Our 10-hour passage to Hiva Oa was a bit tedious; the wind hasn't seemed to favor us of late, and tests our patience as we try to sail either head-to-wind or dead-downwind, which for you non-sailors is exactly what it sounds like, and sometimes you wish you were dead because the boat rocks from side to side and seems to go agonizingly slow and the sails flop and the boom bangs and the whisker pole slams, and it's all made worse when the swells are coming at you from the side, exacerbating the side-to-side motion. So then the sailor has to decide to either take a different heading, which takes you nowhere you actually want to go and adds possibly hours to the passage, or start the motor -- which always seems like giving up -- or hope the wind picks up and/or changes direction as the day progresses.

For us, luckily, it was the latter, and we got to our first port on Oa Pou by late afternoon. But it was a less- than-welcome greeting to the small harbor, as it was largely consumed by a huge dredger and it's tugboat. There was very little room to maneuver, and the bottom shoaled quickly, meaning the harbor got shallow and boat could run aground.

In flying we say "Any landing you can walk away from is a good one." We also say stupid things like "There's those who have, and those who will" referring to any number of dumb walk-away-from things a pilot might do in his life. But neither of those things makes you feel very good about yourself, or your potential self. In boating, they also seem to like " ... those who have and those who will," referring specifically to running aground. Bumping into dirt on the bottom. Coming to a full stop as a result of an encounter with Terra Firma. Now, I'm sorry, but we are both a bit too proud to buy that one, and would prefer to be among those who never run aground. And so, we avoided those shallow areas and eyed the 11 foot areas dubiously, and watched as the catamaran in the outer bay, where it was a bit deeper, bobbed and bounced and pitched in the incoming swells ... and we looked at that noisy dredger and it's tugboat, and at the big industrial crane on the breakwater, and just decided that overall we weren't going to stay.

So we bounced, or did a "touch-and-go" and headed around the corner to another possible anchorage, which was beautiful but very exposed to the incoming wind and sea. A lee shore is also a bad thing in sailing, or more specifically, anchoring -- a good way to have one of those encounters with Terra Firma. So we bounced from there too.

After a little discussion on Channel 16 with Brian on Further, who was anchored at Nuku Hiva, the next big island up, we learned that most of our friends had bounced from Oa Pou as well and were happily anchored 23 miles away in Baie de Taiohae on Nuku Hiva, and were all going out for pizza. That settled it, we unrolled the sails and headed due north. The wind was all over the idea and gave us a swift boost from the side, and even Neptune was in on it because we got 2 knots of current from him. 3 hours later we were in Taiohae, being guided to a spot in the dark by Rod on Proximity.

Taiohae is the largest bay we've been in so far in the Marquesas, huge, in fact, with lots of personal space alloted for each boat, great protection from the sea, and a town with a little bit of everything, including, of course, pizza. And ice cream. And a lady who makes crepes on the dock, near the open-air fresh produce market with lots of gorgeous tropical fruit, and a local handicrafts market. Up the street is another one of those tattoo guys (tatouche), another one who is "the best in the Marquesas." We even went and looked at his picture books, marveling at the Polynesian details and at all the places on the body one might choose to get a tatouche, but we left without an appointment. Although we did leave with 4 bags of frozen fruit, since their freezer had died and they were giving pureed mango and star fruit to anyone who crossed the threshold.

So it's all here, even an Internet connection, which only serves to remind us of how complicated life is back home as far as the banking and insurance and the airline industries are concerned. I admit, I've become rather fond of being an ostrich, having blinders on, and only seeing what is immediately before me, which is quite enough. But lo, I wax philosophical.

We had a very good nights' sleep in Taiohae Bay, and in the morning Rod sent Jonathan the baguette guy to our boat. Jonathan is an industrious young man from Costa Rica, who speaks perfect English and French, and is traveling with his dad on a sailboat. He runs his dingy from boat to boat in the anchorage, taking orders for baguettes, croissants and chocolate pastries for the next day. He delivers around 7am, and it's all fabulously fresh. He's been at it a month or so here in Taiohae, and when his dad decides to move on, he'll no doubt come up with some other relevant service to offer cruisers in the next harbor. He's on time, polite, and has the most amazingly honest and sincere face, I imagine he will excel at anything he sets his mind to.

Much of what makes this world we're in so fascinating is the people in it. We can focus on the dorks, and be mad and disgusted all the time at the profusion of stupidity that our fellow humans display, or we can seek out the bright-minded people with courage, heart and curiosity and be enthralled. (Waxing philosophical again.) Needless to say, I can fall into the former category as quickly as the next guy, but I yank myself out of there as soon as I realize I'm in, because it's the latter that gives me hope.

We've met a number of men and women on this trip who are doing such cool things with their lives. Eric, recently graduated from college, single-handing his small sailboat around the world, or parts of it. Liz, who has already had some major story-telling experiences at sea, some would say harrowing, but keeps at it and loves it. And has recently joined Eric as crew, so he won't be single-handing for awhile. Kevin the professional diver, who has been sailing since his youth, out here with his brother in another small boat, headed for New Zealand and possibly farther, with trips home on occasion to make some money to keep it all going. He one time missed his flight home from Fiji because he was having so much fun. Just didn't get on the plane.

We've met people who worked hard, and in some cases got lucky in the real world and managed to retire early, some in their 30's and 40's (we suffer great pangs of jealousy when we meet those types) and are off on an open-ended adventure, some in fabulous boats with all the bells and whistles, and fast, to boot, others in boats that are old family heirlooms.

The stories are as varied as they are endless and we're glad to be a part of it, even though our adventure has an end date. (Done waxing. Time to go grocery shopping.)