, we left for Mustique, the island paradise playground of the very, very rich, including the likes of Princess Margaret and Mick Jagger.

It was about a four hour, close hauled sail in brisk winds and we arrived about an hour before sunset and picked up one of the obligatory moorings at a cost of £64 for 3 nights. A lot more expensive than our hitherto free anchoring but not bad compared with the UK's south coast. The vast majority of which were occupied by Catermarans..

 

    

A hike and other sailing hikers

After we tackled, but failed to fix the water pump on Saturday (see "A pump and lights), Mick and I went ashore with a plan to walk to the summit of Mount Pleasant and then drop down to Friendhip Bay on the South East coast before walking round the bottom of island and back to Port Elizabeth. Things did not go entirely to plan....

It wasn't long before a friendly local pointed out that we had taken a wrong turn. By coincidence we came across him just as he and we were walking past his boat that was propped up on the roadside. It turned out to be an American design called a Shield and very similar to the UK Dragon. Other priorities had overtaken his sailing one and the boat had not been used for a couple of years. An all too familiar story.

After a lengthy chat he re-directed us and we set off once again up a very steep hill that got steeper and steeper. We were soon moving at a snails' pace. Arriving at a junction we guessed a right turn was required. Up and up we went until the road just stopped at the end of a few houses.

The scenery was delightful....

What looked like a fairly well trodden path continued on through initially sparse undergrowth. However, this gradually became thicker and the path through it more difficult to spot. After another twenty minutes all semblance of the path had disappeared and we were moving down a steep bank through dense undergrowth and trees. We paused a couple of times to consider our options but the thought of re-tracing our hard won steps spurred us on. Google maps also indicated we were not far from a road. 

Then we came across a very steep deep drop. Fortunately we found a way round it and were soon on a disused concrete track. This eventually joined the road down into Friendship Bay and the Bequia Heritage Museum by which time we were gasping for a drink and had visions of gulping an ice cold beer in the museum bar!

Of course the museum was .... CLOSED! Mind you even if it was open I think the most we could have hoped for would have been water. The small Heritage building did not look like it could possibly have accomodated a bar as well as exhibits!

We were however able to admire the old  whaling boats in the adjacent open air building....

After doing so we headed down to the beach in search of refreshment and very soon discovered a (very expensive) beach bar. Twice the price of the already expensive bars in town, but by now we would probably have paid anything for a drink. In the end we had a light lunch of potatoe wedges as well. Rayelle and Elliot had very kindly donated significant $s to the boat maintenance kitty which we plundered 🫣!

Whilst drinking and eating we got chatting to a couple from Norfolk who were staying in the local posh hotel. They told us the beach and surrounding area had been bought by a Swedish property Tycoon, around which he had developed a tasteful resort and apparently provided excellent job opportunities for local people.

After lunch we continued on our way and crossed back over the island by way of a saddle valley. The inclines were still steep but thankfully not as long as our earlier walk up and down Mount Pleasant!

As we descended down the hill towards Princes Margaret's Beach and dithered about which fork in the road to take an American woman with her student son asked if we needed help with our directions. It turned out we were all heading for the beach and so off we went chatting as we went. It turned out that they - Laura and Conrad -  were also on a boat - a Trimaran - and unusually, Laura was the owner/skipper. We said our goodbyes on the beach where they went for a swim and we continued back around the coast to our dinghy.

The next day after hours fighting with the water pump, we went ashore for a late afternoon walk around the west side of Admiralty Bay. Fort Hamilton on the north side of the bay's entrance was our destination. Half way there, two figures came down the hill with the sun behind them. It was Laura and Conrad!

We had another long chat and they climbed back up the hill with us for their second look at Fort Hamilton. 

[Laura, Mick and Conrad on top of Fort Hamilton with Admiralty Bay in the background.]

On the way back down the hill we exchanged contact details and we'll probably meet up again before both boats leave Bequia.

A Pump and Lights - Part 1

On leaving the fuel dock at Port Saint Charles we accidentally clobbered the port side push-pit and knocked/wrenched off the port side navigation light.

Tomorrow - Monday 22/1, I'll have to search of the Chandlerys in Port Elizabeth for a replacement.

On the passage to Bequia the water pump started playing up and eventually refused to function at all. On Thursday morning Mick and Elliot undertook a brief assessment of the pump in situ in the cupboard under the galley sink...

[Here with the pump removed]

Unsurprisingly their conclusion was it would have to come out. I knew that would be a fiddly, time consuming job, having tackled it once before and given Rayelle and Elliot only had limited time with us I decided to put it off until they had left.

