When Tane cut the jib sheet that was tight around the propeller, it was a little like the time when he fired the 25mm flare---the line was under so much tension that it let go with a loud bang when he cut it, and the end of the line flew back, narrowly missing him. It was wide-eye and fresh underpants time (well, almost, anyway).

The wind picked up again an hour or so after the heavy rainstorm that ended with no wind. We're all very tired, and none of us has had much sleep---I think it's mostly because we were concerned about damage to the propeller and shaft.

In the early hours of the morning, we were being forced toward Takune atoll so Tane and Bruce executed a tack-gybe to head us back to the southwest. An hour before dawn, they reversed the turn so that we were heading towards a point a few miles upwind of the pass into Raroria atoll. The islands and coconut palms around the end became visible first on radar, and then, as dawn came, they appeared low on the horizon as a series of small, low islands.

We approached to within less than half a mile of the coral reef, turned, then hove to. This is the first time we've really done this---you move the mainsail close to the centerline, and then deploy the jib "the wrong way" so that the boat essentially stops, pointing about 30 to 40 degrees off the wind and stalled, moving only very slightly forward and sideways. We had expected to be in the lee of the atoll but the winds had veered from southeast to northwest, blowing us towards the atoll. Oh well! Heaving to reduced the action of the waves significantly, so I donned mask, snorkel and fins. From past experience diving to clear the propeller in active seas, I knew I needed protection from being bounced against the hull, so i also put on a fairly thick neoprene wetsuit hood. When I went down, I discovered that the rope, being quite large, had not found its way into the narrow spaces so destructive with monofilament fishing line, and I was able to clear it in two quick dives. Unfortunately, I managed to bash my head against one of the bolts holding a hull zinc, so I came back up with a cut to the head even though it was protected by the hood.

We were quickly under way again, coasting down the atoll toward the pass. This was to be our first atoll pass entrance. The interior of an atoll is typically many square miles. The passes are usually quite narrow, so that there is a tremendous flow of water through them unless you manage to hit the change of tide. Also, if there's a large swell, huge amounts of water crash over the outer reef into the inner lagoon, generating massive outflows regardless of the position of the moon. Some atolls have currents in excess of 10 knots passing in or out---this is clearly a major consideration for us, as our maximum motoring speed is 6 knots. There is a hand-written note in our copy of Charlie's Charts that says to avoid entering or leaving during the ebb tide (outgoing tide) at Raroia as you can be pushed rapidly onto a reef. Luckily, we had a flood tide. Although it wasn't near the slack period, we decided to head on in anyway. It was quite disconcerting to be in fairly smooth water but moving rapidly sideways, but by angling the boat correctly, we kept out of the clutches of the coral at the pass, then made our way several miles inside the reef to the small settlement of about 50 hardy folks. We were led in by a fellow in an outrigger canoe, and he helped us decide where to anchor.

After four days of rainstorms and constantly changing winds, it was wonderful to arrive at a picture perfect atoll anchorage---sandy beaches, backed by coconut palms, clear blue water and sunny skies. Lunch was beer accompanied by coleslaw---we'd been lusting for a nice cold beer for some time. Soon, Kena was festooned with towels, sheets, mattresses, clothing and other sundry items drying in the fresh breeze.

When everything was dry, we were treated to another rainstorm complete with lightning. Avatar arrived in the rainstorm. They've anchored near us and disappeared from sight---they were shaking their heads over the passage and wanted to rest immediately.

Sal and Tane went snorkeling and report that it's wonderful, with a profusion of fish, many new to us. A local turned up in a speedboat asking for bananas and we gave him a package of the dried ones we picked up in Hiva Oa. When asked about the diving, he said it was great right where we're anchored, and that the best diving was through the pass with the sharks. This is what Tane has been dreaming of, so we plan to try it very soon.

From our anchorage, we can see the small islands ringing the atoll all around. The ones on the opposite side are faint and very distant --- it's a very strange vista after the massive mountains of the Marquesas. Here and there (and in some cases, very near) we can see pieces of coral sticking out of the water in the lagoon. It's clearly going to need some very careful navigation with the sun well overhead to move about in the lagoon anywhere other than in the well-marked channel from the pass to the settlement.

This, now, really feels like the tropical Pacific islands of lore and legend.