A Lovely Day Trip for Ex-pats

Sunday, Jan 31.

As a splurge before Paul officially starts work, we spent a glorious day on the water wiht the crew of the catamaran, Winner's Touch, and 20 others, sailing to Sandy Island and to Crocus Bay on Anguilla. A roast sucking pig was to be lunch. (We wondered about the cooking - a fire on the beach? Picnique? For the Dutch side, par example, is very set on plastic.) We left dock from Marigot, French side, at 8 am.

The sea looked at first to be almost black (the wine-dark sea) then deep velvety navy blue, ultramarine, then no, it has a sheen of turquoise, no actually, it shines wiht quite a high value but then again, it is waxen and opaque but look, there is a thin line of aqua at the distant shore! On the small tip of tiny Sandy Island, the waves run up from grey water on one side and overlap foam that runs up from the glass-clear viridian water of the other side. Deep in hue but yet also transparent!

Sandy Island is a mere ivory crescent of sand out in the sea (yet, still there is a bar! I mean, a bar . A bar counter under a cover of thatch, under a palm.) The intent was some easy snorkeling and the boat had equipment enough for all. Paul came wiht prescription goggles. Unluckily, a fairly strong wind had increased and waves breaking on the reef made it impossible. Those of us who set out had to turn back quickly after a few scrapes and mouths full of saltwater. (The crew must have quite confidently expected this as no significant instructions or warnings were given!)

Some of the islands' beaches and bays are protected and only small boats may be moored in certain areas for a fixed time, marked by significantly colored buoys - orange for 1/2 hour, white for 45 minutes, etc. That was enough for both swimming and walking around on Sandy Island, even when looking very intently at the flotsum/jetsum on the beachhead and snails on flat rocks under a few inches of water. The dinghy ferried us in batches from and back to the cat. Normalement, one swam in from the boat, but it was too choppy today.

Back on board, long tables were being tricked out as one under the canopy and set wiht cloth, china, cutlery and wineglasses. Mmmmm! How good to come home from swimming and be greeted by the fragrant promise of food! We all had to beaten back wiht more rum punch or expresso. Easy surrender...

A' table, enfin! Salad and yummy cakey olive bread wiht a thick garlicky, tomato sauce were first and then they took down the pig. It had been roasting away, wiht a chicken, in a large rotisserie oven (about 4x5'x20", stainless steel wiht a full glass front - like big TV,)the first thing to catch your eye as you stepped on board. The meat was hacked up in the galley and passed on platters with bowls of carmelized onion conficture and pink savoury sauce wiht some heat to it.

When the pig's head was presented, only a few of the French passengers knew what to do wiht it (pull its mouth open and apart and cut off some jowl meat. Oh,the little teeth, so white and neat!) Potatoes in a creamy cheese sauce and more wine were also passed. It was all very agreeable, eating, conversing and laughing with strangers but the one young French guy wondered (out loud) why things always had to be "si grave..."

Naps, and conversations as the hours passed in sailing.

Next stop : Crocus Bay on the larger island of Anguilla. Only 7 of us were now game after dinner and cordials. The very small bay is calm, clear and pristine, surrounded by cliffs and so reachable only by boat or rope. A local man and his young son had used the latter to descend and were trapping minnow-like fish wiht nets. The son was also wall-climbing the cliff face for fun. Our arrival and then that of another party discouraged them (This small scene is an indicator of the reality of these parts for the last 3 1/2 centuries.)

Nevertheless, today, we were here now for now. As soon as the engine was cut, I tipped out of the raft and sank into the beautiful, still water, as perfect as imagination. Later, I snorkeled above the little fish. Hundreds and hundreds and hundreds move and pivot as one in a perfect grid formation - shining net.
There was also the option of exploring along the cave-like undercuts .... well, there is PBS for that, pour moi.

Back to the cat for more rum punch and a kind of bananas foster wiht ice cream and another hour of so of conversation wiht both colleagues and new friends. Our French/their English got a workout but we all did pretty well!
I tried a famous Ti punch: 2 Tbs of estate bottled Jamaican rum wiht lime and sugar but had to pass it on to Paul. We all sat in pear-shaped beanbag pouffs (THE perfect boat chair) on the deck and on the netting that bridged the two hulls in front.

We slid homeward along sunny Anquilla's low shoreline. St Martin's odd chain of pointy hills and mountains, so green and lovely under their usual early evening cover of clouds and veils of drizzle, loomed over and behind it.

The open bay of Marigot is dominated by a high, 17th cen fort, ruined and brown, overlooking the pink, orange and chartreuse buildings of the town. The crew returned our passports, laid our shoes out on the dock and kissed each of us 3X on disembarking. The clouds turned lavender and pink; the sky was suddenly indigo. 7 pm.

A wonderful day - thanks for coming along!