Come Saturday morning therefore, Mick removed the pump, identified a couple of dodgy connections and repaired them. We then tested the pump which seemed fine and re-installed it. It worked properly for a few minutes but then started playing up again. 

Mick investigated again and found that the pressure switch was not engaging. So I then removed the pump again for further detailed examination by Mick.

Nothing seemed to be amiss. The pressure switch seemed fine, as were the brushes. So we re-assembled it, re-installed it and .... same problem - intermittent pumping. We also noticed it was sucking lots of air when working and tracked that down to a water-pipe join. That appeared to do the trick initially but then the same behaviour re-appeared!

A bloody mystery! I guess I'll have to look into whether I can get a replacement pump as well as a replacement navigation light!

The other job on the list is the compass light. It refused to come on during our passage from Barbados. We had no problems with it on the 21 day Atlantic crossing but now it's gone on strike. Presumably a dodgy connection somewhere. Investigations still to take place.

Good bye; hello; return to the sea; good bye

We dropped our anchor in Admiralty Bay, Bequia on Wednesday afternoon 17/1/24, after a 24 hour crossing from Barbados and we were soon joined by a rather larger neighbour. A modern, 5 masted, square rigged sailing cruise ship. As night fell she lit up like a Christmas tree....

Rayelle and Elliot had joined the ship for a few days. They flew into Barbados on the night of the 14th and met up with me Sharon and Mick at Port Saint Charles at lunchtime on the 15th. 

We spent an enjoyable afternoon on the local beach with plenty to eat and drink including another bottle of champagne that Sharon brought in with her on her flight 2 weeks earlier.

Rayelle and Elliot flew in from Miami having toured various US states visiting Rayelle's family. They were to stay with us for our trip to Bequia and then return home to the UK via a further short interlude in Barbados.

That evening Rayelle and Elliot treated us to a posh meal in Speightstown...

Sharon flew home to a cold London on the evening of the 16th having previously waved us off from Port Saint Charles.

We had a gentle departure from there, but once we were out of the lee of the island the breeze freshened from the East and the swell mounted. We were soon rocking and rolling downwind under a single reefed goose-winged mainsail and genoa. It was quite uncomfortable and poor Rayelle and Elliot were a bit worse for wear. We continued in much the same fashion throughout the night with showers sweeping through now and again. 

As usual I made the wrong decision about which tack to run downwind on (and therefore, which side to pole out the genoa on during the last vestiges of daylight).  With the wind blowing from just to starboard of a dead run to reduce the risk of an accidental gybe, we were tracking northwards of our destination. However given we had lost the light we continued on until daylight when we gybed and made a better course to the channel between Saint Vincent and Bequia. I took the first off-watch, but couldn't sleep. 

Later during my watch, the wind died considerably and with what little there was coming from almost directly astern, the sails were slatting too and fro and we were making very little progress. So, despite the dark, I decided to gybe the boat onto a more southerly course to bring the wind more abeam and therefore increase the relative wind speed and therefore the boat's speed as well.

After a few hours the swell went down and we had a much more comfortable sail towards Bequia. Rayelle was well enough to get up and watch the sunrise with me. Elliott emerged a few hours later looking more like his old self despite not being able to get any sleep. 

Around midday on the 17th we gybed once more to head directly through the pass between the islands and a couple of hours after that gybed for the last time to lay Admiralty Bay and Port Elizabeth.

We all swam off the boat after the anchor went down and that evening Mick cooked a splendid Lamb Curry.

The next morning - Thursday - we went ashore to check-in and explore. A lovely walk along the south of Admiralty Bay led us to Princess Margaret Beach where we all went for a swim before returning to the boat. Having earlier visited our OCC neighbour on our way ashore to say hello, we bumped into the crew ashore and were invited aboard for Sundowners that evening. Skipper Simon, with his wife Kate and his father entertained us royally. I drank far too much rum punch and have only a hazy recollection of dinner back on board Bonny later!

Friday was Rayell's and Elliott's last day. Rayelle treated us to a lovely lunch before we waved them off on the Ferry...

...to Kingstown, Saint Vincent, from where they would fly back to Barbados.

Barbados - the sinking rising Island AND "God's Children are not for Sale"

The photgrah above was taken at Hastings on the islands south coast facing the open Atlantic Ocean. You can see boulders along the beach with a boardwalk just above them. Some stretches of the boardwalk are visibly underpinned by a concrete wall. I strongly suspect the wall runs the whole length of it but in most places is buried under the sand. 

As we walked along the boardwalk we were often showered by spray from the waves breaking on the beach and  bolders. 

Those dark markings aren't shadows, but are wet boards, the result of breaking waves!

I'm further away from the water here.

