Saga Pearl II Captain's blog

St. Johns was a just little crowded, the two finger piers were occupied by a passenger ship on either side, including two larger ones. So downtown, which is less than a hundred yards from the ships, was a hive of activity, including the inevitable taxi touts.

We made an arrangement with one of them and five of us were driven the thirty minutes or so over to Turners Beach, a beach sufficiently far from town that we expected only a few other visitors. The drive was an experience in itself, the road being over hill and down dale, and fairly bumpy at times, but it was through the ‘real’ Antigua, passing small settlements of old and sometimes fairly modern housing, and eventually coming back down along the Caribbean shoreline with views over towards a smoking Montserrat, clearly seen on the horizon.

Other folk were already there, but the small cafe and bar was not too busy, at least not until the first shower came along, by which time we had already taken a table and placed an order. Between the showers more cruise tourists arrived, set up on the beach and then came running under the shelter of the bar as the showers became heavier and more frequent. There was a definite American twang in the air as the decibel level rose.

In the end we never did get to sit out on the sand, even though the rains had cleared, we just sat and chatted while trying to take photos of the colourful birds that came flying in to pick up the table crumbs. Jo’s mum had made us laugh by her determination to stick it out and I have a few classic shots which I guess are not really for public display. Our taxi driver returned and as we went out I noticed a classic example of Caribbean ingenuity, an old cargo container that had been turned into some sort of accommodation complete with window, water tank on the new corrugated roof and finished off with a complete coat of pink paint.

Our journey back to St. Johns was just as bone shaking, but we arrived in good time. Saga Pearl II was the second ship to leave, and under the watchful eye of our larger neighbour. I had the distinct impression when I announced over the speakers that we were about to commence our six day journey across the Atlantic, that a few of their passengers raised their eyes at the thought of that ‘little ship’ going all that way.

Within the hour the north coast of Antigua was passing behind our starboard quarter, Barbuda lay over to port, but soon that too would be astern. The trade wind was in control, no land to dampen the swell, and that would be the way it would remain for at least the next three or four days, until we would eventually start to feel the effects of the north Atlantic weather systems. 

We entered into the British Virgin Islands chain by passing between Cooper Island and Ginger Island, then into the slighter quieter waters of Drakes Passage where, as always, the yachts folk were already up and about on their recreational ‘duties’. Andy, my old Cornish pilot friend, boarded for the short journey to our berth, which was somewhat overshadowed on our port side by yet another of the very large cruisers. I find it slightly amusing to have my driving skills monitored by dozens of swim wear clad tourists peering down from their respective balconies less than fifty feet away.

I remained on board, thus allowing Kosta, the Staff Captain, to take a run ashore. Unfortunately for him the showers came down and the drive to the beach became less inviting. The tours were enjoyed though, particularly the 4-wheel dive experience. The participants of which all came back shaken, stirred and somewhat damp. Our friendly local agent Joanne, a Devon maid so she told me, very kindly gave my wife a lift over to a resort hotel, away from what would have been a rather crowded Cane Garden Bay, which is another favourite beach of the Caribbean. 

 The big ship, Captained apparently by a 6 foot 2 inch Swedish lady, finally left and gave our port side cabins a view of the island. She looked down on me as her ship glided past, we exchanged a wave and a smile as her male Staff Captain concentrated on the ‘driving’. We left less than an hour later, heading back towards the outer islands and to the south east. We have come to our furthest westerly longitude, so we will be making our ‘eastings’ from now on.

Our overnight journey took us past the French island of Guadeloupe, Montserrat with its active volcano and finally Nevis, the sister island of St. Kitts. The cruise ship pier at Basseterre is not exactly conveniently placed as it is at right angles to the prevailing trade wind, along with a fluctuating current going in the same direction. So it was a particularly cautious approach that took us alongside and we remained pinned there for the remainder of the day.

