June 25

Last minute prep to leave the boat (at 0530) is always a joy and no matter how well planned (not a forte) always ends in a rush. For example, I rushed onshore before sundown to shoot the shinola with friends and down a $7.50 beer. Should be riddled with guilt for not fixing auto bilge pump, but rationalized that any inflow large enough to sink the boat would run batteries dry and sink her anyway. Because anchored in ten feet, any waterlogged remains should easily be located.

As implied did not dock or moor, but rather have found a shallow, sandy, open area where hook is buried to China (this has little meaning here as other side of earth is somewhere around Egypt, but you get the idea). Location is brilliant unless boat sinks, drags onto reef or gets run down, then somewhat less so.

Actually went onto land (where etiquette demanded overpriced social engagement) to retrieve passport, boat documents and entry paperwork (after being in French Polynesia for over six weeks) so as to exit tomorrow. This may seem backward, but it possesses a certain symmetry and the French insist. Leaving for a week does not reset three month visa (EU citizens get six), but does extend it by time away.

A cool, sweet smelling breeze gently rocks the boat and suffuses the cabin; full moon light ripples across the sandy bottom through swimming pool clear water; dozens of boats and the island of Tahiti are outlined against a cotton ball smattered sky. This doesn't suck.

Jack