After a great sail we found ourselves in a little natural harbour and, as a reward for conning us in to the tricky entrance, we invited ourselves on board Roam II to finish off the tuna. I diced it and Terry and Liz knocked up a real treat using a secret, magic ingredient of ginger and…well, I can’t tell you otherwise it wouldn’t be a secret, magic ingredient. Believe me though, it was the best tuna dinner and satisfied six very hungry tums. Millie still had a head and a tail to work her way through too.
Well, bloody well! Our best sail yet. In the world. Ever.
A cursory glance at the log book gives it away:
Within the space of a couple of hours Michel, Dobby, Tim and myself sorted out some accommodation – a breezeblock house that sits on top of a hill, overlooking Falmouth Harbour. Every evening we sit on our balcony, rum punch in hand, and overlook our lucky find. The crickets strike up a Caribbean drum pattern and we sit there, getting slowly eaten by the mozzies gazing out at the huge super yachts in the marina.