HERALD CAY We stopped at a very small pile of sand in the middle of the Coral Sea. It is an oval shaped and sand encircled half mile of pure beauty. I don't think many things can compare to arriving at a pristine and uninhabited island after days of sailing. We were thrilled to have perfect weather and ample light to pick our way through coral bommies to anchor only a short dinghy ride to shore. The water was the most deliciously clear blue- "french ultramarine" in paint- without a hint of green. We could not stop marveling over it.

It took about an hour to stroll around the island entirely and densely populated with nesting birds. For those of you who have read our blog to this point, the little island reminded us most of Rose Atoll near American Samoa. Brown Noddies, Masked and Red-Footed Boobies, Frigatebirds, and Tropic Birds dominated. We took lots of photos and video that we cannot yet upload to the blog, unfortunately, and picked up as much plastic flotsam as we could carry.

What struck me most, other than the dreamy gorgeousness of the place, was something more subtle. Being there reminded me of being amongst giant redwoods, or in a Buddhist temple where worship has taken place for hundreds of years. A sense of the sacred was so palpable. It descended on us slowly and our chattering gave way to silence. I could hardly stop myself from laying down in the shade next to the nesting birds and falling asleep in the deep peace that pervaded the atmosphere. Every one of us was hushed, as if not to scare the birds. But the birds weren't that perturbed by our presence. You could approach most of them within a few feet and be eye to eye since the trees they nested in were mostly shoulder high. Most of the birds not sitting on and egg or two were really active. They were chirping and whistling, fishing and building nests all around us. Still, the atmosphere was of a profound and absorbing silence.

I found it very difficult to leave that place and once again felt so fortunate for the experience. But we did leave, only the next day, on the rhumb line for the Louisiades, Papua New Guinea.