• 

After a great sail of 180 miles we we arrived in Antigua, one of the Leeward Islands (meaning less wind than Martinique!) in the Lesser Antilles. Now with a dog, you can’t just rock up on these islands, check yourself in and go off on your merry way to get smashed on rum punch and lie in the sun getting burned.

Long before leaving Martinique, I had been on the Antigua government website to email the Chief Veterinary Officer. This was to ask them to send me a link for their animal importation application. Then another email clarifying that we weren’t flying him in but were on a boat. Then another email clarifying that he wasn’t a disease ridden mangy cur. Then another with about 20 attachments of all his paperwork, vaccines, passport pages and the name of Franco’s 3rd cousin on his father’s sides place of birth. Pain in the bum but I knew this so spent a few days sorting it all out.

We checked Franco out of Martinique which involves a vet visit, examination, internal and external parasite treatment and payment. They then give you a Health Certificate. I then informed Antigua of the day when we were due to arrive and had to calmly explain that I was unable to give an exact time. As we were on a boat. An appointment was made nonetheless so after arriving and throwing the anchor over the side, along with my will to live at this point, we dinghied into Jolly Harbour. One of only 2 places on Antigua Franco can be checked in and significantly cheaper than Falmouth.

And surprise surprise the vet we had an appointment with was not there. And not answering their phone. And the lady at Customs got REALLY snotty that we had brought Franco ashore despite our protestations that we had a vet’s appointment booked. I was dispatched to the dinghy to keep out of the way while Lee showed them all the emails which she couldn’t have cared less about. Eventually the Customs lady had exerted her authority enough, she made a quick phone call and said the vet was on their way. An hour and a half later a vet arrives, but she knows nothing about Franco and insists he needs to visit the vet for a Snap test. And there was only 1 taxi on the island that took pets. She booked this for us and told us it was on the way. An hour later it arrived.

Wesley was awesome, and within minutes all the hassle had been worth it. He was so relaxed, helpful and funny and took us on an unexpectedly tour of the Island, all the while picking up friends and family and dropping them off until we gently reminded him we were in the back and needed to go to the vets. Picking a few more people up on the way we eventually arrived at a tiny little ramshackle building. Wesley said he would wait and in we went. We were greeted by a Scottish veterinary nurse who was expecting Franco, did his snap test and gave us some more medication along with the direct phone number for the Chief Vet, not the one we had seen. After we had paid for that, along with the treatment for a stray puppy the shelter had just brought in (Lee figured this was the cheaper option rather than adoption which was looking imminent) we were back in the van heading back to Jolly Harbour. Holding on for dear life, as the van seat wasn’t attached to anything, we arrived back at the boat 5 hours after we had left. But we were in!!!

There is meant to be a beach for every day of the year in Antigua, and we were so lucky to be anchored about 50m from a BEAUTIFUL one! No-one seemed to be on it apart from us and a black dog with big ears terrorising the local mongoose and crab population. After jumping in the crystal clear water to bring the dingy in, I realised it wasn’t 2 foot deep but about 10. I then spent a fruitless half hour looking for the prescription sunglasses that had been washed out to sea and then another half hour moaning at Lee for laughing at my misfortune. We then drank beer and watched the beautiful sunset. And soon realised why no one else did this. After being eaten alive by killer sand flies we returned to the boat, had dinner, went to bed and scratched.

Jolly Harbour is a sort of gated resort village on the West side of the Island. It’s surrounded by small terraced houses each with a mooring in front of them. Most of these have lifts, so their motorboats can be lifted up and out of the warm water which is an awesome place for seaweed and other crap to grow on the hull.

It’s also home to a supermarket called Epicurean where 10 Birds Eye fish fingers will set you back £15 and where a packet of crisps costs the same as a bottle of gin. Trying to keep costs down I bought a few bottles of gin and left the fish fingers in the freezer. Next to the £40 salmon fillets.

I browsed around for things to do, other than bankrupting ourselves by going shopping, and just around the bay was Pigs in Paradise. A swift booking and 2 days later we were wallowing with Peppa and her pals having the best time EVER!!

Apparently…these piggies don’t get eaten and live their lives happily ever after on a farm in Antigua. We carefully chose to ignore the fact that if this were the case then Antigua would likely be overrun with the cute little porkers, and had an amazing day playing, feeding and swimming with them.

After playing with the piggies, we fed Franco all the pork we had in the freezer, gave him the (literal) raging trots and Lee and I haven’t touched a porcine product since.

The weather was looking fine so after spending a few hundred quid on a lettuce and a couple of tomatoes we decided to head off on a quick trip North to Barbuda. A whole 30 miles.