Our First Fishy

Maybe this fish will help my waistline /
pants falling off

Our maiden voyage with the new rod and reel proudly on display. We trolled all the way from Marigot Bay (St Martin) to Anguilla. Just as we were about to enter the bay and reel in the lure, the ever exciting ZZZZZZZZZZ of the reel sounded.

Battle stations! Grab the helm, luff up, power down, get the gaff...

We were not going to lose another fish! Still smarting over the loss of that beautiful Dorado all those many weeks ago.

Looking for a good fight, I settled in for a long battle of man vs fish!

Alas it was not to be. This very tired little mackerel proved an un worthy adversary for my new mega rod and reel.

Whilst I brought the fish along side, Sally expertly flailed the gaff like some sort of rabid pikeman and successfully hooked him. We then brought him into the cockpit and shared a decent helping of alcohol with him which successfully calmed the fish's nerves (permanently).

It was our first fish. A 2 ft Cero Mackerel.

Was great eating and tasted even better having been caught by Team Orion!

Diving on RMS Rhone

RMS Rhone was a 310ft British packet ship owned by Royal Mail that did passages between England and the West Indies. It sank in the late 1800s during a hurricane and remains fairly well intact today.

We had been told about this site and how good it was from multiple people. We were yet to scuba dive in the Caribbean so we figured this would be a great dive to start again. 30ft in the shallowest section at the stern and 80ft in the deepest section at the bow we were in for two dives.

Sail Caribbean Dive were our choice in dive company and they were fantastic. We were anchored in Cooper Island so a short dinghy ride ashore brought us to one of their bases. We sat in the shade of a palm tree whilst they loaded up the boat, carried our gear and bottles and summoned us when they were about to leave. Never before have we had such VIP treatment when going on a dive! We were used to carrying our heavy bottles and rigging up the kit so this was total luxury!

We board the Newton 36 dive vessel and speed off to Salt Island where the wreck is located. A fun fact about that island – the residents of this island rescued the survivors from RMS Rhone and salvaged what they could of the wreck. Being decent honest people they sent what they salvaged back to the Queen. The Queen being so grateful announced that as a thank you, the residents of the island don't need to pay taxes anymore but must provide a token pound of salt once a year. From 2005 the island has been uninhabited but the salt is still harvested. The Tortolan government send a team round to the island to get a pound of salt and send it on to the Queen!

We reach the dive site and put our kit on. Dylan and I, keen to ensure we follow the correct process ask the dive master to show us the buddy checks. When finished a cocky almost transparent white American guy goes to me 'oh you are clearly new to this'. I reply 'no, but we haven't dived since last September' to which he responds 'gosh thats an awful long time'. He riled me, especially when he didn't bother with a buddy check himself. Remember this later in the blog...

We straddle jump into the water and all 8 of us descend down the mooring line to the bottom. As we are dumping air out of our BCDs, a huge almost majestic sight looms into our vision. This wreck was some ship and is now home to excellent coral, sponges and fans. The excellent visibility highlights the bright colours against the rusting iron hull. We swam around the bow section first, relatively intact and come to a section where the wood has completely rotted away. Here, one by one we penetrate the wreck (swim through, to all non divers). We swam in to what appears to be a pitch black hole but no sooner have you stuck your head through, you are greeted with shafts of light showing the inside of the ship, more corals and tons of reef fish. At this point I start to get a good idea of the people with us on our dive. The cocky American guy is flailing around, kicking us in the mask, swimming right in front of us unable to control his buoyancy and looking like a spastic seahorse. For the rest of the dive we swim with one eye on him, the other on the wreck, keeping as far away as possible – there is always one on every dive we do! We see a sea turtle, lobsters and plenty of decent sized reef fish. After 20 mins we surface and commence our 'surface interval' preparing for dive 2.

Dive 2 takes us to the stern section where we again penetrate the wreck and swim over the huge 15 foot diameter brass propeller. Only one passenger survived the wreck and he was staying in cabin 27. The porthole of cabin 27 is still intact and is considered lucky by all divers. It is tradition to rub the brass 3 times clockwise so thats what we do – it is really shiny compared to the rest of the wreck due to the amount of hands that have continuously rubbed it!

Dylan at some time in the dive cut his hand on barnacles and during dive 2 he squeezes it and shows me what looks like green goo oozing out of it. At this point I think he has a serious infection (already) and take note that we will have to check it out when we surface. So first thing I do when we get back on the boat is grab his hand expecting to see some alien liquid covering his palm, instead I see dried blood...the light distortion at a depth of 80 feet has changed what is normally dark red to a slime green!

Our Own Desert Island

Road Bay, Anguilla

Looking at Gem's photos taken some 30 years we were really impressed with Prickly Pear Cays and Dog Island off Anguilla. So when we heard that nowadays they are part of a National Park and a permit it required to go visit them, it didn't put us off. When we cleared into Anguilla, we were allowed to clear out at the same time if we left the island within 24 hours. With this in mind we opted to stay in the capital, Road Bay for a night then spend the day at the two islands before doing a night passage to the British Virgin Islands. Price of a day cruising permit is EC$40 or £10 /$15 – well worth it.

Orion at anchor

Approximately 5 miles away from the mainland, Prickly Pear Cays is a big reef open to the swells and easterly winds providing no shelter. Luckily when we arrived the wind was just under 20 knots making the bay bearable and we picked up a mooring. That in itself was some mission as the wind was blowing right on the nose, pushing us off the minute Dylan slowed the engine and I went to grab the mooring ball with the boat hook. After 3 attempts I hooked it and quickly cleated it off. There were no other boats in the bay when we arrived but just as our joy subsided we clocked a day charterer catamaran cruising in. O well – the cruising guide had warned us of this.

