The clue should have been the children in the trees. These were not the farmers children who are quietly seated behind the counter playing on ipads and collecting customers's money. These were the fishermen's children perched on branches holding tightly to their breakfast baguettes looking for entertainment.

Our aims for the day were pretty simple. Get food for a 4-6 day passage, buy stamps, decide which islands to go to, learn how to safely enter an atoll and pull up the anchor before dark. Securing baguettes and eggs in Taoihe has been a problem. We had found eggs on Monday morning but the scrambled eggs this morning were served with those crunchy crackers that look like mini bits of toast. As we soaked in our last Marquesan morning, the wind flowed down the mountains toward the sea reminding us that the boat will be happier sailing than rolling in this anchorage. Ua Po peers over Karl's shoulder looking like a mystical mountain range in a children's book. We are up early to try to get a baguette before they disappear. Yesterday when I stared crestfallen at her empty baguette box the woman in the red dress at the cash register said 730 was the magic time

At 645, trying to meet the baguette time, in I passed moored motor boats with sofa sized coolers half the length of the boats. These must be the fisherman's boats who we see in the evening with large bags of ice. As we approached the dock, I noticed the line of men standing at the simple tables at the waters edge. They are filleting tfresh tuna. Suddenly one of them tossed a carcass into the water and the water boils with sharks in a feeding frenzy. The excitement is right in front of the landing ladder. Great entertainment for little boys before school. I steered to a different ladder and wave Karl over. We both disembarked safely.

When the cargo/cruise ship arrived yesterday, the town spent the day moving pallets of goods to restock the shelves. New foods like frozen bagels from the Bronx, lamb hearts from New Zealand and fruits that do not grow here (apples, grapes and tangerines) were on display. Passing on these we fill our bags. At the farmers market we see our friend Moi and fill a sack with fresh vegetables. Ellen and Michael, on the Australian caterremaran with only one engine are also there eating carpaccio tuna. Moi explains the cookies to me, they are horse shapped. I thought they were dogs. The Australians warn us of Great White Sharks and saltwater crocodiles in Northern Australia. We have time to come up with a shark/crocodile plan. Kevin, the local yacht agent coaches us on entering atolls passages. These passages are like a bar over a river entrance or an East River on steroids. Kevin makes us write his advice down. Arrive early before slack tide. Only enter if it looks ok. Have everyone on deck ready to help. Do not make coffee while entering. Stay in the middle. His advice will be useful sooner.

We say good bye to our sailing friends who are fixing things, doing laundry and ordering handmade Marquesan tablecloths. The seas at the harbor entrance are rough as the wind accelerates along the edge of the island. Things calm down as we get further away. As the ocean turn a metallic yellow with the setting sun, behind us Nuka Hiva loses it sharp green edges and becomes a grey shadow. Ahead of us a mahi mahi leaps out of a curling wave chasing flying fish. We are sailing into a water petroglyph heading towards the Tuamotos, the dangerous islands.