50 Not Out - Day 6. Cow Wreck and Potters.

This really was a day in paradise. We got off to a slow start when the taxi that we'd ordered to Cow Wreck beach didn't show up. The driver had been held up on the other side of the island. We were told this by the lady running the store while we were waiting outside for him to show up. We wondered why she'd know, but another passer by told us that she was his daughter. Life on a small island.

Eventually we found another cab (actually a pick-up with benches bolted to the back!) to take us over there, finding out that the nicely made roads around the anchorage at setting point give way to sand a few hundred yards past the village on the way to Cow Wreck. Still, the sand is fairly smooth, although I'm not sure how long the trucks last with the beating they must take.

The interior of Anegada is just dry scrub, with the occasional lizard, flamingo or one of the many donkeys that roam free.

Cow Wreck beach itself is just a bar and a couple of small bungalows on the beach. It's peaceful and utterly wonderful. I'd be happy to spend a couple of weeks there just doing nothing but read, walk, snorkel and sit at the bar watching the waves.

We did a bit of snorkelling in the wonderfully clear, sheltered water, then had some lunch and topped up our Red Stripe levels. I had the shark taco, which was pretty darn good. When I asked if it was local, the barman said that he catches them himself each morning. You can't get more local than that.

We spent the afternoon alternating a little more snorkelling with a little snoozing and a little more Red Stripe drinking before the cab arrived to take us back across the island to the boat.

Dinner was at Potters by the sea, another sand-floored beach bar restaurant with great fish. I skipped the lobster this time, feeling slightly sorry for the poor chaps after seeing them awaiting their fate in cages by the dinghy dock! We had a great time after dinner watching a group from Wisconsin trying to emulate the dancing of the waitress. We decided that generally, it's not just white men who can't dance. They were great fun though and it was a fantastic way to spend the last few hours of my 40's.

The pictures didn't turn out too well from this one. I guess the camera must have been affected by the rum I had as a night cap.