A Quick Summary of Many Weeks

We are back in Antigua. It is 2010. This means I have been beyond remiss. So, in quick summary:

Dominica
Boarded at night on a mooring outside Roseau. Much drama.
Back to Guadeloupe: Pointe a Pitre, Islet des Gosiers, St. Francois
50-mile run back to Antigua with a nice French cheese for the Totties

No photos...we've gone and left the camera in Montreal. We'll try to get a new one.

Home for Christmas on December 20, arrival December 21 due to east coast blizzard.
Fabulous Christmas with much family in attendance. Only one offsprinken missing (Willie's daughter Alicia was having a grand time in London, so our hearts didn't bleed too badly).
Delightful New Year's with wonderful friends at wonderful Lorna's wonderful house in Val Morin.
Unable to visit friends and family at Lake Anne. Instead, returned to Montreal in a tow truck. Such fun.
Left for Antigua on January 14, arrived January 15. Overnight stay in Newark, NJ, as a result of the attempted terrorist attack on a Detroit flight on or about Christmas Day. Scheduling very tricky without the stopover.

We were very careful when we travelled back to Antigua. The news was full of restrictions for carry-on baggage, so we actually each checked a bag. Normally, we travel with just a knapsack and computer case apiece, both carry-on items. At Trudeau airport, we were searched fairly categorically. It was in the US that we were given a once-over very very lightly. And almost everyone was carrying on large-ish cases, much the size of the knapsacks we usually take. In fact, despite all the ballyhoo in the papers, it appeared that little has changed.

We arrived in English Harbour at about 1 p.m. Terry was waiting for us in the Galley Bar and took us over to Django in his dinghy. After about an hour of salty, wet, muddy labour, we had raised our anchors, detached ourselves from the mangroves and headed over to the fuel dock for water. As Antigua is in the throes of a drought, water prices are climbing steadily. What with the essentials (beer, ice, salty snacks), the tab was rather high.

We dropped anchor off Galleon Beach, but were not happy with its grip and decided to move in the morning. It was almost tot time, so WW leapt into Boffo, started the engine for the first time since our return. Clouds of smoke belched forth as the poor wee outboard dealt with the agonies of being abandoned for three weeks. It then expired and nothing WW could try would convince it to show the slightest sign of life. We decided to skip the tot and just paddled the somewhat less vast distance to Johnny Coconat's for a lovely homecoming pizza.

Next day (yesterday), we found ourselves snuggling up to a motor launch moored nearby. We raised anchor and moved to the "Tot Club Anchorage" of the Nelson's Dockyard dingy dock. We are tucked in comfortably with good hold under Fort Berkeley. A neighbouring Totty told us the wind was due to shift and come on rather strong. We put out a second anchor to hold us off the shore should things get exciting.

We paddled to the dinghy dock and went into the village for provisions. WW called a chap about having the engine looked at, opining that it was probably a clogged fuel line. The chap Greg agreed to meet him at lunchtime. At the appointed hour, WW once more set off, paddling to the dinghy dock. There was no sign of Greg, so he removed the motor's cover. The he decided to give it one more try. Vrooom. All the dear thing wanted was a bit of sun on its innards. WW called Greg and cancelled the appointment. We were able to motor to the tot over on Galleon Beach in the evening.

Today, WW took the watermaker in hand. He had order bits while we were home and these he now installed. With delight he watched as a little bottle filled slowly with water. Drop by drop it accumulated.

"That was easy," he said. I cringed.

He emptied out the first half litre (probably pretty foul as the machine had been waiting almost two years to be put in working order), then gathered a second.

"It doesn't work," he announced shortly thereafter.

"What doesn't?" I asked.

"The watermaker," he said, helpfully.

"What's wrong?" I tried again.

"It's not removing the salt from the water," he said.

In case you are unclear as the the duties of a watermaker, they are onefold. Remove salt from salt water thus creating fresh drinkable water.

I retired to our berth, since the saloon seats were all in disarray for this maintenance task, and left him to it.

It took a while, but a damaged O-ring was finally identified as the culprit. The watermaker has been pooping along happily ever since making potable water. Joy.

We are hoping we will not need to buy further water...particularly not from a land in drought.