Photo: picking over pearls in Kauehi

The Tuamotus - which I surely did not know existed prior to our circumnavigation - is a group of 78 islands, essentially all coral atolls, which are spread across 1000 miles of the South Pacific. Diametrically different from the steep, verdant Marquesas, they are low, flat palm-tree laden land masses, reminiscent of The Bahamas whose beauty, similarly, lies in its clear warm waters. In many cases the motus (islets) on the reefs are clustered together creating interior, protected lagoons that are reached through narrow passes with dangerous currents only safely crossed at slack tide. Given that these islands have been referred to as the "Low and Dangerous Archipelago" , we quickly learn that cruising the Tuamotus is all about the timing.

KAUEHI: We calculate that in order to reach the pesky pass at Kauehi, our first atoll, at slack tide and in good day light, we must leave Nuva Hiva, Marquesas at 4pm, deliberately choosing an additional night at sea (my favorite!). Let's just say I am a great little day sailor; when that sun sets and the whole, dark night looms, I am not at my best. No sooner was dusk upon us, dinner consumed and a meclazine (seasick med) downed as a precautionary measure, then twenty minutes later, I barfed it all up. Inconvenient timing for sure. It took me the better part of two days into our passage for me to finally settle in.

Ironically, our carefully calculated critical timing was still a tad off. After 4 nights at sea with stiffer than forecast winds - despite reducing sails to slow the boat - we arrived at the pass several hours prior to slack tide; call it premature timing. We bobbed around for a bit thinking we would wait it out but the boys inched up, took a peek at the pass and decided, with our dual- engines, we had enough horsepower to counteract the wind and outgoing current. Crossing the worst of the pass entailed about ten minutes of bumpy, hold-on, sleigh-riding, but we quickly entered the much calmer shallow lagoon and, with only sight navigation, slowly picked our way through the mine-field of coral heads before dropping our hook off a sandy beach head; not such bad timing after all.

This placid lagoon water ranges in color from white to green to turquoise to aqua and finally navy, depending upon the depth and the underlying bottom, and is the perfect ecosystem to grow the so-called "Tahitian black pearls" - which, by the way, are neither. These coveted gems are predominantly farmed here in the Tuamotus (and Gambiers) , not Tahiti, and are not exclusively black, but rather include varying hints of green and lavender and gray. We had read that the pinctada margaritifera cumingli variety requires a lagoon that is not too large or too deep, with many rocks on which to attach, ample food to eat and water that has the right salinity, acidity, oxygen content and temperature. Those parameters met, it then takes a patient and tedious 18 months for each pearl to form...... and, if my timing is right, I am hoping to snag some!

We went ashore to stretch our legs on this flat island, but a rain shower quickly found us ducking under the overhang at the only magasin. With serendipitously-aided timing, we met some other yachties seeking cover who had earlier in the day - of all things - purchased pearls from the man who owns this shop. Inquiring within, the shopkeeper and wife of said pearl farmer could not locate him on her cell phone and apologized since he was leaving for Tahiti later in the day. Ah, but wait. Just minutes later, he pulls in his pick-up truck. Auspicious timing.

"Flick", as he is called in Polynesian slang from his days as a "cop", is fresh from his farm and still wearing his wetsuit pulled-down with the top dangling from his waist. An orange tank top barely covers his bulky, tattooed torso and he sports a second red t-shirt around his head bandana-style. His gold tooth glitters as he and Eric converse in French. We walk the half a block to his home and gather around his large picnic table liberally strewn with hundreds of harvested pearls. Unfortunately, Flick sells his best grade pearls to Japan where they command top price, but nonetheless, I still relish the novel experience of hand-picking dozens of loose pearls and imagining the jewelry combos I can commission some time down the line. Eric and David indulge me the time and even jump in offering this and that pearl for size, color and shape. I say we easily got our hundred bucks worth of fun and I will treasure these gems, each one irregular, unique and lovely in their own way.

FAKARAVA: The next day, once again mindful of arrival timing, we check the tide table and shove off at first light for Fakarava, the second largest atoll in the archipelago. Hitting it right we have no real issues with the pass, but - due to the timing of a stalled frontal system - we end up spending 11 days here anchoring at many locations along the 32 mile long lagoon. I find I like the familiarity of one locale. We rented bikes and even had lunch at the only open snack), most days I got in a walk, we became accustomed to what the two magasins offered, we had access to marginal wifi and we bumped into and socialized with many cruisers as our seafaring acquaintance list continues to expand. ...Oh, and I bought some more pearls - but this time ready-made jewelry from the first boutique as the second one was closed ....poor timing on their part, wouldn't you say?

We also did our first drift snorkel in Fakarava's south pass (Faka south) - albeit with sub-optimal timing, as the skies were overcast. On an incoming tide, we dinghyed over to the pass, held onto tethered light hand-lines and jumped off letting the current pull us through the clear water. We had to cut our dive short with the approaching squall but we did indeed see lots of fish, most notably black tip sharks that love hanging out in this flood tide. Suffice it say, the timing was suitable enough..... since at least it wasn't their feeding time.

ANSE AMYOT: But it was not until our final destination in this archipelago that we finally hit the Perfect Tuamotus Timing. We were about half way into our day sail over to Anse Amyot, when we spotted circling birds and boiling water ahead, an unmistakable sign of a school of something big. Whizzzzzz, the first reel pays out. Whizzzzzz, the second follows immediately . A double hook-up. As Eric grabs the first reel, the second line is already breaking free. Eric quickly assesses the fight on the end of his reel and asks me to get him into the fighting belt (it's a big one!) while David focuses on stalling our swiftly sailing boat. My pleasant afternoon sail quickly becomes a ringside seat to an epic fight.

Thirty minutes pass, an hour, 90 minutes. Eric harnesses his inner Ahab and somehow continues for two solid hours before David relieves him . We begin asking how long we can afford this stalemate as we need to reach anchor by sundown. I bite my nails, take deep breaths and feel useless. After another half hour - 2 hours and 30 minutes into this - David finally gets the fish closer to the surface but figuring this giant has perhaps hours of fight left in him, Eric decides the only way to finish him off is to jump in and spear him. My heart explodes with fear. Whether warranted or not, the stakes racket way up once my boy is in the water (especially off a moving boat)! After all, we know these waters are shark infested. But we cannot lose the fight now. Eric readies his gun and float line, dives in and not 3 minutes later, jubilantly lifts the massive yellow fin tuna to the surface revealing a perfectly landed shot through his head. Hearts racing, David and I couldn't pull that float line in fast enough! We drag man and catch to the transom, blood spewing onto the deck. She appears to be about 60-70 lbs; an incredible catch from a sailing vessel devoid of outriggers and fighting chairs. Pumped, David proudly radios the two other boats who were sailing over with us (but had lost their hook ups) about this marathon, impressive catch. Hours later, once safely anchored, we cracked a beer, filleted and packaged meat for an hour and half and weighed out 38.5 lbs of red, priceless caught-speared tuna; Food for months to come. Perfect kill, perfect food, perfect timing.

We shared some of our bounty, delivering tuna steaks by dinghy to the boats who were not as fortunate as us. Eric entertained kids and adults alike with the Go-Pro video footage he had of the final, deadening spear to the head and harbor wide, cruisers were genuinely happy for us and our larger-than-life experience. Who knew a big, dead fish could foster such camaraderie? Delightful timing.

And, tomorrow, if the timing is right we will leave the flat Tuamotus for our overnight passage to soaring Tahiti and the Society Island and the highly anticipated visit from Katie and Ben! Opportune timing for sure; I really miss them.