We are moving. Fast. In the right direction, too. Wind is steady from the east, a fairly constant 15 - 18 knots. Difficult point of sailing - downwind - go to far to starboard and the genny collapses, go too far to port and we're off course. It is serious course-keeping I am attempting, because of reefs each side of us in the next 15 miles. In the dark. But I am very grateful the boat's motion has ceased being so full-on rolly and we have a good sailing breeze. There are gale force winds to the east and north of us and snotty weather almost everywhere but here, between Tonga and Fiji. A huge stationary high pressure zone is producing these conditions for us.

It is the second night, and still a splinter of Day One to go. We left Port Maurelle just before sunset 36 hours ago, to a light following wind, rolly! rolly!! seas. First task: to round Late Island (pronounced as in the coffee, I wouldn't mind one!) then to avoid an uncharted shoal which lies bang on the rhumb line ("rhumb line": sailor talk for the course to where you're going - strictly, a straight line on a Mercator chart). We have a list of uncharted hazards, as well as the ones on the charts we are using. These charts are photocopies we made at the Zerox shop in Hobart in 2008. It used to get me scared, looking at charts back then (excited too!) but now we use them every day, along with the electronic charts on the computer, with a wonderful little free program called OpenCPN.

When I first looked at this passage - Tonga to Fiji - I was properly impressed with the scatter of reefs and islands, shoal patches over a large area, and at that stage I wanted to avoid it all and go straight to New Caledonia. But for some reason I didn't want to miss Fiji. They have chucked out all Australian diplomats from Fiji, which means no Aussie official help, and it is rumored they hit you with a ten thousand dollar fine for arriving there without 2 days advance notice. So we have complied, emailing them the form hoping it has arrived safely. Bureaucratic reefs and shoals.

Just plotted Bluebottle at 19 degrees 04.3' S 176 deg 14.6' W. Course 251 at 5.7 knots. On course. We check instruments constantly - boat speed and direction, wind speed and direction, sea direction and height, cloud, barometer, compass, radar - also from time to time tweaking the monitor wind-vane self-steering, a wonderful addition to the boat, which steers as I type this, and as I sleep on Adrienne's watch, or as we rig a staysail poled out or have lunch.

Some really shocking news(I'm not really shocked) from Australian Customs - they are seizing yachts which arrive in Australia and which are unable to pay import duties immediately. Owners are chucked off and the boat is sold to recover duties. We are not sure if we can claim immunity by being a British registered visiting cruising boat, because - being Australians ourselves, we are obliged to Aussie-register the boat! This is expensive, which is why we have not done it in the first place. Makes you want to NOT come home! I can't wait to get to internet and a phone - so as to find out exactly what the rules are. Joshua Slocum, the first man to sail alone around the world commented on Australian Customs in 1893, saying they were the worst in the world. Don't know at this stage what we'll do when we reach Aus, but we're hightailing it there anyway. May have to borrow some money to pay the import duty. Out here on the vast clean plains of the Pacific Ocean, such goings-on seem madness.

Just went on deck, sighted a ship, quite close! Quick, turn on the radar and the AIS! ................... Okay, can breathe now!! turned on the AIS - saw the ship on the OpenCPN, found out its name and called him up on VHFCh16 - "Pacific Jewel, Pacific Jewel, this is sailing vessel Bluebottle - do you see me, I am on the same course as you and a a little ahead of you. Do you see me on your radar?" ... London-flavoured English accent: "Sailing Vessel Bluebottle, this is Pacific Jewel, we have you on our radar, we picked you up at 5.6 miles; we will pass a mile clear of you." ... "Thank you, that's reassuring ... Thanks again." I say.

Adrienne wakes: "How long have I got?" - sleepily. "One hour" I say. "Good." she says, asleep again. The sea's whisper is heard now, the thump of a wave and the squeak of the self-steering gear, numerous clunks and a noise coming from on deck that sounds exactly like a monkey grunting (?) ...