Hospital visit, boredom and sun spots

Knowing the passage beating into wind, wave, current and tide wasn't going to be the most enjoyable sail ever – it turned out to be not so bad. Sure I felt sick for most of it but hey, did wonders for the waistline and it taught Dylan how to use the galley without me! A rather frustrating journey we tacked back and forth often feeling that we were going nowhere. We must have kept US VIs in our sights for a good day. Clocking a mere 70 miles in the first 24 hours we came into St Martin after 2 ½ days at sea, anchoring under sail like pro's. In contrast to our trip here a couple of months back, Marigot Bay is now empty due to hurricane season, so we had plenty of space to drop the pick. One positive from the trip was the decent sized dorado we managed to catch and gaff successfully. Our first mahi mahi on Orion and boy did that fish make us work for his meat. He swallowed the lure whole so getting it back out involved a 15 min operation hacking the head apart with our paring knife, trying to avoid being skewered by the spikes. That fish kept us full for a good few days.

After a lovely long sleep at anchor we awoke to a new day and our mission of getting the gearbox out and delivered to a local mechanic to fix. Minding my business in the galley making our breakfast, Dylan disappears into the starboard locker and fights with a spanner to loosen some bolts when I hear an expletive followed by 'going to need stitches'. He wasn't thats kidding, Dylan illustrated a whole new meaning to 'showing the whites of your knuckles'. When wrestling with a particularly stubborn bolt, the wrench he was using slipped and sent his hand colliding into a sharp piece of metal (end of hose clamp), opening his knuckle up like a can opener. Not the prettiest of sights, he started to bleed and go a little pale. Ever the “macho macho man” he was pretending it was nothing although you could clearly see that was a nasty cut. Springing into action, we dropped everything, rigged the dinghy and sped ashore in search of a hospital. I considered taking a book as I was packing a bag but thought, nah, we won't be long. O how
wrong was I!

We get a taxi to the French hospital, scare the receptionist with his wound wrapped in a towel (same one I use to cover bread might I add so I am on the look out for a new one!) and take a seat. Arriving at 10:55 we then wait for 6 ½ hours to be seen. Yes, over 6 hours sat in a waiting room with freezing air conditioning, no entertainment, no food /water and Dylan bleeding into a towel next to me. It was so cold in there we took it in turns to nip outside and warm up, passing the time looking at pictures in the French magazines. I had a purse full of quarters I couldn't get rid of so we had a lovely time eating crap from the vending machines! Finally when we were seen, we got a doctor that couldn't speak English. Soooo they left us in a hospital room whilst he went in search of 'Stephanie', a nurse that could speak a bit of our language. After some translating they diagnosed that nothing major was damaged in his knuckle, he just required 5 stitches to put his skin back together. This is when Dylan turns a little pale when they hook him up to a heart monitor, clean the wound and inject it with saline solution. Although it looked disgusting, I couldn't help but watch as they prodded the gauged skin and flushed out the dirt. By this point they had injected a local anaesthetic so Dylan couldn't really feel anything. Twenty minutes later and he was all stitched up with a tight bandage wrapped around his hand and prescription in other hand to get some cleaning stuff for it. Apparently we will be able to pull the stitches out ourselves so no more going back to that hospital waiting room! 3 people before us just upped and left, clearly deciding their illnesses weren't worth waiting more than 6 hours for. Yes we were waiting a long time but once we were seen the service was excellent and the fee reasonable (80 euros).

Back aboard Dylan starts milking his disability. He can't get it wet = no help with washing dishes, no help with preparing food, no help with making drinks, no help with cleaning up. He kept this up for 10 days before I had enough, dug my heels in and shoved him off his ass. I'm not the most sympathetic person in the world but come on, he has a capable left hand and it's not as if he has lost a limb!!

Back to the gearbox which is the sole reason for returning to St Martin, well that and the cheap food and booze we can stock up on. With Dylan out of action and me not fancying a similar injury, the mechanic comes out to the boat, takes the part and returns to his workshop. Turns out the thrust washer has completely worn so whilst we are waiting for the parts to be shipped in and replaced we spend the next 2 weeks on the island.

