Stump Day

After a normal Friday afternoon in the office and a burly paddle on the Harbor, we came back to the homestead and expected to have a mellow evening and maybe watch a movie. Low and behold, that wasn't meant to be. A few friends had left us messages while we were out on the water. Apparently we were missing out on a special occasion: Stump Day.

They were celebrating Stump Day at the bar that's 200 yards from our house. We walked over there (after Sara got to feed the chick Tropicbird that one of our neighboring biologist rescued the evening before) to find a small crowd of palagi hanging out in the cavernous bar/dance club by themselves.

Turns out that Stump Day is the celebration of the day that one of our fellow palagi lost his left hand rock climbing. He had been climbing in Tahoe and the plate of granite he had been on split off the vertical rock face and fell on him. He fell and the plate of granite fell on top of him. His left hand was pulverized and had to be amputated. His left arm now ends approximately 8 inches below the elbow. Today was the 14th anniversary of that day. Thus we were celebrating the 14th Annual International Stump Day.

Yeah, Random.

Aoloautuai Camping

With no weekend plans, we jumped on a friend's suggestion on Friday to go camping. After some Saturday morning debates on where exactly we should go camping, we opted for one spot that a number of palagi went one of my first weekends here: Aoloautuai. It's a remote bay on the north side of the island that is known for having good fishing and snorkeling. There are only two ways into the bay, either hike down from the end of the ridge road that goes to Aoloaufua Ridge or to boat in. Our friend who owns a boat is off-island, so we were packing our way in.

We loaded up the boat owner's pickup truck (he left the keys with another one of our fellow

campers) and headed out to the trail head. We managed to pick up a friend on layover. She'd been travelling around the South Pacific after her contract was over and had a day and a half layover in American Samoa, so she joined in our hike.

We drove to the end of the Aoloaufua road at the top of the ridge. There are a few houses there. We knocked on the door of the nearest one and got permission to leave a car there and take the hike down to the bay, a few, uninhabited miles below.

We then started the hike down. Most hikes I'm used to starting at the bottom and working your way to the top and back. It was a little disorienting to start our hike at the highest point and then head down.

The track followed a ridge line down through the rain forest. It followed a double track road for the first several hundred yards, which ended into a roughly built fale that overlooked a few bays. From there the track quickly became overgrown with grass and vines. Sara was able to pick out one of the vines that the Japanese students at her position in Australia called Kuru Kuru, something that roughly translates to curly, which is what they nicknamed her for their month there.

The trail continued to descend along the ridge line. The further down we got, the taller the forest canopy got. We even started to develop an under story, which is unusual here, since the forest is so thick, little light gets through to breed another layer of flora. Other than a few spider webs and terrestrial hermit crabs, there wasn't much wildlife to see. When the brush would open up we could occasionally catch views of the west side of Cock's Comb. I'd never been on that side of the peninsula, looking at the rock formation from the other side I realized there's starting to be only a few spots I haven't been on this island yet.

Eventually the steep track started to take its toll. This was the roughest hike that Sara and I have tried on Tutuila thus far. It started to beat up her still healing leg. The steep and slick track also took its toll and near the bottom her legs started to give out a little bit. Luckily, before all was lost we hit the flat lands and the banana

and coconut forest that led up to the beach. Once we worked our way out of the brush we found ourselves on an open beach that was made up of coral and sand.

There was some evidence of people using the beach for fishing, but it saw very little recent use. We made our camp a little upland for the high tide mark and then set about exploring the beach. I made it a point to gather up some drift wood for a bonfire. We'd had such good experiences with that at Amalau, that it was worth repeating.

While gathering up the drift wood, something on the beach caught my attention.

There were a number a blue jelly fish left drying out by the receding tide. Recalling some warnings about Portugese Man 'O'War that I had read somewhere along the way, I pointed these out to the rest of the group. Enough of us shared my suspicions that these were the dreaded stingers of the South Pacific that we didn't end up getting in the water that afternoon. Better safe than peeing on a friend's leg to try and neutralize a tentacle sting.

In lieu of swimming and exploring the reef, we made camp and went hunting for seashells. Eventually, one friend had to hike out on her own, as it was her second to last night on the island. The four of us that remained feasted on pasta salad and beans. We then spent an evening enjoying the camp bar staple of whiskey and Crystal Lite. Only the finest for us tropical campers. A bonfire carried us well into evening and we retired at a somewhat reasonable hour.

