Highlight of this week was the christening of our rowboat. Randy painted the name on the stern on Saturday, and on Sunday, we officially christened her "Marjorie D." She's named after Randy's mother, Marjorie (Denton) Sherman, who keeps an eye on the Atlantic Ocean from her home in Digby, Nova Scotia.

After the appropriate toasts and a short dedication ceremony, which was attended by David and Kim from Amanzi (properly decked out in clean shirt and shorts and a lovely dress, hat and pearls, respectively) and held on the very spot that we found "Marjorie D" on the beach, we retired to Nancy Dawson for champagne and brunch. Very civilized. The meal, as are most boat meals, was an interesting assortment of stuff that doesn't involve much in the way of fresh ingredients, but we were gobsmacked when Kim produced a really tasty (and stinky) Camembert that she'd been hoarding since Martinique, topped with partridgeberry jam made by her mum in Newfoundland. Phyllis Saunders of Traytown, Newfoundland, we salute you. It was the nicest surprise and the best treat we've had in months. Completed the day with a terrific green flash at sunset.

Earlier this week, Randy, Kim and I sailed up to Petit Martinique (no, you can't get Camembert there, it ain't really French), which is the northernmost island making up Grenada, and situated just south of Petit St. Vincent, which is the southernmost island making up St. Vincent and the Grenadines. So if you wanted to sail up to PSV from PM, about a half-hour sail, and go to the beach, you'd have to go back to Carriacou first, check out with Customs and Immigration, then go to Union Island, check in with Customs there, and then you could sail back over to PSV and wander the beach. I'm not sure who would care if you didn't do all that, but offically, that's the drill. Apparently, if you check out in Carriacou first, no one much bothers if you stop at PM on your way north.

We went up because Chris Doyle's guide described Petit Martinique as a great place to stock up on groceries, particulary beer and wine and booze. Well, there is a place there called Mathew's Mall. There might be a couple of places to shop, but Mathew's is hyped as the biggest and best, so once we'd seen it, we didn't figure there was much point wandering any further down the road. There's three stores in Mathew's Mall, which is actually a converted house: two souvenir and clothing stores, and the grocery store, which is about the size of a large Needs or Mac's Milk. We did get some stuff, nothing on our list (no fresh veg to speak of), and the wine was the same price it is in Carriacou. I really get the feeling that Chris Doyle isn't much of a shopper. Kim bought some kind of cured ham in a cotton bag (unrefrigerated), and when we got back to the boat, she got it half-unwrapped before the bugs started crawling out. Ick, double ick with knobs. We took it back the next morning and traded it for beer.

Boat boys pestered us to buy stuff from them. We ended up buying overpriced limes, but declined the ice at $25EC a bag. Walked up the dock and bought a bag for $5. What planet do they think we come from? Obviously Planet Thick and Rich, because we did pay $50EC for a big fish that filleted down to a small order of fried fish sticks. We had it for an appetizer. Never again. But bad karma comes around, because the next morning, Kim and I watched with glee (is that bad karma for us?) while they floated around the bay in a boat that wouldn't start. Apparently they didn't have any friends among the fishermen who were blasting back and forth, cause no one stopped to help them out. We thought about rowing over and offering them a tow for $50 bucks.

And the best thing about the whole overnight trip was that Kim suggested a game of cards, and out comes the crib board for the first time in a year. You may remember that last November, Tom was aboard, and retired from the game after double-skunking his mother ("it doesn't get any better than this"), and then Randy retired from the game the same evening after I skunked him. So I was glad to find a wicked good cribbage partner, even if I had to break her of the habit of counting on her fingers. Apparently her dad used to help her count. Howard, you didn't do the girl any favours. Not to worry, she's got it sorted now.

Small world anecdote for this week: we had dinner on Amanzi with JP from the dive shop, his girlfriend Claire, and another couple they'd been diving with -- Dominique Serafina (who used to work with Jacques Cousteau as an illustrator) and Catherine Salisbury, who works with the Coast in Halifax.

Next, my birthday! In the meantime, see below for more pics of the christening and the trip to PM. And if I haven't mentioned this before, you can click on the pics to see bigger versions.