The American Virgin Islands

I left beautiful Culebra for a daylong tacking sail in 15 knots of headwinds to St. Thomas in the US Virgin Islands.  It was a great day of no problem sailing and I got a boat invitation over the radio for drinks from Happy Times, a cruising cat with Sheril, Mike, and daughter McCayla.  After setting the hook down I set a record deploying the dinghy to meet with all the people at Happy Times, including my good buddies on Snow Bird, Zero to Cruising, and Samaya along with several others.  We were anchored right next to the airport where Sheril, Julie, and Stacy were to come from the sky in 2 days.
Julie and Stacy dropped out of the sky and we walked down to the dinghy, about a 5 minute walk from the terminal.  We motored over to a beach bar and got aquainted with a couple rounds of Pain Killers, a popular Island drink.  We saw Sheril's American Airlines plane fly by so blasted back in the dinghy to pick her up and then repeat the Pain Killer rounds.  It was so great to see them all especially my wife, Sheril, who I had not see for 3 months.

We headed for St. Johns the next day with a detour through the Chalet Amalie harbor where a large seaplane came in for a landing right over us, and to Cowpet Bay to meet a cab with Julie and Stacy's lost luggage.  The luggage didn't make it but we enjoyed the stop at the St. Thomas Yacht Club where they kindly let us use there bar as a waiting base for the luggage.  With Carnival celebrations in full swing in Chalet Amalie the luggage delivery was on island time so off we went to St. John.  75% of this green island is US National Park property.  Anchoring is forbidden but there are numerous $15/night moorings in every anchorage.  The place is so beautiful and the swimming is superb.
On a visit to Caneel Bay Plantation, a 50 year old resort in the National Park, we were enjoying the $12 Pain Killers like rich people under the beach veranda when I asked our waitress about someone I once knew there, Victor Hall.  Victor befriended me and a good buddy, Steve Harper, when we took a trip to camp out in the National Park when we were about 18 years old.  Seeing myself as Robinson Crusoe I took a home made spear on to the reef and we were kicked out of the park and fined.  We were sitting on the beach later that day contemplating what to do when Victor came cruising down the beach.  We said hello and the next thing we know he invites us to his beach to camp out right next door to the park.  We had a great few weeks there and I was anxious to find him to see if he remembered me.  I asked the waitress about him and she went to ask someone else.  She came back and told me he had died one month before.  Later some landscape guys said he was kicked off the beach front property some time ago and was never the same again.  He died alone with a daughter in NY.  Pretty sad I think and a reminder that we must use our time wisely.
 The few idyllic days we spent with Sheril hopping from mooring to mooring within the national park came to an end and I accompanied Sheril on the ferry and taxi to the St. Thomas airport.  Upon my return to St. Johns I found Julie and Stacy had set up an office of sorts at the Beach Bar in Cruz Bay over looking the Atlantic Ocean.  With smiles on there faces and several empty cups they welcomed me back and the evening wore on.  We got back to the boat anchored nearby in the dark and motored back under clear skys to our favorite mooring so far, Francis Bay, St John.
We had done a pretty good job snorkelling and hiking in St. John so far.  There are trails all over the island.  Stacy swam and snorkeled around the regularly, enjoying the cool clear water.  Julie enjoyed her Kindle books and we happily wasted each day.  My quest for catching a fish was thwarted though, a minor problem that I planned to remedy.  I caught some grunts on little hooks off the boat just for giggles.  I left one baited rod out all night and in the morning the line was taught and in a different direction.  It was wrapped around the mooring ball and I could not free it.  I would have dove on it to see what we caught but we were in 50 feet of water.  A bit later Stacy saw what happened to our imaginary fish, a large shark cirlcing the boat about 20 ft down waiting for more gifts from the frustrated fisherman.