On the way to the Tuamotos (from Jared)...

We find ourselves in squally seas but making 8.5 knots toward the Tuamotos, our first land-fall (God-willing and good captaining and crewing) being Makemo. With 77 beautiful isles in this chain, how does one choose an atoll to approach? Factors include danger of the pass-entrances into the atolls, depth of the pass and draft of your boat, time of your arrival and how long is one willing to wait for the proper tide to enter (entrances through atolls must be made no more than one hour before or after slack-currents at other times may reach 13 knots and the passes are extremely narrow and coral ridden), and what are your desires (ladies-Pearls, guys-places to buy pearls for ladies while managing to hunt the elusive spiny lobster and grouper). Keeping the boat off the coral will be our primary concern, obviously. These waters are riddled with the holed hulls and broken dreams of those who underestimated the dangers of the Labyrinth. After all, they are known as the Dangerous Archipelago and The Labyrinth. Not too sure I like those names. This will be a crucible and one of the most dangerous of all parts of the journey. The upside being, in the last few weeks the crew of "the Brown-eyed Girl" has never run better. We continue to become one cohesive unit, a well-oiled machine. We have been tested in our night watches with torrential squalls. The radar at night looks like a mine-field exposed with the squall lines exposed by the green radar returns. We go from 4.5 knots to 9 knots SOG in the snap of a finger with winds of 35 knts. or more. We usually are not looking at the anemometer but popping the jib and reefing the main. We always try to "shorten sail while wind's still fair, to keep our keel from hitting air." Occasionally, though, they slip up on you and take you by surprise. Radar isn't 100% effective in determining whether one will be dodged or slogged. Either way, The Cap, the BEG, and I have managed to keep the lady afloat and flying. We made 176 miles yesterday, often more. Not too shabby.

As I look back in our wake and think of the Marquesas, I know I will always recall her being one of the greatest times of my life and most beautiful places I've laid eyes on in this world. Her rugged, volcanic terrain intermixed with the greenest, lush tropical hillsides and her people who are genuinely fond of sailors as they feel a kinship with our nautical wheelings and recognized my love for the hunt (great goat hunt), make this a place to be remembered. It is easy to see why so many artists like Gaugin, Matisse, Stevenson, and a slew more became entrenched in this lifestyle. It holds something for everyone, unless of course you need honking horns, traffic jams, congestion, and light pollution. You won't find those here. I don't know if I've ever seen stars shine so bright or breathed cleaner air, though sultry. Fishing and spear fishing were top-notch. I harvested, among other things, a large octopus while free-diving that once I wrangled it out of the rocks, began to crawl up my arm. I know Octopus taste good, but I was unaware of their battle tactics. I'm convinced he was going for my mask and snorkel (can't blame him). They are the smartest of the phylum Mollusca, but is that saying much? What does it say about me that he almost got the better of me? haha. For a minute, I didn't know who had whom. In the end, though, dinner was exceptional, though slightly chewy, that night. They tell me the Tuamotos will be better in the fishing and spear fishing departments. I don't know how they could be. But I'll continue to be optimistic.

So in 24 hours, we will hopefully have made landfall and donned our dive gear. As always love and miss you all. Te amo, Merce.

"Brown-Eyed Girl"...out