After 4 great days at Ile Maitre, we've moved back to town. The marina is full so we're in the anchorage with a long dinghy ride to the dock, but it's fresh and breezy and I always prefer anchoring to being landlocked in a tight -- and in this case, smelly marina.

We had a great time at the island, watching the local day boats come and go. The guys - Jamie from Totem, Mike from IO, and Allan -- found a good fishing spot just outside the marine park, and went out every morning with their spears, usually returning with at least one catch among them. Thierry and Martine, our new New Caledonian friends, responded quickly to an email I sent enquiring about which fish were likely to carry the ciguatera toxin, a sometimes deadly toxin found in some reef fish throughout the Pacific. Despite their immediate answer, which assured us that we had 3 edible fish in our fridges, we ate cautiously. So far, so good.

Allan left the wind surfer rigged up for a few days, tied to the boat at night, the sail gently splooshing behind us in the waves. Jamie sailed it for awhile, rekindling his knowledge of the sport after a 20-year layoff, and spent quite a bit of time working with Niall, his 11-year old son. Then Jamie and Allan were out until almost dark while Mike gave it a go. Believe me, it's a frustrating and exhausting sport in the beginning, consisting mostly of balancing on the tippy board, pulling the heavy water-laden sail out of the water just in time for it to get yanked out of your hands and back into the water again, sometimes taking you with it in spectacular water crashes. Mike persevered for hours longer than I ever could, it was impressive. The next morning, after all the inspiration from the guys, I gave it a go, and a light bulb went on and my sail handling suddenly made sense. Trying to get my body to do what my mind now understands is the next step, and I'm excited to get up again.

Plans for departing have been bouncing around. As a group (IO, Totem, and Fly Aweigh, with many others in the marina chomping at the bit to get going) we were thinking of Saturday. And then last night Bob McDavitt, our NZ weather router, informed us that a High Pressure Area and a Low Pressure Area were intending to battle it out leaving a squash zone, rough seas and high winds, and it would be better to wait until around the 15th. That left a hole in everyone's donut for a little while, and we dove into individual conversations on how to adapt to the latest news. For us, it meant only that I would have a bit more time to practice windsurfing on this beautiful ocean, and swimming in it. But for IO it meant that Mike would miss the flight home on November 19th to Canada, where he's scheduled to teach a class. And for Totem, it means yet a longer wait to find a job in Sydney.

By the time we all met for sushi on Totem, each family had come up with a list of contingency plans, and we concluded that somehow it will all work out. We enjoyed the fresh sushi from the Trevally Mike caught that morning and slipped into a Zen state of whatever. By yesterday morning things had changed again, with the latest GRIB files indicating the Low will weaken and pass on Friday evening and the High will offer a nice push toward Australia. Readjustment time again, and by mid-morning we were all making plans to go to town for final provisioning with the intent of reinstating Saturday as a departure date. And then -- stand by -- we checked in with the growing group of cruisers here in the marina for a 10am meeting at the cafe. Over 35 people attended from 20+ boats, all waiting patiently for that elusive Weather Window, comparing notes and marveling at the subtleties of presentation, interpretation, and personal tolerance. We got on the email list of a gentleman here in the marina who's a retired US Navy marine forecaster, and he sent out his latest thoughts on the matter. After taking it all into consideration, IO, Totem and Fly Aweigh have decided to wait. Allan and I will stay another night here in the anchorage and stock up on veggies and fruit tomorrow morning, get diesel, and head back out to Ile Maitre. We'd like to try and sail south to Ile du Pin, the Isle of Pines, reputed to be just fabulous for all sorts of reasons, so we may do that Sunday, and possibly leave for Australia from there when the time is right. Who knows, we're getting so good at going with the flow we have a hard time making decisions at all.

Last night, we had one more fabulous evening with Martine and Thierry, their daughter Audrey, the other daughter's boyfriend Terry, and the myriad animals that populate their home. This time, two kinds of locally caught fish and another local root vegetable were spotlighted, with French cheese for dessert, and lots of French wine. More guitar playing, as well as some great conversation -- both Martine and Thierry have bright and curious minds. Thierry taught English for many years and is a keen observer of the nuances of language as they relate to people, cultures, and even politics. He suggests that grammar will tell you a lot about a country, which I find fascinating. Great folks -- we owe Allan's college chum Kevin big thanks for the introduction. And I left armed with a new secret chord on the guitar, one that will make me look like I know what I'm doing even when I don't. I promised to practice it frequently -- it's quite the finger-spreader. But it really does sound good, and has a few tricks up it's sleeve.

We're tired after a long trek around town today to check out with the Customs, Immigration and Port Captain offices. We aren't really used to all that gravity, at least as it relates to terra firma, and we get worn out easily, especially in hot, humid climes. We're now back on the boat, enjoying the evening as everything from jet skis to small cruise ships go by enroute to their berths for the evening, leaving splashy wakes behind.

I'm working on a New Caledonia Photo Gallery, and hope to have it in before we leave in the morning. This may be our last chance at the Internet if we leave from Ile du Pin; we'll keep you posted.