I estimated that in some places, the mean sea level was just a couple of metres below the land to the left of the boardwalk. That strip of land comprises a mixture of restaurants,  hotels (and green spaces). On a calm day therefore, the ocean is two metres below their front/back doors. I pondered on what it would be like on a stormy day with the full brunt of an Atlantic gale or worse still a hurricane? I also thought it unlikely the boardwalk would have been deliberately constructed so as to provide impromptu sea-water showers to those promanading it's length!

Was I witnessing another example of rising sea levels? Later in the evening I did some very cursory research on the internet and found out a little more about Barbados' precarious predicament.

It turns out that Barbados is slowly rising from the seabead. Almost uniquely, it consists of coral which over millenea have been forced up from the ocean floor by tectonic plate movements. Even its highest areas are made of ancient coral.

However, further research confirmed that as in so many other places, Barbados is 'slowly' being consumed by rising sea levels. It's rising alright, but not as fast as the ocean is! I found a video from 2021 of a visit by the UN Secretary General Antanio Gutteras, being shown around by local politicians/officials who explained that if it wasn't for the rock sea defences along the very same beach we walked along, the whole area would have been swallowed by the sea.

I gained the distinct impression that three years further on, those defences along that same stretch of land were at severe risk of being overwhelmed!

It's not just that coast either. The beaches along the north west coast where we are staying, have only a narrow strip of sand that doesn't get soaked at high tide. This coast is not exposed to the full brunt of the prevailing Atlantic weather systems and so the affects of the rising sea levels will probably be less severe and slower, but it seems inevitable that they too will sucum in the end. 

A little way along the coast from the slim strip of our local beach, there's a complex of posh apartments with gardens down to the beach. Each has its own private path with a gate and steps down to the beach. I walked, or rather waded past them a few days ago. The waves were breaking on the steps. There was no dry beach left on which the occupants could set out their beach loungers!

The photo below was taken when the tide was lower, but as you can see, there's precious little beach that doesn't get soaked by the sea... The foundations of the steps on the left have clearly been eroded by the action of breaking waves.

Compared with most other Carribean islands, Barbados is wealthy. BUT almost half of that wealth comes from tourism (offshore banking is apparently responsible for most of the other half). What will happen if/when the sea reclaims the beaches and the valuable real estate alongside them?

Before our walk along Hastings' boradwalk, we'd been to visit the Barbados museum - a former prison on the outskirts of Bridgetown.

It provided an insight into its natural history, the history of the island including it's early settlement by Carib indians and of course the appalling period of the slave trade.

Shortly after arriving at Port St Charles, I found myself swimming alongside a leatherback turtle. A truly wonderful experience!

A very big lobster!

By coincidence, I have been watching the film "The Sound of Freedom" - based on a true and harrowing account of the modern trade in human sex trafficking. It's an excellent film. At the end, the star of the film talks about this awful trade and tells us that worldwide, there are more enslaved people than at any other time in human history, including millions of child sex slaves! 

He reminds us all that "God's children are not for sale".

Sailor turns Landlubber in Barbados

Sharon arrived by plane on the 2nd of January. I took a boneshaking, but excellent value bus from Speightstown to the Airport - Bajan$3.50 - about £1.50 being the standard fare for any journey.

Barbados has a fascinating public transport service. The state bus service run by the Transport Board runs buses all over the island but they're not particularly frequent. However, that's supplemented by a private operation which runs smaller but much more frequent buses. Both services use the same bus stops (which are plentiful) and charge the same flat fare. The Transport Board Buses have air conditioning and the private buses play VERY loud garage music. 

They also mostly drive at breakneck speeds and apparently have no passenger number limits. Anyone familiar with the challenge of getting on a train at Herne Hill in the rush hour will know what it's like. Except of course it's mostly sunny and always warm!

We took a(n expensive) taxi to Port Saint Charles and managed to get Sharon and her bags safely onto Bonny. Unfortunately, Sharon couldn't cope with the motion of the boat at anchor and felt unwell immediately. So, the next day - Sharon's Birthday - we searched online for accommodation ashore and eventually found a just afordable self catering apartment down the coast at Paynes Bay.

Sharon and I spent the rest of the day on the local beach sipping/slurping birthday bubbly which the poor thing brought with her.

We couldn't get into our apartment until the following day and so took Bonny into the expensive posh yachts visitors marina for the night which reduced the boat's movement enough to prevent Sharon from feeling ill.

The next morning Mick went off for the next stage of his foot treatment - an x-ray in Bridgetown. I decided to tackle a job I'd been putting off - the leaking stern gland. Since roughly halfway through our crossing I had noticed that the ingress had been steadily increasing such that I was having to pump the bilges for a 2-3 minutes every day. An inspection a week or so ago revealed a steady albeit small stream of water coming in through the gland.