Dropping some snacks, sun tan lotion and camera into a dry bag we jumped in and swan through the swells to shore. A lot further than we estimated we were most proud of ourselves when we waded ashore and looked back at Orion. Navigating some sharp rocks in our bare feet, we covered ourselves up and opted to go the opposite way to the day charter boat, straight into a bird colony. These birds didn't like us being there very much, but not perturbed by their squawks we plodded on, looking for nice shells and appreciating the isolation on this tiny island. We eventually hit dense vegetation and after a few cactus scratches, we gave up and tried the other side of the island. Dylan being an avid Ray Mears fan clearly should have brought his gerber!

Exploring over at Prickly Pear Cays we slipped the mooring line and motored a couple of miles to Dog Island. Now this is some place. A little further away from the mainland this is a sailor's dream. No boats in sight, long sandy beaches and the promise of being a modern day Christopher Columbus. This 'bay' is totally in the elements, poor Orion was tossed from side to side as we dropped the anchor and battled with 30 knot gust winds. Although a little tricky and uncomfortable to stay on the boat, it is totally worth it. We again swam ashore and were rewarded with a whole island to ourselves. Even Richard Branson on Necker Island is never alone due to his army of staff running around him and probably does not get the same experience as us.

A fine sandy white beach runs along the south side of the island, a salt lake is in the middle and then a rock strewn coast to the north. A couple of shacks were dotted about the place which looks like some environmental research is done here – although what we don't know as we didn't spot anything worth studying.

I was overwhelmed with the amount of shells to collect. Everywhere I looked there were shells worthy of being in my (albeit small) collection. In the shallows the water was crystal clear providing an unrestricted view of the ocean floor strewn with undamaged cone shells, olives, conch, sand dollars. I got to work straight away donning the mask and snorkel and bobbing up and down collecting handfuls of shells, depositing on the beach and then going back for more. Dylan, amused at the sight of my ass constantly in the air diving down then bobbing back up again came to join me which was great as it meant I could also fill his pockets! I felt like I was a contestant on the crystal maze when they shove you in a plastic booth and blow out £20 notes to see how many you can collect. The swell was quite big and so with every crashing wave the sand was thrown up covering the layer of shells that you were just looking at, you had to move quite fast to rescue your find else it was lost to the sea.

My shell collection

Dylan interrupted my fun by spotting a particularly large ugly dark cloud coming our way, with our hatches open we swam back to the boat heavily laden with our finds just in time before the heavens opened and we were treated to a natural fresh water power shower.

Ourselves and Orion squeaky clean we ate some din dins and prepared for a night passage to the BVIs.

Ice

An item you just take for granted in a house but becomes such a big deal in the Caribbean on a boat. We have a fridge /freezer onboard Orion but the freezer never gets cold enough to produce ice as we never have enough battery power to keep the unit on 24/7. However, when you pour that glass of rum and coke, gin and tonic, malibu and diet coke (don't judge me!) - there is nothing better than a dozen ice cubes to accompany that sundowner, especially after a 30+ degree day toiling on the boat.

Enterprising businesses on the waterfront have big ice machines outside, selling bags of ice for $2. When we feel like treating ourselves we shall pick up a bag and quickly dinghy back to the boat, attack it with an ice pick to shape it so it will fit in our freezer section. It will last almost 2 evenings before it is completely melted.

Now if we go to a catamaran say and they have an ice machine onboard, woooow that is just absolute luxury and we do a little dance, excited at the prospect of having ice in our drinks the whole night. Dylan has taken to eating the ice when he doesn't want a drink, just to make sure he gets his money's worth prior to it being reduced to a puddle and finding its way out of our fridge and into the bilge.

1 cent slots

Aaah yachties, we will do pretty much anything for a free drink or meal. Although in a previous post I mentioned for the previous 2 weeks we have done 'more work, less play' – we of course did go out to play a few times if only to keep our sanity. One of these times took us to a wine tasting event set up by our friends on La Luna. Accompanied by home made appetisers a group of yachties met up at a wine warehouse. For $10 that bought us a glass and as much wine as we could take steered by the owner who was educating us on what we were drinking. Obviously the intention was for us to buy a crate at the end but Dylan and I just went along for the cheap wine. Around 10 of us sat on a wooden bench, outside a warehouse in the middle of a car park whilst we sipped away at his bordeauxs, merlots, cabernet sauvignons and chardonnays– a rather surreal experience. A rather civilised affair to start with listening intently to his explanations, we soon got stuck in to finding our favourites and devouring the appetisers during happy hour 4 – 7pm.

At 7pm, not wanting to go back to the boat just yet, word went round that there was free food and drinks going at a nearby casino. Not ones to turn down this type of opportunity we all got in our dinghies and formed a line speeding over to the Princess casino, headlamps on and navigating the numerous buoys littered around the lagoon, in the dark.

Upon arrival we were ushered into this plush room crammed with machines, roulette tables and bars. Luckily we had got out of our rust stained clothes we usually wear so didn't feel too out of place and it was here I had my first gambling experience (unless horse racing counts). Dylan entrusted me with $1 and some experienced ladies took me over to the 1 cent slot machines. I was then taught how to use the machine and make the dollar last for as long as possible until the food arrived. So there we were, a line of ladies betting 1c at a time, being provided with numerous potent g&ts from our very own waitress. The guys went off to observe the big boys at the roulette tables. At 9:30 the food arrives and we toddle off to find tonight is 'Italian night'. We piled our plates high with food and went back to a machine putting a further $1 in and being supplied with more drinks. As long as we were playing, we weren't paying!

After din dins, a singer came on accompanied by a grand piano. Whilst I was at the bar ordering some soft drinks and singing away with him, the singer comes up behind me and dares me to join him. Well I'm not one to back down on a dare so I take the mic and continue singing 'Everything I Do', my voice blaring out to the whole casino. I turn to find Dylan and see him and the rest of the party looking back at me open mouthed not believing I had the courage to do that.