We woke up the next morning to another round of jelly fish washed up on the shore. So, again, no water time for us. After some leisurely tuna sandwiches and fruit we broke camp and started hiking back out. With only an up hike, the going was pretty easy on my knees. We made it up to the car without too many issues. The hike up ended up being easier than the hike down. Now I just need to get my legs in shape for some of the longer hauls on the island.

Aoloautuai was pretty great, but I am eager to go back and explore the reef with a snorkel mask on. We just need to hope the invertebrates will cooperate.

Earthquake

The East Coast got a little dose of shaking earth, yesterday. I didn't really think too much of it; growing up in California, earthquakes are a common occurrence and only really merit attention when they get big enough to bring down a building or civil works project. That said, earthquakes in the middle of the Pacific hold another danger: tsunamis.

It was almost two years ago that Tutuila got slammed by a large tsunami. It was following a 8.0 earthquake between American Samoa and Samoa. A few different harbors on the island got slammed by the waves and the island is still trying to recover from the damage.

So it was a bit of a surprise when I was settling into my office this morning and felt the office building start to sway. Turns out we had a 5.1 earthquake about 200 miles away. Not enough to trigger the tsunami alarms that now dot our coast line, but enough to remind me that our hold on this rock in the middle of the Pacific is a little precarious.

Blunt's Point and a Sunset

There are still a few remnants of American Samoa's navy legacy. The territory was originally brought into the United States as a navy fueling station and then it turned into a full navy base after the start of World War II. Some of the navy infrastructure is still in use today. For example, the High Court is the former Navy Administration Building and the initial road around the island was Navy-built.

Some portions of the Navy infrastructure, such as the pillboxes that line many of the beaches, are sitting lonely and forgotten. The guns that used to guard Pago Harbor are also not seeing any use these days. On a lazy Sunday, we made it a point to hike up the trail that leads past a number of these gun placements lining the West Side of Pago Harbor, on what's known as Blunt's Point.

The walk up the ridge afforded some great views of the harbor

and Fatu Ma Futi. Driving and paddling by these sights on a regular basis has caused me to start to take them for granted. It was nice to get a different perspective from up high and appreciate them from another point of view.

These guns were supposedly pulled off a period battleship and mounted to guard the approach into Pago Harbor. They sit on the ridge rising from Blunt's Point. It's just a short hike up a trail starting next to the "I.B.M" laundromat. (Side note: most of the shops here are known by people's names or initials, which leads to some interesting and random titles.) Following a double-track trail that leads through some breadfruit groves, the hike wrap around the hillside, past a water tank, and around to the first gun placement. The massive gun has gone through a number of rust and repaint cycles, but is still gazing out over the opening of the harbor. The ammunition depot below it is also still there, but the lower level has started to fill with water, so we didn't do much exploring, although the bat biologist in the group went looking for some possible nests.

The trail continued up the hillside and the concrete path that used to lead to the second gun has deteriorated and eroded. The rusted-out stumps of the handrail and a few off-camber portions of the concrete walkway remain to lead the way to the next gun placement. This one was in worse shape: the foundation and

ammunition cellar had plugged up and filled with water. These issues have been going on long enough to develop a fish population in the water. With the way any metals rust under the relentless moisture, salt-spray and temperature here, I can't imagine this gun will last too much longer in its present state.

Further up the hill there was evidence of more development, but the rain forest had reclaimed whatever had been there. In fact, among the odd depressions and remaining cement, Sara and I happened upon one of the largest hermit crabs we had ever seen, who looked extra fierce with his heavily armored brown pincers.

After exploring the Blunt's Point trail, there wasn't enough day left for snorkeling. Instead, after a brief cocktail break at the Goat Island restauraunt, we opted to head out to Vaitogi and watch the sunset from a bluff near Sliding Rock.

We got there with time to spare and grabbed some grass next to a few graves situated alongside the road. We then spent the last part of the day watching some surfers rides the waves, a few of the early-arriving southern humpback whales spout and the sun drift below the horizon. Not a bad way to spend your down day on the island.

Sailele Beach and Goodbyes

One of the unusual social dynamics of the palagi community in American Samoa involves consistent departures of friendns, since most everyone are on contracts of lengths of anywhere from a few months to up 2 years. Thus there are frequent talofa barbecues and parties to say goodbye. The worst part about this aspect of the community is you meet some fun people, hang out for awhile and all of a sudden their contract is up and you're saying goodbye.

