In my memories the Pacific (already! memories!) is a story in three parts. There are the passages themselves: which, depending on the situation, are long dull hours of sleepiness and relaxation punctuated by funny family moments and interrupted by the effort it takes to function in an always-moving universe. There are moments of fear--but those fade. The memories that stick are not the effort, or the terror, but the peace. Then there is the part of the trip spent in the company of friends--cruisers and guests--all of us visitors to a strange land. Together we get to interpret and make sense of it all, but often it seems easier to stay in our world at the fringes. The part that most of us imagine and is hardest to experience are the moments where we leave the fringes and become (for a moment) part of the places we visit.
All of it though is part of the same journey.
17 50 South
170 37 East
140 miles to Port Vila
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