Excitement over at around 11pm having spent $6 between us (big spenders!) we called it a night and we all swayed out of the casino and back to our dinghies where we had a 2 mile ride ahead of us. Great night made even better by the lack of money leaving our wallets.

Ode to my Oven

I will never even take an oven for granted again.

When we bought Orion she came with an oven but not until I went to use it did I spot the mercury at the bottom of the stove. Upon further investigation we realised we needed a certain part that would cost almost as much as the oven to buy and ship over. From that day on in Grenada, Dylan promised me that when we got to St Martin, I would have a fully functioning oven. So I out my recipes to the back of the shelf and made do with the stove top until then.

The chandleries in St Martin had loads of oven to choose from and I decided on one of the cheapest at just over $1000 but it was a lot smaller than the one we currently had. Before we went ahead and bought it, we did one final plea on the cruiser's net for anyone getting rid of a working oven. Lucky for us, a guy was getting rid of exactly the same oven and model as ours that he no longer wanted....and it still worked! It was ours for $100. Back on Orion we went about choosing the best parts from each oven and ended up with a super duper version. Igniting the burner and watching the pilot light get bigger, we crossed our fingers hoping this $100 was worth the amount of effort. It worked first time!

So now I had a working oven and tons of recipes to choose from. Gem had given us a recipe book when we started out on this adventure that has great words in it about companionship and the origin of the word 'company'. It is derived from the work 'com pani' which means 'with bread'. With this in mind, it only seemed right that I attempted a loaf of bread to start with. I set about measuring the ingredients, kneading the dough, waiting for it to rise and 5 hours later we were rewarded with an amazing loaf that tastes as good as it looks. Since then I have made cakes, baked chicken and potato bakes.

Today's request is apple crumble – hopefully with this new oven I can fatten Dylan up a little! (Dylan's comment – there is nothing like a diet called 'poverty' to help shed some pounds!)

St. Martin

St Martin and Sint Maartan is one island split into 2 countries: the French side and the Dutch side. Why 2 countries on one island? Well legend has it, they both wanted to rule St Martin but rather than fight over it, they made a Frenchman armed with a bottle of wine walk in one direction and a Dutchman armed with a bottle of gin take the other. Where the two gentlemen met, they made that the boundary and the French ended up with more as the gin was stronger than the wine!

Although it matters what side you clear in to (French is way cheaper), you are free to cross the 'border' as often as you like. Well there is no border or demarcation, the only way of knowing you are on the other side is the currency in use. For the French side they accept euros and dollars and the Dutch side accept dollars and florins. Confusing?! Sure is, we walked around with 2 wallets with a currency in each, constantly converting the prices back to pounds. Even more confusing is the use of the word 'dollars' as coming from south of the Caribbean chain, we are still programmed to think that dollars = Eastern Caribbean dollars but no, now we need to reprogramme to dollars = US dollars. Currency aside, the prices here are cheap cheap cheap. Story goes, back in the day the sugar market collapsed and in 1939 an attempt was made to boost the economy by making the island completely duty-free. We took full advantage.

Customs here was a pleasure, 5 mins plugging in our details to a PC and we were done. Note to other cruisers coming to St Martin – tell them you are anchored in Grand Case else they will charge you per day for being in Marigot. We wanted to anchor out of the lagoon as we prefer to stay way clear of floating shite from people's heads...but not pay $100+ for the pleasure.

The aim of the game in St Martin was to work through our to do list of work needed to do on the boat as well as boost our spares, tools and other important parts onboard. More work, less play on this island. After 2 weeks of hard work, 3 visits to ACE hardware, 4 visits to Island Waterworld, 5 visits to Budget and 1 to Home n Tools we succeeded. And those visits were just the time I was in attendance, it doesn't count the times I refused to step foot in the place and opted instead to sun myself at the dinghy dock! Dylan is like a kid at a candy store, walking up and down each aisle just touching the various items on sale. This is not my style, sure I love to spend money but I can't get excited about another wrench set! Dylan can fill you in on all the work we did in a subsequent blog post. It is quite impressive what Dylan has achieved on our boat considering he hasn't owned a boat himself before! Although I did chores of my own, I definitely took the role as project manager with my lists, spreadsheets and budget planner.

So we were anchored in Marigot Bay, a huge area with plenty of space to anchor and very little swell. Although not as scenic as the other islands, St Martin still has the clear water, coral sandy bottom and luscious green hills in the distance. On the shore there is a daily market with local ladies pedalling their wares of bright kaftans and vibrant pashminas and scarves.

Set back from the coastline is a lovely little town reminiscent of a mini Paris. The streets are lined with cafes bustling with tourists in the mornings eager to demolish a proper French breakfast. The smells of pastries and coffee only hit us when we dock the dinghy, a god send really else I would end up the size of a house constantly craving pain au raisins! Amongst the eateries are posh shops, Cartier on one corner, Zaviar Diamond on the other. Clearly out of our league but nonetheless there is no harm in window shopping on the way to catch the bus.

Buses are somewhat different from that in Grenada. No blaring music, no specific dude to hand the money to. These buses are big, more like coaches and air conditioned. One bus even had a tv and dvd player set into the dashboard and front of the bus for the customers to watch! The locals are from various other countries and no more is that exemplified than on the bus. Haitians speaking Spanish, locals speaking French, Creole, English. Dylan made the mistake of starting a conversation with a local preacher on the bus once and he got lectured for the remainder of the journey on the bible, in particular the Sabbath. I pretended not to know him and stare out the window, giving him the odd prod if he encouraged the conversation further. These bus drivers are very protective of their buses, giving customers a ticking off if they dare open a packet of crisps or spill a drink.

