We assembled the dinghy early this morning and loaded up our accumulate trash before heading in to Staniel Cay. From where we are anchored, it is about a two mile dinghy ride, but the crack engine was up to the task.

We tied off at the yacht club and after I disposed of our trash, we hit Isles General for some groceries. While Amy stocked up on veggies, I helped two old ladies and a one armed man hang an art print on the wall. It should have been a three minute project, but like everything else "down island", it ended up taking two hours.

First, all we had was a little stepping stool, which was so rickety that I could only stand on one rung and I then I had to brace myself with my other foot against the wall. Then we had a hammer and wood nails. Unfortunately, the wall was painted concrete block and when I tried to drive the nail, it broke in two.

Five minutes and three phone calls later, someone brings us a masonry nail. Great, I hammer it in, but the head is so large that the painting can't hang on it.

Ok, lets get a drill and drill a whole for a standard nail. Sure, no problem, we find the drill and then some drill bits. I get back up on my pseudo ladder and wedge myself against the wall. Ready, set, go! I hit the button and the drill sputtered twice and then died. Dead batteries. Great.

But all was not lost, the little artist lady says she has an electric drill back at her house, so we all load into her golf cart and power across the island to get her drill. Thirty minutes later, we're back. Ten minutes after that I am in position to try again, but the damn electric cord won't reach the socket. Shitty death!

Quick, everyone back into the golf cart! Artist lady has an extension cord at her house. Another thirty minutes across the island and back and we're ready. I get into position on my precarious perch and presto chango I drill the hole. I pushed one of the wood nails in, whacked it twice for good measure and we hung the painting. Total time, two hours and four minutes. Nice.

The artist lady was named Joan and she was really nice. During the course of our four golf cart rides together she told Amy and I her whole life story. She has been living here on Staniel for 45 years and she raised four children here as well. She's been painting nearly all of her life and she showed us several of her works at her house. We also found out that she painted all the art work that adorns the walls of the yacht club and it's 8 little cottages.

Joan was so grateful for our help that she gave us one of the prints of her latest painting that was going on sale this week. Of course I made the mistake of asking her to sign it for me, so we had to get back in the golf cart, go across the island one more time and find a Sharpie. By the time we got back to our dinghy, our poor Irish butter was little more than a yellow pool. Oh well, it was a small price to pay for meeting the characters we did today.

With the butter already dead, we opted to stop at the yacht club for a couple of beers before heading back to the mother ship. Inside we saw many friends from past years spent down this way and we made several new friends to boot. It was great fun sitting around swapping stories and catching up with everyone. We reluctantly returned to the boat around sunset and I grilled a bacon wrapped rib eye and some veggies which we washed down with a nice, four dollar bottle of Argentinian white.

We played with the weasels for an hour or so in the cockpit before everyone got tired and we called it a day. Tomorrow we are planning on heading down to Blackpoint to do laundry and score some water. See you then.