If there is a 'fly in the ointment' here in heaven, it would have to be the sharks. They are, in fact, everywhere. You can't go swimming without them, whether you're in 60 feet of water or wading up to your ankles. Black-tipped reef and nurse sharks have also concluded that this place is idyllic. They are apparently harmless to humans...mostly...so we hear.

In case you are wondering how we handle this shark situation, it goes like this: While swimming, whoever sees the shark first pokes the other one and points at it. I then quickly fuse my body to Steve's. Steve, however, clearly at the mercy of his male instincts, swims immediately TOWARD the shark. Though my more logical female instinct is to back off, my stronger instinct is to stick with Steve. So I'm getting some shark documentary style close up visuals that should lurk in my subconscious for some time. On the bright side, it makes snorkeling quite a bit more exciting.

Speaking of exciting... yesterday we began our departure from Raroia by heading toward our first anchorage on the east side of the atoll. Over a week of being here we had moved about eight miles further north for more exploring. A few cruising boats had accumulated in our original spot by now, and one Australian man offered to help us out with some battery trouble we are having. (Okay, so there are two flies in the ointment.) As we maneuvered into a good parking place, Steve spotted a giant manta ray just in front of us. I, of course, abandoned Steve entirely and ran for the video camera. The manta ray was enormous and slow moving. He was hardly bothered by the boat, if at all. I was glued to him and the camera, determined to get good footage. Steve said, "Why don't you jump in and swim with him?" But all I could think about was the video. After Steve had settled the anchor, he jumped in to swim with the manta. He successfully found the giant under water and had an incredible experience of diving with him. Steve was awestruck when he got back to the boat, and the manta ray faded from view. I realized that I had missed the actual experience of swimming with the manta by being behind a lens, imagining how nice it would be to have a video image! I felt so silly.

Fortunately for me, the manta ray re-emerged. Steve once again encouraged me to swim with him. This time I jumped in as quickly as I could, and the manta graciously granted a second performance. His wing span was between six and seven feet, and his enormous open mouth- the first thing that emerged in my vision as we approached each other underwater- could easily have swallowed my head. I had to tell myself that my body was of no interest to a filter feeder, no matter how massive (his body, not mine:)

I think the manta ray enjoyed the experience of our company, because he stayed very near each of us. He encircled Steve with slow, banking turns, letting him see his smooth dark body in great detail. For me, he did backwards somersaults, white belly up, right next to me, over and over. I was close enough to have easily touched him, but I refrained. It was intimate enough to be so close and have eye contact with such an extraordinary animal. A wonderful experience. We feel very fortunate.

I keep asking myself what makes the water, sky, plants and underwater life so magical here. We could (and do) stare at the water for hours just absorbing the delicious transitions between shades of blue and green. I think it's the super abundance of light. It's as if so much light has filled every particle that everything is now illumined from the inside from its own light source. The clouds are glowing, the palm trees are shining, the fish are electric, and the water, the water, the water...did I mention the water?

And JUST in case the beauty of the days here was not enough to bowl you over, night time brings one hundred percent light pollution free Milky Way viewing, and a warm evening breeze saturated with the scent of flowers. --

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