Part 7: Trellis Bay to Home
We rose, as usual, with the sun. But there was a bit more purpose driving us this morning, as we would be returning to Road Harbour today. Pete made a huge breakfast of pancakes and eggs, using up the rest of those ingredients. We pushed off at 8:30, with me finishing up the dishes while underway. The wind was as it had been all week: brisk. The crew was as it had been all week: sticky with sunscreen and stinky with saltwater and sweat.
Shortly after rounding the east end of Beef Island, we watched as an ominous wall of black made its way west across the Drake Channel. We reduced sail, battened down, and prepared to heave to, but the worst of the storm missed us, passing to the northwest. Nevertheless, it is hardly pleasant to be hanging on to the mast for dear life while a stinging rain pelts your once-warm, now goose-bumped, skin. The wind from the storm gave us an extra boost, cranking our speed as high as 8.5 knots (per Pete's GPS).
Road Harbour was soon in sight, but the T-dock appeared full and a sudden squall complicated our docking. We raised Footloose on the radio, and Sherrie came out to help us dock. The dock staff then moved us into a better position, effortlessly. We off-loaded and checked out, swapping our lost winch for the lost water. Rick dinghied our luggage over to the Mariner Inn, while the rest of us walked. Our rooms weren't yet ready, so we took dips in the FRESH water pool before checking in and enjoying a buffet lunch. Our waiter, Popeye, made sure we had everything we needed for lunch.
After lunch, we showered and dressed in clean(ish) clothes and walked to Roadtown for shopping. First stop was Colombian Emeralds, where I got an Atocha coin pendant and gold chain (which I wear every day). Sue got a garnet and
diamond ring, and Jodi bought dangly gold scallop/starfish/sand dollar earrings for her mom in appreciation of taking the kids this week. Then, we went on to Sunny Caribbee, where I got some small packages of mango and passionfruit tea, which makes such wonderful iced tea that a week later I called down to Roadtown from home and ordered a pound of each. We also stopped in at the Sunny Caribbee art gallery, a few other shops, and ultimately ended up at what always seems to find us at the end of the road: Pusser's. True to form, Pete was hungry, so we had drinks, nachos and pizza to tide us over until our dinner at the famed C&F, then walked back to the Mariner Inn.
Scenes of Roadtown.
Years ago, when Rick, Jodi, Doug and I made our first trip to the BVI, our crew consented to being taken out to dinner. They gently recommended that we skip the safe-but-touristy Pusser's and try local favorite C&F. Since then, C&F has retained its cult following by sailors-in-the-know, and we knew we just had to return. The atmosphere alone is worth the price of admission. The neighborhood is a bit run-down, though the belongers are just as friendly here as anywhere else in the island. The restaurant itself is filled with smoke from the huge 55 gallon grill, which blows inward or outward, depending on the direction of the breeze. The walls are covered with white lattice and artifacts, the lumpy concrete floor is painted red and slopes any which way, and yellow light bulbs provide what little illumination there is to be found. The ladies' loo is even more entertaining, a time warp throwback to the 70s with wood paneling, shag carpeting, and issues of the Jehovah's Witness' magazine Watch Tower for your reading pleasure. In the back is tucked a gift shop crammed with goodies and tchotchkes.
But the food oh the food! Chef Clarence toils away at the enormous grill without even breaking a sweat, but dishes out smiles with phenomenal barbecue. Before even getting to the barbecue, Rick and I shared an order of meltingly tender curried conch. Rick stuck with the ribs for his entrée, while I went for the "local fish," a whole grilled triggerfish, complete with eyes and threatening teeth. The meat fell off the bones. Everyone at the table was moaning with pleasure, the food was so delicious.
After packing away way too much food, we cabbed back to the Mariner Inn, changed clothes, and returned to the pool with more beers. By now, we have become so acclimated to the island air that the evening air (which got down to maybe 82 degrees) was enough to give us a chill. So we retired to our rooms at the back of the hotel, sleeping for the first time in a week without fear of being wakened by a downpour coming in through the hatch. No air conditioning tonight!
Sunday morning, we gather for our final breakfast at 7:30 am. The Mariner Inn puts on a delicious buffet, and we need to go early to ensure that the Foulds' and Deevers' make their 8:30 taxi to the West End ferry dock. We hug our goodbyes and send them off. Rick and I still have some time to kill, since our Eagle flight out of Beef Island doesn't depart til after 3pm, and our taxi doesn't leave til 1:10. We hung around the pool and poked around the dive shop til 11, only to discover that this was checkout time. We begged an extra 15 minutes from our maid, took breakneck fast showers, finished packing, and cleared out. But that left time for a leisurely lunch, served by ever-attentive Popeye, before our taxi made its way through the rain to the airport.
There are rumours that the Beef Island airport will be replaced by a newer, more modern facility. In my opinion, the lack of air-conditioning, the wandering chickens and dogs, and the general island casualness contribute to its appeal (if an airport can be appealing). Maybe they can incorporate some chickens into the design of the new one! In any event, our flight departed on time, and by evening, we were back home to reality.
But we will return . . .
