The Burnetts are back in the British Virgin Islands, where they last were with Greg’s mom and her husband in December 2015.  It was a long overnight from Antigua to here, and Marvin zoomed past a lot of great spots they will have to see some other time: St. Kitt’s, St. Bart’s, St. Martin, Saba…  When they checked into Virgin Gorda at Gun Creek Settlement, tired Mel accidentally entered into the log: “Came into Virgin Gorda at Gunpoint.”  Ohhhhh.  So that’s why they call it Gun Creek….

As soon as we settled into our mooring ball off of Saba Rock, we picked up on the festive mood.  We recalled the amazing trip we had last time.  The BVI’s really are a party town for sailors, and soon Mel was churning out pics of people relaxing on palm-tree strewn beaches, chartered Leopards with unzipped sailbags packed into a mooring field, and smiling, sunburned, sloshed vacationers piled into puttering dinghies with the standard-issue 9.8 hp Tayhatsu engines.  Of course, catching the festive mood, Mel was inspired to take pictures of alcoholic beverages with palm trees and boats in the background.  Because that is what you do here.

As we are now less than two months out from the end of our journey, we are starting to reflect on all of the amazing things we have seen and done over the last two years.  But we only do this on occasion, near the end of a full day.  We are still doing amazing things at the moment, and Mel is doing her best to live in the present.  However, the Burnetts are also getting excited about our future back on land.  So while our boat continues to travel around, our minds do too.

After a single night in Virgin Gorda, we sailed up to Anegada on a beautiful day.  We skipped Anegada the last time we were here.  Anegada is a beautiful, flat, sandy island that resembles the Bahamas.  It’s just a two hour sail north of Virgin Gorda, but it already seems more arid.  As we head north out of the Caribbean and into the Atlantic, the water is becoming clearer and bluer, and the plant life is adapting to having less fresh water around.  And the Burnetts have adapted to being really, really hot.

Speaking of feeling festive, smart and creative Allie had her 11^th birthday here in Anegada!  She chose to have a beach day, and so we went snorkeling off of Loblolly beach.  We saw our first nurse shark since the crossing, and Allie was followed around underwater by the cutest little fish, dubbed Penelope, that made laps around her head and shoulders for 15 minutes while we explored the reefs.  Coolest birthday party attendee ever!

We leave early tomorrow morning for a 3.5 day offshore up to Mayaguana, where we will check into our last foreign country on this trip: The Bahamas!  This will be our second-to-last offshore of more than 100 miles.  The overnight watches are dwindling, but Mel assures herself that there is plenty of time to finish watching the last season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer!

For those following Marvin’s fictional adventures, Chapter 8 is here!  Marvin is gathering more suspects!

We gotta get out of here.  Mel’s allergies are acting up.  Tortola is actually…lush.  Plus, stuff is expensive here.  Of course, we can’t afford it where we are going, either, but it’s time to move on.  Marvin is finally ship-shape! We will miss the giant skate-park for boaters that is the BVI.

It’s off the the Turks & Caicos for us!  The geographically inclined may note that we are skipping certain large islands to the west, but the clock is ticking and we want to get up to the place that started all of this — the Bahamas!  The winds look okay for us to leave tomorrow, and we will have three days offshore to look for…humpback whales!  We are headed right to their breeding grounds at the right time of year. Wish us luck!

The Burnetts are spending Christmas on a mooring ball in Little Lameshur Bay, St. John, US Virgin Islands.  We are the only ones here at the moment.  We don’t have any snow, but we sure have rain.  I’m sure “I’m Dreaming of a Wet Christmas” would be a great hit down here.

Christmas in the tropics, to be honest is, well, a bit lame.  None of the traditions make sense down here, especially on a boat.  This is a particularly challenging location.  Our paper Alpine Christmas Village almost blew away when a squall came up before we could close our doors.  There are no stockings up, as Mel stored all of the socks in the bilge five months ago and now she can’t find them.  There is certainly no fireplace and no roasted chestnuts.  Couldn’t find chestnuts in the stores anyway.  If Santa came by and managed to not get stuck in a hatch, we’d probably find a saltwater-soaked, sweat-stained, fur-lined velvet hat on the floor Christmas morning, with a note attached saying, “Just keep it.”   Anyway, if his reindeer landed on our topsides they would slide ride off, bounce once on the trampoline, and plunge into the water with a terrific splash.  We would all awaken abruptly, shouting, “Whale!”

However, halfway through this Christmas Mel realized that her proportions were all off.  The winter holiday traditions are part of it, but the makeup of Christmas (for us less religious folk) is more like 90% Family, Charity, Goodwill, and Food, and 10% Creative Distractions Because Winter Sucks.  With family visiting, Wi-Fi for online donations, and a 10 pound turkey that actually fit in our oven, we were able to take care of most of the 90%, with the exception of some notable family absences.  So Merry Christmas, from Christmas Island!

