Yann eased himself into the chaos of charter season by blocking a weekend for sailing to Anegada before the madness begins, and Coralie and I were lucky enough to be invited along. One overnight at Prickly Pear, followed by 24 hours at Pomato Point. While there were no boats in sight, we did manage to anchor 20 yards away from a nudist couple, vacationing ashore. There were a few shocking moments, that I had to sheild Coralie from. We only really made it ashore for an after dinner bonfire, staying clear of the exhibitionists. While the weekend was whole lot of nothing, interrupted by meal times, and possibly some imbibing, we did make it out to the conch shell island. The massive mound of empty shells sits in the middle of the reef, which makes for an interesting boat trip over. Having four captains on board came in handy. Fisherman in the area have deemed the eastern point of the island the graveyard for the harvested couch. If dropped elsewhere, it is possible for the living conch to try to move into the dead shells, making collection more complicated. In no way do my pics do the surreal spot justice, but midday sun is the best for moving safely through the reef. Just another reason Anegada is by far the most unique of the British Virgin Islands.
Looking back at these photographs, I think I am completely envious of my four-year olds childhood. I suppose being jealous of your child’s life is the mark of successful parenting, but the irony of utter opposite upbringing shines in these pics. While her memories will be of endless boat trips and turquoise waters, I grew up in a desert and concrete jungle. While I have to say there ain’t nothing like an Arizona sunset, having the white sands beach as your playground is remarkable way to grow up!