Paparazzi!

Monday starts with a 'pursuit race' from St. George's to True Blue Bay, where some serious buoy racing will commence. But first the yachts preen around the central part of the bay awaiting their individual start times. The radio crackles "Jaguar - 8:48:48" and one-by-one they're elegantly off; a succession of spinnakers spanning the horizon.

Our home (a brand spanking new Moorings 4600 cat) has been converted into a paparazzi boat: I hardly mind as we have half a dozen tall, dark and handsome (!) Grenadian photographers onboard. I'm able to get a bit more note-taking and work done, play First Mate, and relax -- we have a BUSY itinerary scheduled Wed-Fri with the Dept of Tourism.

After this trip I'm confident we'll be able to report 'Every Thing You Always Wanted to Know About Grenada*, But Were Afraid to Ask' ...

Everybody Dance!!

It didn't hurt that tonight was the Mt Gay Rum party ... fueling volunteers who donned massive sparkly headdresses and paraded through the open air bar, hips gyrating to the rhythm of the steel drums. I would need a lot more rum to do this (unlike Karen Campbell) still, it wasn't long before everyone was swaying in their seats, drumming the table tops, jiggling their feet, and finally up on the dance floor: the entire restaurant being cleared of tables and chairs so the mob could gyrate en masse beneath the awning (and out of the rain).

Today's single, long-distance fleet race was just as colorful: with exciting yacht racing set against turquoise water, blue skies, alabaster clouds and green hills.The sandwiches were good, the Carib cold, we didn't lose any shirts or hats overboard (unlike yesterday :-( when my coveted TEAM WAVE t-shirt went for a swim: alas we had better luck retrieveing Bobbie's ballcap). And no-one yelled at us (for getting to close or in the way) -- all in all an excellent day for us at the Grenada Sailing Festival.

But not so for TANGA LANGA. Yesterday the Cruising I entry tore their main in half, from luff to leach; today the Beneteau 47.7 decapitated their headsail. It's turning into an expensive regatta for these nice British blokes (lol) in their pink striped shirts and purposely clashing shorts -- all I can say is: thankfully they don't have a staysail to break next!!

G is for Gorgeous, R is for Rain ...

If I were to do an acrostic poem of Grenada, no doubt it would start with G - is for Gorgeous, R - is for Rain ...

Bobbie G and I are at the Grenada Sailing Festival for the 19th annual running of this colorful regatta. Today's races - Day One - form a giant boomerang from charming St. George's Bay on the Caribbean side, around Pt. Salines to Prickly Point on the Atlantic side; and later, back.

The western segment of the course is sublime but the other side is insane. The chop combined with rain squalls make for a serious bad hair day, and as the fleet rounds the far mark we tuck in to True Blue Bay to dry off a bit, feigning a taste test between local beers (Carib beats Stag 2:1).

There is nothing shy about colors in the Caribbean and even the spinnakers are brilliant. As we rejoin the fleet a chorus of fuschia, royal blue, dayglow yellow kites are screaming down on us. Even the tubby old cruisers are surfing, their sails wing and wing, and I imagine how much they must be loving racing in the Spice Islands.