Day-sails were always fun, and in those early days they were plentiful. I recall sailing to Isle de Quatre (locally pronounced Isle e cat) on Luna Quest, a yacht owned by a man named Stan Young. I had met Stan and his girlfriend Paulette at (where else!) the Frangi Bar and they had invited me for a sail and picnic the following day.
There were a lot of people on board as we set sail, already dipping into the ubiquitous rum punch. The yacht was a Gallant 53, big enough for everyone to spread out and enjoy the trip. It was windy that day and the sea was by no means calm – even before we got to Moon-Hole it was getting pretty rough. Of course my idea of rough was not the same as those who sailed frequently, everyone else assured me it was just a piece of tide. I came to dread those words, “just a piece of tide”, whenever I heard them I just KNEW the sea was going to be stinking rough!
The stretch of sea between Bequia and Isle de Quatre offered an exhilarating ride, the yacht heeling over sharply as the sails filled with wind. It was fun, but I kept a good grip on the deck’s rail while everyone else seemed relaxed and nonchalant. I was out of my element at sea and wished I could be like everyone else on board, perhaps with time I too would be able to relax on a boat.
We sailed through the cut between Isle de Quatre and Pigeon Island and started tacking into the bay. This was hazardous due to all the reefs but Stan obviously knew what he was doing. Isle de Quatre is an uninhabited Island close enough to Bequia to make it a perfect picnic spot, with the near-by reefs offering up several varieties of fresh fish.
While approaching the bay I decided I needed to use the “head” and ventured down below. The head was located near the bow, so I swayed and stumbled my way past the galley and dining area to reach it. Once there I pulled down my one-piece bathing suit and settled down to do my business.
While I was on the toilet Stan tacked the boat so that it suddenly heeled to the other side. Unbeknownst to me the seat was not attached to the toilet and that seat and I came flying out of the head and through the dining area and galley, coming to a halt at the bottom of the steps leading up to the deck. It was like being on one of those flying saucers we used as kids minus the snow!
I provided the best entertainment that day. Everyone on deck had a clear view of me naked on that toilet seat with my bathing suit wrapped around my ankles. To add insult to injury the yacht tacked once again, making it impossible for me to get up. My audience was clapping and hooting and I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. In the end I laughed and laughed and laughed ………………..