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Bora Bora landing
is great thrill

At first light last Sunday, I lay in my bunk blinking away the few hours of sleep I had the night before. We'd been becalmed on my watch, but there was nothing calm about it. The snapping sails jarred like gunshots, and when we finally gave up and pulled them down, the boat's pitching and rolling in the big swells drove us crazy.

But now we were sailing. I leapt from the bed and rushed to the cockpit. "We've got wind," Wren said. Alex appeared and peered off the bow at the horizon. He turned, a big grin on his face.

"Land ho?" Wren said.

"Land ho," Alex replied.

After a round of hugs and high fives, we stared in the pink morning light at that dark mound rising from the sea. Talk about a special sunrise.

With the probable exception of Capt. Cook and his crew, few sailors have been more thrilled than us at this first glimpse of Bora Bora.

Through the ocean mist, we could also make out its neighbors, Tahaa and Raiatea. These mountainous volcanic islands are all part of the Society Island chain, so named by Cook because they're close together.

Tahiti is the largest in this group, and the entire chain is often known by that one island's name.

Our destination was Raiatea, where I had a reservation at a boat yard marina.

There they would haul our boat out of the water, make some repairs and keep her safe on land until my return.

I called Craig on the satellite phone. "We're there," I said.

But we were not. As the sun rose higher, the wind grew lighter and the boat slowed to 2 knots, then 1. The GPS showed only 30 miles to the channel entrance, but I didn't have enough fuel to motor there.

I called Craig back. "We need more sail power. Would you explain how to fly the spinnaker?"

Wren drove while Alex and I followed instructions and hoisted the spinnaker.

How proud we were to watch that enormous green and black sail billow out in front of the boat. In only 6 knots of wind, we were sailing 3, sometimes even 4 mph.

It didn't last long. The wind died again, and we spent most of the day coaxing our sails to take us another mile, please, then another. By 2 p.m. we'd gained only 10 miles, still not close enough to motor to the marina.

I had to make a decision. We could stand off all night, rocking, rolling and praying for wind. We could use the last of our fuel to get inside the Raiatea lagoon, anchor there and then pray for wind to sail to the marina.

Or we could motor to Bora Bora, buy diesel and motor to Raiatea the next day.

Oh, decisions, decisions. In high spirits, we started the engine (it lives!) and headed for Bora Bora.

I've lived on this boat for the last four months, sailed her more than 3,300 miles, repaired things I didn't even know existed and learned how to be a captain.

Stepping onto the Bora Bora wharf last Sunday was one of the best moments of my life. This Sunday, when I fly home to Hawaii, I'll have another.