June 12

We did chores all morning then spent the afternoon snorkeling.  Barry saw my Black-tipped Reef Shark and I saw his sting ray.  Together we saw coronet fish,  sea pincushions, guitarfish, a large turquoise-spotted octopus slithering over the rocks,  puffer fish, huge parrot fish and the usual reef fish.  I searched for the sea snakes to no avail. Our snorkeling is best when the sky is clear and the sun is overhead so that you get the most sunlight down through the water. Under these conditions the thousands of fish beneath us  sparkle more than any jewel I've ever seen.  Returned to Sunrise for a bath, a nap and great music - thanks Sheryl.

The air is so clear here that when we watch the sun go down looking for a green flash, it is too bright to look at.  The sun is bright orange, not the dimmer reddish-brown we are used to in terrestrial environments.  There were clouds just above the western horizon, but the sun peaked out below them as it set.  And so, we were treated to another nice "green flash" this evening.

Just after sundown, we spring into action to prepare the boat for sea - dinghy tied down on deck, covers off of the dodger and mainsail, all hatches other than those opening to the cockpit closed, sink drains closed.  We pull up the anchor as it gets dark (dark comes fast near the equator) and head to sea.  After all of the anchoring gear is stowed, we turn back into the wind to put up the mainsail.  Since we want a leisurely trip tonight to arrive at our next island of Ua Huka after dawn, we tuck in one reef in the mainsail and use no headsail.  Heading out in the dark, I get the sails trimmed, wind vane adjusted to hold a good course and settle down for the evening.  The motor is also running to make power since it is time to run the freezer compressor and make some water.  Not long after starting, the watermaker starts sounding different and stops making water.  Shut it down, to worry about tomorrow.  We still have plenty of water in the tank.  After the motor is off, the wind has died down a bit and I put out the headsail to regain some lost speed.  As usual, I check the radar, then turn off the lights inside the cabin and go into the cockpit for a visual 360 degree look.  Also as usual, there is nobody out here but us chickens again.
The distance from Tahuata to Ua Huka is too far to complete during the daytime.  Since we do not want to enter an unfamiliar place at night, we are doing this passage at night so that we arrive in the morning.  It is a beautiful evening with no clouds or moon.  There are a gazillion stars out, the air is refreshingly cool in the cockpit.  In the starlight, the silhouette of Hiva Oa and the horizon are barely visible.  White foam is rushing past the hull and also pleasing to the ears.  Every time the wind changes direction a bit, I need to adjust the self-steering system to compensate.  I am dialed into nature tonight.  No TV for me to watch.  We are headed north northeast and in the early evening the Big Dipper is pointing the location of north on the horizon.  The wind is forward of beam and we are on an easy close reach.  It always amazes me that humans have developed the technology of sailing boats into the wind, even if not directly.  It is not new technology.  I do not know how far back it goes, but Europeans could not do it when they first explored Polynesia.  However, as they watched the Polynesians in their lantern-rigged proas rapidly sail in circles around their slow square rigged ships, they thought, "Look at those ignorant savages!"  It took another couple hundred years for "Western" cultures to figure it out.

Proa