The job itself was simple enough but as with everything on a boat gaining access was the bigger challenge. Our emergency water stowage and the Jordan Series Drogue had to be removed from the stowage area under the cockpit sole before the floor boards could then be lifted. A slight tightening of the two nuts on either side of the packing plate stopped the leak. That took all of a couple of minutes.

Then I decided to re-fill the grease reservoir and that's where the problems started. It's a tubular reservoir with a manual screw down piston which when turned forces grease through a copper tube into the gland which is packed with a special type of rope. Together the rope and the grease form an almost water-tight seal around the propeller shaft, provided there's enough grease and enough pressure from the packing plate. Eventually the special rope needs to be replaced.

The problem was that when I tried to remove the piston so that I could then fill the tube reservoir with grease, the screw-in shaft came away from the end of the piston. It wasn't immediately obvious how it was supposed to be attached but I feared that perhaps it had sheared. This meant I had to remove the reservoir to take a better look. This was probably the first time anyone had removed it for fourty plus years and I didn't relish the prospect of tackling seized nuts and bolts. Thankfully, it wasn't as bad as I feared and I had the reservoir removed after about an hour's hot work.

I then took a break and filled up the water tank and a few water containers.

Eventually I figured out that I could wiggle the piston end out of the tube using a socket on the end of a long extension bar. Having done that I found to my relief that the threaded shaft had merely unscrewed itself from the piston end and it was then a simple job to re-assemble the unit, re-place it and fill it with grease. Nevertheless it was thirsty work..

Once Mick returned we took Bonny to the fuel dock and filled the diesel tank. We'd consumed 100 litres of fuel in the roughly 80 hours of motoring we'd undertaken since filling up in San Sebastian, La Gomara, the Canaries. I'll need to check those numbers properly to firm up our fuel consumption (and those hours include some when just running the engine to charge the batteries) but with a total capacity of 189 litres it looks like we should get 4 days motoring out of a full tank.

Then we returned Bonny to the Anchorage and dinghed ashore for a late lunch of Pizza at the posh restaurant. Then Sharon and I took a taxi about 7 miles down the coast to our modest Apartment in Paynes Bay. We were actually pretty lucky - we had a very pleasant sea view and the studio Apartment itself was bright and clean.

Sharon and I spent the next few days on local beaches....

Exploring Bridgetown - twice. First on a Sunday when the rather sorry looking town - that's still not entirely shed its colonial legacy - was completely dead...

We couldn't find anything open apart from kiosks at the bus station. The day was salvaged when we headed for the beach and indulged ourselves with a lobster lunch...

I'm afraid our second visit during the week did little to improve my impression of Bridgetown. The fact that it was busy helped some but the fact is this (bizarrely in my view) world heritage site, has clearly seen better days and is in desperate need of investment. There are isolated examples of small craft businesses setting up but mostly its a very scruffy down at heal place. The waterside area could be a wonderful place for bars and restaurants and crafty shops etc but its derilict. There's clearly loads of foreign money on the island, with loads of posh resorts and an endless que of Cruise Ships waiting their turn to dock, so quite why the government hasn't managed to invest significantly in Bridgetown is a mystery. Mick described it as rather like North Croydon by the Sea. Personally, I think he was being unfair to North Croydon, which despite the lack of sea, has rather more going for it!

A day out at Folkestone beach/marine park where I was hoping to get some go-pro footage of turtles for the folk back home ended in a minor disaster when unknown to me at the time the go-pro was washed off my head in the surf and lost!

A few of random observations about Barbados so far....

It feels completely safe. 

No hassle from the locals except in Bridgetown where you can't seem to walk five steps without being hailed 'taxi?' But even that's not hassle - a polite "no thank you" is met by an equally polite "happy new year" or other friendly response.

The locals are invariably friendly, helpful and polite.

The island seems to be covered in petrol stations and tennis courts.

It is, with the exception of the bus fares and locally grown sugar - expensive. Even what I assume is locally grown produce is more expensive than in London. Bananas were a B$1 each at a local stall - about 40p! 

There's no canned beer anywhere - just bottles.

Cocktails in local bars are reasonably priced - B$10 about £4.50

Restaurants catering for tourists are extortionate.

I'm meeting Mick and Rob for lunch today. Sharon unfortunately is under the weather with a grumbling tummy. I hoped to buy some plywood locally and pass it on to Mick, to replace the broken fill-in for the forward V berth, but the only supplier in the area only supplies full sheets and won't cut smaller pieces.