Yesterday I visited Kyber’s Salon on the transom of the Natural Mystic. Like a scene from “Edward Scissorhands”, tufts of hair were flying through the air giving local birds ample nesting material. You see, I haven’t had a real hair cut in about seven months so before Paul Mitchell-Kyber got a hold of the clippers, I was looking like a I belonged backstage at a Metallica concert. In a race to beat the setting sun, Kyber’s clippers got a little carried away. Even though more hair was cut than I expected, it was looking good until he gouged me in the left temple, changing the shape of my hairline. Between my white, sunless hairline and the chunk missing from my temple, I look like a new marine recruit who couldn’t keep still in the barbers chair. It still looks better than before and I thank my stylist for the effort, but next time I’ll wait till there’s more daylight to work with.
Before our trip to St. Thomas, we took some friends from Nanny Cay to Trellis Bay with another pit stop at Sandy Spit. We wanted to checkout the only part of Tortola we had not explored; the East End and the Last Resort.
After a great foosball tournament with Ty, we decided to play some bocce ball. Before I got the chance to continue my winning streak, one of the feral cats decided that the giant sandbox used to play bocce made the perfect litter box. That settled it, game time was over.
The next morning we headed back to Cane Garden where the lack of swell led us to pursue alternate entertainment. Fortunately the BVI rugby team was hosting the States that night so we went over to check it out. I gotta hand it to BVI, because they made the boys from Michigan look like they should have stuck with American football. After a bloody battle, we strolled over to Cocoa Plums to refill our empty stomachs and recharge. After a filling meal we headed to the Bomba Shack to celebrate an easy victory with the rugby team and fans. Good times were had but when the party shifted gears and moved to Road Town we decided to head back to the Natty M. We wanted to rest up for a barbecue the next day in Smugglers Cove.
The bbq was great except for the swarming bugs that dined on our flesh. The nearby marsh was home to a ravenous population of mosquitoes and no-see-ums that forced the crowd to run for cover. Once aboard our home, the bug attack was far less vicious. We had the whole cove to ourselves in a peaceful anchorage. Tranquility was not quite was JP was looking for, so he and Ty decided to lime the night away at Bomba’s. I’ll spare the details, but if anyone wants to hear a great story, hit Ty, JP or myself up.
There, that should have got everyone up to speed.