Sunday morning, Race 3 of the Antigua Classics. We ate our breakfast watching the boats leave the harbour heading for the start line. Exciting way to start the day.
We've had a grand couple of weeks, very busy (for us) entertaining and being entertained by company from our old hood. They arrived, after a long and gross Halifax winter, completely prepared to relax and warm up and explore Antigua. Mostly the beach. After two rounds of golf on rock-hard dry courses, Michael decided the beach was a better use of his time. Their villa was a bit of a posh break for us in the bargain - nothing like a few afternoons by the pool, several long showers and a rattle round a normal kitchen to provide a break from onboard claustrophobia. Not that I've got it, but it's nice to make a meal in a place where you could swing a cat if you were so inclined.
They were game to hike and get a good look around the terrain, so we started with the hike from the Dockyard over to Pidgeon Beach. They were totally amenable to our usual routine of hike/swim/rum punch at the beach bar. How many people would be this easy to get along with? They also did well on a sail up to Jolly Harbour - lunch onboard, followed by shelling on the beach. The sail home was beautiful, but the last hour getting into the harbour was rolly and swelly and I know I was queasy, so they were very good sports about it. No whining at all. They did have me make a pot of tea, which was at the very edge of my galley abilities in a swell, but it seemed to keep them happy.
Shirley Heights is an obligatory trip, so last Sunday, we took the water taxi over, dodging showers, and hiked up the short trail up to the top for a couple of beers. Soon after we arrived, the masses did too, long lines of taxis and buses disgorging pink and noisy British and American tourists, and before we got squashed in the crowds, we headed off in the rain to find the trailhead for the Jones Valley Trail. I asked a taxi driver if he knew where it started, and he had no clue: "We don't deal with dat stuff. Jus taxis." A quarter mile down the road that he travels how many times a year? is a sign saying "Jones Valley Trail, this way." It was a great trail, even in the light rain, through an ancient graveyard, over an old dam and down a dry creekbed. We got to the main road just at dusk, and headed over to "Life" for a proper roast dinner, cooked up by Wendy, who became Gail's NBF (new best friend.) Wendy said "Remember, we not strangers now girl!" We also had a good laugh over the sign in the ladies bathroom (see below), which Gail couldn't find, because, it turned out, she'd gone into the men's.
As well as having a great view of Monserrat and Redonda (renamed "Rotunda" by Gail - see below for a photo of the King of Redonda's car, spotted in English Harbour) their villa overlooked Rendezvous Bay, so we thought we'd have a hike over thataway. Several wrong turns later, we found ourselves dodging giant boulders thumping down a hill, dislodged by construction at the top. Very exciting. We retired to Pidgeon Beach for a restorative swim, picnic lunch and rum punches. During their visit, our other favourite spot was sitting in the outdoor dining room at the villa watching the boats go by and the bananaquits and hummingbirds empty the many feeders. And stuffing Honda, the delightful Caribbean dog, with bisquits. He'll miss those Canadian women.
We had great meals out - Trappas and Abracadabra were both stellar - and great meals at the villa and onboard and now we're back to normal life, staring at each other over our steamed hot dogs and chips.
Just kidding. Out of chips.
Classics week is in full swing, so there's lots going on ashore, and we've been catching either the start or the finish of the races. We're headed off to Fort Berkeley this afternoon to watch the finish of Race 3, and the Parade of Classics in English Harbour. Maybe we can crash the champagne party after. We haul in six weeks. Time flies.
We've had a grand couple of weeks, very busy (for us) entertaining and being entertained by company from our old hood. They arrived, after a long and gross Halifax winter, completely prepared to relax and warm up and explore Antigua. Mostly the beach. After two rounds of golf on rock-hard dry courses, Michael decided the beach was a better use of his time. Their villa was a bit of a posh break for us in the bargain - nothing like a few afternoons by the pool, several long showers and a rattle round a normal kitchen to provide a break from onboard claustrophobia. Not that I've got it, but it's nice to make a meal in a place where you could swing a cat if you were so inclined.
They were game to hike and get a good look around the terrain, so we started with the hike from the Dockyard over to Pidgeon Beach. They were totally amenable to our usual routine of hike/swim/rum punch at the beach bar. How many people would be this easy to get along with? They also did well on a sail up to Jolly Harbour - lunch onboard, followed by shelling on the beach. The sail home was beautiful, but the last hour getting into the harbour was rolly and swelly and I know I was queasy, so they were very good sports about it. No whining at all. They did have me make a pot of tea, which was at the very edge of my galley abilities in a swell, but it seemed to keep them happy.
Shirley Heights is an obligatory trip, so last Sunday, we took the water taxi over, dodging showers, and hiked up the short trail up to the top for a couple of beers. Soon after we arrived, the masses did too, long lines of taxis and buses disgorging pink and noisy British and American tourists, and before we got squashed in the crowds, we headed off in the rain to find the trailhead for the Jones Valley Trail. I asked a taxi driver if he knew where it started, and he had no clue: "We don't deal with dat stuff. Jus taxis." A quarter mile down the road that he travels how many times a year? is a sign saying "Jones Valley Trail, this way." It was a great trail, even in the light rain, through an ancient graveyard, over an old dam and down a dry creekbed. We got to the main road just at dusk, and headed over to "Life" for a proper roast dinner, cooked up by Wendy, who became Gail's NBF (new best friend.) Wendy said "Remember, we not strangers now girl!" We also had a good laugh over the sign in the ladies bathroom (see below), which Gail couldn't find, because, it turned out, she'd gone into the men's.
As well as having a great view of Monserrat and Redonda (renamed "Rotunda" by Gail - see below for a photo of the King of Redonda's car, spotted in English Harbour) their villa overlooked Rendezvous Bay, so we thought we'd have a hike over thataway. Several wrong turns later, we found ourselves dodging giant boulders thumping down a hill, dislodged by construction at the top. Very exciting. We retired to Pidgeon Beach for a restorative swim, picnic lunch and rum punches. During their visit, our other favourite spot was sitting in the outdoor dining room at the villa watching the boats go by and the bananaquits and hummingbirds empty the many feeders. And stuffing Honda, the delightful Caribbean dog, with bisquits. He'll miss those Canadian women.
We had great meals out - Trappas and Abracadabra were both stellar - and great meals at the villa and onboard and now we're back to normal life, staring at each other over our steamed hot dogs and chips.
Just kidding. Out of chips.
Classics week is in full swing, so there's lots going on ashore, and we've been catching either the start or the finish of the races. We're headed off to Fort Berkeley this afternoon to watch the finish of Race 3, and the Parade of Classics in English Harbour. Maybe we can crash the champagne party after. We haul in six weeks. Time flies.
posted by Susan at 1:20 PM
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