The ocean is a perfect sheet of glass as we move between Kaukura and Arutua atolls enroute to Rangiroa. When I went to bed at 8pm, the boat was engaged in a mild effort to irritate me with it's signature lurching woggle from side-to-side, but now, just past 1am, we're gliding on a mirror. The waxing moon illuminates the clouds and creates enough light for the whole scene to be reflected perfectly on the surface, it's own face a shiny, gleaming slash. The air temperature is delightful, and although we have no wind, the movement of the boat (made possible tonight by our trusty Yanmar 75hp turbocharged diesel engine) is creating a soft breeze.

Behind us by a few miles is Paikea Mist, we can see her lights clearly as she follows us to Rangiroa. This is a change -- she's a fast boat, and usually comes from behind, screaming past in even light winds with her fabulous "Code Zero" head sail, which must be some sort of miracle sail because I could swear they get 8 knots of boat speed out of 5 knots of headwind. Another change tonight is the lack of crew on board Fly Aweigh and the increase aboard Paikea Mist. Michael and Gloria offered to take Greg and Tiffany for a few days for a change of pace for everyone, and I know it's a fun change for Greg and Tiff, being guests on their lovely Beneteau Custom 50. And Allan and I have enjoyed a little private time, not to mention the chance to get our heads around the idea that it will be just the two of us soon, as we end our time with Greg and Tiff when we get to Tahiti in a week or so.

This little inlet, known as Anse Amyot is actually a false pass, a dent in the side of the Toau atoll just north of Fakarava, and a nice place to duck into for a while to break up the trip to Rangiroa. We expected to see one or two other boats there, and were surprised to find 12 in the anchorage, which is why the mooring balls were all gone. Finding an actual mooring is rare out here in Polynesia, but for reasons outside my present knowledge there are quite a few here, making it easier to secure the boat for the night.

So we pull into Anse Amyot, see all those boats, start scoping out a space for ours, and are intercepted and led in by 2 men on a small fishing boat. A "Follow Me" boat, what a luxury. They pointed to a good spot and apologized for the lack of moorings and sped off. Turns out they were Gaston and Phillipe, who live here and were our hosts for dinner later that evening along with Gaston's wife, Valentine.

What a place. My absolute favorite so far since we made landfall in Polynesia, and lo, only one night! But such a treat, something to savor. First of all, the water color was not to be believed. I really mean it -- I was in awe the entire time at the myriad variations of green and blue and turquoise, I've never seen anything more beautiful. And underneath that colorful surface, a fairyland of coral and creatures in such abundance, most of it in less than 10 feet of water. And ashore, a little tropical haven. Valentine was born on this small atoll, which apparently only has about 40 people on it. Small buildings with woven-mat sides dot the shore, and one of them is their tiny restaurant, dinner only, reservations required. We dingied ashore to see what time dinner was, and to meet Valentine and Gaston, and saw the preparations for our feast in the early stages. The table was set for 10, with colorful tablecloths and carefully arranged tropical flowers. Gaston and Phillipe were slicing up the parrot fish, a wild experience to watch as they scrape the brilliant scales off the fish which go flying about while the unwanted chunks of meat are flung into the ocean and eaten by little fish. By the dock in the water we could see freshly caught lobster waiting for their ultimate demise and our gastronomical delight. Meanwhile, Valentine was baking coconut bread and coconut cake. We spent a little time perusing their guest books, a thick collection over many years of cruisers who have passed through. Much like a yearbook, people had included boat cards, boat stamps, photos, and in some cases drawn elaborate pictures, accompanied by glowing remarks and heaps of gratitude to the hosts.

We gathered on shore at 6:30 for cruiser-provided rum punch and salty, fabulous fish focaccia, and caught up with our friends Bert and Ingie on Boree as well as a few other acquaintances. Dinner was as good as we had hoped, the table piled with plates of smoky grilled lobster, chicken and fish. There was poisson croux, rice, the aforementioned coconut bread, and what we called fish sticks -- chunks of battered deep-fried, ultra-fresh fish. As always, tall bottles of cold water accompanied the meal as well as the wines that everyone brought from their boats, a varied collection of inexpensive vintages from Panama, Mexico, and Chile.

Valentine invited us to church the next morning, and we all enthusiastically accepted. One of the delights of going to church in the Pacific, even if you aren't a believer, is the music, the beautiful voices, the local instruments (remember the Sparkletts bottle drum in Kauehi?) and the unique interiors. But what we didn't know was that we would be the choir, or that Valentine herself was the Pastor. We arrived just as a short but heavy downpour let loose, and were instructed to take chairs from the restaurant, so we all traipsed through the coral grounds to the tiny building behind Gaston and Valentine's house, the chairs crowning our heads to protect our coifs from the rain. The church was about 20 x 20, of simple construction, with a handmade sign and a cross on the outside. Things didn't exactly start on time, but eventually we were all assembled -- Gaston, Phillipe, Greg and Tiff, Michael and Gloria, Ingie and Manuella, and Allan and I, with Pastor Valentine presiding. She passed out songs for us to sing, and we obliged, singing worship songs in French and Tahitian, then taking a few minutes after each one to translate into English, a task made interesting and fun when Greg and Michael pooled their limited knowledge of the French language and Tiffany added her familiarity with some of the songs. We learned a little French, got some Biblical interpretation a la Pastor Valentine, and had a glorious time.

Allan and I followed up our spiritual morning with an even more spiritual swim in the coral reef surrounding the bay, and it was so amazing I asked Allan if he put LSD in my breakfast. I couldn't believe the colors, the variety, the way the light reflected in the huge school of needle fish that swam inches beneath the surface, the little black fish with the neon blue stripe that almost came right up to our masks, the huge schools of Parrot fish swimming along like giant blobs of rainbows. There were even a few that looked like orange, raspberry and lemon sherbet. We s stayed in until we were actually getting cold, then rode the outgoing current back to the boat.

The rest of the day was spent napping, and for Allan, another snorkeling trip (more comfortable in fins than shoes, he says, especially now with a mangled toe) and finally, preps to leave this little paradise. I traded some olive oil for some home made coconut milk with Valentine; she runs this restaurant in very limited conditions with no easy access to supplies, and I think she relies on the generosity of cruisers. We were happy to oblige and I love fresh coconut milk.

When it came time to pull the anchor, we suspected from previous investigation during our snorkeling trips that we might have a bit of trouble, so we planned to start the process while it was still light out. Just to highlight the fact that more crew can be better at times, we indeed did have a challenge, and Allan had to once again don scuba gear and dive down to the 60' depths to investigate. This meant I needed to be on the bow looking for his flashlight signal from the bottom and it would be helpful, in a perfect world, to have someone at the helm. Fortunately, Michael and Gloria and Greg and Tiffany, watching from their cockpit as a gorgeous sunset waned in the Western sky, recognized our situation and Michael and Greg dingied over to offer assistance. So we all stationed ourselves on the bow waiting for Allan's sign that it was safe to pull the anchor, and when we got it from the darkening depths, I worked the anchor chain and Greg took the helm. Once Allan was back on board, Greg rejoined Michael in their dingy and off we went. They were going to wait a few more hours, since they were one of the lucky boats on a mooring and releasing themselves from captivity would be a simple matter.

So, on the road again. We should be pulling into Rangiroa around noon, once again shooting for that magical moment of slack tide for our entrance into the atoll. And then ... more diving!

(Sorry Ricardo, another perfect day in paradise. I'm sure this can't last forever... )