One such pair of departing friends are the judicial law clerk and her husband. We've known each other for most of Sara's and my time on the island, but have only started hanging out in the past few weeks. But we've hit it off and basically hung out every evening since the middle of last week. Problem is, the pair of them are flying out to Madison, Wisconsin (actually to Chicago and then they are landing at 3am and driving three hours to Madison after 24 hours of travelling, yuck) on Tuesday.

So we've been having dinner parties, a giving-all-their-stuff-away party (Sara and I snagged a book and some fridge magnets), a few good-bye barbecues and late night karaoke sessions to celebrate the end of the clerk's one year contract. As a part of their leaving, they are also working on their bucket list of activities here on Tutuila. One of those activities included going to Sailele, one of the small, remote villages on the north side of the island. So after a late night dancing the evening before, a few of us crawled out into the harsh morning light and pulled together an expedition to head out to one of the few sandy beaches on the island.

We opted to drive and piled a few people into the SUV and headed out. We only had a faint notion as to where we were going. I'd eye-balled it on a map, but hadn't been there. We started caravaning out to the East side of Tutuila. We missed our turn off, but were able to piece together our mistake when we made it to the only restaurant on the East side, realized we'd gone too far and doubled back. The road to Sailele was a steep track over the spine of the island. We cruised over the single-track road without encountering another vehicle and soon found ourselves driving into the quiet village of Sailele. It consisted of a few rows of houses lining a thin strip between the rain forest and the water. Palm trees lined the tide line and what wasn't sand was either yard or grass.

Once we disembarked in Sailele, I was tasked with tracking down the appropriate matai to ask permission to spend the afternoon on their beach. Asking the locals kids turned up the right matai's house. I knocked on the door. Eventually this woke up the teenager who was sleeping on a mattress in the living room. He assured me we would be OK to use the beach. I've heard that it's improper to get permission from someone other than the chief, but we couldn't rouse him, so we made do with the permission we could get. We then greased the wheels with some pisupo, or canned corned-beef, a Samoan luxury since it was introduce by British sailors and American whalers in the 19th Century.

We then walked out on what turns out to be a beautiful, sand beach. Most people's fantasies of the South Pacific are of unbroken stretch of white sand with volcanic peaks looming above. American Samoa does not quite fit this image. Most of out coast line is jagged volcanic rock and seawall fringed by very shallow shelf coral reef with steep drop offs to the deep ocean floor. Not exactly the tourist beach fantasy.

So arriving at Sailele, it was a bit of a shock to have a nice sandy beach stretching out for a half a mile. With this much paradise to work with, we immediately walked out to end of the village to the last stretch of beach. The water was at low tide and the beach was covered with shells and coral. We even found a little creek running through the sand and made camp above it. Not too shabby. A few of our party even ventured over the rocky paths to the next cove over, but with more beach than I've seen in a long time, I was eager to maximize my time and enjoy the sun and water. Plus I was also a little to tired and hung over to do much hiking.

Sara and I had picked up some beach chairs earlier in the day. They proved ideally suited to sitting on a sandy beach. Sara even got the inspiration to sit herself in the water. Sitting in the Pacific with a cold spring feeding the water just above the tide line was kind of ideal. Before long, the rest of us joined Sara in the water. Turns out there's no better way to experience Polynesian than relaxing in the water on a remote beach.

One of the rules of spending time on the beach in Samoa is that skin should be shown in extreme moderation. Men usually wear shirts and women aren't supposed to be out and about in bikinis. Samoan culture is a little too conservative for attire that ceased be provocative in the 1960s. Most Samoan women swim in t-shirts and shorts. Thankfully we were far enough away from the village so that our group could feel comfortable not toeing the line when it comes to Samoan ideas as to women's attire.

We ended up spending the whole afternoon lounging on the beach in Sailele. A few of us did venture out and did some swimming, but the coral reef was shallow and close. Swimming out over the reef involved a skinned knee with almost every stroke. We did manage to find a patch of sand 50 yards from shore we could stand and relax on. In the end, it wasn't a swimming beach at low tide, but after too many rocky coast lines, it was the perfect 'hang out in the waves' beach.

Every once in awhile it's nice to get reminded that we are living in a tropical paradise. When we're living in the suburbs-lite that is the Tafuna Plain, that sometimes gets lost on us. Funny how all it takes is a sunny afternoon on a remote beach to give us that much needed perspective. Too bad this had to be one of the last days on the island for the clerk and her husband. Hopefully we'll get to see them again soon.