By mid morning all the tours were off so we took a van for what should have been a five minute ride to a place that had been suggested to us some months before. The ride actually took considerably longer as our slightly ebullient but very pleasant lady driver decided we needed the full ‘city’ tour on the way. When we did arrive at Palm Court Gardens it was an eye opening delight to find such an enchanting garden so relatively close to town. At the top of the drive the owners immaculate cream 1978 Rolls Royce Silver Shadow was parked conspicuously by pots full of tropical plants, a path through the garden led to an infinity pool that had views across the bay. For a small charge guests could relax in the garden and use the comfortable chairs. There was a bar and a delightful lady who told us that she was the manager and would also be the chef should we want a meal. We had a very relaxing few hours, but the icing on the cake for my wife perhaps, was when she found the small shop that was home to the Shell Works of St. Kitts. Here for sale were some stunning pieces created by local artist Claudia Amory using driftwood, mother of pearl, sugar cane and the air roots of trees from the tropical forest. They were all indeed lovely, but I think I managed to leave relatively unscathed financially......but only just.

When sailing time came the wind was still blowing strong, the pilot couldn’t come on board because his boat driver had not turned up, but he assured me he would stand on the quayside and act as a vocal relay to the ageing tug named ‘Titan’ should I need it. In fact, with a gradual increase of power, we came off and dropped astern, waving a farewell to the pilot as we did so. We turned to the west and headed for the BVI.

The small town of Portsmouth is on the north west shore of Dominica at Prince Rupert Bay, and overlooked by Fort Shirley, an 18th century British garrison that once housed 600 soldiers and which is now being gradually restored. The fort was directly above our berth, about a mile from ‘down town’.

It is perhaps one of the most unspoilt places in the Caribbean, where the local houses were painted in bright colours, fresh vegetables were sold at road side stalls and shops had such names as ‘Glory’s Variety Store’ and ‘Blue Sky Home Centre’. A yellow painted, corrugated tin roof ‘shack’ was the ‘Sea View Restaurant’, but the view was partially obscured by the rusting hull of a coaster that had been washed up onto the beach, with several others, some years ago in a hurricane. The minibus turning and parking area seemed to be the centre of the town, with vehicles coming and going constantly and nearby, a dozen or so men watching an animated game of dominoes.

We were dropped off there by the shuttle bus and gradually walked back, taking in the wonderful true Caribbean community atmosphere and snapping away with the camera as we did so. We came across a small path that led down to the beach, passing a crudely hand painted sign that stated ‘’OVER  NIgHT  HOLIdAyS’, wonderful. Glimpses of ‘Pearl II’ could be seen from a charming beach bar where a rickety looking pier was used to secure the small inflatable tenders that yacht folk use to get ashore. Secured alongside were a number of colourful locally built boats, including ‘Cobra’, ‘Freedom’ and ‘Lawrence of Arabia’. Not quite as majestic as David Lean’s 1962 epic.

We relaxed, had a beer and soaked it all in, watching the world go by at an extremely leisurely pace. Eventually continuing our walk, we passed a sign for ‘Heaven’s Best Guest House’, and a number of wooden homes in various states of repair, one totally bright pink, another few which looked as though they hadn’t seen a paintbrush in many a year, and yet another with an amazing garden full of colourful tropical flowers, a long line of washing and outside, a half open gate with a simple sign saying ‘Welcome’.

The Trade Winds had become a little lively overnight, and the berth being considerably shorter than the ship, required all our lines except the ‘springs’ to be sent a long way over the water to bollards seemingly in the tropical undergrowth. When we came to leave it seemed to take an age to retrieve them, but eventually of course we did, and without removing any of the jetty at the same time. Another successful, and very interesting day.

The run up to Castries was almost too slow, even on one engine, and then when we arrived there was a delay while one of the larger vessels took time to manoeuvre alongside this almost landlocked small harbour. Saga  Pearl II has little problem squeezing into whatever small space is left, so we popped in just astern and were all finished before the ‘big un’ had made fast her myriad of ropes.

The quayside and tourist shops were somewhat of a melee for a while, particularly when the others passengers started queuing up, as though they were in the post office, ready to be led off on their tours. Another mega ship was on the other side of the harbour and yet another smaller cruise ship was anchored outside. So a busy day in St. Lucia, but everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. On board we entertained guests from Saga’s Bel Jou hotel, and vice versa. Dunnottar School, which Saga’s Charitable Trust supports, came aboard and gave a short performance of their own steel band, and then in the evening the excellent Panasonic Steel Band played on the after deck, under the stars and with the lights of Castries in the back ground.

