With two folding bikes stashed in the red kayak and a rope around his waist Karl ferried our transportation for the day ashore. This operation always gives me the creeps as we have never determined if the bikes will float or sink if the kayak tips so I do not watch heading below to pack my waterproof backpack for the day. We want to find a welder and bike around the island. Bora Bora is known as a tourist destination but these choices should let us avoid most of the crowds.

As we reach the dock at Bloody Marys where the bikes landed, an American couple are intently shooting romantic selfies. She is wearing short skirt and big sunglasses and he is in a tropical skirt and cannot keep his hands off of her. Honeymooners? The next touring couple barrel past us on an ATV following a guide down the island ring. Both riders have pale white skin that has not seen tropical sun before. He is bent over intent on keeping up with the guide but she sits up high, her face beaming with a giant smile as she soaks in the blue green of the lagoon waters. Maybe a Canadian honeymooning couple who had never imagined riding an ATM without being wrapped in wool and down. The last couple rounded the bend in the ring road on a white moped. He is driving and she is in the back. They are both bronzed from the sun or perhaps skin coloring. She looks bored as if thinking "yawn another tropical paradise, when can I go shopping." Maybe not honeymooners. Then there is the American sailing couple peddling intently around the island on their folding bikes on their quest for a welder, ice cream and a bagel. Both look pretty sunny, perhaps a bit salty. He wears a string backpack with a map of the world on it and she a neon colored waterproof backpack. They take turns drafting, chattering about what they are seeing. Honeymooners?

We have returned to the land of fruits and small boats. Mango trees heavy with fruit hang over the road and boats hang over the water. Over the water, wooden framed parking garages are filled with motor boats, va'as and even the occasional sailboat like Christmas ornaments decorating the lagoon edge. Fabric slings attached to a par of long wooden rods cradle the boats. Large wheels (4-6 feet across) at the end of the rods rotate to raise and lower the boats. Elegant and simple boat storage.

The mailboxes begin to catch my eye. Some are elaborately decorated with shells outlining names. Others are pieces of plumbing. Several are oddly shaped boxes assembled from a few mismatched pieces of plywood. My favorite are the mircowave mailboxes painted brightly yellow or red.

The Marine Museum has no mailbox but Bernard the tall white hairs Frenchman has a room full of ships models all at the same scale. Walking into the one room museum is like walking in to the Nyack Boat Club or our home with the optimist, Slocum's Spray, a Star, the Bluenose and traditional Polynesian boats. Bernard has been building these since he was 15, completes one every 4 months and has been living here on Bora Bora for 55 years so the display cabinets are stuffed. He identified us as sailors because we arrived on the folding bikes. The next stop is a large shark suspended from beneath a palm thatched roof. When I point is out Karl veers across the sandy bocce ball court to check it out wondering if it is fresh or plastic. He knocks it and it is hollow. The 10 foot shark with its own building is made of duct tape with cardboard tape. No one is here is ask so this shark will remain a mystery.

No bagels are found by this couple and they are still trying to weave getting mail with the weather ports opening after covid and maybe volcanos. We have received packages in Galapagos and a letter in the Marquesas. Sailors used to get mail in a barrel on Floreana, Galapagos. An island in Tonga is difficult to land on that sometimes the mail is delivered by a cannon shot. We are looking for something between a cannon and a microwave to tell our letter writing friends as the next address.