Dear Friends and Family, Glorious! That is the word to describe the experience. Glorious! The wind is blowing. It blows the sea into piled up swells streaked with foam and glaring bright with late morning sun and The Rose is boldly charging along like a kite on a string high in the rarified atmosphere buffeted by the never satisfied wind and straining at the string, that sole thread which harnesses the whole prospect to earth. She pulls and pulls from side to side as though to shake free from that earthliness and sometimes seems to jump out of the water for an instant only to be dragged back again by the surging tendrils of sea. The wind is from astern with an apparent strength of 17 knots which with our angle being as close to dead down-wind as possible and our speed at 8 knots gives a true wind speed of over 20 knots. The sky is blue but streaked with cotton candy strands of spun moisture sailors refer to as mares' tails and the sea being all wrapped up in her own whirling dance crashes and shoves and looks up surprised to find us flying through. We cling to this moment, along for the ride, witnessing nature, playing our part in it, careening along the surface of a sea surging on the surface of a planet spinning wildly and hurtling itself around a giant exploding star in a chaos of universe each held by our tenuous tethers of string, friction, gravity, finiteness. This morning it was a very different world to which I awoke. The quiet of a grey blanket broken by the gentle staccato of steady rain on the hatch over our bed and the lilt of the gentle sea rocking us at the sleepy anchorage off the village of Fare on the island of Huahine was grounded by the slow heavy drag of anchor chain over rock and an occasional buffet of breeze. I slipped from dream to the gradual awakening of the senses responding to the gentle calling of the day. Within a few minutes and following a short conversation with a rock which refused our departure, we were on our way again, from Huahine across to Bora Bora --another change in mood. While the name Bora Bora instantly evokes an inner experience of eerie mystery and images of frenzied fire dancers and heart racing drum rhythms, Huahine in contrast is the island Polynesian mythology describes as "gifted with obstinacy"-- less dramatic but with a history of profit through tenacity. Her shores are not as steep as the spectacular up-jutting spire of Bora Bora and her profile from sea is that of a reclining woman, hair sweeping back and belly swollen in pregnancy. In keeping with this, Huahine harbors soil which grows watermelon and vanilla orchids and her reef has collected enough sand and soil to be well on its way to becoming motu covered already with coconut palms. Her fresh water creeks harbor the blue eyed eels which having been hand fed by the locals for generations tumble and bound over each other on our approach like a pack of fat legless dachshund pups in search of a treat. If the treat is placed high on the edge of the creek's concrete retaining wall several eels averaging 5 feet in length will push themselves up like huge sock hand puppets leaning against each other and turning their heads sideways while smacking their floppy lips in an attempt to slurp up the food. Their teeth are said to be needle like but so tiny as to be unseen in casual observation and young local children have no fear of them, offering them fish from their small outstretched hands while wading barefoot amongst their long soft slithering bodies. Perhaps the most startling feature and that which perhaps protects them from being consumed as food is the eels' blue eyes which gaze from their somber hued forms almost kindly and certainly with the intriguing countenance of ancient miniature Chinese dragons. Huahine is also unique in that while the other islands were divided by warring tribes, historically Huahine's many priests and kings lived and worshipped here side by side in what now remains a veritable ancient city of alters covering a long section of shoreline and an entire hillside of jungle. The water surrounding Huahine is pale turquoise and shallow beneath its surface we spied a rainbow world of sunlight dancing on coral, home to giant prickly persimmon colored starfish, elegantly plumed scorpion fish and tiny seahorse-like pipefish as well as the usual crowd of angel fish, sea cucumbers, triggerfish, puffers and a variety of different unicorn fish. Many of the coral heads were draped in a cobweb like film which seemed to emanate from small volcano like thimbles and I noticed the center of one of these thimbles slowly turning and the cobweb slowly retracting until the last strand disappeared entirely. I float quietly over the busy community trying not to disturb their normal activity, sometimes even holding my breath so as to go over un-noticed and then coming unexpectedly nose to nose with the wide unblinking eyes of a bright orange reef fish surprised by the proximity and stealth of this passing dirigible. I try to drift over the fat lipped turquoise and purple clams without setting off their startled closures as well as the bright collage of purple, orange, blue and white feather dusters arrayed like bouquets atop the coral. I watch for the pod of dolphins which met us on our arrival into the bay but they are too shy or too busy to visit. I recall that though they dashed alongside to swim at the bow of The Rose they retreated quickly when I made my way forward to greet them. So the diving in Huahine is light and quiet like a lazy playground on a summer afternoon and the days pass easily for us and non-eventfully except for occasional blasts of wind down the canyons and over the water and in the evenings the splash of something larger feeding in the darkness. Each evening a young boy on the quay pulls his plastic kayak right to the edge of the dock, climbs into the seat and paddles himself over the edge throwing both hands up high and plunging merrily to the water 3 feet below, paddles round to the rocky shore, pulls the kayak over the boulders and up to the top of the quay and repeats the same plunge again and again hour after hour without tiring until the sunset obliges his going home. Other children surrounded by bits of fish entrails and dangling their feet over the edge of the quay jig baited hooks into the water and chat quietly and amiably in the twilight. I can understand how the watermelons grow big here and the vanilla grows sweet and the children have time to play barefoot in the coral sand and ponder life and feed the blue eyed eels for the funny tourists, and gaze out from the shade of a coconut palm to a friendly turquoise sea until they are old enough to realize they need cell phones and computers and music videos and ipods and they want to be part of a whole big and busy globalization. But they don't realize they have exactly what the rest of the world dreams of .right in their own backyard. And all is well. --Pat and John and L'il Sushi aboard S/V The Rose on the way to Bora Bora, Society Islands, French Polynesia, July 21, 2012.