Dawn gradually arrives, and Debs and Lil witness a large cruise ship going by. This is an early-start day, according to our Capt, so the plan is to leave a.s.a.p. The ‘children’ do not like the idea of the on-board loo rules which mean little or no paper, please. This should be neatly gift-wrapped, and saved for dumping purposes, if you’ll pardon the expression! Adam had been caught short early on, in more ways than one. Heading for shore in the dinghy, the propeller got caught in a mooring rope. Rolling up his designer Pjs to his knees, to investigate, he lowers himself down, and is horrified to discover the water comes up to his chest. All this is witnessed by Richard, who does a remarkable job of containing his laughter. More ‘toilet’ trips are made, breakfast eaten - Aunty pleased to be re-united with her porridge - and we set off at 0815 - good buoy technique employed. Sails are up, and not flapping, grey skies, no sign of a tsunami, and good winds to get us over to The Baths, on Virgin Gorda - a ‘must-see’ according to Capt. H.
We pass Ginger Island, a row of rocks called Broken Jerusalem and reach our destination, which is very busy.We do a car-park procedure, and take over a buoy which has just been vacated - how lucky are we? The ’children’, always desperate to get ashore, dinghy off there, and it’s Richard’s turn to have an incident, misjudging his exit, and toppling over, thus soaking his team Beau Son I polo shirt. The two-way radio is in use, and Richard decides to make use of the word ’over’. We receive questions such as ’what uk port does the Calais ferry sail to - over?’ ---- ’Dover, over’, and so on . Later on we join them, using the dry bag to store valuables. The dinghy has to slowly navigate through crowds of swimmers and smokeless - the u.s. on vacation, and moor up the dinghy a little way out from shore. We head off up the hill to a bar, and have a drink called Flu Buster, and some snacks. The views are good up here, and we are surrounded by trees and shrubs in so many bright and vivid colours - lovely.
After this , we join several hundred others, on a trek between huge rocks and boulders, to Devil’s Bay. These form the ‘baths’ as we find lots of little bays, and nooks and crannies, all naturally formed, but feels like Disneyland - no sign of Johnny Depp.
We eventually pop out to find another small and busy beach and we swim. The water is really clear and fish visible from the surface - photoshoot is carried out, and we all have a swim. Richard has another narrow escape with a sea monster, which turns out to be a flip-flop, so he goes rock-climbing, and as a finale, performs an unsuccessful mount of a big’un. We re-trace our steps and someone has to retrieve the dinghy. Adam and Capt both offer to do this, but Capt comes unstuck when he discovers he cannot walk on water! - so waits on a rock, to be collected. We are eventually back on Lazy Daze, we de-buoy, and set off for our next destination - Leverick Bay, in North Sound.
We pass Necker Island, owned by Sir Richard Branson, arrive at Lecker, and radio contact made, to secure us berth 13 on a pontoon. We are met by the owner, who kindly helps us to tie-up, and kindly takes the money owed! Mooring buoys work out at about $25 but berths like this, rocket the amount to nearly $70. This is another popular place, shower and loo facilities limited - only two of each, plus another lone shower, at the end of the pier - sited in a red telephone box.
We are moored alongside a big Cat, with some big Fat, Americans. Next-door-but-one is a boat with an African Grey parrot in his cage. We soon make contact with him, and discover he does excellent impersonations, of ring-tones and alarms - all we need is Long John Silver. We have a nice cup of tea, and a look-round the place, booking a table at the local restaurant. Debs is heavily into one of her trio of Harry Potter books , and has been christened The Reader. After our customary gin and tonic, we join the queue for showering etc. The children have gone on ahead to the bar, Jumbies, and we join them for cocktails later. We dine upstairs - good menu, and note that many of our fellow sailors do eat quite early, as some of the menu items are now ‘off’.
The table next door has an unusual trio. One big black man - bejewelled in all his ‘bling’ and a couple. She is very loud, very blonde, and very drunk - I think she could safely be referred to as ‘trailer trash’. Her husband, is overweight, overloud, and unfortunately, over here. Trailer trash does her best to wind up her husband and alleges b.b.m. (who we reckon is their skipper), has been trying to kiss her.Arguments ensue, trailer trash leaves, and husband then asks ‘you been messing with my wife? Did you try to kiss her?’
Our cue to leave…………..back to the bar! The local band is on stage, and playing lots of reggae music - which takes some of us back to our past, and some of us, do a bit of dancing………
younger family members, and Capt not impressed. Bed time is about 10 - will this be a quiet night? We think not, as sharing our bay, are 3 catamarans with 30 young Americans out for a good time - these will be referred to from now on as the sex boats, especially as some of them are carrying inflatables
Naturally, these folk are not quiet, and their whoops and cries can be heard from the bar, followed by loud dinghy trips at about 0200 as they wove their way back home. The noise does not go down well with other boaters and across the bay could be heard ‘if you guys don’t shut the f--- up, I’m gonna come across and beat the cr-- out of you ‘ - nice. We learn a lot about the upper-deck goings-on through our spy, Adam.