Huahine (from Jared)

We sit in the port of Fare on the island of Huahine as wave after wave of torrential downpour washes the boat down.. and our clothes that we've been trying to dry now for a day. They say there are two seasons here: wet and wetter. I believe it and as we traversed and winded our way around the mountainous roads one can understand why the wild orchids and hibiscus look like they have been tended to by the loving hands of a green-thumb. When the rains pass, which is usually quickly, the sun shines so bright and the gin-blue waters are so clear that it feels like we have anchored in an aquarium. We are in 25 feet at our present anchorage and we can watch small grouper carry on their grouper chores as if on display. One must remember, I had the privilege and opportunity to spend most of my working life for 5 years before this adventure cruising the waters of the Florida Keys among sea-grasses and coral beds. Visibility was pretty good there but I've never seen water clarity like this before in my life, nor abundance of species. When we fueled the "BEG" up in Papeete, Tahiti, there were live star corals and brain corals encrusted all over the fueling dock. That, my friends, is a pretty good sign of the health of the water in these regions. It is a diver's paradise. Heck, it's just paradise.
The French have been great to us, as well, the native Polynesians. The other day as we were provisioning and facing an hour or more walk with several hundred pounds of groceries, a nice lady saw us with our provisioning bags and Tahiti sweat rolling down our faces and said, "Where are you going? I take you in my car and drop you off. It's too much to carry your supplies." That's the norm, rather than the exception for the warm reception and genuine kindness of character we find here. As one shops for pearls, I've noticed merchants actually direct me and others to purchase less expensive individual pearls and pearl strands because the less expensive pearls had a hue that suited the individual or the individual described. I like that. In the end, merchant and buyer are both winners. Yes, they gain the almighty dollar, but they also gain the respect of the buyer. In a market with thousands of people, I saw a merchant chase down a lady through a throng of people before she disappeared into the abyss, to give her glasses back which she had accidentally left on his table. Simple act. Everlasting impression. I love the market in Papeete Tahiti. It is a living, dynamic entity. $1,000 dollar strand of Tahitian pearls (above my pay grade :)) can be purchased alongside a nice chunk of tuna, mahi, or grouper which can be purchased not far from great Chinese dim-sum served at lightning speed. Pareu dresses (think of those beautiful Polynesian girls in long flowery wraps) are sold just a flight of stairs up. Mom purchased one that is a copy of a Gaugin painting that is tied together with a black-lipped pearl fastener. She looks the part and the Tahitian ladies love to see her in it. To compliment her beauty a wonderful, loving, handsome, highly intelligent (alright b.s. stops here) son of hers bought her a black-lipped mother of pearl necklace for Mother's day to compliment the dress. She looks lovely. Photos of her when my folks were stationed at Tripler in Hawaii look akin. Circle of life, baby.

It is with sadness, that we say good-bye to our dear friend Mona who passed away after fighting a warrior's fight against an extremely rare, malignant, esophageal cancer. Mona was always a sweetheart to me and to all of us. A good Maine girl with ties to the sea, I think she appreciated the flower ceremony we had in her behalf in the beauty of Cook's Bay, Moorea where we floated a flowered tiara and said our not good-bye, but until we meet again. Our prayers are with Abby and family. We are still deciding on which star in the Southern Cross to pick out and rename Mona. It will have to be the brightest, as that was her smile, and from what Mom tells me it never faltered. That doesn't surprise me.

Yesterday, we waded in the waters of this tiny stream on a far corner of this beauty of an isle called Huahine. As a man waded among us drizzling the juice from a can of mackerel, six-foot long blue-eyed eels swam up to us. I decided to see how well the underwater camera would take photos of these, well, beautifully ugly creatures. The eels, not being blessed with intelligence as much as a voracious appetite; took my camera as food and time after time came screaming through the water toward it making for some excellent frontal shots. Don't think they appreciated the flash, but then again, they continued to try to eat my camera, so the flash couldn't have been that bad.
We head for Raiatea and Tahaa tomorrow, weather and God-willing, and then to Bora Bora. As always, love and miss you all. Te amo, Merce

"Brown-Eyed Girl" out...