A great day, but Ivan, the Food and Beverage manager is keeping his fingers crossed for some fresh fish tomorrow, the price and quality just wasn’t right today. He did get a container of fresh veg though, all the way from the States. We slipped away just before eleven, making a quick pirouette and passing under the flight path for Castries local airport just in time, a Liat (Leave island any time) Dash 7 came in not long after.

Apart from a certain large sailing ship anchoring in the approach channel, our arrival into St. Vincent was routine - a beautiful sunny Caribbean morning with the promise of a great day ahead. We had managed to get on the trip that took passengers back across the water to Bequia, the largest of the Grenadine islands and one that I had wished to visit for a very long time.

The normal mode of transport would have been one of the local rather aged ferries that make the transit several times a day. In true laid back Caribbean style they rarely leave at the scheduled time. We, however, took a very modern catamaran that made the nine-mile journey in forty minutes or so.

Admiralty Bay is the scene of just about all the maritime activity and was fairly crowded with anchored yachts when we arrived. A couple of aged small cargo ships, no doubt coming to the end of their careers island hopping, were lying in deeper water, while a charming old schooner was being tidied up ready for another charter.

We all piled off to take a walk along the water front, where a dozen or so pickup trucks converted into island taxis were parked, their drivers nearby chatting, seemingly not particularly bothered whether business came their way. A number of bars and casual restaurants catering for the yacht folk, and a number of small shops and stalls selling local produce were alongside the single-track road that soon petered out. The whole scene was one of unhurried island life where the thought of ‘rushing’ was anathema - a paradise for some no doubt.

We later re-boarded the boat for the short journey to Princess Margaret Beach. Here, after disembarking into the shallows, there was a short walk across golden sand to a delightful restaurant nestling on the shoreline.

Above us, within the tropical vegetation, a number of obviously expensive balconied villas clung to the cliffs. There was time to take a swim or walk along the white sand beach before our return journey commenced, this time the seas being just a little more turbulent and causing those on the ‘weather’ side to feel sometimes, to the amusement of others, more than just a little spray.

All returned quite safely of course and it wasn’t until much later after a local steel band had played a few of those old Caribbean tunes in our Discovery Lounge that we finally sailed.

We headed back east into the trade wind and into some fairly hefty showers that blocked out the stars and gave the ship a free fresh water wash down. As dawn approached we closed the Venezuelan mainland at the Paria Peninsular and the gap that separates South America from Trinidad. It is known as Boca del Dragon, suitably named no doubt from the very strong currents that can be experienced as a vessel passes through. There were a number of ships at anchor west of Port of Spain, including a very large gas carrier loaded and waiting for the price of liquid natural gas to increase on the spot market before the cargo is sold and the ship sent on its way.

Ahead of us two other passenger ships went in, taking the prime berth by the arrivals hall and leaving us some way out in the sticks, well at least, next to the busy container port. Even so, the port had cleaned off the dock and arranged shuttle buses. The tour buses went straight from the ship, taking passengers off to the Mount St Benedict Monastery, the ASA Wright Nature Centre or scenic mountain drive. All were favourably reported on after their return.

We stayed within the confines of the busy port, venturing out for a short time to take a look at the local vendors’ stalls just outside the terminal. Here there was a selection of locally made gifts, including small sets of Caribbean steel drums. ‘Just the thing for the grandchildren’ one passenger told me. I can’t imagine the parents will be overjoyed.
We left just a little ahead of schedule, leaving the sounds of container crane sirens and banging steel behind us, setting our course again towards the cloud covered mountains of Paria, slowly becoming indistinct in the twilight. There were no dragons in the mouth as we altered course to the north.

Margarita Island lies off Venezuela’s north coast and has been become more of a holiday island for the mainland folk since the traditional sugar cane farming has died out due to the change in climate and lack of rain. The port of Guamache is out on a peninsular and probably around half an hour from the capital Porlamar.

While others opted to take the short walk to the nearby beach, we took the ‘Discover Margarita’ tour, a six-hour excursion that took us first to the small town of El Valle, the birthplace of Venezuelan hero Santiago Marino who was instrumental in ousting the Spanish in 1814, three years before the mainland was liberated. The tour was an interesting mix of churches, museum, colonial buildings and old Spanish forts, one of which was built at La Asuncion away from the coast. The Spanish had been plagued by pirates and therefore moved their capital to the higher ground inland, also building one of South America’s oldest cathedrals, completed in 1621. Outside there were numerous stalls that all seemed to be selling the same thing, statues of the Madonna in various sizes.

