During our time in Central America, almost every cruiser we met questioned our rush through that exquisite part of the world to return to the Eastern Caribbean. Some couldn’t understand why we would leave such an affordable place to get to an expensive one.

Coming up with convincing answers was difficult. We know why we love the Leeward and Windward Islands. It’s about the people, their culture, their loud and lively music. We love West Indian accents, and the inhabitants’ character and characters … the color of the sea and sky … the trade winds full of ocean-fresh air. Mostly, it’s a feeling that just can’t find its way into words. What adjective describes the sound of a well played steel pan? How many words are there to describe the colors of this water?

For Bruce, it’s a place of inspiration; it makes him want to paint using a palette of high-energy colors. As our second week back in the E.C. began, he was itching to pull out his brushes and get busy … no small job, considering the quantity of enamel paint quarts he uses. Woodwind was still in its ocean sailing mode, with no place for creative work, so he scoped out Sandy Ground to find a place where he could leave his mark. Elvis’, the place with the best energy, seemed the most likely spot, but since the bar is really a boat, there were no flat surfaces to work with. The best but most unlikely spot was in their newly built bathrooms.

Bruce’s art is no stranger to bathrooms. Before we met he painted realistic-looking bamboo in the bathroom of Bequia’s well known hotel and restaurant, The Frangipani. A decade later on the island of Nevis, he painted the outside of the bathroom buildings for Prinderella’s restaurant. Creating art in bathrooms has some perks. Everybody sees the work eventually, usually more than once. One could say it gives your art a captive audience

Elvis and Brett looked through a pile of photos of some of Bruce’s finished paintings, getting an idea of what they liked. Bruce wanted to create two paintings of Sandy Ground’s local scene, so he set to work sketching two drawings that would combine the best of all the elements.

The first day on the job, he prepped the walls and by evening was able to lay on stripes of blue, the first coat of background color. Waiting for paint to dry is part of the project. Rather than returning to Woodwind several times that day, Bruce opted to hang out with Elvis, Brett and the entertaining cast of characters that happen upon the place. Tourists, intoxicated by Anguilla’s charm (and Elvis’ rum punch, the island’s best) pulled shifts beside the boat-bar.

Day two on the murals brought two more coats of background color, which were done and dry by 5 p.m. Bruce was so pumped up to get busy with the brushes that he decided to work late into the night. The sky to the north of the island was growing black with threatening weather, so I headed back to the boat to seek shelter, make dinner and hunker down. Good thing, too, as huge spears of lightening stabbed the outer anchorage just minutes after I tied off the dinghy and went below. That ominous sky then squeezed out a sea of rain that filled the island’s cisterns, while freaky wind gusts knocked Woodwind on her side. The boats in the anchorage were doing an out-of-control square dance, coming dangerously close to each other. I got the boat ready for a dragging anchor drill, just in case, and hoped it wouldn’t happen.

On shore, the Elvis team was worried I might have been swept out to sea. Not worried enough, though, to come look for me! Bruce assured them I was “plenty tough.” After the deluge finally ended, Bruce set to work in the bathrooms, painting boats, people, goats, trees … you name it. The Sandy Ground scene slowly came to life, and at midnight he was ready to end the session, just in time for the heavy rains to return. Thinking it would stop any minute, as rain squalls in the Caribbean usually do, he decided to wait it out. Everyone else had gone home to sleep, so Bruce stationed himself in the only dry spot available ... the bathroom. He sat himself in a somewhat comfortable place and fell fast asleep. He woke at 2 a.m., relieved the sky was semi-dry, bailed out Funny World, our dinghy, and rowed home, exhausted after a long day.

One time a customs officer grilled Bruce about his occupation. “Wha you do, mon?”

“Art work,” Bruce replied.

“Hard work? Wha dat?”

“No, sir, art work.”

The fellow, getting testy, tried again. “Wha kinda hard work? Wha you do, mon?” He finally understood when Bruce made painting gestures with his hands. After that, we were always tempted to fill the “occupation” space on forms with “hard work.”

After a few more days of “hard work,” the murals were complete. Susie, who lives beside the bar, didn’t want to look at them until they were done, so now she, Brett and Elvis crammed into the ladies’ room, then the men’s, slowly examining Bruce’s work -- titled “Beermuda Triangle” and “Norm A. Lee Drunkbynow” -- and finding tiny nuances of their Sandy Ground existence. They were pleased.

The night of the full moon we made our final shore-side visit to Elvis’. He and Brett were holding a “Full Moon Party.” The bar’s coolers were packed with drinks; a barbeque tent was producing mouth-watering plates of ribs or chicken with rice, beans and salad. A band was playing, music flowing from one-story tall speakers. A group of gorgeous Italian women danced together and with an old West Indian, who literally knocked them off their feet. Watching them gave the timid permission to join in, and they did. The beach, under that stunning moon, moved like the sea beyond. It was simple, sweet and Caribbean crazy. It was, perhaps, why we sailed so hard and fast these past six months. And for certain, it’s why we can’t wait to get back here again.

Jan & Bruce