From St. John to Norman Island, from Norman Island to Tortola, from Tortola to Virgin Gorda, we finally arrived at this magical place that Fletch had insisted we visit in the dead of the night. We slept on the boat, with the intention of spending the entire next day exploring the Baths. We awoke at our own leisure, ate some breakfast sandwiches, and packed what we could manage into whatever dry bags we had, seeing as we no longer had a dinghy and would have to swim. I couldn't possibly explain to you how magnificent, and breathtakingly beautiful, and travel-magazine-picture perfect this
After the new years venture we sailed home to St. John and everyone slowly dissipated until it was only me, Fletch, Summer, Mikey, and Dave from Boston. Actually, for all I know, everyone ran off at once; after all the new years fun, and then spending the day in the sun drinking painkillers, once back on the boat I passed out cold and didn't wake up until the next morning, at which point it was me, Fletch, Summer, Mikey and Dave from Boston left. Mikey and Summer had to work the rest of the week, but we made plans to head
So back over New Year's (I know, this post is only two and a half months too late) Fletch invited me to go visit his friends in the Virgin Islands with him. These were friends who lived on a sailboat and of whom I'd heard nonstop talk of ever since I'd met Fletch nearly a year before. They were the infamous power couple of the Caribbean. A couple days before the Old Year's Night party was set to take place at Foxy's Bar on Jost Van Dyke (the place to be in the Caribbean to bring in the new year) Fletch