Before coming back through Porlamar to take a snack overlooking Pampatar Bay, we stopped off at La Aldea, a shop owned by a Dutch family that sold rather unusual pottery ‘figures’ and, upstairs, a large area selling local pearls. These are a specialty of the island which is believed to be why the island was so named; Margarita is the Latin word for pearl. We stayed long enough to realise my wife had gained a bargain and I had apparently saved money.

Our amusing and knowledgeable guide was a Venezuelan of mixed European parents, worked for Cunard and other companies in the 80’s and had eventually realised that the more ‘relaxed’ island life was preferable to the hustle, bustle and trouble of Caracas.

We returned in time to see a minor dust storm blowing across the various traders who had set up outside the port gate. I had to quickly change in order to meet some port officials and exchange plaques to commemorate the first call of Saga Pearl II. It was quite charming, but also just a tad amusing as on the plaque they presented, the ships name was spelt incorrectly, we are in Margarita, known as Saga Peral II.

Overnight we travelled the 158 miles to Grenada arriving after the sun had risen, not that it was readily noticeable as there were very grey clouds hanging over the mountain tops. Showers could be seen, some coming down over the sea ahead. We had permission to take the ship alongside in the Careenage instead of the dedicated cruise ship pier, and so for the first time in at least nine years I entered into what I think must be one of the world’s most delightful small harbours.

Already alongside was a Swedish sail training vessel complete with 55 young folk, a challenge no doubt for the ten staff tasked with keeping them at their duties. They seemed rather unimpressed as we manoeuvred just meters away and berthed just astern. Regrettably the rain never did clear away, but kept returning, sometimes in torrential downpours that lasted five minutes or so. Liquid sunshine in 75 degrees. Outside the gate two ladies had set up their stalls and were selling spices. My wife had a shopping list so we went out to do a little business, just as another shower came. A little amusing banter became protracted as we endeavoured to keep dry, and we had them laughing for a photograph at the same time as we attracted a few other passengers to their stall. 

We continued around the Careenage and up to the old fort, St Georges. The view of the harbour nestled below the mountains is on one side, while to the south could be seen just about the whole of Grand Anse, one of the most famous beaches in the Caribbean. The town was very quiet, it being a Sunday; even so the taxi drivers did their best in trying to tempt us and other passengers for an island drive. One chap even asked if we wanted to go on a walking tour of the local churches. Alas, time did not permit.
The passengers I met on returning thought that, despite the rain, the island was delightful. It is, and as yet, unspoilt by the mass big ship tourism. Long may it stay so.

After departing from the Cape Verde Islands we headed off across the ‘Pond’, and because we were so far south the trade winds stayed with us for the whole passage; five days with our speed matching that of the wind so hardly a breath across the deck. The overcast conditions experienced on the first day gave way to bright sunny and very warm days for the remainder of the voyage. It was very relaxing, well at least for those that shied away from the ‘Olympics’.

The sun rose behind us as we rounded the southernmost tip of Barbados, two ‘mega’ liners were already alongside in Bridgetown’s deep water harbour and we slowed down to allow a large sailing cruise vessel to enter before us. Even so the lines were all secure on ‘Sugar Berth’ just ahead of schedule. There was a certain obvious ‘eagerness’ among a few to get ashore, including off duty crew, plus we had fuel bunkers and a container load of stores to take on board. While all that was being done my wife and I took a ride up the west coast to see an old colleague from our Cunard days.

He has what can only be described as ‘very comfortable accommodation’, we sat and chatted away, admiring the spectacular view from five floors up. Down below us the busy beach life carried on as it always has done, except these days the Jet Ski guys catering for the tourists are just a little more obvious. There has been much development in recent years, expensive restaurants, boutique hotels and apartments that attract the likes of only the very wealthy. Even so, it was also obvious by the many ‘For Sale’ signs that the present global financial crises was also having its affect.

We returned on board only to find that the fuel oil bunkering was taking longer than expected, apparently the suppliers couldn’t get it hot enough to pump easily. I would never have thought that in the Caribbean, but then again, perhaps I could.

We approached Sao Vicente in near darkness, with the shadow of mountainous Santo Antao just visible in the dawn way over to starboard, between the two islands the North Equatorial current was being funnelled and setting us westwards at a noticeable rate. This became particularly obvious when we had to slow right down for a departing container ship to leave and pass us safely down the starboard side.

