There are missed opportunities that will keep you lying awake at night for years. You'll just be getting to sleep, and suddenly the thought will pop into your head about that missed opportunity, and over and over you'll say to yourself, If only I done things differently. People who aren't from Nova Scotia and Nova Scotians with more elegant taste in TV won't understand my disappointment, so if you've never heard of "The Trailer Park Boys" skip the next paragraph.
We're in Bequia's Admiralty Bay, anchored off the town of Port Elizabeth. Lovely place, we were here last spring and had a wonderful stay. Like many Caribbean towns, Friday night means lots of music ashore, amplified beyond sense and safety levels. Sleep tends to be elusive in the harbour on Friday nights. Saturday morning, somewhere between 6 and 7 am, I'm in the bunk trying to cling to sleep, when I hear the sound of a boat motor and then Randy chatting to someone. Where you from?, I hear. Halifax, says Randy. Me too!, says the voice. I'm thinking, I wonder if I know him? Consider getting out of bed. Hear a bit more conversation about the boat, and I think, geez, that voice sounds familiar. I mull a bit more, and by the time I get out of bed and pull on some clothes, the boat is about a half-mile away, heading out of the harbour.
So, I asks Randy, anybody we know? Randy looks at me, and something akin to understanding lights up his face, and he says, Oh my GAWD, it was MR. LAHEY!
I'm in Bequia, for god's sake, and I've just missed a chance to say "EFF-OFF, Lahey, can't ya see I'm trying to sleep?" (Mr. Lahey is reviled by all the characters on the show but Randy, his boyfriend. Nuff said.) This is going to drive me nuts for years. If anyone out there knows him, please tell him that Susan from the Canadian boat in Bequia says eff-off Lahey. Unbelievable. I hope I'll get over it.
In other news, we enjoyed the short sail from Union Island to Mayreaux. Filled up with water before we left - the first water we've bought since we had our water-catcher made, and we only took about 60 gallons to fill our 125 gallon tanks. Not bad, after three and a half weeks since our last fill. I know that there's cruisers out there that will gasp at the profligacy of our water use, but there you go. We've got the tank space. Came with the boat.
Last time we were in Mayreaux, we anchored in Saltwhistle Bay, but this time, the boats in the bay were rolling as we sailed past, so we turned around and went back a mile to Saline Bay and anchored near the beach. Beautiful long beach, nobody there but about half a dozen people with rakes tidying up the sand. Nice. I swam ashore and Randy rowed Marjorie over to the dock, and we asked a man on the beach if there was a trail to the windward beach on the other side of the island. He obligingly walked us over to the start of the path, and when I asked him if they were expected a big party (huge stacks of beach chairs, lots of huts to accommodate people eating and drinking), he said yes, tomorrow.
We had a lovely walk on the windward beach and a quiet dinner and good sleep aboard that night. When we woke up in the morning, there was a thumping huge cruise ship anchoring about a mile off the beach. They dropped the launches, and started ferrying crew and supplies ashore at about 7 am. One person's job appeared to be walking up and down the Mayreaux dock pounding in nails that were sticking up. By the time the passengers started heading ashore, we left for Canouan.
Nice place, Canouan. Pretty island, tidy, interesting donkeys, nice people. Apparently the island is undergoing some major development. See the hill on the right in the photo? It's in the process of being removed to accommodate a longer runway for the airport.
We had a walk around town and bought some groceries, and thought about maybe even having dinner ashore at the resort on the beach. Chris Doyle says the Pirate Bar is inexpensive and informal, so we stopped by on our way back from town and had a beer and looked at the menu. Two Hairoun beers, $24 EC (we're used to paying $4 per beer at a bar), and a hot dog, just a hot dog, was $10 US. Anywhere they're giving prices in US dollars, run away. It means that they're used to serving people on vacation, sunburn with a wallet. Much better to see what the local people are eating and drinking and listening to.
The anchorage at Canouan got rolly as soon as we went to bed, so not well rested, we headed off to Bequia. Motor-sail the whole way, a bit swelly with the wind very nearly on the nose (find out what direction we're heading, then go the other way if you want a nice sail). Bequia's wonderful, there's remarkable Christmas lights in a few big blobs on shore. We walked over and visited Alick and Selma at the sail loft, talked to Alick about making proper fendering for the dinghy, and caught up with the regatta news and what's been happening since the last time we were here.
