Tension, of course, is at the heart of any storytelling. That's something that I had in the front of my mind when I was writing South From Alaska - so many sailing stories devolve into mushy travelogues of the "then we picked up the anchor and moved to another spot" sort just because they lack tension.
Well, be on notice - I have, for the nonce, given up all thoughts of tension, and by extension I suppose, storytelling. (For this post, at least. Our family life afloat is just normal life at this point, so we have the normal ration of tensions, though we're certainly safe from the Walter Mitty tension. But more on all that some other time.)
For now, some pics to go with an earlier story, posted with the text-only services of the ham radio when we were out of internet range.
This is the scene on the windward side of Taunga Island, and our evening ashore at the Best Beach In the World (as long as you're not after surf!).
First, there was Elias rowing ashore on his own. Check out the little form in the boat, bravely setting out without any qualms at all - what parent's heart wouldn't sing?
Then there was a family game of footy on the beach. This mostly devolves into chasing Dad around.
And then the main event - the fire and dinner. That's the Best Beach in the background - a perfect causeway of sand reaching out to a little islet whose name I can't produce without my chart in front of me.
"This is why we're here!"
And, then, perfection capped - a raucous sunset breaks out as the sun transits the few degrees of clear sky between cloud ceiling and horizon.
Alisa, giving herself up to the moment.
And, at the risk of repeating myself, there were no other boats there, which is something in a crowded destination like Vava'u. The herding capacity of yachties never ceases to amaze...