Our food was devoured mostly on the boat trying to keep the spending down in places we can control but we did treat ourselves to a few $5 lunches when out on a long errand. Yes totally OTT I know! There is this one guy who sells lunch out the back of his van opposite Island Waterworld, for $5 you can get a big styrofoam box full of rice /salad /fish. Lovely homely food that left us full for the rest of the day and I highly recommend it.

Having travelled from the UK to Canada then on to Caribbean, my summer wardrobe is somewhat lacking and with the harsh sun and salt water, my cheap primark /zara /h&m clothing isn't holding up very well. Most have holes in them, rust stains and massively misshapen. We had heard that the capital Philipsburg was a great place for cheap clothes so enticing Dylan with an outstanding electronics list we set off on a bus. Now for those of you that don't know Dylan...this was a monumental achievement. He hates clothes shopping and is totally clueless about fashion, opting for hand me downs from his friends (thanks Paulie) and Dad (!) rather than enter a shop himself. Philipsburg didn't disappoint. On Back Street there are cheap clothes stores, one after another all with decent prices. The trick was to find a shop that didn't sell lycra diamonte clothing as that really isn't my style. I came away very pleased with a dress, couple of tops and some hippy hareems, all cotton or linen and not a single sparkly thing in sight. It was here I came across a snow cone. Does what it says on the tin really, street vendors hand you a cup of ice and then you choose a flavoured syrup to put over it. A simple idea but exactly what you need in the midday heat.

With the weather now turning to the rainy season, each day is very hot and humid. A daily swim is a must and I can almost hear the fizz of water as we jump in and cool off. Dylan being the scavenger that he is has found many an item to add to our tool collection on the seabed close to our anchor chain including a $71 shackle (Dylan's addition – he spent over an hour diving with a pair of pliers trying to chip off all the rust from the chain that had seized the stainless shackle in place. He was very chuffed when A) he finally worked it loose and B) when he priced it up at $71 in Budget Marine!). One day he decided to do something with the old chain (approx 300 ft that was joined by the shackle) and swirled it up into 2 balls creating an artificial reef complete with sea anemones and shells. The fish love it and makes for a good snorkelling spot. Only yesterday we saw a huge puffa fish swimming by, checking out the new place to be. (Dylan's addition – this was another few hours of work hauling rusty 12mm chain around the sea floor – all good training for when I start spear fishing!)

A blog post on St Martin wouldn't be complete without mentioning Shrimpy's. An internet cafe /bar /laundrette located near the entrance to the French side of the lagoon, it is run by a South African couple – Mike and Sally. These guys know everything that is worth knowing about the island including the best places to get boat work done, places to eat etc. A welcoming place, we have spent hours in there on the internet, slowly getting eaten alive by mozzies.

After 2 weeks of boat work we are keen to move on to pastures new and look forward to what Anguilla and subsequently the BVIs have to offer. 

Dinghy theft in St Martin

Thieving of dinghies in St Martin seems to be a sport it is so popular. One has to wonder where all of these semi rigid inflatables and their outboard engines end up. It is a small island and with the amount that go missing on a daily basis, each of the locals should have at least a few dinghies and outboards each. That is to assume that the locals are to blame...Yachtsmen would never do that to other yachtsmen, right?

Naïve comments aside, it is an epidemic for this little island. With the replacement cost of our outboard and dinghy in the region of over 10% of the entire boats value, we make damn sure we look after our secondary mode of transportation. If we woke up with no dinghy one morning, our only way ashore would be to swim.

We have a few tips for not becoming a statistic.

1. Lock the damn thing up! That is not just to say at night, but everywhere we go we chain our dinghy to something fairly immovable. Often I might be tempted to just tie it up and pop into a store etc. Sally always reminds me to chain it regardless and it is a good habit to get into. After all, you would lock your car if you popped into the store, so why not lock your dink?
2. Have the right chains / locks. Often I see people with a thin 3mm $30 cable to secure their $20,000 dinghy and outboard. We have a 6mm chain to secure the dinghy to a pier with a nice lock at the end of it.

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   happy chain!

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   Stainless bar can be seen with lock and cable

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   Old photo when the sunbrella cover looked a little nicer.

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2. Have a good lock on the outboard. The most valuable part for most thieves is the outboard. Despite the dinghy sometimes being more expensive to replace... We have a great stainless steel outboard lock mechanism that stops the outboard from being unfastened from the transom. Through that we secure the fuel tank with a loop of 4mm wire. The replacement value for a fuel tank and 20litres of fuel is in the region of $100! Pays to have it secured.

1. No flash Harry! We have a wanked out dinghy cover that covers our dinghy and makes it look very tatty and old. It isn't, but other people don’t know that. The same goes for our outboard. It has a cover on it to not only protect it from the sun, but to remove any distinguishing features as to the make and model. We have heard that some outboards are stolen to order.
2. Nighttime. We often raise our dinghy out the water. This has a dual benefit. Firstly the bottom growth dies off so that it stops us having to beach the dinghy to clean it as often. Secondly – It is a far more difficult thing for a thief to nick a dinghy if he has to climb on your boat and slack off a halyard to do it.

1. Markings. Some people have all sorts of markings on their dinghy and outboard. There are guys that specialise in making your tender standout and less tempting to steal as it is potentially more difficult to sell.

At the end of the day, you don't necessarily have to have the best security in the world. If a thief is determined enough, they will always be able to find a way to relieve you of your goods. But sometimes by just having a little more / better security than the dinghy next to you is enough to ensure you zoom back to your boat while the man next to you trudges to the Grenadarmie to make a report.

