Mopeds and flamingos

Anegada is a low lying island surrounded by reef similar to Barbuda with the highest point being only 28 ft above sea level. Only 11 miles long, sight seeing is easily done within a day and we chose to do it on a moped.

It is difficult to dispose of garbage in the BVIs and as such we had accumulated 3 bags worth of stinking rubbish. We took these bags ashore in the hope that we could get rid of them...we could but had to pay $3 /bag for the pleasure which Dylan refused to do. So it was with the 3 garbage bags and a rucksack that I straddled a moped and clung onto Dylan with my one free hand as he started up the engine. We got off to a wiggly start and Dylan informs me that he has never ridden a moped before! As we motor away (very slowly as I dig my nails into Dylan every time he goes over 20 kph!) we very quickly realise that the roads here are not all tarmac...but the majority sandy tracks. Interesting...

I am armed with a tourist leaflet of the BVIs that has a small 4 finger sized map of Anegada. I try to juggle that with the 3 bags of garbage and still hold on to Dylan as we sway about like a drunk after a day of drinking. As we hit the sand, Dylan wobbles, the moped veers near a gorse bush, we grind to a halt and I get thrown off. After only being on the moped for less than 5 mins and already seeing my life flash before my eyes, I took a bit of persuading to get back on the moped let me tell you! Helmets back on we set off in search of Flamingo Pond – home to 100 local flamingos. Falling off a second time I have a mild hissy fit and question Dylan's ability to drive cursing the fact we were cheap skates and didn't opt for the jeep rental instead. Sure I appreciate that driving on sand has the same feeling as aquaplaning in a car...yet I can't really sympathise with him when my feet cant touch the ground and the only way of getting off is if the moped is seriously tilted to the left or right. I was relying totally on his non existent experience in driving a 2 wheeled vehicle. I have driven a moped before in Thailand when on holiday with the girls, lets just say after accidentally driving myself into a group of monks, getting shown into their private quarters to take the embedded gravel out of my knee whilst the monks retrieve my moped from the bushes – I wasn't going to be driving one anytime soon, especially with my beloved as a passenger!! I figure Dylan just needs practice and get back on again, clinging on for dear life, staring at the speedometer. We saw 2 flamingos and not a lot else as we were concentrating so much on the sand piles.

With only 11 sq miles to explore, it wasn't long until we reached our second stop, Bones Bight beach. By now Dylan had figured out how to turn corners but I still wasn't all that confident on his u-turn capabilities so I bailed whilst he drove the moped round with his feet swinging out either side ready to level out the moped if needed. Bear in mind I still held on to 3 carrier bags of stinking rubbish and a rucksack on my back – o thank god we barely came across another person the whole day, we looked a right pair.

Bones Bight beach is a gorgeous deserted white beach. We get out our snorkels and go and explore the coastline. A few fishes but not that big on sealife, definitely focus on the beach impressiveness and not the underwater scene. We did however see our first small sea snake! We went for a long beach walk, no other person in sight, dried off and got back on the moped (well I didn't really have much choice did I).

Hitting a particularly sandy spot in the road I fall off for the third time (yes parents, we were wearing helmets) and this time manage to embed a load of thorns in my feet. Another mild tantrum, swearing and flinging of rubbish and we are on our way again. Yes I must be a glutton for punishment. Dylan putting on a brave face finding this whole thing hilarious as we fishtail our way up a sandy track hoping like hell we don't meet any oncoming traffic. We realise that this visitor's map is rubbish and totally not accurate when we end up at the South East corner of the island rather than the North East. A kind local with a kitchen paper wrapped around her head (no idea) pointed us in the right direction.

We weaved past goats and cows in the middle of the road and arrived at our destination – Loblolly Beach. And guess what, they had a bin free of charge! After carrying around 3 stinking bags of rubbish for most of the day, I was very keen to get rid. This beach was pegged as one of the best in the world so we had high expectations. Dylan, never to give anything a 10 /10 in the Caribbean as there is always better alternatives in the Pacific, declared that it was disappointing but I beg to differ. Sure it was busier than other beaches we had been to but the beach stretched on for ever and the coastline had great snorkelling. Reef fish we have seen before but all twice the size. We also spotted a medium sized sting ray chilling out on the bottom. Wanting to dry off before we got on the moped, we went for a drink at the bar and were greeted by two pet goats taking a snooze under the tables. Cute!

Next stop – The Settlement. How much easier it is to be a passenger on a moped when you can hold on with both hands rather than occupying one holding bin bags! The Settlement is the main town on the island. We were expecting a central hub and got a road that just looked slightly more populated than the rest. A lone Indian lady sat on a green plastic chair greeted us into the town as I continued to dig my nails into Dylan if we went over 30 kph (yep I had upped my tolerance by 10 kph)! On our way out we stopped for a herd of sheep going home. Much more interested in our strange faces they all stopped where they were and checked us out.

Heading back to the rental place I allowed Dylan to drive a little faster on a straight road yet we were still getting honked at by locals and overtaken. Whether that was to say hello or tell us to move out of the way – who knows!

Here is a video I made whilst on the moped:

Dylan now has another nickname - Dick Dastardly from Wacky Races.

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!)