We're in our final day(s) in Tonga, unsure which day will be the actual very last as we're still evaluating weather for our passage. We had intended to leave last night at midnight, but increasing winds in the forecast influenced us to wait until today and take a closer look. Basically, we're looking at some nice, 25 knot winds with some occasional gusts that go up into the high 30's, and seas to 12 feet at times. Not anything we haven't tackled before, but not very comfortable. It's a matter of personal choice. We either leave this afternoon for a challenging passage or we wait 3 days.

As we wrapped up our errands in town the other day, I became acutely aware, for the one-millionth time, how fast time goes by. We've been here a month -- the longest time we've been in one place since we left La Cruz, Mexico last March, yet it seems only a few days ago that we tied up to the tall cement Customs dock and served cold Cokes to the officials as they perused our documents. There's a wonderful feeling when you've been in a place long enough to gain a sense of comfort and connection with it, and a month just barely provides that opportunity. The ladies in the produce market have become familiar faces to me now, and I know who has zucchini, who has the best luscious greens, and who makes the nicest baskets, and even better, some of them remember me each week.

We've watched as boats have come and gone. At this point in our Pacific adventure, we're familiar with a lot of boats who've made it this far from many points East. And this is the place where we begin to disperse. Boats heading for Australia are starting to leave for Fiji, Vanuatu, and New Caledonia so they can make the passage to Australia before cyclone season starts mid-November. Those bound for New Zealand have more time to spend in Tonga, a month or more, before the weather for their week-long passage is more predictable. So it's here that we part ways with our good friends Michael and Gloria on Paikea Mist, and Gordon and Sherry on Serenity, who leave for New Zealand next month. Bittersweet indeed.

Allan and I spent Tuesday night at the Aquarium restaurant, where they were having a Spanish Tapas night, accompanied by a Tongan string band with a twelve and a six-string guitar and two ukuleles. After dinner we joined the musicians on the mat for a few kavas, and as I sat mesmerized by their beautiful songs, watching the lead guitarist work his twelve string in very creative ways, I became aware of the juxtaposition of worlds before me. We were sitting in a traditional way: cross-legged on a woven mat. But the mat was made of recycled plastic bottles, probably in India. We sat around a beautiful old kava bowl with inlaid shell and intricate carvings, worn in such a way that I could tell it had served an ocean of the numbing beverage in it's lifetime, as we participated in the ancient ritual of kava drinking and music playing. But across from me the ukulele player had his cell phone, a butane lighter and a package of cigarettes carefully arranged before him on the mat. As he played, he continually reached down and punched a button on his phone, obviously awaiting an incoming message. The lead guy in the band chatted with us between songs in perfect English, telling us about his family in California's Bay Area, and his former position with an airline there. The food was being prepared by the chef from the Spanish 177-foot mega yacht in the harbor, whose owner has gone home for a few weeks, leaving the crew here. The restaurant is owned by an American from San Diego. Yes, it's a merging world. I do love, though, the casual way in which bands play, as though they were in your living room. Relaxed, slow-paced, with frequent breaks for passing the kava bowl or smoking a cigarette, taking time to goof around with a little blond cruiser kid as though he were one of their own, and taking time to talk with anyone who honors them by joining in the kava circle.

Last night we met with Michael, Gloria, Gordon and Sherry for a final meal together at The Dancing Rooster, taking some time to exchange photos one last time, give each other gifts, cards, hugs and promises to stay in touch. We've been so blessed to make these good friends in the last 6 months, and are sure these are friendships that will last, forged under circumstances that allowed us to get to know each other in deeper ways than our usual lives allow.

We both got a good night's sleep, and at the moment are having breakfast at the Aquarium (where the photo above was taken) pulling up the latest latest weather, allowing the caffeine to sink in and perhaps lend some courage to our decision. Stand by ... any moment now we'll make up our minds ... soon enough we'll be on our way to the next phase of our adventure. I'll be posting daily blurbs over HF radio as usual once we're underway, so you'll know which choice we made soon enough.