Mods and improvements in St Martin

Since we left Grenada on our “multiple passage shakedown sail” we have had St Martin in mind as the place to visit to stock up on parts and services. When you see the price comparison between the duty free St Martin (Dutch) vs the other islands, it wins hands down and makes it worth the trip. In actual fact St Martin is a very pretty island with a lot going for it other than just marine services.

The “to do” list is an ever changing beast with one ticked off and another added almost at the same time. One never does all the chores but constantly re-prioritise the list to ensure that we stay ahead in the maintenance part. We have also been tweaking the boat to suit our purposes and preferences.

So, what did we get done while we were here?

1. Main element was to fix the oven. Sally has been amazing at cooking / baking with just a stove top over the last 3 months, so it was my turn to get her a proper working oven.
2. Replaced the halyards. In an ideal world I would have replaced all the running rigging, but we took a pragmatic view of our current sheets, halyards etc and decided on the major items. We replaced all the halyards and lazy jacks. We now have a couple of good strong spare lines (as although the outer covering of the halyards were a bit manky, the cores were all in great shape.
3. Manual bilge pump was repaired
4. Manual salt and fresh water in the galley. No more washing dishes in a bucket in the cockpit for us! We are fresh water misers and try make a tank last as long as possible. Hauling water in jerry cans is not ideal and neither is having to come along side to fill up. Not to mention the cost of water on most of these islands can make your eyes water especially when you consider it falls out the sky for free a lot of the time.
5. Guardrails – were replaced with Dyneema.
6. Our No 3 genoa had a few repairs done to the luff.
7. We bought a number of spare parts and tools to ensure that we had a better selection of gear on board for repairs and maintenance. Did you know that a little rubber impeller for the salt water cooling pump on the engine can cost you $90. Not to mention all the fuel and oil filters, oil etc There are a good few thousand dollars of spares on board this boat that I hope I never have to use.
8. Also with boat and parts from different places I have learnt that having both metric and imperial tool sets is a good idea.
9. While we were here, we also serviced the winches. All in amazingly good condition considering the age of the boat.
10. One of my most luxurious investments was a Penn rod and reel. My father had (still has?) the exact same Penn Senator reel when we first went sailing 25 years ago. If they are still making them exactly the same after all these years they must be pretty good. We are looking forward to landing some good fish on it!

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   Manual fresh and salt in the galley

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   New running rigging and guardrails

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My Hair

Thanks Nu Nu and Laani for allowing me to vent constantly about my hair dilemmas!!

I have always been obsessed with my hair. Having fine, thin hair all my life means if I make a mistake, it takes forever to grow out and I don't have enough hair to cover it up. As long as I can remember I have been dying it blonde/brown/black/purple and no longer know what my natural colour is - if I go by my eyebrows then I guess I am dark blonde.

Prior to leaving the UK to go sailing I was dying my hair myself every 4 weeks, washing it every day and blow drying it straight every morning. All these activities meant my hair was split, dry and crying out for some TLC despite the expensive products I put on my head. With the upcoming sailing adventure I figured I needed a style and colour that was easy to maintain and didn't mind salt, sea and sand in excess.

So I took my blonde locks (see my passport photo to the left) to the hairdressers for them to dye. As hairdressers in London are so expensive, especially for a dye, I got a groupon voucher and went to a salon I had never been to before but it had good reviews – big mistake. I sat in the chair and told the hairdresser that I wanted my hair dyed dark blonde, like I presumed my natural colour would be. She fussed over the state of my hair , tutting at the broken strands and set to work removing the bleach. As the hours ticked by, I grew more and more concerned. My hair had gone from platinum blonde to dark dark brown. She assured me that it would turn out dark blonde and so I relaxed a little and told myself it would go lighter when washed. Well it didn't, not even close. I came out of the hairdresser looking like Mortisha Adams. Of course typical Brit that I am, I didn't tell the hairdresser that I was horrified with the result, I just faked a smile and got out of there quickly ringing Mum and moaning at how awful I looked.

Back home I washed my hair multiple times hoping it would lighten but no luck, the colour stuck. I could have gone and dyed it again by myself but I figured my hair did feel a lot healthier and when in the Caribbean, the sun could turn it back to a dark blonde without the artificial intervention.

Packing to go to the Caribbean via Canada I was deciding what toiletries to take with me. Only having one duffel bag each, I had to be brutal with the contents so I opted just to take my Moroccan Oil and an Aussie leave in conditioner. The Moroccan Oil was recommended by multiple friends who like me, dye and manipulate their hair way too much. Although expensive, it goes a long way and is actually amazing for anyone with hair like mine. My hair (often like straw) turns into silky, glossy locks with only a tiny drop of this stuff (thanks NiCola for the heads up on that one!).

Once I got to the Caribbean, my hair did go lighter in the sun, but rather than going blonde it started to turn ginger – horror of horrors!! Fed up of shocking myself every time I looked in the mirror, I hunted down what seemed to be the only box of blonde hair dye in Grenada and whilst we were still staying in an apartment prior to moving aboard Orion, I took advantage of the bathroom and gave in, dying my hair. Unfortunately the only blonde dye I could find was a dark blonde shade but better than nothing, it definitely lightened my hair but I still wasn't satisfied.

And then 3 months went by... Now during these 3 months I had hunted on every island for more blonde hair dye but had no joy. The only hope was that the further north we were going, the lighter the shades of hair dye were getting. I was hopeful that by the time we got to St Martin, I would get my hands on this most sought after item. Poor Dylan was dragged around drug store after drug store looking for this stuff and only being met with black afro products whilst being schooled on exactly what shades I was after. Nothing with 'warm' in the title as that equals ginger on my hair and only things with 'ash' in the title as that kept the tones 'cool'. Thinking I was a total nutter at first, he soon realised how serious I was and started getting just as involved in my mission exhaling loudly when we discovered the minimal range of stock time after time.

