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Saturday July 13th, 2002
More of the Whole Dragging Business: Frigate Island, Grenadines

I'm sitting in the cockpit and Curt has just donned his snorkeling mask and gone for a swim to survey our anchor. It appears our boat has once again dragged her anchor, and once again I'm reminded of the peculiarity of our lifestyle. Imagine if throughout your day, each and every day, you had to continually assess if your home was going to be dragged into the street, or into a ditch, or into someone else's home. Some days I have more patience for it than others. Just this morning we headed into Clifton on Union Island to stock up on staples, and we returned to find our home/boat had moved about 100 yards or so from where we had left it. Luckily, we're in an open anchorage with only True Blue beside us, and the current merely dragged us further toward the open sea rather than onto the reef.

While I'm surprised to find I've become accustomed to waking up three or four times a night to pop my head out of the hatch and look around to see if our boat's position has moved closer to shore, another boat, a reef, etc., sometimes it takes its toll more than others. Just recently in Bequia, the holding in the anchorage was terrible, and consequently with the strong winds, I don't think Curt nor I ever really fell into a deep sleep and spent our days there yawning. One ear is always tuned to the noises of a sleeping boat: the anchor chain creaking over the bow roller, the flags ruffling in the wind, the swells lapping over the transom. When we hear an unfamiliar sound, we're both immediately wide awake, and at least one of us leaves the warmth of our bed with sleep in our eyes to walk the deck in the dark looking for the source of the sound. The first night in a new anchorage is always the worst, and each night as we gain more confidence in our anchor's holding and familiarity with our surrounding winds and seas, we sleep better. But for instance in Admiralty Bay, Bequia, we woke each morning to see that we'd moved just slightly, and so we could never rest with any certainty of how much to trust our anchor in the holding there. The good news is that it seemed the boats around us were all dragging at more or less the same rate, so it didn't appear we'd run into anyone else with any luck.

I'm not sure how well I'll sleep tonight. A weather front is supposed to be coming through with substantial gusts and lots of rain. Certainly with the knowledge that our anchor doesn't want to hold here, I'll be up three or four times, but it seems luck is on our side as there doesn't seem to be much to run into? Always look for the silver lining I guess.

Monday July 15th, 2002
Petite Martinique and Petite Saint Vincent

After spending longer than we had planned at Frigate Island, this morning we made our way to the nearby island of Petite Saint Vincent (a.k.a., "P.S.V."). The island is wholly owned by a private party and has a beautiful resort there. While they seem happy to have sailboats anchor in their bay, they are a bit less happy to have yachties wondering the grounds and using the facilities. Regardless, Curt and I were (as always) happy to be back in on of the Caribbean's white sand/clear water little bays so we put together a picnic lunch and headed for an isolated stretch of beach around a point. It was one of those picture perfect afternoons where we kept laughing to ourselves that this was indeed our life! After imbibing in a bottle of French wine, cheese and crackers we'd saved from Martinique, we headed back towards the boat, collecting seashells along the way.

True Blue showed up later that afternoon and we rallied to go to Petite Martinique (or, "P.M".) for dinner. We hailed the restaurant on the VHF and made a reservation for 6pm. Better late than never, the water taxi showed up around 6:20 or so to take us to a typically Caribbean-funky restaurant. The food was good, and we ate with kids, and chickens, and goats running around underfoot.


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