Susan the fisherman is Back In Action. One small bonito does not a freezer fill, but we had a great meal off this little fat fish. In the photo I'm holding him way too sideways - he really was fat. Randy did his great fish cookery, and there was a piece left in the pan for "tuna sandwiches" tomorrow, but it never made it that far. Very gratifying. Big Sue is bringin home the bacon.

We sailed, or motored, or a little of both, from Falmouth to Jolly Harbour to fill all Nancy's tanks and get a head-start on the next day, even though we weren't sure where we were going. Our original plan had been to go to Nevis and explore for a few days, but just before we left Falmouth, we stopped in to Jane's Yacht Services to pick up our propane tanks, and heard a fairly alarming tale from a skipper on one of the big boats. He'd sailed over to Nevis with guests, and getting there too late for customs, but he'd let someone go ashore. He got nailed, put in handcuffs, they threatened to arrest his guests, and was let go after he was fined $5,000 EC. While he was being "processed" there were four other captains undergoing the same treatment. One hadn't noted "dog aboard" on his form, and they arrested the dog, and smacked the captain with a big fine.

We hemmed and hawed, and decided to Q-flag it to St. Kitts and go on to St. Barth (this means that we leave our quarantine/yellow flag up, and don't leave the boat. Regular procedure for quick stops when you're going between islands and don't want to sail all night). Before we left Jolly Harbour, we had a great evening on Vixen and said goodbye to Paul and Denise (heading to St. Croix) and Dennis and Ann from Kyeta (going back to Falmouth to pick up a guest). Great folks, great time, and thanks for the great fishing tips Paul. Denise has a Skittles habit, and Paul took one of the mylar Skittles packages and cut a flittery skirt for an old lure, and has been having great success with it. Not having a candy habit, I'm sitting in the cockpit the next morning with a Lays chip bag and the scissors and electrical ties making new skirts for all our faded lures. We dragged them, in rotation, all the way to St. Kitts, and got our lines nice and straight and the hooks and lures nice and clean but only caught a thumping great barracuda. We dragged him until he was good and sorry, and then between the two of us, Randy wielding the pliers, me dangling the fish, we managed to set him free to maraud further. Cost us a new hook. Paul, just ahead of us on Vixen reported via VHF that he'd caught the same stupid fish a half-hour earlier.

In the interests of being totally within the rules, we anchored just off Basse Terre in St. Kitts, which is the only port of entry, with our Q-flag up. Just before sunset, we hear the coast guard hailing Deniki, a big motor-yacht. We'd seen Deniki's launch go ashore earlier with two people, and come back with one, and then this. Coast guard vessel came alongside, three officials boarded, and about an hour later, they left with at least five of the crew, in custody? Deniki's launch followed them in. We sat and ate dinner and indulged in wild speculation. Deniki was gone when we upped anchor early in the morning. So apparently, there's no bending rules in St. Kitts/Nevis, either that, or there's a major revenue push going on. Either way, the news is not good on the big-boat-jungle-drums.

Next day was a brilliant sail. Except I have to say that some days, when I get up really early in the morning (underway at 7) my psyche protests, my stomach rebels, and I feel like the current and chop between islands is out to get me, the movement of the boat is evil, and I feel all over trepidatious and irritable. I had to say that, just in case there's other women sailors who don't like sailing who feel the same way. Well, you've got company.

I got sorted out by the time we were well clear of St Kitts and had a spanking sail. Couldn't get any better if you screamed at it: almost no swell, about 15 knots of breeze just forward of the beam, full sail, no squalls. I kept busy fishing, fashioning fetching little skirts for lures and switching them about. No fish. So just before we came up on the shallower water, I switched out the snazzy skirts for the old pink squid, and shortly after that, we picked up the fat little bonito. Wild rejoicing.

We kept up a steady 6 knots all day, give or take, and made St. Barth in time for the Captain to shower and shave before heading to customs. Three days of sailing is a lot of fresh air and a pile of sun, and we were both feeling whupped. I couldn't figure out how to get the sail covers on without help. I just draped them over the sails and waited for Randy to finish his shower and show me how a zipper works. He was no better. He managed checking in all right, then did some rudimentary grocery shopping, only to decide when he got back to the dinghy that he'd left his sunglasses in the store. Back he goes, and inside the store he wonders why it's so dark. It's because his sunglasses are on his face. We decided to stay anchored in the bay instead of going around to Columbier. We ate the tuna with gusto, and were in the bunk before 8.

Gustavia is pretty dead on a Sunday, so we headed for action central, Columbier (if only we'd known, we'd a stayed put). Coming in to anchor, I spy a big turtle being dogged by a remora or a small shark. Lots of turtles in this bay. Also lots of boats, with lots of naked or partly naked people aboard. We anchored near the beach, I had a great swim. There was one local sailboat that was sailing around the anchorage, not a great idea, it was a fairly big boat, big as us, no engine on, they'd been drinking all afternoon - and there was lots of swimmers in the water. Showing off. Dangerous sort of parking lot to be swooping around.

Sure enough (are we a magnet for these twits?), he luffs up as he comes up toward us, backs his jib, and hits our anchor chain. We thought he was taking the bowsprit off. Our mild-mannered captain had been grinding his teeth silently, but as soon as impact was a given, he was on his feet and in full voice. The only thing he said that I can repeat was "hot shot." We were both on the bowsprit in seconds, and miraculously, everything seemed to be fine. They left a smudge of their bottom paint on our snubber line, and about 4 feet of our anchor chain is red with it, so all the noise must have been our anchor chain on their keel. We're hoping they suffered deep mortification along with the verbal damage our fine Captain inflicted. They careened around the anchorage for another half-hour, but didn't come anywhere near us again.

Highjinks not over yet. A small power boat comes in - two guys, two blonde women. They anchor by the beach, and the women whip off their tops as soon as the boat stops. Lacivious dancing ensues. We were wondering which of the glitterati we'd run into in St. Barth, so we decided that one of them must be Britney Spears. Or she might have been on the catamaran chock full of nudists on the other side of the bay. After dark, they draped themselves with lightsticks and neon necklaces and all manner of illumination, and there was wild dancing on the deck! I often say, who has more fun than us, and maybe it's them. They weren't in bed by 8.

Next morning, we did the hike over the hill to Anse Aux Flamades (god, these French have a word for everything, wish I knew what they mean). Got over there and found no cold beer, so drank water and hiked back. On the steps back down to the beach, I heard a familiar sort of voice on the beach, and by the time we walked by and said good morning, I realized it was the good old whiny Canadian voice of Martin Short. Famous! I saw a Famous Person and said Good Morning. (And being Canadian, that was that.)

So we probably saw either Britney or somebody just as important, and Martin Short for sure. We'll explore Gustavia a bit more and see who else is hanging around. See below for more photos, but no paparrazzi shots.