Above is the west end of Canouan of the St. Vincent Grenadines. Apparently Donald Trump is heavily invested here. We stopped in Charlestown Bay for one night. The anchorage was rolly.

As we were weighing Moody Blues’ anchor a powerboat turned in front of us. Gene was focused on bringing the anchor up and didn’t notice. The powerboat probably didn’t realize we were bringing in our anchor. So I turned to the left (port) just as the powerboat must have seen us and turns to the left too. Gene looks up and frantically points for me to go to the right: point, point, point, he jesters like a jack-hammer. I turn hard to right (I was turning already anyway!) and the powerboat who started to turn too, finally decides to turn back just as I started to. As he rumbled past us on our left side. I just couldn’t stop myself from spreading my arms wide open, hands up with a, “What were you doing?” statement. It was weird. It was a huge bay and we almost have a collusion. Go figure!

Long lost modern cave dwellers in New Bay, Canouan.

Must have been fascinating in it’s hey-day.

The island Mayreau to the right with Union Island in the background.

     

Once again another channel to cross. The wind was 20–25 mph getting from Canouan to Mayreau, and the six to eight foot swells hid the catamaran sailing next to us in their trough.

Coming into Salt Whistle Bay, Mayreau. This anchorage is primo.

Colorful vender on the beach.

Kite surfer off a boat out for a ride.

Kite surf sail on the shore.

No speed limit in Salt Whistle Bay.

I’m Alive practicing for the regatta.

Boats are the mode of operandi here in the West Indies.

All the boats are named. Above is Heart Attack. (This is the boat in the photo three above.)

Racing to the fake finish line.

The dock is the locals hangout.

Strolling . . .

Wonder what he’s looking for?

     

Caribe Krackle. Landed on Moody Blues’ furled mainsail right as we anchored.

     

He wouldn’t get off the sail. Just hopped around it singing his brains out.

Gene felt energized after the good sail into Salt Whistle Bay and decided to clean Moody Blues’ bottom.

        

Lobster anyone? You bet.                                              Mayreau was extremely welcoming.

(This post is dedicated to the one I love for cleaning the bottom of the boat—again!)