An exceedingly brief history of Pitcairn and why we were interested in going: Late 18th Century, the HMS Bounty is dispatched to the Pacific in the wake of Captain Cook's to bring breadfruit trees back to the West Indies. The crew mutinies near Tahiti, sets Captain Bligh and about 20 loyalists afloat in the ship's tiny launch. Some mutineers remain in Tahiti, while others led by Fletcher Christian board the Bounty and set off in search of a new home. The small crew of English sailors and Tahitian women find Pitcairn Island, a small volcanic island 300 miles east southeast of the Gambier Islands. Its shoreline is rugged, has no natural harbor, and the island is uninhabited. The mutineers scuttle the ship in Bounty Bay to avoid detection, and set up a new life for themselves. Good times are short-lived, and eventually the islanders start killing each other. John Adams is eventually the only remaining mutineer, and the only man on the island, surrounded with many Tahitian and mixed women. The descendants of the original mutineers still live on the island, and make up a large portion of the 50 residents. OK�...now our story.

Our sail to Pitcairn was very challenging, with variable conditions and sloppy seas. As a rule, we either had too much wind (we had to sail through an approaching low pressure and had 25-30 knots of wind for 2 days straight) or not enough (typically at night, when you really don't want to be carrying excess sail, the wind would fall to single digits). It rained nearly 100% of the time. Either way, we eventually arrived at Pitcairn. On our 9th day out of Easter Island, April 12th, we sighted land. The skies parted and we actually approached in good sunlight in the late afternoon. We sailed past Adamstown on the north coast, and as we were rounding the northwest point of the island to head in to our anchorage - Tedside - the line zoomed off the reel. We "parked" the boat, taking in all our sail. I fought the fish for a good 30 minutes before seeing it. Based on how it was fighting, I knew it had to be a good tuna. Finally, we saw color, and eventually the fish was at the surface - a beautiful, big yellowfin. Despite his best efforts of wrapping the leader in the rudder shaft, dad managed to gaff him and we both hauled the massive fish aboard. High on adrenaline, we slapped a high five and let out a primal yell, elated to have this monster fish aboard. The yellowfin - this boat's first - is the largest fish we've ever caught. He was 40 inches to the fork. Without a properly working scale, I have to put in a best guess at weight. I'd say conservatively he has to be easily over 30 pounds, probably more like 40. I have weighted plenty of fish before, and I'm usually surprised by how low the poundage is versus first estimates. Still, I feel like my estimation is actually pretty accurate, as opposed to some "fisherman's" guesstimate of something like 50-60 pounds for this fish. Mmmm�...tuna steaks for dayz!

We anchored for the night, and decided to head ashore the following morning after conversing over VHF with Sue, our land contact. The next day, after a horrible night on the hook due to the boat's wild rocking and rolling, our hearts sank when we learned conditions were too rough to let us land. We had sailed 1142 miles through complete crap conditions, and now we were stuck on the boat! Completely disappointed, we resolved to be patient, try again the next day, and one way or another figure out how to get on this island.

We awoke the following morning with high hopes but low expectations. The wind had only increased, and Bounty Bay would surely be worse than the day before. Sue dutifully called shortly after "half 8" and, despite our worries, informed us that Randy would be coming to pick us up in his boat! We were extremely excited to hear the good news, and immediately went into overdrive preparing some breakfast, getting our gear ready, and packing bags to bring ashore. Sue let us know that the ride would be very wet ("veery weet" as she would say with her Pitkern/New Zealander accent) and told us to wear our foul weather gear.

She didn't exaggerate. Randy picked us up, and donning full boots, bibs, and jackets, we boarded his small wooden skiff. Our trip to Bounty Bay brought us back around the northwestern tip of the island, and eastward into the 20 knot headwind and large swell. We were absolutely drenched within minutes. The spray flew over the bow with little difficulty and came down in sheets across the deck. After about 15 minutes of this saltwater washdown, we arrived at the slipway at Bounty Bay. The approach is tricky. The swell rolls right in past the breakwater, and timing the entry is key. Randy revved the engine at the opportune time, banking hard to the left to tuck in behind the small breakwater. We climbed up onto the concrete pier and were greeted by Sue and a few other folks who would clear us in. We completed formalities right there at the dock.

After filling out our forms, Melva, a lady whom we had emailed previously, had us hop on the back of her ATV and drove us into town. Evidently, just about everyone on the island has a "bike," as they call them, utilizing the off-road vehicles to traverse the rugged volcanic dirt roads of the island. We drove through dense vegetation, over roots and old coconut husks, and made our first stop: the health center. We were given a short tour of the impressively stocked facility. The center is equipped with a variety of dental equipment, an x-ray machine, ophthalmic instruments, prescription drugs, etc. I was impressed! One room even had a wall air conditioner unit - the only climate control on the island other than open windows and screen doors.

Next, Melva drove us to the community center. We were amazed to find out that there is a room set aside specifically for "yachties" to use. The room was packed with books, movies, and a large TV - a nice place to hang out instead of the boat, if one so chose. Melva let us know that the center actually used to be the jail on the island. Thankfully nobody is locked up at present! We were curious about breadfruit, as it is bound up so inescapably with the history of Pitcairn. Melva showed us a breadfruit tree, and described how you could boil it like a potato or - her favorite - thin slice it and make chips. Asking if we needed some produce, Melva then called Carol Christian to arrange a basket for us. She then insisted we take a "bike" tour with Pawl.

