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Yesterday, I was up at the crack of dawn again, had a quick breakfast, down 7 flights of stairs, on to the tender, in to the waterfront of St. Thomas, onto a truck/taxi, over the mountain, down to the other side of the island, in to a marina, on to a catamaran and off over the waves on a snorkeling adventure. Only I didn't snorkel. It was cloudy and cool and I really just wanted to sail. The weather was such that we couldn't go over to St. John as planned but instead went to Christmas Cove, a pretty little place. Here is where the snorkelers swam. It was quite entertaining to watch the newbies. Men are such crybabies, aren't they? Especially the old ones; shame on them for treating their wives like mommies. But I digress.

Christmas Cove

Our skipper's name was Ocean (yes, his mother named him that) and I think he took pity on my solo status so I sat with him and his little dog, Maximus. I spent my snorkel time chilling in the trampolines but got up when the memories of the sailing days with my husband began to overwhelm me. It is still a stab in the heart when I think of everything he threw away. But anyhoo . . . 

Captain Ocean

and Maximus, fast asleep at his feet

We sailed for about an hour and a half on the way back, around the islands, with a stiff wind, oh it was wonderful. There is nothing quite like turning off the engines and feeling the wind take the sails and the pure silence of traveling on the wind. Well, except for the dozen or so drunken sunburned tourists trying to dance to reggae.  sigh

My latest towel animal from Arnel upon my return to the boat.

Leaving St. Thomas

 So, St. Thomas is kind of the armpit of the Caribbean, smelly and crime ridden; my husband and I were here many years ago, like 20 maybe? I had bought a trip at the NPR auction. We had a wonderful time - well I did anyway. It hasn't changed much, just a bigger tourist trap than it used to be. Still, it has that Caribbean flavor, as evidenced by this road sign below. Gotta love it.