By the time I got to St Martin, I had got my hair trimmed by Laani (thanks again!) which had tamed the straw but I had 2 inch dark roots. On our way back from ACE megastore we saw a sign for a big beauty place. Getting off the bus I walked into the store and came face to face with a whole aisle of dyes to choose from, Heaven! So I walk up and down hugging all the boxes that could be a decent shade...shunning anything that says warm and choosing anything that says 'light ash'. After much uhming and aahing and confering with Dylan (so I can blame him if it goes wrong) I chose one and took it back to the boat.

Now dying hair as you know uses a lot of water...a substance that is scarce on board a boat so I agree with Dylan that I shall wait until it rains before I stink the boat out with ammonia. As luck would have it, that night it rains really hard and I collect buckets, pots and pans full of water to wash my hair in. So this morning I don the bikini, get in the cockpit complete with full length mirror propped up and a gnome stool and get to work. The ammonia stinging my eyes, I part my hair and massage the dye right into my roots – Dylan at this point has made himself scarce. Time up I get Dylan to pour the buckets over my head (he was found hanging over the bow looking at the anchor chain – the extremes he will go to to get out of the fumes!) when I look in the mirror I see that wet, my hair looks WHITE. Dry it doesn't really change colour. Quite a surprise in fact as the colour looks nothing like it did on the box and I am one shade away from looking albino. Hey ho, good job anything goes in the cruising community and on the upside I have no roots and Dylan says I look like Storm from X-Men!!

Our First Night Passage

Until Barbuda we were yet to do a night passage on Orion. The whole point of us coming to the Caribbean and buying a boat was so I could be introduced to cruising gently, no rough weather and no long passages thank you very much! The rough weather was encountered on our second ever journey and I had put off the night passage until we had no other choice. So we were in Barbuda and wanting to get to St Martin as soon as possible to start ticking off some of our task list that had been building since leaving Grenada in January. With hurricane season in the back of my mind and no real desire to go hang out with the 'it' crowd in St Barts (that would be a long day sail), I gave in and started championing the idea of our first night passage together. I stress the word 'together' as this was a brand new experience for me but Dylan had done them tons of times before.

Sure on my day skipper course last summer myself and 3 others had done a night entry into a port but that wasn't the same as sailing between islands, taking a watch by myself and taking control of the boat whilst Dylan slept below. The more we spoke about it, the more I was looking forward to another new experience where I would be totally out of my comfort zone.

Working on a 5 knot average and a 90 mile journey we figured we didn't need to leave Barbuda until 5pm. By the time we reached our first land mass (St Barts) the sun would be rising and we would be able to see for the rest of the journey.

That morning, Dylan jumped out of bed early, very excitable and got to work on putting the jack lines in. For those of you who don't know (and I certainly didn't until a few weeks ago) these are long seatbelt material straps that run from the bow to the stern. They are used particularly on night passages to clip your safety line on to when having to go on deck so if you did stumble and go to fall overboard, you couldn't as the jack line would keep you on the right side of the guardrail. The safety line is also a seatbelt material strap that is hooked to your lifejacket. And yes parents, of course we wear these at all times!

I took a more leisurely morning reading then set about planning our passage on the charts. Figuring this was a good a time as ever to learn how to use the GPS properly, I read the manual and set about programming in various waypoints so we could follow a route considering there were no islands to navigate by. I usually manually plug in waypoints on a paper chart but with navigating in the dark, a lit up display would be much more effective. Sourcing the torches and head light I found a red bulb to use so it wouldn't detract ruin our night vision. We also have this option in the head (toilet) when getting up in the middle of the night.

As I like having 'clutter' around the boat (Ok so Dylan calls it clutter but I call it homely possessions) it is always my job to stow it away when preparing for a sail. The baskets, shells, beads, wooden carvings and cushions all go away in lockers so when we are rocking at sea, there shouldn't be any damage or anything flying about. I say shouldn't as inevitably every time we have been sailing so far there is always something that manages to find its way onto the floor.

Wanting to ensure we had food already prepared if we got the munchies I boiled 4 eggs, made tuna mayo sandwiches and put aside some Munch bars (peanut brittle) just in case. As it turned out I didn't touch them but Dylan made a substantial dent in the provisions, the cold (now cooked) eggs going down a treat.

At 5pm on the dot we upped anchor and using the setting sun in front of us, navigated our way out of the reefs and into the open ocean. Setting Orion up on a port tack and a bearing of 300 degrees I hoped that we wouldn't need to change anything once the sun set. With little light left, Dylan started his lesson on how to take a watch. It seemed quite simple, just meercat every 5 mins at what was going on around you. Look for any lights in the distance, any change in direction, any change in wind speed and any change in wind direction and then he was off down below for a 45 min snooze, leaving me fully in charge...eeeeek! So I got a big cushion out to make myself comfy and sat in the dark listening to the waves slapping the sides and straining my eyes for any lights on the horizon.

After 10 minutes I was bored. I had noone to talk to, I couldn't read, I was getting tired, it had started to drizzle and I had another 10 hours ahead of me before the sun came up. Confirming pretty quickly that I couldn't continue like that, I wacked out the iPod and started singing away to my disney soundtracks, stopping after every song to check the GPS, compass and horizon. I must have entertained the fishies that night with my rendition of 'Just around the river bend' and 'A Whole New World'. 45 mins later much to my annoyance (I was just getting into my singing session), Dylan appeared claiming he couldn't sleep and he wanted to relieve me of my watch already so I could go and get some sleep. Now I must confirm at this stage that it had nothing to do with my singing abilities...its just our boat is very musical. She bangs, clangs, jiggles, shakes, groans, creeks, putters and clinks all the time. However normally in the v berth this is just a minor background noise but sleeping in the sea berth (on the seats in our saloon) you are right in the middle of the Orion symphony.

