The magic box: Peter's on-board-made automatic pilot helped us when the winds were light.
He had been up all night battling with the sails and in the morning he left me in charge (joke!)
Early in the morning on the seventh day Rarotonga appeared on the horizon. Gradually it got closer and closer.
We were welcomed to the Cook Islands by Fumigation Officers in shorts with lots of gold braid on their uniformed shoulders !
Getting accustomed to being on land again
In front of our room at the Trailways
Everywhere frangipani and tiare scented the air
My beautiful purple straw hat
On Pegasus, our magical Vespa
Peter's favourite position on terra firma
Pebbles on Trailways beach
Our page in Father George's book
The island we went to on our last afternoon with Karine and Paul, in their hired dug-out canoe.
Our last happy photograph
Farewell Rarotonga . Some part of us will always be there.