At this point, we still hadn't figured out that the islanders call ATVs bikes. So we decided, yeah, bike tour sounds good. When Pawl showed up and it became clear that we were meant to hop on the back of his 4-wheeler, we were honestly relieved. As it turns out, bicycling around Pitcairn would be nearly impossible due to the terrain! So, we climbed aboard the Pirate Pawl Express and were promptly given a taste of what was to come - quick accelerations, hard turns, and very rough ground to cover. Dad and I shot each other a skeptical glance, and then held on for dear life!

Pawls tour was as breathtakingly beautiful as it was physically punishing. He drove us up and down volcanic, craggy ridges to amazing lookout spots. We visited St. Paul's Pool, where a thin crack in barrier rocks permits the surf to flow in to a protected pool. On a calm day, this might be a nice place to take a dip. Our visit, however, was during "stormy" conditions, as we were assured. Millions of gallons of turbulent, white water crashed through the crevice and rushed in to the pool. We continued to several other spots, including the high point of the island, appropriately named Highest Point. Soaring Norfolk Pines, a gift from Norfolk Island, rise out of the pinnacle. There is a sign indicating distances and directions for various global cities, none of which is remotely close. Losing no time, we drove around to view Tedside from above. Andiamo was just a tiny speck of white nearly 1000 feet below us. We could clearly see that we'd picked a good spot to anchor in sand, surrounded otherwise by rocky ground. Our tour then took us back in town and we saw the anchor of HMS Bounty on display at the town's center. We also visited John Adams's grave. As the final surviving mutineer, he was given a special burial spot, along with his wife, Teio, who accompanied him on the Bounty, and their daughter, Hannah, who was born on Pitcairn.

After our tour, Pawl took us to Jackie Christian's house for lunch. Jackie runs a small restaurant out of her beautiful home. It was extremely relaxing to sit and have food prepared for us, on dry land that wasn't rocking and rolling. Above that though, Jackie was great company. We sat and chatted about life on Pitcairn for about an hour or so. When it was time to go, Jackie took us to Pawl's parents' house to visit with Ken and Daphne. These generous people welcomed us into their home and insisted that we take the bananas they had hanging outside. Daphne would absolutely not take no for an answer. There were far too many bananas - two full stocks, probably about 100 individual fruits - to carry all day. So, Ken graciously decided he'd drop them off at the landing later when we were going to leave. What nice people!

We proceeded then to find Carol Christian, who we were told would let us in to the museum. We strolled down the street and found Carol working with her daughter carving wooden souvenirs. Carol gladly took us to the museum and explained the significance of several of the artifacts. The museum isn't a Bounty museum, as we naively thought, but a collection of all things Pitcairn. Copper nails from the ship, cannon and ball are mostly what remain of the Bounty. The museum was very interesting, but more-so was Carol's banter. She told us of her children, and citizenship issues. The older generation of Pitcairners have UK passport status, as an overseas territory. The younger ones, though, now get issued New Zealand passports, as the country has come under the administration of NZ now, though it remains a British protectorate - crazy! She joked about how depending where you're traveling, either she or her kids will have more trouble with their passports. The Kiwis give her trouble, and most everybody else gives the children with NZ passports a hard time! After our tour of the museum, we walked back to Carol's and saw the produce she had prepared for us. OH. MAN. So much produce! On top of the million bananas Pawl's parents gave us, we weren't sure how we'd ever eat it all. Still, Carol said she'd drop the boxes - plural - off at the landing before our departure.

For our final stop we meandered over to Simon's house. Simon had been at the landing earlier as the Quarantine officer. He invited us that morning to come over later and have tea and coffee with him. Not wanting to miss the opportunity, we found his house and greeted him and his wife Shirley. Simon originally comes from the UK, and Shirley is actually American. The two had traveled and lived various places around the world, but neither wanted to live in his/her home country. The heard about Pitcairn and the island's desire for more residents, and decided it was just the off-the-beaten-path kind of place they were interested in. Simon informed us that on Pitcairn, there are no taxes at all. What's more, after living on the island for 2 years, anyone is permitted to make a homestead where he chooses. Simply pick a plot of land that no other family has claim to, and start building a house! We were floored! The Wild West lives on Pitcairn. As such, Simon and Shirley's house sits precariously atop a ridge overlooking the wave-battered coastline below. The Pitcairn natives didn't want the spot, apparently, because they fear the house will fall into the sea. Simon and Shirley seem pretty good with the location, and who could blame them. The view from their deck is absolutely amazing. Not only is it beautiful in a picturesque sort of way, it's also incredibly rugged and brutal. The full fury of the Pacific Ocean crashing up against the rocks below drowns out other ambient noise. Lush vegetation looms just out of your periphery. Of course, bananas grow everywhere. Our visit with Simon and Shirley was truly wonderful, and we are so thankful for their hospitality. As a final gesture, Shirley gave us a huge dark chocolate bar (she confessed that she only likes milk chocolate - fortunate for us!).

We boarded the launch sometime after 5 pm and Randy took us back to our boat, full foul weather gear back on. Our stay at Pitcairn was all that we could have dreamed of. The generosity of the islanders lived up to what we had read, and made our long, uncomfortable passage completely worth it. I have such fond memories of our day on the island, of the people we met, and the sights we saw. I wish so much I could share my pictures with everyone, but that will need to wait. Please, do yourselves a favor and look up some information on Pitcairn, and maybe even plant the seed in your minds about someday visiting this remote, spectacular island.

We now are anchored in the lagoon off Rikitea, the main town at Mangareva in the Gambier Islands, French Polynesia. We had a picture-perfect sail here from Pitcairn - a short 2-day run. Wow, we've made it to French Polynesia! We are finally less in "delivery" mode and now in "cruiser" mode. Mom is flying in like right now, arriving tomorrow on the once-weekly flight from Papeete. Then it's just hang here and eventually work our way north to the Marquesas. More to come.