Note from Dylan – he reckons not all the animal kingdom were entirely satisfied with my vocal abilities as one little flying fish decided to commit suicide on our boat!

Never having a problem falling asleep wherever I am, I went below to have a 3 hour nap. Arranging myself on the narrow settee I threw a sheet over me and closed my eyes trying to block out the loud noises coming from the mast and companionway. No luck, even I couldn't sleep so instead I dozed on and off until 11pm when Dylan woke me up and we swapped places.

With running down wind Orion was rocking from side to side and after a couple of hours I threw up over the side. Having had callaloo soup (spinach) the night before, it was disgusting. Luckily though it only interrupted 20 seconds or so of 'Bare Necessities' and I thought nothing of it. Until I threw up again half an hour later, this time the contents of my stomach didn't agree with my throat and it burned my voicebox rendering my voice to a whisper, feeling like a thousand needles were poking me. I remained with that pain for 3 days after, feeling like I had just got my tonsils removed, barely able to swallow a glass of milk never mind a sandwich! Unlike some seasickness mine seems to disappear as soon as I am sick so it doesn't limit my ability to take a watch, just takes my eye off the ball for the seconds I need to feed the fish.

Anyway enough about my vomit and more about our watch system. We had talked about how many hours we would do per watch beforehand and settled on 3. We started at 8pm so Dylan did 8pm – 11, 2am – 5 and I would do 11pm – 2 and then 5am – 8. Although I never really took the 5am – 8 as a watch as we were at our destination by 6am! A combination of strong and consistent winds (gusting 25 kts) meant we averaged 6.5 knots cutting our passage time down.

By 8am we were at anchor and back in our bed for a well deserved rest before we went to check in and stuff ourselves with french food. Not only have we now completed our first night passage (ok and it was no big deal I admit it and a word to sum it up - uneventful) we have also topped our 500 mile mark – total professionals now!!

Beautiful Barbuda

From 5 miles offshore, Barbuda looks like a yellow sliver on the horizon, looking at our depth gauge we can see it is quickly shoaling. With over 200 shipwrecks in the reef infested waters, I go up to the bow and direct Dylan into the anchorage, weaving in and out of the reef coloured areas.

Even once anchored Barbuda is still a yellow /pink (due to the coral) sliver set in turquoise waters, a low lying island with the highest point being a mere 125ft, you can easily see how back in the day, many a ship ran aground here. There are only 2000 people living in Barbuda with most of them clustered around the capital, the village of Codrington. When entering Barbuda, we chose to anchor first in Cocoa Point and when we arrived we were happy with our decision, a huge bay there were only 3 other boats sharing it with us. As Dylan did his usual routine of bedding the anchor, I watched Teddy the Turtle eying us up from a distance, taking a break from the reed bed he was much more curious to see what us humans were up to. The biggest turtle I have seen so far I bet he could tell a tale or two.

The Barbudan people were originally imported as slaves and worked for the Codrington family. Everywhere you see on the map of Barbuda seems to be named Codrington. Codrington lagoon, Codrington bank, Codrington farm. Since the days of slavery, the land has been held communally and keeping control of the island in this manner means land cannot be sold to foreigners. Thats what we like so much about this place, it is yet to join the 21^st century and shows no sign of wanting to. Our guide told us a story of a hotel being built by the Antiguan government. Fearing irreversible damage to the local wildlife and surrounding land the locals pushed the mobile construction offices off the cliff! Most locals here seem to make a living out of selling sand or catching fish, no desire to cater for tourists or 21^st century services.

Our first anchorage was off the K-Club where apparently Princess Diana used to come and stay. Well if its good enough for a princess....! The hotel has since closed down but the beach is pretty amazing, very very fine white /pink sand littered with small shells. Not a soul on the beach as far as we can see and the turquoise waves crashing at our feet, Dylan and I felt like we were on a deserted island.

There are no amenities ashore so our first few days were spent snorkelling on the nearby reefs where we saw loads of bright corals, an eagle ray and shoals of colourful fish then at night we would cook and play dominos – the Caribbean game of choice.

Keen to check out the west coast of the island and get close to the capital to clear out, we sailed around to Low Bay. Another quiet anchorage we were sharing this space with 2 other boats and at times it was just us there. We met an American couple on Ile de Grace who invited us around for a fish dinner (pieces of a 7ft sailfish they had caught!). These guys are just completing a 2 year circumnavigation and we all went on a tour the following day.

No dinghy docks in Barbuda, we beached the dinghy and dragged the monster up the sand bank so there was no way it would be floating out to sea by the time we got back. Meeting our tour guide, George Jeffrey, we were off to see the Frigate Bird Colony. Now his boat was built to navigate the 2 mile lagoon from our side of the sand bank over to the colony. His boat (complete with 40HP) motored across Codrington Lagoon to Codrington village. With the wind up, the lagoon was really choppy so we all got 'dinghy ass' – a new term I have learnt that describes the wet bum you constantly have when getting out of a dinghy. Park fee paid George then took us to the colony telling us the history along the way. The frigate mating season is in September and that is when the males puff out their necks like big red balloons trying to attract the females with their neck and a dance. Unfortunately we were too early for that but we still got to see them in their natural habitat and in their thousands. At 3 pounds in weight and a wing span of up to 6 ft, they have the greatest wing span in proportion to their weight. Makes for an entertaining spectacle, watching these birds trying to land in the trees in a most ungainly manner, flopping about like jellyfish, head butting the trees. The mangroves are full of the heads of frigates, all clucking away waiting to be fed. Although the chicks are very cute these looks can be deceiving as frigates are thieves. As they cannot land in the sea (due to weight: wing proportion) they steal the fish from other birds that can! This colony has been featured in the National Geographic as it is one of the largest in the world apart from the Galapagos.

