Time has really taken off this time, and two rough passages have meant that I haven't wished to sit at a computer at sea.

Ned arrived safely, having got all the right messages, and jumped on a connecting plane to Aitutaki in the Cook Islands. We got a message to him that we hadn't managed to get hold of a hire car, and he was scooped up by the local bus driver, who took him straight to the boat, whizzing straight past Giles who was sitting having a beer at the caf� where he thought he would get off!

I meanwhile was still fighting the bicycle wheel saga. Dahon had agreed to ship out some new wheels to us at no cost to replace the faulty ones with broken spokes. However, the wheels were in Rarotonga, and we were 150 miles north. Needless to say the plan of Ned scooping them up had gone awry; they arrived at the same time as him. But the charming Cook Islanders simply put them on the next plane, at very little charge, and to our relief we were able to collect them the next day when we did have a car.

It is no surprise that the Cook Islands are a favourite spot for the New Zealanders to visit and escape their winter (now), although there is very little sign of organised tourism at all. Part of the island when we were there was shut off to most of us as American TV were filming 'Castaway', using some of the lovely desert islands within the reef of Aitutaki. Apart from the difficulty of hiring cars they were happily not in evidence. They seemed to bring no benefit to local trade or restaurants, as they were a completely self sufficient organisation, but apparently the island did receive a cash hand out!

Ned drove us around the island, dodging heavy rain to climb up to the highest point, when the sun obligingly came out, as did the mosquitoes, Ned and I were eaten alive, while Giles was left untouched! The island is beautifully fertile rolling countryside, with evidence of older plantations, now abandoned and overgrown. It is a place where one felt very at home. We drove down steep grassy lanes, on my quest to find a large maraea, the outdoor temples that we have seen across Polynesia, and which vary from country to country that we have visited. We were lucky enough to find one, then saw a very faded sign to another, where a group of men were reclaiming a large maraea from the wilderness. Like 'Sleeping Beauty' it had completely disappeared from sight under vast swathes of growth.

One of the men was the owner of the land, and it was therefore the burial place and place of worship of his family. The site itself seemed to be differently organised from the ones we had previously seen in the Society Islands. There were far more large standing stones, and no visible platform.

Once again, we were struck by the damage that the missionaries have done to these cultures. Their oral tradition means that they now have no memory of how the maraea was used. The first missionaries only arrived in 1862, and encouraged this loss of tradition, and indeed the re-use of stones etc from these sacred sites.

The charming Cook Islanders were amazingly welcoming, and on one of the long walks back from the internet caf�, an elderly lady going the other way on her scooter, the common means of transport, insisted on turning round and giving me a lift back to the boat. We went to a lovely church service, we had been told that the Cook Islanders sing better than anyone, and they certainly lived up to their reputation. After the service, we were invited back to an amazing spread, which the locals put on for the visitors.

At long last we managed to see some dancing, which was terrific, the men in grass skirts, and garters of grass, and the girls in very short little grass skirts like bustles, with coconut shells as bras. The girls' ability to wiggle their bums and move their little skirts was spectacular! Most charming of all was that this was not a tourist show, the local restaurant where they performed was full of locals, and only a handful of tourists. The dancers ranged in age from 5 - 35, so it was a real family affair, and clearly enjoyed hugely by performers and audience alike.

Our trip on to Samoa to meet Poppy was 850 miles, and the forecast was for a large low to the south of us. The three other boats in harbour decided to stay put, but Ned and I carried the vote, and we set off for Samoa, sad to be leaving the Cook's but anxious to make it in time for Poppy.

We went out into some big seas, and winds of about 25 knots on our beam. We had plenty of sail up, and were really shifting along nicely at a steady 7.5 knots, so in spite of the uncomfortable sea, and all feeling sick, we were well pleased with our progress.

The wind and the uncomfortable seas stayed with us for much of the way, and the wind picked up considerably for a time. I was valiantly trying to prepare lunch one day, when a large wave caught me unawares, and I went flying across the cabin, hitting my head violently. Luckily I was not concussed, but pretty soon an enormous lump appeared on my forehead, and horrors, I couldn't find any arnica. Giles and Ned were duly concerned, and soon a relay of cold flannels were being administered. I was pretty shaken, and my head hurt so much more than any of the rest of my injuries that they at least receded!

As a result of this fall day by day my eye got blacker and blacker, I don't think anyone knew how black an eye could be, and what a large area it covered. The boys were very kind, and did my night watch for me. The seas meanwhile seemed to get ever bigger, so it was with great relief that after six days we finally made it to Apia in Samoa, the afternoon before Poppy's arrival.

We had given Poppy lots of instructions for the possibility of us not arriving on time, but happily contingencies were not needed. Giles and I went ashore at 6 a.m. to sit and wait for her in the well known Aggie Grey's Hotel. It turned out to be a great place to wait, as her flight was three hours late, but we could sit in comfort enjoying cups of coffee, and reading back dated copies of the Week which Ned had brought out, until Poppy finally showed up.

We decided to give Pops a day of R & R, and organised a car hire for the following day for a couple of days. The island of Upolu is the most densely populated of the Samoan islands, and as we drove around we certainly got the impression of a rapidly expanding population. There were children everywhere, and schools to match. The huge number of churches, some vast and elaborate, were in stark contrast to some of the very simple housing of the Samoans. On the south west of the island people universally live in traditional housing, 'fale', a stone and concrete platform, from which wooden columns support a traditional oval shaped thatched roof made of banana leaf and palm. There is a good overhang on the roof, and the houses have no walls. They do have material that can be used as blinds, and a few of the 'fale' were semi screened at one end. They had electricity, and some of them had large televisions!

The 'fale' were grouped together, probably as family plots, and villages had much more coherence than we have seen in other countries. Several areas of common and a few rugby pitches. Pigs wander freely around, as do dogs.

There is obviously a great love of flowers, and we saw some really beautiful gardens, belonging to very humble houses. The other curiosity which we had first seen in the Cook Islands, is that they have one or more tombs in their front garden. These are usually rather unpleasant polished black granite, and often have a small roof over them. Whether they are family plots or just for an individual is hard to say, but it seems gratifyingly to hark back to the past and the tradition of the family marae. The Samoan people themselves are tall and large, they are universally helpful and friendly, and surprisingly gentle and reserved in their manner.

They have a high rainfall, so the country is particularly green and fertile. Unlike the rest of Polynesia, we got the impression that they were not subsidised by the west, and as a result the country is far more productive, and the people busier. They have a terrific market, and we found everything for the first time in the Pacific very cheap. Although they have one or two beach resorts, they are very small and low key, and there is very little evidence of tourism. Nice for us, but it is a country well worth visiting.

No trip to Samoa would be complete without a pilgrimage to the top of mount Vaea to visit the tomb of Robert Louis Stevenson, a 45 minute climb up a steep path, with rewarding views of Apia from the top. His house Vailima which lies just below the hill is now a museum.

Having really enjoyed Samoa, Tonga beckons for the next leg!