Gaggin' for a Chin Wag.

For some reason, I used to stay up really late basically ever night. Looking back on it, I'm not sure I ever really had any reason to do so. I usually go to sleep much earlier these days, but there's no obvious answer to the question, which I ask myself as I'm getting into my berth at ten or so, as to what on Earth I was going to do for another four hours when it's dark outside. Anyway, there are some clear contributors. Electricity is a precious and very limited commodity, bars don't really exist and most of the places we visit are themselves asleep not long after sundown. Better to go to sleep early as well, get up early and fully utilize the cool, pleasant mornings and all the sunlit hours left on this journey. It's pretty much the ubiquitous approach among cruisers and it matches with the islanders' lifestyle as well. I was surprised, though, at my internal reaction when the folks at the Gump Station, graduate students and their assistants, for the most part, told us to return for a party in a few days' time.

I asked what time we ought to show up. “Eight or nine,” said one. “Nine is probably better,” revised another. Right. Of course. That is really quite normal, early even, for those used to the patterns of home. It didn't matter, though. There's no sense denying, we were really stoked to hang out with these guys; a whole group of new people who do something other than peruse about on sailboats that want to sit around, drink, and speak English? We would've showed up at midnight if they'd told us to. We wouldn't be fashionable late though. No, we arrived mere minutes after the prescribed hour and sure enough the whole crew was still at dinner.

We were soon joined in festivities outside at the fare potee, which is a a roof of palm fronds supported by a frame that sits on eight or so wood columns arranged evenly about the space, which lacks walls and, as we were to learn, accommodates comfortably two picnic tables and a sandy dance floor. We stayed up way past our bed times. Past a number of our hosts' bedtimes as well. Thus the party was moved into one of the lab rooms, where we found ourselves dancing to music with a low blue lighting and occasional white strobes. The lighting was, of course, used for the numerous now empty aquariums in the room. The strobe was designed to simulate lightning. Fancy that. (It's science). I can certainly speak for the sailor contingent when I say it was a memorable night.

The next afternoon, just after I woke up, rain clouds began to form. At first, it was a sun shower (one of the best things). After a while, though, it became a cloud shower and the clouds were dark and ominous. The idea that the rain was light and would not affect our hike up the magnificent Mouputa (really, Mou'a puta), which was planned for the following day, was simultaneously conceived and subsequently abandoned, on Barfly, Evergreen, and Ardea. It happened over a couple of hours. The rain was very persistent. In the end we needed not even discuss it. We all knew: Barfly, Evergreen, Ardea. We would have to wait.

Sun shower.

Cloud shower.

We passed the next two days with plenty more football. Mike and I attempted a surf excursion, itching for some waves (Mike was having a recurring dream related to a lack of surf). We took a bus and wandered with our boards and got loads of information about where there existed good breaks. Here, though, with this swell direction, “no good,” complete with frowny face and thirty-degree head shakes. We paddled out to a pass anyway, just to check it out. It was too small to surf- little waves just tumbling over only the shallowest part of the reef- but it was nice to be in the water. Later that night, we were fortunate enough to catch Prinze and Douglas, old friends from my last stint in Mo'orea. We rounded off a solid day of wandering with a few hours of joyful chatter with those guys. It was a righteous, as the Scotsman would say, 'chin wag', meaning, naturally, conversation.

Finally it came time to make our attempt at Mouputa. We started out at 0600 and were on the trail, thanks to an unexpected and very convenient ride, at 0630. It was a very different trail than Rotui. There were trees and shrubs about creating a jungle atmosphere- and it was much more shaded. There were a number of steep parts with some sections where you had to more or less rely on ropes (in spite of our attempt at patience, it was still quite slippery), but it otherwise felt easier than Rotui. The views were amazing at the top and it was well worth the trek.

The namesake hole in the mountain.

Cook's Bay.

The ridge at the top. Didn't walk that bit.

Summit shot.

Barfly and Evergreen took off for Huahine later that evening. We resolved to follow suit the following afternoon. I headed back to the research station where I had a great time catching up with Frank and Hinano, the intrepid leaders of the lab. After, I caught up with the young ecologists down at the waterfront. It was inspiring to be among them and I resolved to soon do science once again.

We sailed for Huahine with fair winds and somewhat sloppy seas. It was a quick passage, overnight, eighteen hours or so total. We anchored again among friends off Fare, the largest town in Huahine. We had heard the holding at the anchorage wasn't great, so we timed our arrival with diminishing winds that would give us several days of peaceful weather at anchor. It just so happened, the swell was simultaneously wrapping around to just the right direction.

AMERICA! (But actually, Mo'orea)