The wind is howling under a full, orange moon, illuminating the white caps out on the ocean. John asked me just now if he should turn on the VHF radio so we can listen to the poor souls dragging anchor down in French Harbour. That's because we are tied securely to shore at our little private resort here in Oak Ridge Point, at least that is what it feels like. After four months living at anchor, shore is a treat. Believe me!
I'm sure most people wouldn't find clothes hanging on a line photo worthy but after two years of handing our dirty laundry over to strangers and getting it back, maybe dry, maybe not, greyer and dingier looking over time, it was heaven for me to soak our clothes in Blanco, that special stuff they use down here that makes clothes look great when washed in cold water and hang them out, looking better than they have for a long time.
John dragged the outboard motor into the little building where the washer is and, tearing it apart, discovered that all we need is a head gasket. He found one on the internet in Florida, regular price $14 on sale for $3 and with shipping at $6 it is on it's way to Roatan for under $10.
We wander around this large property and lose each other. It's comical, after years of always being within sight and sound of each other on the boat. We poked around in the mangroves along the walkway to town yesterday and I dug out two old looking bottles and cleaned them up. I am on a mission to find some for Roanald the painter in West End, who said he would trade me for some little canvasses that he buys from the mainland. We rowed across the canal to town today to pick up a 5 gallon jug of drinking water and hiked several miles up a steep incline to check out a new grocery store which is not quite open. The walk was well worth it though, pix to follow. I just don't have time to play on the computer. There is a lot to do here at this resort.