Decided to try my land legs. Jeff and Spencer both say so-long, “you have fun on your jog”, as they bee-line for Foxy’s, the nearest watering hole from the dinghy dock. Consulting a google map my route looked rather flat and benign but in reality it wasn’t a jog. Not even a walk; it was a huff and puff steep incline hike. Surfaced and maintained road ended abruptly although still passible with a sport ute in low gear under dry conditions. I had the hillsides to myself. Just me and the wild goats. I was surprised to encounter them as were they and they took off like deer. That was fine by me. For a brief standoff moment as both sides analyzed threat, I wasn’t sure that one of them dominant and fearless might not charge and headbutt me off the hill.

The restauranteur, at the Ali Baba’s described how she’d like to capture some if these and make use. I explained that would be futile. I couldn’t even close in for a camera shot.

We are in the harbor after sailing most of yesterday. Upon arriving at Jost Van Dyke, the 3rd largest in the BVI chain we made directly for White Bay named for its sand beach of the same color. They don’t allow dinghy boats on the beachhead so the only way, and this is their claim to fame, is to swim for it. The destination: The Soggy Dollar Bar. Can you guess why they call it that? We empty everything else from our clothing pockets and off we went. Spencer sampled their famous ‘Pain Killer’. Word has it that 3.2 of these drinks equals — naked. No debauchery but it was the closest to Disney’s Pirates of the Caribbean thus far.

Whelp, time to rustle up some breakfast and today one without the clean-up ordeal. We are lazy islanders today staying put. Well, perhaps a Dive excursion for sure.

Immersed in the adventure it’s a challenge to remember what day it is. I can see why sailors keep written logs to keep track. Some of the smaller islands are beginning to look like Gilligan’s.

“One hand for yourself — one for the ship” is an old-time sailors expression. I recall that now after my morning plunge. Not to worry (my cell was not in my pants pocket but tethered to a charge cable in cabin) the water is 87 degrees but it was a kind of a shock. It’s to laugh I guess. Jeff heard the splash and rushed topside to inquire about my condition before receding to get Spencer from of his bunk to take a look at his sorry fully clothed dripping Dad hauling himself up out of the bay. Guffaws followed.

I know exactly what went wrong and without full reenactment I will explain my mistake. One hand clutched a pair of screw drivers from the tool kit. The other grabbed for the safety rail but took the similar looking hinged at the base folding swim ladder instead. Leaning out over the ledge of the swim platform to draw in the dinghy by its painter the pivoting ladder did exactly would it was designed to do and launched me head first for my before breakfast swim. The deployed ladder was now ready for use!

I somehow managed in this to not let go of the screw drivers and was able to salvage some pride by completing my tweak adjustment on the dinghy outboard. It now idles properly.

We left the quiet harbor just as the morning breeze began to pipe up. Motoring out to Drakes Channel we left sails bagged because we could see a squall ahead and the wind freshened. White caps were forming and we would have had to take a reef in the sail anyway. Too much effort. We’re on vacation right? The squall soon passed but not before a good soaking. It was Spencer’s turn at the wheel today and Jeff and I took shelter from the open hatchway to watch Spencer receive a pelting. The cockpit Bimini was no help as Spencer carried on shirtless at the helm. I offered to fetch him up a rain slicker which was refused. He was lovein’ it and said the chill from wet and wind was a rare sensation in these warm and humid tropical days and nights.

We had the best winds yet with a steady 15 knots. We sailed close hauled leeward rail down all the way up Drakes. We’ve got our sea legs. Spencer is perhaps best at it. The rest of us stub our toes on cabinetry and bang into things as we search for handholds. He can sit there (with laptop) at the cabin settee comfortable as the boat leans and yaws.

Arriving at The Dogs next to Virgin Gorda we selected The Chimney as our dive site. This place is named for its resemblance to a technical rock climbing slot rising from 25 feet it features a narrow crack between two large boulders rising to the surface. There are a couple of canyon alleys encrusted with marine life that we navigate. Featured is a massive archway that we swim under rolling onto backs inverted to watch our exhaled bubbles strike the cathedral ceiling.

