On Monday night, we enjoyed our last hours in French Polynesia by going ashore for drinks and food. The drinks were consumed at the happy hour of the venerable Bali Hai Hotel, which conveniently is the location of the main dinghy dock in Cook’s Bay. Every evening, the owner, Muk, presides over a friendly group of guests and yachties while reminiscing about the old days in Mo’orea. Muk arrived in Mo’orea in the 60’s with two friends from Southern California who had decided to purchase 400 acres of farmland in the virgin paradise of French Polynesia. The farm didn’t pay, but a small hotel on the water that charged $1.20 per night for a room and three meals did. Over the years, Mo’orea has changed with the growth of tourism, but, as the only surviving member of the original Bali Hai boys, Muk still enjoys a good drink and sharing his experiences on the island. Following drinks, we headed over to the roulette to savor a final sublime steak Roquefort. The delicious meal was washed down with a double chocolate Magnum bar that promised to be the last taste of ice cream for a couple of weeks. On Tuesday morning, we spent the remainder of our Pacific Francs on food for the trip. Returning to the boat, several kind guests at the hotel gave us their extra food to supplement our provisions. Laden with papayas, avocados, and pineapples, we departed the harbor around 10:00 AM. As usual, the wind blew strong as we screamed out of the anchorage before slowly dying down as Mo’orea slowly receded in the distance. Due to our plans to meet my family in Tonga, our course is set to sail directly from Cook’s Bay, Mo’orea, where this Captain Cook visited while the real Captain Cook never did, past the Cook Islands, where this Captain Cook will not visit while the real Captain Cook did, straight to Nuku’Alofa, Tonga. In Tonga, the real Captain Cook and his crew were nearly slaughtered. Hopefully, this is where our histories will converge, with this Captain Cook also narrowly avoiding the same cruel end. Along our route to the west, we will be passing by the less touristy Cook Islands. The two main islands of this group are Rarotonga and the Aitutaki atoll. We had considered making a brief stop at Aitutaki, which means “to keep the fire burning,” but the difficult entrance and our desire to get to Tonga in time to meet my parents meant that we will have to stoke our own fires. Instead, we sailed within six miles of the tiny island and watched as the only land that we had seen in five days drifted slowly past. Aside from their regenerative benefits, the Cook Islands are known for their beautiful lagoons, rugged mountain interiors, and traditional feasts. Most cruisers consider these slands a God-send after French Polynesia since the Cook Islands are much more affordable and much less French. The last island that we will sail past on our way to Tonga is the tiny nation of Niue, which is the smallest self-governed state in the world. As always, it took several days to settle into the rhythm of a passage. For the first couple of days, we struggled to readapt to the movement of the boat. Cooking proved difficult. Sleeping in shifts was an unwelcome change. After nearly a month in Tahiti, I found myself craving social interaction and constantly waiting for something to happen. However, after two days, a quiet calm descended on the boat. Cooking and sleeping patterns adjusted. Anna and I no longer continually got in each others way. Instead, we adapted to the rhythm of life aboard and the days began to flow by. The part of passages that I enjoy the most is the night watches. In the absence of artificial light, the stars are brilliant. Satellites can be seen pacing across the sky and shooting stars are abundant. The water sparkles as well, as breaking waves create flashes of light and the wake of the boat is a neon streak of phosphorescence. During this passage, a nearly full moon arose in the middle of each night and arched westward, providing a guiding light that we could steer by. The conditions during the first week of the passage have been excellent. For twelve wonderful hours on Friday, we enjoyed what we believe were the southeasterly tradewinds. Since this was the first time that we have been graced with these famed winds, we cannot be certain, but the sailing was glorious while they lasted. Otherwise, progress has been steady and we have yet to be truly becalmed (knock on teak). The forecast for the upcoming days predicts that the wind will turn westerly, which could mean square waves, beating into a strong headwind, and a generally uncomfortable ride. Still, instead of ducking into a harbor, we are going to try to roll with the punches and deal with what we get. Hopefully, we will continue to have fair winds, following seas, and always a hand width of water under the keel. As we progress westward, we are sailing over some of the deepest waters in the world. At over ten kilometers deep, one would think that this ocean would be teeming with fish. One would be incorrect. Instead, more water seems to mean less chance of hooking dinner. With 600 miles behind us and just under 900 miles to go until Tonga, we are eager to make landfall. However, to paraphrase Robert Frost: The ocean is lovely, dark, and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.