Turns out Bequia is a good place to boat watch.
Out came the binoculars. Cap spent all evening staring through them.
Here in Bequia we have yachties again. Big boats, little boats, charters and local day sailing trips. Doesn’t cost anything – unlike the Tobago Keys and Mustique, to anchor to Admiralty Bay’s thick sandy sea floor. It feels like everyone is here.
The Dutch sailboat next to us is tiny – just over 20 feet long. Did they cross an ocean in that? Proper brave. And we noticed they have a young child onboard.
The Americans on our other side of us are from Galveston, Texas, They have one of those beautiful, old-fashioned sailboats that Americans love. Like the hipster equivalent of yachting. Curly moustache boat – with every mod-con attached to it. Indeed, the husband and wife wore headphone walkie-talkies as they went about anchoring. Huh. Our Welsh version is to shout instructions at each each while the girls relay messages.
I yell, ‘How much chain? Lulu – ask your dad.’
‘He says put thirty metres on the surface!’
Everyone knows our anchoring business in earshot.. and when we take a mooring buoy – oh boy. Must look like theatre. We’re all out there trying to secure it. Boat hook, mooring line attached to the bow cleat and brought halfway down Quest’s deck.
I tend to grab the eye, Jack runs from the helm, lifts it with his ox-strength and Lulu and I feed the line through the eye. We all move then like a bustle of crabs to tie it to the bow. Where’s Delph you might ask? Well, she watches us from the cockpit, grading our every move.
Now, anchoring here surrounded by fellow yachties, this is as close to community as we can get. Let’s not get carried away – I didn’t say we were going to make friends with any of these people,
‘Dad,’ Lulu asks, ‘don’t you feel embarrassed staring at everyone? They can definitely see you.’
Jack didn’t bother removing the binoculars from his face. ‘No need. They’re doing exactly the same thing to us.’