The full moon just slipped below the horizon which is a good 30 degrees above the water. I woke early to the sounds of silence. The cacophony of bird, insect and frog sounds from the rock islands surrounding the boat had ceased. I could still hear their fellows on more distant islands.

I could read by the bright moonlight! The surface of the water was stiller than I can ever remember seeing before, an absolute mirror without the least ripple. The rock islands around us were perfectly reflected on the placid water. Then a least wee ripple moved across the surface reflecting the moonlight onto the underside of our sunshade!

Without even a hit of a breeze I wondered whether the crocodile we imagined living nearby had slid into the water across the cove. We were surprised at the milky sea green color of the water when we arrived at Fish Net Anchorage almost at the bottom of Arukthapel Island. We could not see even a hint of what lay below the surface but trusted our chart and depth sounder that there were no reefs to pierce our hull. We anchored in almost forty feet at the back of Fish Net Anchorage.

After washing up from a nice dinner featuring the squid Jim had caught earlier in the day we settled in to enjoy the bright moon rising over the eastern horizon. Jim has a very bright flashlight which revealed a rich soup of zooming, floating and wiggling tiny life forms in the water around the boat. We were most fascinated by the thousands of itty bitty jellyfish. We realized the color of the water and poor visibility was due to an amazing density of minute creatures in the water.

Palau is famous for the basketball-sized golden jellyfish that densely populate some marine lakes. Swimming among them is a major experience enjoyed by visitors from around the world. Last year Palau experienced a major drought. Drinking water had to be imported in bottles. Jellyfish disappeared from the famous Jellyfish Lake.

Jim and I were privileged to see hundreds of the beautiful jellyfish in a nameless little cove we explored in our kayaks the day after we arrive in Palau in December. The jellyfish mysteriously disappeared from there a few days later. One always hopes for rebirth after natural strife kills or shifts a community of creatures.

We imagined the minute jellyfish we saw in the moonlight were newly hatched golden jellyfish. There were also long slender bioluminescent threadlike creatures, copepods with feathery feelers, tiny fish and many animals too tiny to see clearly. The water appeared to be full of minute eggs. We know coral sometimes spawns on full moon nights. We were downwind from reefs outside and within the funnel shaped islands. I longed for a microscope. We think that the creatures had been concentrated by wind and current in this quiet backwater.

While watching the sealife from the dingy alongside the boat we kept hearing splashes and deep rumbling growls from under the overhanging branches near the shore. We decided to row over for a closer look. As we approached Jim became certain that the noises were being made by a crocodile and rowed back to the boat promptly. I was not so sure but he was adamant that neither of us were going to have a closer look.

The next day we watched off and on for any sign of a crocodile. We swept the shoreline with binoculars hoping to see the elusive beast. I saw a number of places with worn away vegetation on a slope that I imagined could be used by a croc to enter and exit the water.

The limestone here is quite different than elsewhere we have seen in the Rock Islands. It forms uniform horizontal layers and blocks that look like ancient ruins of a man-made sea wall. In places the cracked limestone forms a relatively gentle slope covered with gravel. Elsewhere the shoreline is made of randomly and fantastically undercut massive limestone from ancient uplifted fossil reefs.

The moon slipping below the edge of the island was mesmerizing. With a nearby frame of reference the moon moved perceptively fast enough to see the motion and feel the earth spinning beneath the boat.

As the moon disappeared the stars popped out and were also reflected in the water. The creatures ashore renewed their calls with extra vigor. Fish began breaking the surface after a meal. Had the bright and changing light made them feel more vulnerable to predators or were they enjoying the show as much as I did?

I briefly considered letting out some more chain to move the boat and watch the light show again. I resisted for two reasons. The chain running out would rudely awaken my darling who was peacefully slumbering in the v-berth aft of the anchor locker. I could have woke him up first to enjoy the rerun but it would have been for naught. There was no wind to push the boat and stretch out the chain. I could not see evidence of a tidal current to move the boat. Floating leaves were stationary around the boat like tiny fairy barges. Maybe he'll enjoy a magical moonset tomorrow morning.