I can’t believe much really changes in Sao Vicente, one of ten volcanic islands that are far from the beaten track. Porto Grande is the port for the capital city of Mindelo, the only town of any size, and the only deep water port for ocean going commercial ships. Even though I had called in twice before, I hadn’t been ashore, so we joined the excursion that not only crossed the island but also included three miles of walking. Our guide was an enthusiastic young New Yorker who had come over four years before with the American Peace Corp and decided to stay. We clambered into the back of a 12 seat bus and set off, soon finding that once we had passed through Mindelo the tarmac road became one of black volcanic stone cobbles, giving us all a thorough rattling.

We drove towards the dramatic but barren mountains, passing through the Ribereira de Calhua, a valley where stone walls have been built over the years in order to retain the soil and any rain that may occasionally fall. It is subsistence farming and looked to me as though life must be a real struggle. We continued along an amazing new scenic coastal road, built apparently with EU money, to connect Calhua with the fishing village of Salamanza, where we stopped for some refreshment. It was a Sunday and the locals were out, perhaps to see the unusual sight of a few busloads of foreigners turning up for coffee. Children played, a black spotted pig ambled across the road, an old gentleman in, I presume, gifted tweed jacket and weathered baseball cap, sat and stared without change of expression, while fifty yards away a couple of boat builders were working on the hull of a new boat being built in the traditional way.

We continued on until reaching the remains of Mato Inglese, an abandoned village that was occupied by English traders back in the 18th and 19th century. We then commenced our three mile hike through the central part of the island, an area of arid rocky hills and occasional cultivated farmland. The tour was a wonderful insight into a distant country, one which it is unlikely may folk would visit unless they were on a cruise ship.

We departed without problem just before four, with just the linesmen and an agent in a gleaming modern 4-wheel drive to see us go. Within the hour the islands were sinking out of sight behind us as we headed west on our 2000 mile journey.

The run down from Funchal was in a moderate easterly breeze, which picked up for a few hours before arrival, but then died away as we entered the port.

For the first time in over 40 years our berth was changed from the breakwater to the other side of the harbour, well within walking distance of the city. Not that I did, as most of the morning was taken up with a crew emergency drill and I was particularly interested to see how the ‘troops’ performed. Apart from initially staying on the bridge, I moved around the various muster stations and the scene of the simulated fire.

I was very pleased to see that everyone knew their duty, and still had a smile on their face.

Not so many passengers took the tours, probably because many had been to the island before.

We invited a couple of friends on board that we have known for many years but hadn’t seen for at least four. They were suitably impressed with the tasteful contemporary, yacht like feel of the ship, the superb library and the feeling of space that is perhaps unexpected with the smallest of the Saga fleet. They left, promising on another visit to take us out to their ‘domain’, hopefully that won’t be another four years in the coming.

Just before we sailed I met near the gangway two entertainers who had just flown out, the excellent Peter Anthony and John Barker, great news for our days at sea across the Atlantic.

And so, just before dinner and with a jovial Spanish pilot to keep us company on the bridge, we left the berth. Before we had even passed the breakwater the pilot had jumped down into his boat, waving enthusiastically as he did so. The fast ferry to Gran Canaria, ‘Speedy Gonzalez’ according to the pilot, raced around the stern as we turned to the south, soon leaving the land behind us as we headed for the Cape Verde Islands. Another two days at sea as the temperature starts to rise. 

We left the British weather behind almost as soon as Saga Pearl 2 turned into the Bay of Biscay, heading south. By the end of the first day at sea, conditions were decidedly comfortable, which was a huge bonus for me as I began to familiarise myself with my new command.

With a midday arrival at Funchal we had the delight of passing Porto Santo in daylight, Madeira’s near neighbour, so there was an obvious need to go in a little closer and take in some sightseeing. By late morning the unusual airport of Madeira, with its extended runway on great concrete pillars, had passed by our starboard side. As we entered the harbour stern first, shouts of welcome could be heard from Saga Ruby, already berthed and at the start of her world cruise. Being my first ‘parking’ of Pearl, my mind was somewhat focused on her handling characteristics, so little time to offer more than just a cursory friendly wave.

