Sunday 18th March, Day One: Journey to Green Island

When I last turned off my computer, I was sitting outside a little restaurant near the Falmouth marina, stealing an internet connection. Cinton and I headed back to the dock, and "helped" get the boat underway. Alex "It's Too Early" Brown had arisen by then (to say he was "awake" would have been an exaggeration), and we all were given our little jobs to do. Pretty much all I did was stand there with a hose and rinse off the chain and the anchor as Jody reeled it in.

Alex on the way to Green Island

Gavin had given us a little "briefing" about life on a boat, rules, no shoes inside, no sand inside, how to take a navy shower, and making sure the windows were all closed in the cabins before setting sail, and I guess I mistook "closed" for meaning "merely shut." Turns out the important part about the word "closed" when it refers to windows on a boat is that they're actually "locked down." Lo and behold, we're all sitting up on the trampoline enjoying the sights and the warmth and the sun and the sail, when Gavin comes up and tells me he has some bad news. I hadn't "locked" the windows, and now my bed was soaked. Crap. I'm in trouble all ready.

Relaxing on the trampoline:

Turns out it wasn't that bad by my standards, just what I would consider some water on the sheets. My camera, which was on the bed, was fine, if that's any indication … I'd been expecting to step down into the cabin into two feet of water. We hung the sheets out on the railing, clamping them down with clothespins (an important part of the briefing), and dragged the mattresses out to dry in the sun. Feeling like a shmuck, I tell them that I've learned my lesson, and it won't happen again. I don't usually need to be told twice, and I'm very good with following rules. Really, this is true.