I went out to lunch yesterday. Actually, the whole purpose of coming to this deserted anchorage was to go out to lunch.

It was blowing like stink, the skies were cloudy, and from time to time a handful of rain blew in through the hatch. I reckon I deserved lunch.

There is supposed to be a restaurant on the island behind me, Tiadup – indeed there are half a dozen little cabins on stilts with steps down into the water, so I suppose you could call it a resort, but when I hauled myself up to the level of their dock and rolled onto the planking, it turned out they weren’t expecting anyone.

Two women sat at one of the tables and ignored me – and they really do wear their amazingly bright traditional clothes all the time. But when I suggested lunch, the whole place woke up. The chef bustled out offering chicken or fish – which is what everybody offers. He had a packet of dried beans, but you can’t cook dried beans from scratch.

I said I would go and look at the restaurant on the other island, Kagandup.

Actually, I had a suspicion this was going to be the better option. All day there had been four lanchasanchored off the beach and, through the binoculars, I could see the passengers cavorting in the shallows or snoozing in the hammocks strung between the palm trees.

It did mean venturing out of the protection of the anchorage – but isn’t that rather the point when you’ve got a brand new 3D tender and a Remigo electric outboard to go with it. I got comprehensively soaked.

Once again, two women sitting at a table – but this time they seemed to be going through the books and stopped for the usual “buenas tardes”. The menu (recited at breakneck speed) seemed remarkably extensive. I chose the only dish I recognised, prawns in garlic with fries and salad. No piña colada, though – not until the bartender came back.

I settled for a Balboa beer … and then another. It was still early for dinner, and I wanted to stake my claim.

Kagandup is quite an operation. It’s only about 100 metres across but the restaurant is as sophisticated as many you’ll find on the mainland. There’s even a bathroom with flushing loos (an oil drum full of seawater on the roof, an underground waste pipe leading back into the sea). The lanchas carry about 15 people, so there can be as many as 60 guests a day. The kitchen must be run off its feet – although the guests waiting their turn can play volleyball or lounge about in the hammocks.

By the time I finished the excellent prawns (and the most enormous helping of fries) the bartender returned with the rest of the crew and the supplies for the next day, all of which had to be carried up from the boats – sacks of potatoes, endless plastic cans of fresh water… all that beer…

At least I got my piña colada – even better than the one at Banedup – in its own pineapple skin.

Note to self: Must master launching the dinghy into surf with the Remigo on the back. Got swamped. That’s one good thing – a petrol outboard wouldn’t have started. This one works underwater!

Thank you for joining me. And, while I’m on, I’ve got some book news. The Voyage #2 Falmouth to Grenada – which includes the story of the near-catastrophic knockdown north of the Canaries and the 1,500 miles with a broken rudder on the Atlantic crossing, is now available in Audible, narrated by the inimitable Charles Robert Fox. Also, as an experiment, I have added my autobiography Faster, Louder, Risker, Sexier to Kindle Unlimited, so if you have a subscription, you’ll find it included. It took seven years to write. I’m intensely proud of it – and some of the early readers say it’s the best thing I’ve ever done.

Goodbye for now.

The 3D tender and the Remigo electric outboard – don’t they look good together!

Lancha