Mt. Alava Ridge Hike

Several weeks ago, we decided to hike Mt. Alava Ridge, which is the border of the American Samoa National Park and overlooks Pago Harbor to the South and then into the Park to the North. The Ridge hike has several different access points, but the one we chose is 7 miles round-trip which takes you up and then back down an access road.

Most other trails to the top involve ropes and ladders and I wasn't quite sure my almost-healed tibia was ready for anything more than a steady climb. Periodically along the way the National Park Service had mini tree nurseries with saplings growing in bunches shaded by roofs made of palm fronds.

We actually ended up running into some NPS workers along our hike who informed us that they do a hike every Saturday to "keep fit." Admittedly, they may not have been the most fit Samoans we've seen on-island, but at least they were out and doing something in the heat of the day (in flip flops, of course).

As it turned out, the majority of our hike left us surrounded by lush jungle, with only occasional glimpses to the ridges, valley, and villages below.

Once we got to the top, we took a sweaty break in a fale which had been built for weary hikers like ourselves. We also took the opportunity to sign our names to the guest book.

And, naturally, we also took some time to enjoy the incredible views...

Village Fisheries

Despite the fact that we almost exclusively write about our recreational activities, Sara and I do actually go to work on this island. Our day jobs keep us pretty busy from 7:30am to 4pm, the bruising schedule of working in a Samoan government office. It's a rough life in the tropics, but someone needs to live it.

So after a pre-trial conference this morning, I got to get away from the office/dungeon that most civil litigators are confined to for a little bit to statutory explanations for conference the at the Department of Marine and Wildlife Resources ("DMWR"). DMWR is implementing a program where the coastal villages can set up their own marine reserves and establish their own fishing regulations that both the village and DMWR enforcement officers can enforce. I got asked to attend this meeting by one of the Samoans I met at the talofa barbecue I went to last weekend for a departing member of DMWR.

The talk sounded a little on the legal-nerd end of the spectrum, just the kind of thing for an attorney on the environmental kick back on the mainland. The meeting turned out to be interesting in a few, non-legal ways. The whole events started with a buffet breakfast, I caught more than a few looks for not eating a big plate from the available food. I didn't realize it was going to be catered and had a meal before commuting into Pago Pago. The meeting then kicked off with a hymn sung in Samoan and was followed by two prayers, also in Samoan, led by different members of the group. The group of village mayors, or matais from the participating villages, then gave reports on the enforcement they had done in the last year as a part of the program. This whole presentation was, also in Samoan, so I gathered little outside of there were a lot of "thank you's" and they referred to the "rules" a bunch. Knowing only about two-dozen Samoan words will hold you back in this context.

After these presentations I got up and did my presentation on the rules, the first part of the program to be in English. This was followed by a break for brunch, which consisted of a buffet of the left overs from breakfast along with some rice, beef stew and meat pies. Again, I caught some looks for turning down a soda and a big plate of food at 10:20 in the morning. Participating in Samoa events is calorie intensive.

The DMWR enforcement officers then did more explanations of the fisheries program and some specifics from the regulations, again, also in Samoan. I had an easier time following these talks, since they had power point slides with the code sections and many of the legal terms had no practical Samoa translations so there would be acronyms and legal terms mixed in to the explanations.

This session went OK until the end. The events started to get side tracked when the matais started asking about creating village specific regulations. Most of the sought regulations involved closing the fishing to non-villagers. Unfortunately, I had to be the bearer of bad tidings and make it clear that any regulation passed by the village had to apply equally to the villages and outsiders. This upset some of the representatives. Apparently excluding everyone else seemed to be what most of them hoped to achieve. Sigh. Sometimes the hardest thing about being an attorney is telling people "no."

I hopefully conveyed it clearly enough to convince them that's not what the fisheries and marine sanctuary program was about, but a number of the representatives were still up in arms by the time this portion ended. Hopefully these hard feelings were smoothed over by the large lunch, I dashed out before the 3rd buffet of the morning got too far underway. The Samoans running the event caught me in the hallway when I was talking to a few biologists who work for DMWR and gave me a take-out tray piled with food. They must have assumed I was in dire need of food, since it was heaped with beef chow mien, battered and fried chicken, pork stir-fry, a fried banana, rice and two soft drinks. Too much food and most of it that's not in my diet. I ended up gaving it to one of the Samoans I work with.

