We spent an entire week relaxing on our Mooring at the Bitter End Yacht Club and checking out at a leisurely pace some of the amenities of the North Sound area of Virgin Gorda. I’ll admit I miss owning a Hobie Cat and was looking forward to my one free water sports rental until I learned I could only have a Hobie Wave and not a Getaway. I think with the trade winds having filled in since we arrived that the Wave would actually be fun, but after owning a Tiger….
Magnus and I had regular trips to Prickly Pear Island in the dinghy and he swam, rolled in the long grass and played fetch. Only once did he spot the wild goats (I think) before I did and took off after them in an attempt to herd them.
We took the dinghy downwind over to Gun Creek to do some grocery shopping. Down wind the dinghy rides well and even planes with the new lower pitch prop I put on this summer, but it was a slow wet ride back. On the plus side, while Magnus and I waited outside the grocery shop in the shade we watched the locals head in for some shopping too, so we must have found a non- tourist trap to stock up at.
Didn’t find a place all week that sold ice cream cones though and in the heat that would have been a nice treat. I missed that aspect of Penetang, as we would occasionally take the dinghy to the town dock to get a fresh cone, but I suppose we had a few happy hours instead.
The second happy hour we went to, was supposedly a deal just for the Salty Dawgs so I got a huge shock when they server handed me the pair of painkillers for Chrissy and I and said it would be $17 dollars. The next day we took the dinghy to the Pusser’s Rum store at Leverick Bay and promptly acquired two bottles of rum for probably the same price as bottled water.
Wednesday night was the big welcome dinner for the Salty Dawg Rally and here is Chrissy enjoying a rum punch. Not sure how I grabbed the photo as it was around this time that it was clear that the rum punch was running short, so I’ll confess I did grab myself a pair and was double fisting for a bit. How else was I supposed to survive the last half hour until dinner?
As you can tell, if you want to feel young, all you need to do is take up sailing. We did have one lady comment that surely we weren’t old enough to be retired. I didn’t know retirement was a prerequisite to sail, but we had a nice conversation anyway. I’m pretty sure she still thinks we are crazy though.
At the end of the party, here is the what the mooring field looked like. Beautiful setting, now which one is ours? This is admittedly a perk of having the small boat with the new bright LED anchor light. Just look for the stark white lowest light out there and zoom towards it.
Later in the week, one of the other Salty Dawgs organized a dinner at a restaurant up on the hill and it was dog friendly so we had to go. So here is Magnus enjoying some time with Spinnaker on the ferry to get there. Not to worry, the taxi service would definitely be considered safe by Transport Canada as pointed out by one of the couples on the excursion.
And our Destination, Hog Heaven. Can you guess what the specialty is here? Magnus wasn’t quite as lucky as Spinnaker though as he only got a little sliver of meat as he can’t be trusted not to gulp the remnants of bones from ribs.
Here is the view from the restaurant. Unfortunately it was a squally evening, so the photos don’t do it justice with the clouds looming on the horizon.
Towards the end of the week, Magnus and I hiked the trails behind the resort, perhaps not quite as early in the morning as we should have. Here is the view of Saba Rock, and in the distance Richard Branson’s private Island Necker. Perhaps we should visit sometime and see if he is available for tea, or better yet, a friendly Hobie Cat race.
Totally miserable animal. This adventure life is terrible… I’m sure he wishes he could go back to his boring life of snoozing around the house all day waiting for me to come home and take him for his walk around the subdivision.
Can you spot our little boat in the anchorage?
I’m always pondering how I end up with sand and grit in the cockpit, not matter how well I rinse off my feet. Perhaps it isn’t me after all.
Finally, here is a welcoming looking shot at the end of the dock at Bira’s Creek resort.