We have seen the green "flash" countless times. When the upper limb of the setting sun falls just below a crystal clear horizon, there is a fraction of a second of green speck, otherwise called a "flash". It is the prismatic effect of light and the narrow band of green shows but for a brief moment. It is easy to miss since ones eyes are anticipating something much grander like the orange sky which appears first.

Years ago, while delivering a sailing yacht from Main to Virgin Gorda which is in the northern Caribbean, the crew and I were well south of Bermuda and just exited a terrible storm with tremendously high seas. But the horizon and sky around us cleared. As the sun set, there were three of us in the cockpit who together saw a very green, vivid, "speck". But, the next wave to lift the yacht was of such a height that we saw the speck a second time. Most amazing was that the following wave was higher still, lifting us so we could witness the green speck a third time in one sunset! We all agreed, never in our lifetimes will we ever see such an event again.

With an extraordinarily clear horizon, after the green speck, there will sometimes be an equally brief purple speck. That purple flash I have, in all these decades, seen only four times, but Rebecca still has not seen it and still is skeptical of its existence.

But on this passage from Majuro, Marshall Islands, Rebecca and I both had another first! It was a full moon night with the bright moon behind us and an approaching dark rain shower in front of us. Arched from the water in front of us, as clear as day, a 'moonbow' with both ends of the 'moonbow' clearly visible resting on the ocean. There were only shades of gray to the bow, but it was very clearly a 'night time rainbow'. It's nice to know we can still experience 'firsts' on a passage!

On this passage there were countless episodes of dolphins. As we passed the eastern side of Tabituea in the Kirabati Islands, A pod of large dolphins came leaping towards us from the shallows of the island. They were like a pack of dogs charging to investigate an intruder. As we passed by each village, a new group of dolphins would come leaping out towards us, almost like a group of puppies. As we sailed on, each group of leaping dolphins would turn around and return to their territory of reef just off shore from a village. After 8 hours of coastal sailing and dolphin encounters, we finally passed the southern tip and we bid farewell to one of our most favorite islands of Kiribati.

Twice, a pod of at least 10 pilot whales visited alongside Brick House. They stayed with us for quite a long time. They would pace our speed and rise and sink so close to the hull of Brick House but never quite touch.

We caught a couple of small tunas.

The nights were filled with stars overhead, and there were a number of nights where it was like sailing on a lake or inside a planetarium.

There was rough weather and twice as many days of flat calms, and the constant effort of pressing to windward to get to our southeast destination of Fiji. No more leaks from the hatches at least, and some days even allowed us to cook some tasty meals, watch a lot of movies, and read a plethora of books. We fell in to a comfortable pattern, and enjoyed unending hours of companionship and friendship.

But the highlights of a long passage have come to be little compensation for the days and days of waiting for the many miles to pass. After years of sailing, the destination is now the reward.

But really...what better life could one have than to have the freedom to not work a traditional 9-5 grind, set sites on a different country, and then go there with a cheap way to cook, stay and get around and live while you are there for months on end? The destination is a big plus, and our reason for still being out here after more than 6 years. Working for over a year, and not being able to just pick up and go to the next country when we grew tired of that "anchorage" just refreshed our memories about why we love this life aboard so much! And now reality was setting in - we are truly free again (although we miss our friends in Kwajalein, the free food, endless hot water and the paychecks!).

Finally, after 14 straight days of sailing 1250 miles from Majuro, our old favorite of the South Pacific, Rotuma, was on the horizon.