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Saturday, April 07, 2007
The Magic Island Bids Goodbye

Our charter across the South Pacific to hunt for albacore was beginning, the fleet was catching, so the inevitable was upon us. Knowing it would be at least two months before we walked on dry land again, I dug my toes into the sand with extra emphasis. The boat lay at anchor ready for sea, all was stowed and tied down. It was merely a case of breaking down the raft and running to the 35 degree South Latitude line. From there, work west until we connected with the fleet which was south of Tahiti by a good eight hundred miles.

Steve and I had worked on the Papa George for two years in Louisiana while still seining for salmon in the summer up in Southwestern Alaska. Now our task was to work the boat as a tuna troller and make the conversion pay. The reality of the bottom line descends like a dark curtain at times, especially when the hold is empty and two months of fishing looms on the horizon. If anything would slice through my gloom of facing reality and missing my family, it was Easter Island in the afternoon throes of a misty rain shower. As we throttled up and set our course, three rainbows arched over the island beside us. I could only capture two in the camera lens. Easter Island was putting on one last show. The magical and haunting island said goodbye as this chapter of chasing lifelong rainbows came to an end.

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