Back aboard LILIA, we ate cheese, crackers, luncheon meats and chips the rocky cliff view. Next stop is the North Sound, a large water body playground and safe anchorage. Navigating the narrow arrival was tricky. There is an apparent easy approach from the west entrance but that one is risky and not recommend for a boat with our draft. Local knowledge during a pre-departure brief advised against so we rounded Mosquito Island to pass further north between Colquhoun Reef and
Prickly Pear Island. Who comes up with these names?

We paced a professional crewed catamaran through here holding full sail until the very latest. Our mooring is the Bitter End Yacht Club Resort. We went ashore for some pub food and beer last night. This morning, after I attempt pancakes and bacon on the galley stove, the first order of business is to transport our 4 spent tanks to the dinghy dock for refill.

Marina Cay, located between Beef Island and Scrub Island is our goal today.

I’m awakened well before the shore birds this morning; a light rain spritzing my face via the deck hatch above my aft quarter berth. Jumping up to close the other open portholes in the darkened main saloon, I see Jeff has already jumped to. This effectively cuts off all source of ventilation so unable to continue sleep I pull on some trousers. By the time I climb the ladder topside the drizzle has ended. It’s nice on deck with fresh air and the clearing so I stay.

Spencer and I enjoyed our first Scuba dive together yesterday. I was pleased to see his skill demonstrated with calm, confidence and ease. I believe I picked up a few tips from him as he was happy to share training pointers.

A rocky point on Salt Island is a site of a near escape from hurricane force winds over a hundred years ago when British mail steamer Rhone was lost. She broke in two and the stern section is laying on it’s side in 80 feet of water at it’s deepest. Popular for it’s accessibility by dive boats and yachts we arrived on station early. Jeff stayed aboard to keep watch. Our initial attempt at a short surface swim to the final location was thwarted by heavy water current so we piled into the dinghy and Jeff motored us the additional yardage. It was exciting to dive this wreck now home to the fishes Spencer with an eye for observation spied a large Sea Turtle specimen also perusing this man created sub-marine reef. We explored until our air tanks were exhausted.

Back onboard we downed sandwiches before leaving our mooring. We motored the narrow channel between Cooper an Salt and then raised sail for a downwind run, backtracking somewhat to Peter.

The swell on the windward exposed side of these islands is significantly greater than the relatively sheltered inner channel.
Every 9th wave set would pitch and roll our craft. Getting around in the cabin was a challenge; easy to bang into things and stub toes.

Passing Dead Chest and arriving at Peter we took a shore break finding the Yacht Club and resort and tied up dockside for a short while. Great Harbor on the protected side just around the corner of this Island was our plan so we made way.

With plenty of remaining daylight. Spencer and I snorkeled the shoreline between overnight mooring and a beachfront restaurant / bar. The shallows have many colorful fishes, corrals and marine life to see. Conch make plodding tracks across the sandy floor. A rather large silvery tuna was fun to chase down in the interest of capturing an underwater photo — or had he left the deeper part to come and observe us?

Well since we’ve kicked al the way to the beachfront might as well drip dry over at the bar. Jeff has been tracking us from LILIA and smelling a cold beer arrives in the dinghy simultaneously with wallet! I haven’t got my land legs back yet so I abstain to inquire about a dinner table for later. My tummy was settled by then and we had a nice dinner end of day.

4am now and I’m hearing the early birds. Might have to disappear below deck for a little extra snooze. Virgin Gorda is on the itinerary later this morning.

4 am and LILIA is riding easy in The Bight. A breeze has freshened in the early hours and chased away the overcast allowing us to clearly see stars of which there are many. Well, myself anyway. The rest of the crew is still sleeping. Already the sky is beginning to lighten. I can distinguish the outline of the island hillsides. The birds are beginning to sing too. The wind is causing the boat to swing on her mooring and wavelets are lapping at the hull and dinghy making little popping sounds. And, luckily she remains securely attached to our stern. Jeff was wise to suggest we pay the $25 overnight charge for the mooring ball we are on, as opposed to dropping an anchor in the sand. Someone would have had to awake every few hours in the night to verify that we weren’t dragging or about to foul or be fouled by another vessel. Cheap insurance for a good nights rest was the
argument.

