We're back in beautiful Dominica after a couple of weeks of travelling. Yes, we moved the boat again. Dominica is unbelievably green and beautiful, and one of the most welcoming places we've ever been. The islanders are glad to see you, and glad that you're here to see the paradise that they enjoy every day. We say how glad we are to be here, and the response is, "It is our pleasure."

Nancy Dawson finally motored out of Bequia on January 7, and turned around and motored back in a few minutes later with the engine overheating. Maintenance has been slack lately, but with the filters cleaned and the antifreeze (a misnomer in these parts) topped up, we headed for St. Vincent. Turns out there's a leak in the water heater system. That's what you get for having all these mod cons.

After a brief stop in Chateau Belair where we were the only boat, we decided to go back a mile to Wallilibou and brave the whole stern-anchor-to-the-shore ordeal and sit the night out in company with a bunch of other boats. The boat helpers in Wallilibou were great. Two small boys in a tiny bright red dugout rowed a long way out to meet us and were anxious to be in charge of our every need. By the time they actually doodled themselves back into the bay and got to our boat, Randolph had already hooked us up to a mooring and taken our 250' line ashore and tied it to a palm tree (a fairly strenuous exercise), I'd bought two necklaces from him, Randy had poured us drink and we were relaxing in the cockpit.

"Why you not wait for we?" they complained. Randy ended up buying some limes from them ("for a special price!") at least one of which turned out to be an orange.

Wallilibou boasts the remants of the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie set, which is sort of neat, but not worth putting a dinghy in the water to investigate, so we enjoyed the view from the boat, and headed off very early in the morning. Randolph the boat fella showed up at 6:30 as requested to untie our line from the shore.

Rough passage to Rodney Bay, St. Lucia. In between the islands there's often a stretch of lousy confused chop, swell, current and honking wind. I may have mentioned this before. Repeatedly. I have learned to adjust the Stugeron to suit, but it's still pretty wearing. We anchored off Pigeon Island and then spent an unsettled night. Neither of us could forget that the last time we were anchored here a yacht at the other end of the bay was boarded and bad things happened. The men responsible were caught, but still, we closed the hatch, had flashlights and airhorn at hand, and neither of us slept well. Off again at first light.

Sailed into Le Marin, Martinique, full of anticipation. Drooling, actually. We weren't long getting ashore and hitting the hot spots: Leader Price, Annette Supermarket, and heading back to the boat with suicidal amounts of bread, croissant, pain au chocolat, cheese, meat, wine and pate. (Finally caught up to Randy last night - gout attack, right foot.) We stayed five days in Le Marin and one day we rented a car with Rick and Lucy (Flying Cloud, SC) and visited the Dubuc plantation ruins, the Trios Riviere distillery (which was mostly a collection of tourist gift shops) and we tasted the rum, which wasn't that good, and continued on our trek. We hit a gigantic mall and got a taste of long-forgotten gridlock. Martinique is full full full of little cars, and they were all in the same roundabouts that we travelled that day. Even on the outskirts of Fort de France (huge business park! run away! run away!) in the middle of the day it was mayhem on the roads. We did see some beautiful scenery and visit some interesting spots, but we were more than a bit overwhelmed at the end of the day. Glad Rick did the driving.

Motored round the corner to Ste Anne on January 14, and the next morning we made a quick baguette run ashore, then headed off to Grande Anse d'Arlet (lovely beach town), hoping to meet up with Tara and Stewart on Mange Tout. Yes, we see the boat, there they are, and the rest of the afternoon was given over to snorkeling and celebrating Stewie's 42nd birthday.

Next, a day or so in Fort de France, purchasing snazzy things for Deniece and DeNephew whose birthdays are fast approaching, then northward ho again to St Pierre. We wandered around town and found the little museum, which was very well done, and we heard the story of the 1902 eruption of Mt Pelee that killed the 30,000 residents of the city in about 3 minutes. There were smaller eruptions that killed people, and ample warning from the mountain that things were about to get much worse, but apparently there was an election coming up, and an evacuation order from the government would have messed things up for the ruling party. And so it goes. The young woman at the museum was wonderfully knowledgable and charming, and we had an interesting afternoon after we left her, walking among the ruins of the theatre and the prison. They were side by side. The prisoners would have been able to hear all the performances. Torture, or rehabilitation?