There was time though, to greet a few of her regular passengers before my wife and I went off on the 4-wheel drive tour offered as one or our excursions. It was great fun, sat in the back exposed to the elements, as well as the diesel fumes. First we travelled south west to take in the view from the almost vertical cliffs, one of which had some almost Heath Robinson arrangement of wires and frame to bring up villagers from their otherwise isolated existence down on the narrow shoreline. We drove higher into the forest of pine and eucalyptus, eventually getting off road to experience the rather basic suspension of our ex Portuguese military vehicle. The views were magnificent, and not a cloud in the sky, a rarity at this time of the year. Down in the valleys villages nestled, where life appears to remain much as it has done for many years, and where any available land has been tiered into small fields held up by volcanic stone walls to grow whatever can be sold or eaten. We stopped at a ‘mini mercado’ where the bar next door sold the owners homemade Poncha and cherry liquor, a most suitable refreshment.

Saga Ruby left around 7 pm bound west, we followed after the local show had entertained on board, heading south. It will be many months before the two ships will meet again, and a lot of water will have passed under both bridges.

Our final port of call on what has been a truly magical Christmas Cruise saw us visit the charming city of El Ferrol. Ferrol is in the province of La Coruna in Galicia, located on the Atlantic coast in north western Spain. The city has been a major naval shipbuilding centre for most of its history, being the capital of the Spanish navy’s Maritime Department of the North since the time of the early Bourbon’s. Before that, in the 17th century, Ferrol was the most important arsenal in Europe.

There were two tours departing this morning, the first of which was ‘Galicia’s Scenic Coastline’. Our guests had the opportunity to discover the natural attractions surrounding El Ferrol, driving along the coast with its typical Galician villages and enjoying views of the nearby beaches, forests and estuaries. The tour began with a panoramic tour of El Ferrol, passing the old military camp and neoclassical quarter which housed naval officers in the 18th century.

The second tour was to ‘Santiago de Compostela’. During the middle ages, there were three main places of pilgrimage for Christians Rome, Jerusalem and Santiago de Compostela. Our passengers explored this ancient pilgrimage town on what was a full day excursion. The tour began in Obradoiro Square, home to the famous cathedral, the town hall and the palace of Saint Jerome. The passengers also had the opportunity to see the famously beautiful Jubilee Door (only opened every Jubilee year).

We departed at 2pm today to the sound of the wonderful Galician Bagpipe Ensemble, a fitting end to what has been a truly memorable Christmas Cruise and my first as Master. I’ll be departing on our return to Southampton to return home to my wife and young son in order to enjoy my ‘second’ Christmas. I’ll be handing over command to Captain Phillip Rentell, and I wish Captain Rentell, along with all who sail on the beautiful Saga Pearl II the very best for 2012 and of course smooth seas and safe sailing.

Oporto is the capital of Porto District, on the banks of the Douro River near the Atlantic Ocean. Together with Lisbon, it is one of Portugal’s chief economic centres and the focus of a large metropolitan area. Port wine (named after the city) is Porto’s best known product and export. The city developed as an export centre of port wine (predominately to Britain) in the late 17th century.

We arrived today in Leixoes with our Company sister ship, the Saga Ruby, and it was delightful to be able to meet up with friends and colleagues alike as both ships were opened up for passengers and crew to drift between in order to have a friendly ‘catch up’ and also wish each other a very happy new year! I took the time to wonder over to the Ruby in order to have a chat and a coffee with my opposite number, Captain Steve Angove, and it was wonderful to see Steve again and also to walk around the charming ship that is the Saga Ruby-still looking as elegant as ever.

There was only one tour that departed today and that was the ‘Oporto sights and Douro River Cruise’. This relaxed panoramic tour enables our guests to see the main points of interest surrounding Oporto from the comfort of a luxury coach. The journey began with a drive through Foz, the cosmopolitan waterfront district. From there they headed into the old town, a UNESCO world heritage site where they saw the iconic Cristal Palace and the 18th century clergyman’s tower the highest point of the town at 245 feet.

Following our departure the evening’s entertainment started with a team trivia quiz hosted by our Assistant Cruise Director Mike. This was followed by Cabaret Showtime where we welcomed back our guest star Stuart Gillies. For those passengers who wanted to stay up that bit later there was late night cabaret and cocktails with our cocktail pianist Adam Reece.