Anyone who knows Karl is hardly surprised that once he started to feel better he would be "antsy" to get going. When I suggested on the family WhatsApp chat that I would have to sit on him to keep him from dashing about the response was "good luck with that." I guess I should have just shrugged and accepted that sitting on Karl would not work but I tried but I did not. As soon as he stepped off the boat for the first time since Monday he started bouncing. Clearly his leg is not hurting as much.

The marina was still in flux. We met 30 year old female captain and crew of Kiki, the boat named for the delivery service. Wearing matching straw hats they were heading for a bus to explore New Zealand. High on their list were caves full of glowing worms and Hobbiton, the site where they filmed the Hobbit. Karl's bounciness exploded when we sat down at the cafe to give his leg a rest. By the time my cappuccino arrived I was alone at the table with just two empty chairs, including one with blankets to support an infected leg. Karl was looking for batten cars. I offered such insights as: "if you have to return to the US to have your leg amputated we will have to sell the Mabel Rose." No luck with that logic. The answer was : "we can afford to have her stored." I was not making any progress. Just after noon we backed out of our slip bound for the island where Captain Cook first anchored with a stop at the site where the Maori and the British signed a Treaty and a Declaration of Independence.

Anchoring was a challenge at the Treaty grounds. The anchor would not stay put when we turned on the engine and backed away from it. I was really ready to leave and seeing Karl pulling up the anchor again and again was driving home crazy. Exposing cuts to salt water or even better rich estuary water is not good. He assured me he stayed perfectly dry. At last we got the anchor set so if the wind blew stronger while we were away she would not end up on the rocks. I redress Karl's leg and we kayak ashore.

The Treaty grounds are remarkable. The beautiful carved Maori meeting house with echos from the Marquesas. The word for earth that describes the Marquesan people here is the word for both earth and placenta, considered sacred in Maori culture. The head is sacred in the Marquesas as symbolized by the large eyes of the tikis. Here the importance of the head is shown in the tattooing of the face. Your power is described on your forehead and your genealogy on your cheek, fathers on the right and mothers on the left. Treaty house was very British with rose filled gardens. The bold confident narration of his countries history and his people's innovations was presented by the Maori guide. When you touched the war canoe your hands jumped up and down as they crossed the vertical crenellations designed to increase the canoes speed. The memorial to all the Maori soldiers lost in World War Two was a walk of wooden pegs that towered over you. Leaving you touched a piece of Kauri Tree amber and tossed fresh water on your face.

The bay was full of kids clad in helmets and wetsuits kids sailing back and forth in the afternoon breeze. We dodged them as we paddled back to the Mabel Rose. Familiar routines were occurring. Pirate attackers capsizing boats and coaches offering hints. A squall had us shorten sail although the kiwi kids kept sailing. By sunset we are anchored next to Ten Gauge off a narrow beach. The bird songs drift down below as we eat dinner. The plan is to do little tomorrow except walk on the island as we try to get Karl to recover. While I suggested it several times today I did not actually sit on him.