Maybe it was knowing that Nancy D had a clean bottom and a shiny prop, maybe it was greed for the glory (and prizes), or maybe it was the rum talking, but shortly after we arrived back in Carriacou, Nancy Dawson was entered in the Round the Island Race. Everybody was racing -- these two boys offered to race us from the boat to the yacht club dock.

We had planned that regatta week was going to be all R&R for us after the hard-working week at the boatyard. Actually, it wasn't all hard work -- we did blow some of the money we'd saved doing all that work and, showered and shaved, went over to the BelAir Plantation restaurant and had a great meal. In typical Caribbean fashion. The first bottle of wine we ordered was corked, and the rather sweet waitress inadvertently dumped a glass of it on me, then the skies opened and the staff had to run around closing all the curtains of the open-air restaurant. It rained so hard they had to move our table several feet toward the middle of the restaurant. They did provide a bottle of bug spray on each table, but no candle, so Randy and I shared a single pair of glasses to read the menu. The food was very good -- callaloo soup is full of vitamins when you're craving greens! -- and the second bottle of wine was lovely. Walking back to the boatyard by the light of the moon, we were greeted at the gates by the hounds of hell: boatyard dogs barking like they were going to eat us alive. The security guy at the gate calmed them down and let us in. One of the dogs is called Ivan the Terrible, and the other black demon dog is Sweet Pea. Both are very benign during the day -- Sweet Pea would come and sit by our boat and watch the work progress -- and RS opines that they're both small enough to punt over the fence. But they are serious about security at the yard -- I asked a couple of little boys to return some beer bottles to the store for me, and the security guy stopped them at the gate and sent them back. I had to write them a note.

Getting back in the water was uneventful. They're very careful and professional, cleaning the slings, lining them with plastic, lots of guys to handle lines. We picked up a mooring for an hour or so to sort ourselves out, and then we positively zoomed back to St. George's with big grins. Nancy just slid through the water, and we figured that we'd picked up another knot and a half of speed by ditching the barnacles and the slime.

Stocked up again in St. George's at C.K.'s Cash and Carry, only in our case, it was cash and delivery. We bought bulk stuff, heavy stuff at really good prices, and then, once again, blew our savings eating lunch at the yacht club while we waited around for the 11 am delivery that didn't arrive until 12:30.

Zoomed off to Carriacou and enjoyed a great sail until we lost the headgear on the roller furling (AGAIN), and had to rig the staysail. Just before we got to Carriacou, we were joined by a huge squall, and I finally browbeat Randy into dropping the main, even though the squall mostly passed us by, as he predicted. Cruisers' potluck at the Yacht Club with lots of chainsaw chicken on the bbq (chainsaw chicken: a Caribbean staple -- looks like the method used to cut it up, and describes the utensil most often needed to eat it with).

Stewart and Tara from Mange Tout came by the next day and helped haul Randy up the mast to repair the jib (his turn) and that paved the way for David (on Amanzi) and Randy to enter the Round the Island Race. They left in the morning and there were a lot of sailbags on the deck that I don't recall ever seeing before. SB retired to Amanzi and very happily spent the day with Kim and I don't think we talked about boats for a single minute. We took the dinghy out to the finish line and applauded their early arrival, and then we sat at anchor and did the wave and applauded all the other boats as they arrived. Over to the Turtle Dove for pizza and beer to await the endless handicapping and finally the results: Nancy Dawson in third place in our class of 18 boats.

The next day, Kim and David crewed for Tara and Stewart and they tacked and tacked and tacked through the lousy current at one end of the course until they sensibly retired and came back for beer and Mexican food night on ND. Sunday, we went over to Hillsborough to watch the workboat races. These are local boats, though some come from as far away as Bequia (we met up with Alick and Selma who made our awning), and the starts go right from the beach and it's mayhem. They have guys pushing from the water, people leaping in at the last minute, and collisions are almost a given. The streets of Hillsborough were one huge party, lots of music, lots of beer, lots of dancing. We headed back to the quiet of Tyrell Bay about mid-afternoon, but the Amanzi and Mange Tout folks stayed for the dancing and the rum punch. Apparently the dancing was very exciting. Can't imagine what our high school dance chaperones might have thought of it.

The Mange Tout crew dragged themselves out for the third race the next morning, lots and lots of wind, and damned if they didn't have a brilliant sail and an early finish followed by champagne. Kim and I made them a flag, KMT (for Kiss My Transom!) and they flew it in triumph. Over to the yacht club for the prize-giving that evening, and we all came home with third place prizes, thanks in large part to our tactician, David from Amanzi. Canvas kit bags, good bottles of rum, a case of beer, great gift certificates for the Mange Touters, and best of all, a polo shirt for Nancy Dawson proclaiming our "3nd" status (this editor thinks it's a gem).

Back to St. George's tomorrow to gear up for Carnival and the Pan Band contest. I'm starting to feel my age.

See below for all the regatta photos.