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.