Within a few days of arrival in St Martin, we were joined by the Whitton family (minus the girls), laden down with supplies of fig rolls and sandpaper from the UK. True to form, Dave gave them an embarrassing welcome at the airport, followed by a tow across the lagoon in a sinking dinghy for Ed. Nothing like arriving in style!
Baby Archie had a bit of trouble adjusting to the heat and strange surroundings, but seemed happy once we rigged him up a hammock above Ed & Maria’s bed.
The first of the holiday activities was a brief diving course in the clear waters of Marigot Bay. After spending 20 minutes struggling into a wetsuit and boots, Ed finally took the plunge and nearly reached the staggering depth of 3 feet before abandoning his instructor (Dave) and spectacularly failing his PADI certificate.
A couple of days later, we took the trawler out of the placid waters of the lagoon to watch the start of the classic regatta. We hoisted all canvas and sailed alongside the twenty-odd entering boats at the start of the race. As the distance from land increased to nearly a mile, the gentle chop got the better of Maria, who was spotted hanging over the guard rails and sharing her Caribbean breakfast with the fish.
For the next few days, we did some island exploring, visiting the beach and tourist shops in Phillipsburg (on the Dutch side), haggling at the colourful market stalls in Marigot (on the French side) and doing a spot of fine dining.
There were several ‘boys trips’ to Budget Marine and around the lagoon, admiring the megayachts – one with a helicopter, a 50’ powerboat and a 45’ yacht on deck. But Ed’s personal favourite was the one with triplets – a green and purple beauty with three 200hp engines on the transom!
The highlight of the holiday was when ‘Ros Ailither’ was lifted out of the water and Ed was invited to join the sanding team – a real treat in 30 degrees heat! Dave even supplied personalized overalls and a refreshing swim in the lagoon at the end of the day.
Maria and I took Archie to the beach to get away from all the dust and managed to pick a day of big northerly swells. Entering the water was a matter of careful timing between waves, we both managed to get tumbled in the process and decided it probably wasn’t wise to take Archie in.
Before we knew it we were back to the airport to see them off – twice, as the plane was delayed by three hours! Dave and I watched them go from an amazing beach literally at the end of the runway and directly under the flight path. Planes coming in to land seem only feet above and you are separated from those taking off by a flimsy wire fence and 200 yards of tarmac. We watched people hanging onto the fence as planes took off directly in front of them and decided to try it with Ed & Maria's flight.
We waved to the Corsair plane as it turned then got blasted by the full force of four jets which hurled hot gases and gravel directly at us (ouch!) and blew the top layer of sand off the beach way out to sea. It wasn't till after that we realised the force had blown our rucksack and shoes into the sea. Luckily they were pulled out by a friendly (fellow Brit) holidaymaker. Now we know where the name of the 'Soggy Dollar Bar' comes from!
