Hanging out at the beach with nude French supermodels is not to everyone's taste, but we've managed to endure it for a few days.
St Barths is beautiful. Perfectly clear water, and the land is steep and arid and covered in cactus and small shrubs. The beaches are pristine. I almost ran over a giant turtle this morning in the dinghy.
It's also expensive. Our $1 Presidente beers have turned into Euro7, but the jazz band that came with it was superb. After one round, we decided to put some beers in the dinghy and casually slipped out to drink one of those from time to time. Hilarious. My budget no longer extends to US$10 beers.
St Barths is also French. This means great baguettes and a supermarket that has fabulous food: cheese, wine, sasauge, and acres of foie gras. It also means funny protests. This morning the Port of Gustavia was blockaded by a string of small fishing boats, all tied together across the harbour's entrance. We couldn't get in to clear out of the French West Indies. I asked one of the fisherman what was going on and he said they were protesting: fuel prices are too high!
I also managed to make the muppet mistake of the journey to date. It's been very windy, and late at night I made a mistake tying up the dinghy. It blew away, and I expect it's now in Portugal.
I'm better than that. I can tie a bowline with one hand.
Still, I'm absolutely confident it won't be the dumbest thing I'll do this trip.
We went back to St Martin and I bought a new RIB and outboard. Ouch. That's a lot of Euro 7 drinks you know. But it's a cool new boat.
Photo shows Bandit lifting the standard at the dock in Gustavia, St Barths.
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