With the impending bill for the gearbox coming, we were very reluctant to spend any money. As a result we spent most of our time on the boat chilling out or doing chores. I must have read about 20 books, watched well over 10 movies and baked at least once a day to try and fend off boredom. The weather wasn't that great either with heavy rain and strong winds most days, gusts reaching 45 knots on one particular day! I think this is the first time on the trip so far when I have been truly bored out of my mind, getting cabin fever and crawling the walls. Through no fault of their own the gearbox took longer to fix than expected so each day dragged out as I got twitchy about hurricane season and still being so far north as well as limited things to do to keep my mind active. At least I got all those chores done that I kept putting to the bottom of the list. The lagoon can now breathe a sigh of relief that I won't flash my ass every time I get out of the water. My 3 pairs of bikini bottoms had become uber baggy, so much so they tried to make a run for it each time I jumped in, swam or climbed the ladder out of the water. Can't say its the tidiest of jobs but I'm sure getting my money's worth from those Primark purchases!

When in sunshine I'm ashamed to say I behave like a typical Brit. Least amount of clothing on, least amount of sun protection on and maximum amount of time in the sun. On arrival in the Caribbean I was really keen to get rid of my winter pastiness and soak up the free Vitamin E. I did change my routine slightly and ensure that I wore SPF60 on my face but elsewhere I pretty much didn't bother putting sunscreen on as I rarely burn and it's a massive effort. Especially when you spend every day outside or in water. Oooo not a good idea right, well I agree with you now parents! I found a white sun spot on my chest that gradually increased in number and was seriously ruining my tan. Likening it to a white version of chicken pox, through research I've found its a skin infection (tinea versicolour) caused by excessive sun and humidity particularly found in young people. Well great, that will serve me right for taking my english rose complexion for granted! Luckily it goes away with special creams but it's certainly made me realise how the sun is no longer my friend and I may even consider purchasing a hat. I laughed at Dylan doing the shade shuffle around the cockpit but now I find myself doing it, desperate to keep out of the sun's strong rays.

I still had one sick puppy on my hands. After his trip to the hospital, the special one then gets a chest infection so goodbye to a decent night's sleep. He's constantly coughing all night and its like having my very own (unwelcome) furness next to me as he drenches the bed sheets in sweat. In an effort to make him feel a little less sorry for himself I make bread and butter pudding. O how resourceful I felt finding a use for the stale bread we had so I didn't have to throw ¾ loaf away. I thought it came out alright but Dylan's response was – I now know how the seagulls feel when picking up bread from the sea. O the cheek, he's lucky he was ill else I would have tipped the whole lot over his head.

It seems nowhere we are safe. Anchored a mile offshore in the middle of a lagoon, our watery moat seems inconsequential. Whilst completing chores in the cockpit we look up to spot two kayakers lacking co-ordination appear to be struggling towards Orion. My first thought was that they were holidaymakers blown off course until they got closer and offered us a flyer. Never one for rudeness we gratefully accepted their offering to which it was an invitation to ram Orion with their double kayak. The husband and wife team pulled out a waterproof flyer that mentioned something about a convention, the key words being 'bible' and 'Jehovah'. As I suppress a giggle, Dylan replies 'thanks but we aren't the least religious'. Blowing 20 knots with a good chop on the water, we admired their approach and energy to their cause!

We are hoping to be out of here tomorrow (pending the successful fitting of the gearbox). With it now being late July we are crossing a few return visits off our list and shall set sail and see where we end up although the destination is still Grenada. Maybe we will pull in of an evening and anchor to get a decent sleep or maybe we shall just plough on if the wind is in our favour. Who knows, we have learnt not to make too many plans anymore as Mother Nature has her own agenda anyway. Goodbye excel spreadsheets (and yes, I did used to do a spreadsheet for passage planning) and hello to common sense and winging it. With 6 months of boat ownership under our belts, I think we can now call ourselves 'competent' sailors...