St Pierre to Dominica was a brilliant passage, full sail, gorgeous weather, passing boats, looking good. Stewart and Tara had arrived a couple of days earlier and arranged for an island tour with a fella called SeaCat. We were met in Rousseau by Roots (who works with SeaCat), who told us where Mange Tout was parked and set us up on a mooring near them and then ran Randy over to Customs (which isn't where it says it is in Chris Doyle's book anymore, and it's a long walk from the anchorage, so we were glad of the information and transportation).

Service from the boat helpers is great here, laid back and very friendly. Roots's son Kyle, who is about 5, calls himself "the Dockmaster" and races around to take your painter when you come ashore. He doesn't quite know what to do with it yet, but he wants to be helpful. He has his own steering wheel on his dad's fast boat. Not connected to anything, but it keeps him focused and in one spot while they're racing around.

So we're looking forward to the tour, and apparently there'll be a "bit of a hike" involved. "Bring your swimmers" says Stewie. We left in SeaCat's van about 9:30am, along with Felicity and Peter (from Nadezhda) and Peter's parents Mary and Alan, visiting from the UK.

The "bit of a hike" involved travelling up the river to Victoria Falls, the biggest falls on the island. SeaCat was going to call it off when he saw how much rain we'd had the day before, but he decided to give it a go. Apparently, we all looked up for it. We knew nothing.

It took about an hour and a half of hiking and wading to get to the falls, crossing the river five times in rushing water up to our waists at points. It was exhilarating. The rainforest is so wild and green and lush all around you, and the whole sensation of getting across the river, finding the right rocks with your feet, trying not to get swept away by the rushing water, climbing over boulders, under boulders, across slippery sections, through the rainforest, up and down and then across the river again... we were all so excited by the experience, nobody seemed to be afraid. At one point, Alan deadpans to his wife Mary (75 years old) about to leap to another slippery rock in a rushing gorge, "Go on Mary, you might as well do it now, you won't be able to do this when you're old." She never missed a beat. We were all grinning by the time we got to the falls, and we'll never forget swimming under that thundering water. SeaCat took great care of us and gave us all confidence. If you come here, get in touch with him and do this trip.

The water had receeded somewhat (down to about thigh level) on the way back, and we were weary, soaked, but still thrilled to pieces by the time we got back to the start of the trail. Moses has his home and beautiful garden there. It made me homesick for my garden, and he walked me through and named anything that I didn't recognized. I pulled weeds for him for a while. Then we sat around his table and ate the brilliant vegetable stew that he'd prepared while we were hiking. We ate from calabashes, using spoons made from slices of coconut shell, and we ate like starving people, then finished up with bananas picked off of his trees. It was ambrosia.

Meeting Moses was a wonderful addition to the day -- he's the perfect person to meet before you go to the falls, and then to feed you when you get back. He has such huge respect for the island and the bounty all round. Truly, everywhere you look there's something wonderful to eat hanging on a tree or poking out of the ground. He and Mary said goodbye Rasta-fashion, clenched fists pressed knuckles to knuckles, then hearts, saying "bone of my bones, heart of my heart."

Not finished yet, we headed back to the van. Mary took advantage of the lovely warm breeze and held her knickers out the window to dry them as we drove along. Intrepid traveller, that one. SeaCat took us to the Emerald Falls, an easy stroll through rainforest on groomed paths, and we'd missed the cruise ship crowds who came earlier in the day, so we were all alone in the wet and wild woods. Very, very pretty. In honour of their third wedding anniversary, Stewie and Tara stripped off again and had a dip in the Emerald Pool at the bottom of the falls. Very cold, pronounced Stewart. Randy and I got back to the van first and SeaCat pointed out an agouti crossing the road. It looked either like a fat-headed rotund black rat with no tail and very arthritic knees, or a slick black guinea pig wearing high heels. I'm still trying to decide.

One more stop to stuff sacks with fresh grapefruits right off the tree, then home to supper and to bed. Early.

An unforgettable day. See below for photos.