Of course, because we have not had good Wi-Fi for a while, Mel is a bit behind on the blog.  So here is a “bonus post” on the days leading up to Christmas, which I wrote while at Soper’s Hole Marina in Tortola, BVI:

We have had a whirlwind time the last few days.  Mel just typed the word, “whirlwind” while a huge gust of wind blew down on her from the mountains of Tortola, shaking the new hammocks Greg strung up in the aft cockpit.  Cool.  Mel will try that again.  Whirlwind.  Whirlwind.  Holy crap it worked!

Mel had a lovely birthday on the 19^th, consisting of two dives in the morning followed by a great meal with her family at the Cooper Island resort, with cake and presents.  Mel wore a lot less clothing on this birthday than in prior years.  Think about it; it is not as exciting as it sounds.  This was a significant birthday for any nerd: 42.  If you don’t know why, well, then, you must not be a nerd.

Now officially 42, Mel dove off of the boat with Greg and explored the wrecked RMS Rhone just off of Salt Island.  The ocean gave us the quick version of the tour due to a monstrous current, and Mel and Greg found themselves holding hands to stay together, flying over the coral-encrusted stern 60 feet down in 10 seconds like Superman and Lois Lane.  During our flight we spied one giant rock lobster that attacked us in slow motion, waving his 3 ft-long antennae and his juicy tail at us.  Maybe one day we will meet again, Rocky…

We then spent a couple blissful days anchored in Little Harbor on Peter Island on flat, lake-like water, doing lake-like things like kayaking and floating without choking on waves.  This was the first time we had to tie our stern to a tree with a line – and the first time Mel cleared a fouled prop.  We will do it a different way next time.  Sea stories.

The contrast in atmosphere was significant when we next picked up a mooring ball on Norman Island, supposed inspiration for Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island, which Mel made Tommy read over the summer.  The wind was quite noisy spilling down from the mountains, capable of drowning out the ruckus at Willy T.’s, the floating restaurant where you can get a free T-shirt if you jump from the roof naked.  Unfortunately, no one onboard has a T-shirt now.  Mel is afraid of heights.

Our new game on board is called, “Spot the charterers.”  We played this in the Bight.  Usually, at anchor these folks have not zipped up their sailbag and their mainsail is still halfway up the mast.  Their booms flop high and wildly in the wind.  If they do hang clothes on the line, it is attractive and bright “resort wear,” towels, and bikinis, not UV-faded T-shirts and Tilley hats. One can spot the charterers early in the morning in their dinghies, retrieving the noodles and cushions that blew overboard overnight.  Finally, many have forgotten how to do a proper cleat hitch or bowline, so they do very interesting things with their dinghy painters.  Ah, the bliss of having no downstream responsibility for your actions…

And so at Norman Island, surrounded by about 40 charter boats, we were alerted while dining at Willy T’s of a rogue dinghy.  Oh dear, poor charterer, we thought, watching the dingy drift randomly in the bay.  They must not have secured it properly.  Then suddenly, “Wait a minute!  That’s our dinghy!” came out of Greg’s mouth, as we spotted Susie’s distinctive console and non-ABness, rarities around here.  Fortunately some nice folks at Willy T.’s rescued it for us.  We will never know what happened, but we have a better bond with the charterers now.  But zip up your sailbags, people!  That sun is harsh!

And so we decided to rest a bit at a marina on Tortola.  Amongst the cute pink and purple shops lining the marina, Allie found some chartering kids to practice telling her own “sea stories” to, and we entertained some Havanese-owning fellow sailors with Glenfiddich and Greg’s knowledge of WWII.  And that is how we rest in the BVI’s.

On December 16, anchored out by ourselves in beautiful Savannah Bay, Virgin Gorda, we celebrated Jo Belle’s birthday.  I won’t say how old she is, because she doesn’t look it, but it’s okay for you to guess if you can do this math without looking anything up: the year Elvis died minus the year we dropped the bomb, plus how old MLK Jr. was when he died, minus 1.  If you lived through any of that, you are old enough to know the answer.

After the celebrations, we spent a day at the Virgin Gorda Baths.  Wow!  That was worth it!  Of course, before we left for the Baths via taxi, there was a bit of a debate. What to wear?  We had heard there was hiking over rocks, but we also heard there were pools of water.  Mel put her swimsuit on underneath her clothes, but no one else was keen on that.  “We’ll just bring ours in a backpack,” her family said.  Mel, thinking of what a busy tourist site was like, said, “Okay, but I bet there won’t be anywhere to change.  You might regret it!”

Mel would like to tell her family that repeating her words over and over as they were proven wrong every time they turned a corner in the Baths, which was essentially a chain of caves with plenty of dark corners, is rude.

She secretly wishes there were more spiders there.

So here is a bunch of pictures of her family swimming in the Baths in their swimsuits.  Apparently, her husband and children are adept at changing quickly in crevasses.  They all were smug on the ride back home, sitting in their dry underwear while Mel went commando in her dry shorts. “That’s okay,” Mel comforted herself, “I’ve got tons of pictures of rocks.”

Enjoy these pictures of rocks.