Two Bits March 21, 2014

AAARRRGHHH!!! We are now fully licensed, card-carrying, swashbuckling, sword-swishing, Pirates of the CAAARRRibbean!

All it took was two full days of flying and airport mania via New York and Puerto Rico to arrive in paradise, the island of St Thomas in the US Virgin Islands. There Rose and I joined the catamaran Majestic Spirit for a two week jaunt like nothing we have ever experienced before.

I don’t want to spoil the story, but I have to tell you this: from the airport to the docks, a distance of not more than 10 km, the taxi fare was R587. That’s not a typo. Okay, I say to myself, take a deep breath, no, take 10.87 deep breaths, and remember Rule No 1: there will be no converting of ridiculous banana republic rands to US dollars every time you take out your wallet, or the holiday will be ruined.

Our home for two weeks was a magnificent catamaran, a veritable floating palace, with which we would cruise the Virgin Islands, roll in the Spanish Main, splice the jib in Francis Drake Passage and generally have a jolly good time. And we did.

We were very fortunate to be guests of Chaka’s Rock boatbuilder Ken Bircher and his wife Sue, along with Salt Rock residents Rohan and Elaine Kullin and former Zinkwazi shopkeepers Andrew and Nina Madsen making up the jolly band of pirates and wenches. Captain and owners were the very hospitable ex Richards Bay couple, Dave and Desiree Bean, with several years of chartering experience under their belts.

So, what’s there to do on the Spanish Main? A typical day: after a leisurely breakfast, a swim and a little snorkelling, up anchor and sail off to a little bay on some obtusely-named island – George Dog, Seal Dogs, Mosquito Island, Salt Island, Beef Island, Fallen Jerusalem – sunning ourselves on deck, watching dolphins and, once, a whale and calf. Arrive, chuck the anchor in, have lunch, swim, snorkel etc ‘til dinner, then retire well content. Next day, repeat.

You’d be forgiven for thinking that Caribbean islands have lush, tropical vegetation and gleaming white beaches, fringed with waving palms. That’s just Hollywood. The land is hard and stony, covered with a hardy mesquite bush, and most beaches are quite rocky. The only palms are imported and they’re reserved for the two or three beaches with fine, white coral sand. Then those beaches are owned by the rich and famous and have the bejesus photographed out of them for every brochure and magazine article. But the water is the most beautiful, clear turquoise you can imagine.

We rubbed shoulders with the above at Sabba Rock and the Bitter End yacht club, where we all clubbed together for a Coke. We moored across the channel from Richard Branson’s Necker Island for a night, so feel we got within touching distance of fame.

More to our level was Poorman’s Bar on Virgin Gorda. One of the highlights of the trip, without a doubt, was Happy AAARRR! at Jumbies Bar in Leverick Bay, in the north sound of Gorda Island. We felt quite at home. There a sprightly fellow by the name of Michael Beans, armed with a guitar and an infectious laugh, got the place rocking with non-stop songs, sea shanties and plenty of roaring AAARRRs! Everybody joined in the fun. Rohan was persuaded to enter the conch-blowing contest and nearly won.

Two weeks was over far too soon. At first you think “I can’t do this for 14 days in a small space with nine other people,” then before you know it, you don’t want it to stop. We all got on famously. It was very hard to drag ourselves back onto the plane home, away from the holiday of a lifetime.