The masthead light has been burning nightlong so one order of business must be to run our auxiliary and recharge batteries.

I can see lights from Tortolla across the channel. In between lies Peters Island which we plan to visit after breakfast for a snorkel and our next overnight end of day. We are in direct line of sight with St John (USVI) which allows cellular data connection on account of an AT&T tower on that island. As St. John drops on the horizon later in the week these logs will become more reliant on sporadic WiFi availability.

East of Peter is Ginger, Cooper, and Salt Islands which will be our afternoon sail.

Wow. The weather changes as the sky lightens. Low clouds form and I just felt a drop or two. Might have to stand ready to batten down hatches since I’m shirtless man on deck. The breeze is providing cooling air for the boys below as I await sunrise.

Starts early in the marina with birds and chickens on the green hills surrounding making lots of happy racket. After sunrise we borrow a Bic lighter from a yachtswoman neighbor returning from the comfort station and light our stove. We note the need for matches and some other minor items missing like TP and garbage bags before we shove off.

From the kettle I enjoy a morning cup of tea as the marina wakes up. By 0800 the place is full of activity. We top of the diesel auxiliary; I collect my DiveCaribbean handbook (long story).

Maneuvering out of our confined slip at the charter facility was a thrill. We were at on our way as I motor out verrry slowly. I wasn’t following the previous departure who’s skipper carried too much power and hooked his trailing dinghy on the pier pylon. His nervous first mate all the while uttering nervous expletives nearly lost her fingers between the cleat and the painter.

Our boat, LILIA has the electronics to backup our chart. We set a southerly course crossing Drake’s Channel on a reach making 4 knots in 8 to 10 knots of trade wind. We have an autopilot which reliably holds our course. We don’t have much distance to traverse and it’s all line of sight but I take an interest in the tech equipment on board.

Norman Island is the destination for the day. That is where we are as I type this. The Bight. We picked up a mooring ball and I’m catching bits and pieces of the dialog as we relax in the cockpit. Spencer and Jeff are drinking cold ones.

We visited snorkel sites today: The Indians: a rocky reef rising from 35 foot depths to an equal height above sea level. I managed to tag my knee on some corral but that didn’t slow us down. We visited The Caves: on a second swim. All of this documented with my new helmet cam.

Dinner is next. Time to board the dinghy and putt putt over to the Pirates or perhaps Willy T’s… The outboard is a little tricky. It won’t idle but I’ve managed not to smack the dock.

Scanning the harbor there are only just a few moorings left. Spencer counts 2 dozen yachts. Best head over to the restaurant before the rush.

Time compression on our journey to Tortola which is a good thing. With zero slack in the changing of flights and transfer conveyances, taxi, ferry, marina shuttle we were always on the move. Spencer hadn’t eaten a single meal the entire day except for a bite of rejected toast at 0545. I guess this is a good strategy to ward off the jet lag. Jeff, Spencer, and I are on an cruise adventure which should prove to be a life long memory after a week roughing it island hoppingWe enjoyed a fine dinner meal ( and a bottle of Jamaican beer) on Wickhams Cay Marina eventually. This after attending to provisioning of our 37 foot Beneteau and the fitting for Scuba gear. We listened intently to the ‘chart orientation’ — attendance mandatory. This was a fire hose of local knowledge about local rules and customs moorings and shallow reefs and rocks to avoid.

With tummies full and little remaining but the dinner check to settle, a heavy rain downpour began. This seemed to me an opportune moment to leave Spencer with the bill whilst I hoofed it over to our yacht to dog the hatches. Got a little soaked in the process but it’s hard to discern between sweat, humidity, or rain. The boat was okay — a puddle from the open vent window on the galley stove required a mop up but our bunks were dry luckily.

We begin our adventure in Road Town with a stay onboard our vessel LILIA tonight. The marina is quiet in the evening hours where we have full facilities available. The shore-power connection allows us to charge the cold plate in the icebox and run the cabin fans which keep the warm moist air circulating. Sleeping on top of the sheets tonight.