Spanish Isles
I like Jimi Hendrix, but enough is enough. As the final chords of All Along the Watchtower pierced the night air and vanished into the mangroves, I waved goodnight to the rest of the crew and went below. That started an exodus. Ten minutes later the bay was as completely, spookily silent as it had been that afternoon before we steamed in, dropped anchor, popped open some cold ones, fired up the













