days 95-96 Megan beats the ocean into submission (and is returned in kind)
Ia orana, Megan here. Yet again, dear readers, my companions have published the blog without my contributions. Of course, they did offer, and I declined, not yet being in the right headspace for composing my thoughts. I tended to my immediate needs (sitting in a dark corner and staring into space, winning my 5th game in a row of monopoly deal, and eating dinner), gathered my mental fortitude, and promptly fell asleep.
But I am a dedicated blog writer and not waylaid by such inconveniences. And I know, dear readers, that you must have been distraught wondering what my experiences and musings have been these last two days. Further, as I am moment to moment preoccupied with a myriad of anxieties, I myself rely heavily on this record to remember what I did two days ago.
We began day 95 in Tahanea, returned to our home of oceanic giants. I attempted to convince the others of the delights of snorkelling in the shallow waters rather than at the pass, poo pooing schools of large silver fish in favour of the small and colourful, but was unsuccessful. Therefore I was left to swim the shore on my own. On my first attempt, the ghostly intimations of barracuda and sharks behind my quickly invaded my mind. When they are present I wish they aware absent and when they are absent I wonder dreadfully where they are. I fled the water. On my second attempt, I let my breathing slow and slowly, slowly, I regained the sense of delight and wonder that is so present underwater. I felt a surge of confidence. And when the sharks finally made their appearance, I bustled immediately after them.
We ended day 95 leaving Tahanea. I was on first watch, supervised watch, as usual. A glow of confidence lingered around me (while Ellen navigated us out of the pass, the others set our course, and Jamie cooked dinner in our unsteady kitchen). As soon as everyone settled, attempted to rest, and Naomi remarked on the beautiful conditions, the waves and wind picked up. Bluebird’s wings were lifted by a squall and she flew - just like every other seabird, riding so quickly and closely over each wave you wonder how they’re not caught. Immediately the rest of our crew were up, pushing a life jacket into my hands as they put on their own and clipped into the guide lines in order to ascend to the mast and reef the mainsail. My confidence went immediately overboard. And left only gratitude for my companions in its stead.
On day 96, and it was actually day 96, we arrived in much the same conditions in Fakarava. We went to town and indulged in ice cream and internet. We met a woman who told us that life here was perfect and lamented that many did not appreciate that. She had grown up in the north pass of Fakarava, a place we had to visit if we wanted to claim to have really seen Fakarava, and where she told us to invoke her name if we had any trouble: Auntie Pauline. We went to town again and did some vegetable and fruit shopping. We went to town a third time and attempted to go to a restaurant, found it closed, and ordered pizza that would not be ready for many hours. We went to town a fourth time and picked up said pizza. I fell asleep, I missed the blog, and woke up on day 97.
Maururu!