As the song goes, "you can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave." Well, the same appears to be true of the islands of the South Pacific. We're pretty much off the beaten path, but it seems that we can't get out of here. In Easter Island, we waited and waited for a good weather window to depart for Pitcairn. As none ever materialized, we left with marginal weather, sailed through an approaching low-pressure system, and got socked in with crappy sailing conditions for a slow, unpleasant 8-plus-day passage. Now here, in the Gambier Islands, we're looking for some favorable winds to sail north to the Marquesas. However, as we've learned at Easter Island and en-route to Pitcairn, and now reiterating here, the South Pacific trade winds are fickle. Warwick Clay, the author of "South Pacific Anchorages," writes, "the main cruising area of the tropical South Pacific does not have the consistent trade winds of the other oceans. There is normally a succession of convergence zones that are the extensions of fronts further south." Thanks Warwick, that's just great! Also it should be farther, not further. But I digress�...

At time of writing, there is a low-pressure centered southwest of us (actually two�...), slowly approaching. As such, with the prevailing easterlies pulled toward the center of circulation, we are experiencing northeasterly winds (east winds now blowing toward the southwest instead of the west). As the front approaches, and eventually passes south of us, the winds will continue to point toward the center. They will veer more north, through northwest, then rapidly move through to the south/southeast as we get the trailing side of the low. Through all of this movement, however, the stronger winds are from the direction we'd like to go (north), only to be replaced by winds of a favorable direction (south), but lacking any strength. The upshot is that we have a classic situation of winds that allow us to sail precisely nowhere.

Now, I'm trying my best not to complain about being stuck in paradise. After all, our world cruise is certainly not just a string of new landfalls, and we're meant to linger and enjoy the places to which we've sailed. Still, the Gambier Islands really weren't ever on our major hit-list, and were more a convenient stop-over on our way to the Marquesas from Pitcairn. Dad and I arrived here Saturday, the 19th, and Mom flew in from Papeete on the 22nd. We expected to depart shortly after her arrival. Now on the 27th, it looks like we're likely to remain yet another week. We'll get out of here one day; we're just not sure how soon that may be.

While we continue to hang out here in the lagoon, we've visited a couple different islands in our (futile) hunt for lobster. Apparently ciguatera is a massive problem in the Gambier Islands, and French Polynesia in general, so spearfishing is pretty much off the table. The visibility is pretty bad in the lagoon, anyway, so shallow-water lobster hunting is our best bet when we get in. Hopefully we'll eventually find some lobster, though I am becoming increasingly skeptical that they're here. We read in a cruising guide that the lobster hunting is "reportedly spectacular." It's funny that these "reports" are never first-hand. The guide doesn't read something like, "we found lobster plentiful," or "every dive we came up with a bug." It's always, "reportedly," as in, they heard from somebody who heard from some guy who may or may not exist. Alas, we'll get in the water today, once again, in high hopes of finding some bugs.

Other than failed lobster hunts, we've been entertaining ourselves with some other ventures. Mom gave me a haircut the other day, with questionable results. I'm not saying she didn't try her absolute best; it's just that she simply does not cut hair! Either way, my coif probably looks better than it did before. We've also wandered onto a beach at Taravai Island, and collected some coconuts. I successfully opened one, only to pour out the fermented milk. Womp womp. I salvaged a good bit of the white meat though, and that was tasty, if not a bit alcoholic. We also bought diesel directly from a container ship that came in to Rikitea, the main town of the archipelago. Workers were blasting rust off of the ship's hull, so I had to ask a few different guys, all shouted in sketchy French, and eventually arrived at a price for 200 liters. You might think we could get a decent price, kind of a diesel-direct-in-bulk sort of thing, especially since we had to offload the diesel from the ship into our five 20-liter jerry jugs, in two separate trips. Nope. We paid about $7.50 per gallon, topping even our previous worst $7 in Galapagos. It's particularly annoying to pay such prices when the locals can buy fuel for $1-2 per gallon. Thanks France. Thanks Ecuador. Colonize somewhere, subsidize the fuel for the natives, and pass the bill on the tourists. At least we can look forward to everything else in French Polynesia being extremely expensive too! Hooray!

In a roundabout sort of way, what I'm eventually realizing is the grass really isn't greener. I'm extremely grateful to be on this boat, sailing around the world, visiting innumerable fabulous places. But, I've realized what I've left behind. Florida actually has phenomenal spearfishing, with little ciguatera to worry about. The Keys are packed with great fish and plentiful lobster. Good visibility is the norm on the ocean reefs, and there are fewer sharks than the Bahamas or the Pacific. The Gulf is absolutely loaded with delicious snapper, and each patch of rocks is usually good for a gag grouper. If you need any sort of food or beverage, you simply go to the store and buy it for a reasonable price! I'm pretty sure I won't be drinking beer again, between horrendous prices (about $3-4 per can here) and anti-alcohol sentiment throughout Polynesia in general. The weather at home cannot be beaten, as we're routinely reminded whenever we leave City of Naples. At this point, we've sailed over 6500 nautical miles and crossed almost 60 degrees of latitude. We've covered some ground. I can say with absolute conviction that I'm glad to be doing this and I feel blessed to have the opportunity. Again, I'm really not complaining. It's just very interesting what you end up finding around the other side of the world versus what you didn't realize you were leaving behind.