The tension mounted from dawn onwards. We could see our destination as well as St Vincent; Bequia (pronounced Bequwai) lay dead ahead. The birds were swooping all around and local shipping and pleasure boats could be seen. All rather alarming after so long almost alone in an empty ocean. Soon we were entering the small but busy harbour and manoeuvring alongside
the small jetty. Plenty of local interest in the bustling town. We cleverly put the clocks back to match local time as we arrived. This meant that our waiting for clearance to go ashore took no time, according to the clocks on board.
Time for the voyage crew to stand on dry land and marvel at how it didn’t move. They then went off to cafes and bars to experience tables and cups of coffee that didn’t move. Of course later the rum punch probably did move but that is something completely different. The temperature is high as well as the humidity and the atmosphere relaxed. The Christmas decorations look so out of place in the heat. The restaurants and bars beckon for a celebration of a successful Atlantic crossing.