The night is dark, so dark. The sea has laid down and the surface is smooth and soft but the water is thick and rich. Each bob of the bow sends off a wake of light, the phosphoressence of nightlife. The passing jellyfish float by like a lantern without a plug free to roam about.
Anchored on the edge of the mangroves just beckoned for some exploration with the dinghy penetrating the waterways within the mangroves. And so Andrew and I set out this morning in this uninhabited/able mass of mangrove trees, birds, sand and muck, beautiful don’t get me wrong. We knew it would be shallow but outside this
Leaving from Canouan’s Tyrrel Bay, a sailors’ favorite, we sailed the crossing over to Grenada skirting just outside the volcano zone (Kick ‘Em Jenny that blew here top in 1989 is just 500 feet below the ocean waves and the authorities have created an exclusion zone so no passerby get blown to kingdom come someday).
Certainly I’m not the first to stop here but we are the only one visiting now when all the other more sanitized touristy anchorages are packed with cruisers. The entrance to Laborie in the swell that we have looks impossible from outside passing by with waves breaking all over way offshore on the shoals all