We'll see if this program is a success, since these villages really are the front line for protecting these natural resources.

Goodbye Barbecue and Games

A frequent social gathering for the palagi community here on American Samoa is for goodbyes. With almost all the of community being contract workers, there is almost always someone whose contract is coming to a close and is making to depart the island. One of the Department of Marine Wildlife Resources staffers had her going away party over the weekend. Her Aussie neighbors took it upon themselves to build some entertainment for the party. Always looking for an excuse to play with power tools, I let a hand. We built a set of cornhole board and a pair of washer toss boards. Basically any game that lets you hold a beer in one hand and participate with the other. The games were a big hit, though the numerous children around did do some damage to our home made bean bags. Those will need some repair prior to their next go around. We also barbecued.

Being the attorney for DMWR was also interesting, since many of the attendees to the barbecue were the Samoan employees for the agency. I got drafted to participate in a conference on fisheries management and village level oversight. Sometimes work and leisure intersect in interesting ways.

Vatia Tide Pools and Tisa's

Sundays are a dead day in Samoan society. Few stores are open and most people spend their day in church or sharing a massive umu meal with their family. I really don't have much of an issue with this, only that the Samoans use it as a excuse to close down their beaches and not allow any swimming or activities near villages. Thus, non-church-goers and non-binge-eaters like Sara and I end up trying to to plan activities at some of the few spots that remain open on Sundays. Luckily for us, there's a large portion of the palagi community that's in the same boat, so when one of our friends suggested the Vaitia Tide Pools, Sara and I jumped at the opportunity to get out and go to one of the few swimming areas that's not close to a village.

We and some friends from paddling rallied up in the late morning at the house of another married lawyer couple and headed out. Sara and I got to see the island in style - we rode in the back of our friends' pickup truck in beach chairs, which is the true Samoan way to get around the island.

There's really no better way to see and feel the mass of the rainforest-covered volcanic peaks than from a truck bed. Though my hat kept trying to fly off, it was a blast. It makes me want to have a pickup truck just for transporting our eventual visitors.

I'd been down to the tide pools previously, after a long hike in the National Park. It's a beautiful spot that looks out on the Cocks Comb rock formation on Vaitia Bay. This time I also had the benefit of bringing a camera (and my lovely wife).

The hike down to the tide pools from the National Park fale isn't long. It's a little steep and rocky, but there are a few interesting archaeological sites along the route. The Park Service has some good signs explaining their finds from a dig five years ago, and if you take some side trails you can see a few artifacts that have been allowed to remain in place.

The trail down also offers some some great views of Pola Islannd (the Cock's Comb). Every few weeks I need to remind myself that I live in one of the most beautiful and dramatic island landscapes around. Too often I get mired in the suburbs-lite feel of the Tafuna Plain. I need weekend trips like this to balance out the trash and traffic of the south side of the island.

The wind was blowing pretty hard once we reached the rocks above the tide pools. This was driving some large swells. Even at low tide, the pools were getting refreshed on a pretty regular basis. We set up camp on the rocks and a few people walked down to the pools and snorkeled around the largest pool. I worked up a little courage and did a dramatic entrance by taking the plunge into the water from the overlooking rocks. I also coached one of the other attorneys from my office into making the jump. It's a little spooky since the landing area is narrow and the footing up top can be a little slick when it is wet.

Another member of our party lost his wedding ring in the pool. A frantic snorkel search was commenced, but the wave action that was feeding the pools turned out to be a little too much and the ring became a permanent resident.

Sara, still a little gun shy after her last tide pools experience, opted out of the swimming. Turns out, she might have been on to something. Soon after the low tide, the waves picked up. They were regularly crashing over the rocks and aerating the tide pool. These occasional surges were dramatic and shoved those of us swimming in the pools around, but didn't cause too many problems. The real danger was that the waves were crashing over the only exit point for the tide pools. As a result, each person needed to use some spotters from the high ground, since they couldn't see the waves coming when they were in position to climb out. I made it up without issue, but a few of our group did get caught in some waves upon exiting the pools. Not being able to offer assistance against the crashing walls of water or the slippery, sharp rocks, I did the next best thing, I captured it on video.

After the pounding, cut short our trip to the tide pools, we decided we needed another activity to fill the remainder of the afternoon. With few places being open, we opted for the palagi standby of Tisa's Barefoot Bar. Something about Vailimas, banana fries and Pina Coladas on the beach do an amazing job of patching up bruises to the body. Just another weekend in paradise.

