A Place of Peace
Three islands in a week, a goodbye on a ridge above Cook's Bay, and a lagoon that finally let me stop.
The lagoon at dusk, flat as poured glass, with a cloud bank taking its time over the reef.
I was barely into Papeete before I was leaving it again. The list was short, a few spare parts and a propane tank that had finally come back full, and once those were aboard there was no honest reason to stay. The visa is a clock that ticks whether or not you look at it, and mine was running down. Underneath that was the other thing, the one that has nothing to do with paperwork, which is that my body had already decided it was time to move. The Society Islands are kind about this. They sit close enough together that you can go from one safe harbour to the next without ever really committing to an ocean.
SV Incantation and I lined up for another one of those races that nobody will admit to entering. Ten to fifteen knots on the nose across the channel to Morea, with the seas staying politely small, which is the whole difference between an upwind slog and a good day. We arrived into a rainstorm so complete it felt staged. The anchors went down quickly, everyone got below, and the evening turned itself into movie night.
