Time Slows at Sea
I had to double-check both the day and date today — one seems to bleed into the next, each blending with the rhythmic flapping of the American flag at Wanderlust’s stern and the persistent lapping of waves against the hull.
We are anchored in the breezy lagoon of Tahanea in the Tuamotus, French Polynesia. The anchorage offers little shelter from the current or the trade winds, yet the breeze through the boat is deeply refreshing, belying the strength of the tropical sun. Wanderlust rocks gently like a cradle — how could one not feel at ease?
Living with the Elements
Each day brings bright sunshine punctuated by puffy clouds. At some point, we’ll be caught by the “daily sprinkle,” which frequently arrives when we're unprepared. Should we close the hatches? It’s the classic tropics dilemma: close them and the rain stops or leave them open and risk a real downpour that sends us scrambling. It’s the weather’s little game — and we’re learning to play along.
A Shoreline Shaped by Time
Tahanea is uninhabited, a place where crushed coral becomes white sand, giving testimony to millennia of wind and waves. The shore is graced by aqua waters. Tall palms sway against a postcard-blue sky—until dusk, when they fade into silhouette.
There are no lights on land. Only the soft glimmer of mast lights from the three boats anchored here hint at human presence. Darkness here is true darkness — a velvet canvas for the stars.
A Sky That Stirs the Soul
At night, the heavens come alive. The moonrise can be as breathtaking as sunrise or sunset, casting silver on the water. The constellations and planets are unmistakable: Mars and Saturn, the Southern Cross, the Southern Hemisphere’s upside-down Big Dipper, and the familiar form of Orion, the archer. It is a sky that reminds you — you are very small, and very lucky to drink in the night vista in this rare and seemingly untouched place.
Peace in Motion
How does one express the awe, the quiet amazement at days that begin and end in beauty? Barefoot, always, with the breeze rippling my t-shirt, I feel the sun on my skin, shaded now and then by the brim of a well-worn hat. Even when I’m busy with boat work or daily chores, I feel peaceful. Grounded.
Wanderlust is not just our sailing vessel now — she is also home. Secure beneath me, she rocks gently in the current, carrying us through time and across the sea. And here, in this quiet part of the world, I’m learning that home can float, and time can stretch, and the stars can speak.