Manihi Atoll, Tuamotu Islands, French Polynesia

It is so quiet I tracked down a stowaway mosquito by sound. The anchorage harbors just two yachts now. The other, a catamaran, our friends from the 4x4 trip around Nuku Hiva. The couple is still painfully kind and humble. I harbor a keen affection for them.

Both worked for the government – jobs whereby they declined major private sector salaries; jobs whereby they spoke truth to power and were heard. But that's unimportant, I have a crush on them as people. I wish to say, “Hey, I really like y'all. I mean it. You are genuinely fascinating people. And great Americans. You make me feel two feet tall and I still feel lucky to spend the day with you.” They are my elders, parents of successful children my age, needing no further accolades; there is no way to say this and have it mean anything.

Together the four of us explore the atoll. On shore, many villagers appear heightened in spirits, like a holiday has come-- ephemeral but afoot. Fernando's son explained grouper have come to lay eggs. We watch boats pull up hand lines with the fish. Full 55 gallon tubs come ashore throughout the day. This happens one month a year.

The grouper move slow with pregnancy. It is presumed we can harpoon them. I must learn 10 new things. Among these how to snorkel, dive, use a Hawaiian sling and what grouper look like. I've never so much had on flippers. I bought a mask at the magazine-- old school oval type. I've got my six foot trident. I look very convincing. Recall John Kerry in Carharts a week before the election hunting in the Ohio woods.

I spend the first hour in fear of how close the fish get. But, mostly I itemize all that could fall into my snorkel blowhole. I don't even get a shot off. We change locations-- ocean-side near the pass. It is an aquarium, everything you might see in the Red Lobster waiting area. Joel slings a parrot fish. Easy to identify and slow, I stalk them too. I'm better at swatting mosquitoes. Later told, I was submerged in some of the finest diving waters the world over.

We sat at Fernando's lagoon-side table to eat baguettes stuffed with beef, bbq sauce and french fries. After, the same table is used to clean grouper; we help for fun. A golden lab, neck above water, plays in the shallow coral chasing fish. I am informed this is the dog's life. That afternoon we dove at Fernando's pearl farm, he lets you keep to one you grab. My oyster had an ulcer 60 mm and perfectly round.