The End is Near

So much had happened on this trip, it was difficult to come to grips with the fact that it was coming to an end.  I turned the key on the diesel one more time, and as always, it had the desired effect.  We motorsailed to Bequia in no time and were on the hook by noon.

We had planned only one day/night here, and just as we entered Admiralty Bay, we knew it was a big mistake. We had forgotten just how pretty this part of the Grenadines was.  While we thoroughly enjoyed the other stops, there was no question that Bequia was the crown jewel.  Next time.

I boldly motored deep into the Bay to my usual anchoring spot right in front of the Frangipani.  I declined 25 offers from various Boat Boys for a mooring.  I knew better.  Much to my surprise, someone had beaten me to that one spot.  No matter how much I tried to pretend we could squeeze in there, reality took hold and we had to look elsewhere.  I’m not a fan of the long dinghy ride from Tony Gibbon Beach, so I tried desperately for a spot in close.  I was surprised to see an open patch just off the Green Boley, so we went in and dropped.  Just before I shut down, I checked the chart and determined that this open patch was actually Bareboat Reef (gotta love that name) and high tide was the only thing protecting my keel.

We relocated to another spot, but the anchor dragged.  I began searching for those 25 Boat Boys – we would now take one of their moorings.  Believe it or not, there was not a Boat Boy to be seen.  After 15 minutes of waiting, I prepared the dinghy and became the first person in history to actually go searching for the services of a Boat Boy.  I scoured every inch of Admiralty Bay, only to find African Pride attached to the side of my boat when I returned.  Unbelievable.

Real Lazy Day

After a quick lesson on the Three ‘Rs (a Roti, a Rummer, and a Rest) thanks to the Green Boley, purveyors of fine Rotis, we were off to Spring Beach to join their Sunday picnic on the beach.  Our Taxi driver, Carleton Ollivierre, had the same surname as the Yellow Man on Union. Somehow, he managed to convince me that they were both offspring from the same distant ancestor.  After all, they had similar features; Carleton with his jet-black skin, and Yellow Man, pale as a ghost.  Sunscreen perhaps?

The picnic on the beach was lightly attended.  We were the only ones there.  Maybe we got our planets mixed up.

Later in town, we ran into our favorite painter, Baillar.  A rather peculiar fellow, he’s usually firmly rooted on the beach near the Green Boley.  Today, he joined us for a beer at the New York bar.  The latest word was that he was trying to sell his 10-foot boat (and residence) so he could relocate to the Tampa Bay area of Florida.  He would be right at home there, given the number of winter residents from his home Province of Quebec.  Time will tell if he makes it.

Mac's for Pizza

Dinner at Mac’s Pizzeria is an institution for The Usual Suspects.  Ever since our first appearance, it has become a mandatory stop every time we show up in Bequia.  As always, the Venezuelan Shrimp Pizza hit the spot. 

We were tired and all wanted to hit the pillow.  It was only at that point that I realized the vacation was over.