Oral Arguments

Thus far I've had a number of oral arguments in court, here in American Samoa. All have either been unopposed, or the issue was been pushed down the road by the justice/judge. I was eager to finally have a contested motion to argue this morning. I'd drafted and sent out my motion to compel last month. I'd spent a healthy part of yesterday afternoon drafting my arguments and rehearsing them. I knew my law, I knew what my opponent would argue and I had my counters ready. I was ready to go.

Sara reviewed my arguments and suggested I pair it down to a few broad strokes. Not wanting to lose out on the technical aspects of what individual objections were improper and the finer points of civil procedure I lopped off as much of the fat as I could part with. I needed those arguments to be on the record.

I show up for the hearing, this morning armed and ready. We sit down and the Chief Justice looks around and say "Start talking. What are we arguing?" I then launch into my carefully crafted treatise on civil discovery and why the other side owes me some answers. A minute in the justice interrupts me with "I'd rather listen with my eyes, this matter is taken under advisement." Cut and done.

Lesson learned, if you can't say it to the court within a few sentences, it's not going to get heard.

Wall Cat

Our office environment is a little different from what we've come to expect on the mainland. The first time I saw a cockroach in the building's atrium I almost flipped out. I quickly learned this is a daily occurrence. A few weeks later, when a mouse interrupted a civil division meeting, I didn't bat an eye, seeing as the corner of every door in our office has been chewed to allow access to all the offices for rodents. Living and working in the tropics, this is what you need to deal with.

That was until we started having an uninvited guest in our Attorney General office suite. At the beginning of last week one of the other assistant attorney generals complained about hearing a cat crying while she was on the phone. This isn't unheard of. Supposedly the public defender's office has a cat that lives in the ceiling and raids food from people's desks. Between all the pests we deal with, a cat in the crawl space may help contain the rodent population.

I was on the phone later in the week when I had my encounter with "Wall Cat," as the creature stalking our vents and ceiling tiles has come to be called. I was talking with a workmen's comp claimant on the phone when I started hearing some meowing coming from the wall. Every time I'd say something during the phone call, the wall would call out to me with sorry pleas for attention and chow. There being a wall between me and the feline, there wasn't much I could do to either help it or remove it from it the premises.

Eventually, I got off the phone and the cat must have wandered off, since I stopped hearing it. Unfortunately, I did start smelling it, or at least its urine. Turns out, Wall Cat peed in the wall. Yuck. I made it through the afternoon by snagging a candle from Sara's office and some gritty olfactory determination.

I assumed that this was the worst that Wall Cat could inflict on us. I was wrong. Monday showed us how much destruction this unseen demon could wreck. Over the weekend, Wall Cat had managed to find a hole through the wall, into the office of the assistant AG who deals with all the HR issues. The cat preceded to use her office as a litter box for Saturday and Sunday. She spent Monday with her office door open, vacuuming, burning candles, spraying down her office with every available cleaner and the stench was still over powering. She ended the day sprinkling Febreeze and baking soda all over the carpet and vacuuming the place twice over the next morning.

The smell had slackened slightly by today, but it still lingered enough that everyone who entered the office caught a whiff of Wall Cat. By the end of the day, the stench had departed all the offices except the one poor HR attorney's that had been the cat's out house all weekend. She was still suffering through the retch inducing odor of cat piss. The pained look on her face said she was counting the hours until her contract's up in September and she gets to return to the mainland.

Some things about practicing law in Samoa just can't compare to anywhere else.

Post-camping Sunday

So after our tropical car camping extravaganza at Amalau (during which I found more amazing shells than I have found heretofore combined), we paid our "resort" host (chief Lauti) and took the meandering road back to the western side of Pago harbor.

After a quick stop at home to drop off gear and grab pina colada supplies (Coco Lopez, pineapple juice and rum), we headed back east to the Aussies' home base of Coconut Point. If I do say so myself, the pinas were an extremely successful venture on their front porch. As a side note, Coconut Point is pretty much at the top of the list for places to live and where we would likely have ended up if we weren't required to accept government housing. There really is something to be said for being able to go swimming off of one's front yard....

Being in an ideal location for such, we then took our camp-dirty selves into the South Pacific for a dip. After taking the below video, I found myself wishing I had not narrated, but I suppose you folks can handle it just this once.