The Good, the Bad, and the Interestingly Worse

Location: Admiralty Bay, Bequia (pronounced "Beckway"), SVG

Warning: Long Post.

I left you last time saying that we were going to go snorkeling in the Tobago Cays. We did go. The scenery was absolutely stunning. Pro tip: on the beach, the sand that has air bubbles in it (or near that) is the squishiest.

The fish were quite nice, although there was some sand in the water, so I didn't get the best of pictures.

Another reason why I couldn't get the best of pictures is that a grain of sand got into the seal of my waterproof case for my camera, and some water got in. Luckily, the camera wasn't damaged, and after another rice bath, the case was nice and dry. Also, when we came back, the grackles had pooped everywhere. I no longer like grackles.

We had a lobster dinner onshore. It was delicious.

Our water pump switches are at the chart table near the kitchen. Every time we finish using water, we need to go shut off the pumps to prevent leakage and excess power usage. I tend to forget this. Jem and I have decided that every time I forget to turn off the pump, I need to do 10 push-ups. I had to add a few dozen push-ups to my Wednesday workout. If I come home with mad gainz, you can thank the boat's limited water supply. On a completely unrelated note, look at my green onion plants!

We sailed to Salt Whistle Bay Wednesday afternoon. It's only a short hop from the Tobago Cays, and the trip was nicely uneventful. Salt Whistle Bay is on the northern tip of Mayreau, which another island in the Grenadines. Part of the land surrounding the bay is a narrow strip of sand held down by palm trees and rocks, across which you can see the ocean.

Thursday was a decidedly lazy day. I want my retirement to look like my Thursday; wake up to see the sun rise, watch birds, read, complain about back pain, and go to bed before 10. An ideal lifestyle.

Friday we set off for Bequia. It was a rough sail. Fun fact: if you ever want to get cold in the Caribbean, stand anywhere on the deck of a sailboat in strong winds. As an added bonus, you'll get so much salt that it'll crystalize and feel like sand after a while. We arrived in Bequia slightly saltier than when we started out.

We anchored in Admiralty Bay, watched the sun set, and ate pasta. A solid day.

And that's how Friday would have ended, had the anchor alarm not gone off at 10pm. We have an alarm that goes off when boat drifts from its initial anchored position by approximately 30m. Normally, when it goes off, it just means that the boat has swung a little too far to the left or right, but the anchor is still holding and all is well. So when I was just about to drift off to sleep and heard the alarm go off, I thought, "Oh, Jem will take care of that." I had not expected to hear, "Ada, we're drifting, get up here now." And so, with nothing on except a pair of briefs, a headlamp, one glove, and way too much rain on my skin (the weather was a windy downpour), I had to head to the front of the boat to bring in the anchor. We do this using an electric winch and by pushing the excess chain to the side, hence the glove. At some point, the anchor chain stopped coming up. In the low light, I thought that the anchor had been raised and that we were good to go.

This was not the case. As we drifted, the chain had caught an unmanned boat's mooring line, and whenever we tried to move, that boat would swing around and hit us. Luckily it mostly hit our bows, so a lot of the scrapes were on the other boat. It did take a small chunk out of the starboard stern, though. I had the vaguely terrifying vision of that boat's bow with attached anchor coming straight at me and hitting the fender that I was attaching. (I do like using the word "vaguely" to describe things that are very not vague.) Eventually both of us stopped turning and settled down. Jem said, "well, we'll fix it in the morning," and promptly fell asleep on the couch. I was still hearing various boat sounds that you're not supposed to hear when Everything is Fine, so I stayed in my cabin for a few more hours in a vague state of shock, watching season 4 of Somebody Feed Phil. It's a great show; I highly recommend it.

Today I woke up to find Heaven's Door parked between two boats at the equal distance of Too Close. A diver is supposed to come around later and untangle things. I'll let you know how it goes. In the meantime, I'm having a biscuit. 

(Final picture is a wreck in Salt Whistle Bay. This may or may not be a metaphor. If you look closely, you can see fish.)