Back in Codrington we started the process of clearing out and thank god we had a guide with us! Walking to opposite sides of the village with no signs pointing us in the right direction, we had to walk back and forth locating people's houses that doubled as port authority /customs and immigration. Good job George was with us as we would have got very lost otherwise. We stopped for lunch at The Palm Beach restaurant where I had lobbie and Dylan had chicken. The most massive portion sizes you can imagine and the food was excellent.

About to commence on our first night passage we wanted to get an up to date weather forecast for the area. With no available internet, we noticed a locked wifi signal at the nearby Lighthouse Bay Resort. Figuring we would buy a drink then ask for the password we ordered 3 diet cokes and a beer. You will never guess how much it set us back...US$53!! The most expensive drink I have ever drank and we didn't even get a glass or ice! The staff were extremely rude and unwelcoming and after paying for our drinks we were informed that they couldn't give the password to 'outsiders'. To put it mildly, this place is not cruising friendly and you should avoid at all costs.

After such a lovely day of seeing some of the island we were greeted back at the boat with a horrible smell. On following our nose (or rather mine as Dylan claims he never smells anything bad but he notices in seconds if I have bread or cookies on the stove!) we discover the drain in the fridge had blocked and stagnant water was accumulating in the bottom mixed with rotting callaloo that had fallen out of their bag. Nothing like a boat chore to bring you back to reality. Orion had clearly missed us that day and wanted to show who was boss.  

Queens, fishermen and the Antigua Classic Regatta 2012

Now we are not talking about the mildly effeminate men that mince around with more facial products than Sally or salty seadogs that earn a living from the sea. I am talking about the oddly named topsails sails on a 143ft gaff rigged schooner that I had the pleasure of racing on in the Antigua Classic Regatta earlier this month.

Although not exactly an oldy in age terms (she was built in 1995) she is an old design with the masts and booms made of wood in the traditional way. As too were the blocks and I could have sworn one or two sheets were hemp. There was enough varnish work to keep the crew busy for most of the season without her even leaving the dock.

The Zuca et a Moana is the largest sailing yacht that I have ever sailed on. There was no roller furlers or push button winches. Everything was manual.

Before each tack, either the Queen or Fisherman had to be lowered and then as we tacked the opposite number would be raised...manually.

Racing as many of you will know, is all about long windward legs at the start and finish and plenty of tacking in between. Raising sails, unlike on Orion where I can pop the main up singlehanded, involves 8 to 10 people. Winches are not used for raising these bad boys. It involves one or two people “sweating” (pulling the halyard) while someone else keeps a hold of the line by tailing it. Friction is applied by running the halyard around a belaying pin (those wood pins that look like skinny ten pins that you see ropes attached to on the side of old wood sailing ships in movies like Pirates of the Caribbean etc). Generally two people work in tandem to sweat the sail up and it involves pulling the halyard down with all your body weight and then moving it towards the belaying pin so that the tailer can take up the slack.

Do this a good few times and the very next day you feel like you have been roughed up by Mike Tyson except you will still have your ears.

Half way though a tack one of the belaying pins used to secure the Queens aft halyard snapped with an almighty bang. The pin itself flicked all the way across the deck and overboard. We were hurtling along at 13 knots and had a large piece of canvas flogging in the wind 100 foot above us. A couple of quick orders from the first mate and we were lowering the remaining halyard and using the sheets to man handle the sail back on deck before it became a sizeable sea anchor.

With a 143ft of boat of which over 100ft was waterline length, needless to say she made some good speed. The consistent trade winds did not disappoint and 15 knots of breeze was more than sufficient to power her along at 13knots. The regatta staggers the start times as it would be a bit hairy for little sub 40ft yachts to be dicing a start line with 150ft behemoths. Needless to say our class was one of the last to start (up to 1 hour after the first fleet sets off).

It is then fantastic to watch us reel in the fleet as we top out hull speed and in all her magnificence sail under all the smaller yachts. Being about 10feet from the water, it is also very dry on board and low heel due to her weight / size makes it easy to power through the swell while the rest of the significantly smaller yachts “hobby horse” over each wave.

Unfortunately I only raced for 2 of the 4 days on Zuca et a Moana. On day two they had me trimming the foresail (the gaff sail up forward rather than the main which is the larger and nearest the stern). So after a day of cranking sails up and down, I now spent my time grinding on an enormous winch the diameter of an oil drum. I dreaded the call for a gybe, which would be given almost half a mile from the mark we were rounding. It meant that I had to start sheeting in the foresail. Even though the winches had 3 gear ratio's, it was still slow work. Especially if we were hard on the wind pre gybe. Rounding the mark 2 or 3 crew would manually haul in as much sheet as possible while I tailed it all and then eased it out once we had rounded.

There was too much wind to fly the spinnaker, but she did have one! And THAT would have been something to see / do. Ah well there is always next year :)

Over the two days I got to meet the crew and skipper, all of whom were from western Europe and fairly new to the boat except the skipper. The skipper really knew his boat. This was a 143ft, 150ton steel vessel with non of the mod cons that modern yachts have in the form of bow and stern thrusters etc. Yet he magnificently steered her in and out of a crowded marina with a good side wind and onto the dock with the skill and precision of a Hartley Street surgeon. Quite a feat to watch.

The regatta was full of these beautiful yachts. There was a few hundred tons of varnish used on all the boats and they all gleamed. Racing was not as serious as I thought it would be with most people on the yachts armed with cameras snapping away at the fleet as they whizzed past each other.

By far the most impressive are the big gaff rigged yachts with their full array of sails up. The sheer size and scale is something to behold.

Life is all about experiences. This for me was a one of those experiences. I have now set my sights on crewing on a square rigger!