Into the sunset.

With our mast standing tall again, thanks to FEDEX and rigger Mathieu in Raiatea, we set off to check out of French Polynesia from the strictly regulated and expensive Bora Bora. No fancy honeymoon resorts for us, though. Instead, an early morning snorkel with the largest manta ray ever, followed by a visit to the legendary Bora Bora Yacht Club, where outrigger canoes raced past into the sunset. The drinks were cool, and the tapas were bland. The next day, we took an uphill hike for a drone’s view of the village below. At the look-out point, we met three charming 18-year olds who made the climb everyday to hang out together and contemplate life before they were supposed to get serious. So they confided in us. They had finished high school and all three of them were about to begin training for careers in tourism. One of them was particularly excited about becoming a lagoon pilot in what they called one of “the most beautiful lagoons in the world”. They loved their island.

It took us 10 days and 9 nights of 50% champagne Butterfly sailing and 50% of annoying motor- sailing to cover the 1330 nautical miles west. Though we scarcely saw another vessel when out on the ocean, we were part of a true westward exodus. Everybody wants to get out of the cyclone zone in time. We tied up at Neiafu’s check-in dock at 4:30 AM this morning accompanied by a chorus of hundreds of cock-a-doodle-doos (roosters seem to be even more popular over here than in the East) and then went comatose for the next couple of hours, until the authorities came knocking at our hull. We filled out a handful of forms, shared a cup of coffee sweetened with Nestle’s sugared milk (a treat they hadn’t known even existed) and exchanged thoughts on Polynesian culture. They actually took pictures of our e-books on the subject of the great South Pacific Voyages for their own reference. They stamped us in with a broad smile and a thank you for the coffee and the early morning conversation on all things Pacific, adding that next time we could maybe come equipped with a PowerPoint presentation.

Tonga is still part of the Polynesian Triangle, but it is decidedly anything but French. For starters, English is their second language and everything feels and looks different. Also, along the way, we crossed the International Date Line at 173 degrees West longitude, losing Sunday September 15th, in the process. But Tonga will make up for that loss. According to the Lonely Planet , in Tonga there are “more churches than a year full of Sundays”. Apparently, the Kingdom of Tonga is also the Kingdom of Jesus Christ Superstar. We can hardly wait to check it all out.