Friday afternoon we heard the school band practicing carols and seasonal tunes. Some music sounds exactly the same wherever you are. I was visited with a vision of dozens of sweaty parents packed in a school gym listening to their darlings squeak and squawk their way through the annual Christmas concert, and I missed home.
We're in Bequia's Admiralty Bay, anchored off the town of Port Elizabeth. Lovely place, we were here last spring and had a wonderful stay. Like many Caribbean towns, Friday night means lots of music ashore, amplified beyond sense and safety levels. Sleep tends to be elusive in the harbour on Friday nights. Saturday morning, somewhere between 6 and 7 am, I'm in the bunk trying to cling to sleep, when I hear the sound of a boat motor and then Randy chatting to someone. Where you from?, I hear. Halifax, says Randy. Me too!, says the voice. I'm thinking, I wonder if I know him? Consider getting out of bed. Hear a bit more conversation about the boat, and I think, geez, that voice sounds familiar. I mull a bit more, and by the time I get out of bed and pull on some clothes, the boat is about a half-mile away, heading out of the harbour.
So, I asks Randy, anybody we know? Randy looks at me, and something akin to understanding lights up his face, and he says, Oh my GAWD, it was MR. LAHEY!
I'm in Bequia, for god's sake, and I've just missed a chance to say "EFF-OFF, Lahey, can't ya see I'm trying to sleep?" (Mr. Lahey is reviled by all the characters on the show but Randy, his boyfriend. Nuff said.) This is going to drive me nuts for years. If anyone out there knows him, please tell him that Susan from the Canadian boat in Bequia says eff-off Lahey. Unbelievable. I hope I'll get over it.
In other news, we enjoyed the short sail from Union Island to Mayreaux. Filled up with water before we left - the first water we've bought since we had our water-catcher made, and we only took about 60 gallons to fill our 125 gallon tanks. Not bad, after three and a half weeks since our last fill. I know that there's cruisers out there that will gasp at the profligacy of our water use, but there you go. We've got the tank space. Came with the boat.
Last time we were in Mayreaux, we anchored in Saltwhistle Bay, but this time, the boats in the bay were rolling as we sailed past, so we turned around and went back a mile to Saline Bay and anchored near the beach. Beautiful long beach, nobody there but about half a dozen people with rakes tidying up the sand. Nice. I swam ashore and Randy rowed Marjorie over to the dock, and we asked a man on the beach if there was a trail to the windward beach on the other side of the island. He obligingly walked us over to the start of the path, and when I asked him if they were expected a big party (huge stacks of beach chairs, lots of huts to accommodate people eating and drinking), he said yes, tomorrow.
We had a lovely walk on the windward beach and a quiet dinner and good sleep aboard that night. When we woke up in the morning, there was a thumping huge cruise ship anchoring about a mile off the beach. They dropped the launches, and started ferrying crew and supplies ashore at about 7 am. One person's job appeared to be walking up and down the Mayreaux dock pounding in nails that were sticking up. By the time the passengers started heading ashore, we left for Canouan.
Nice place, Canouan. Pretty island, tidy, interesting donkeys, nice people. Apparently the island is undergoing some major development. See the hill on the right in the photo? It's in the process of being removed to accommodate a longer runway for the airport.
We had a walk around town and bought some groceries, and thought about maybe even having dinner ashore at the resort on the beach. Chris Doyle says the Pirate Bar is inexpensive and informal, so we stopped by on our way back from town and had a beer and looked at the menu. Two Hairoun beers, $24 EC (we're used to paying $4 per beer at a bar), and a hot dog, just a hot dog, was $10 US. Anywhere they're giving prices in US dollars, run away. It means that they're used to serving people on vacation, sunburn with a wallet. Much better to see what the local people are eating and drinking and listening to. The anchorage at Canouan got rolly as soon as we went to bed, so not well rested, we headed off to Bequia. Motor-sail the whole way, a bit swelly with the wind very nearly on the nose (find out what direction we're heading, then go the other way if you want a nice sail). Bequia's wonderful, there's remarkable Christmas lights in a few big blobs on shore. We walked over and visited Alick and Selma at the sail loft, talked to Alick about making proper fendering for the dinghy, and caught up with the regatta news and what's been happening since the last time we were here.
Friday afternoon we heard the school band practicing carols and seasonal tunes. Some music sounds exactly the same wherever you are. I was visited with a vision of dozens of sweaty parents packed in a school gym listening to their darlings squeak and squawk their way through the annual Christmas concert, and I missed home.
posted by Susan at 4:16 PM
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