We don't sail at all at night, it is too dangerous. First there are plenty of reefs in and around the anchorages and despite a range of charts and pilot information, none is that reassuringly accurate when it comes to reefs. We want reefs at the entrances to keep out the swells that would cause rolling in the anchorage and to provide good snorkelling too. With the sun in the right position the reef in the middle of this anchorage and one beyond the boats is visible as a brownish grey green shadow, if the sun were low or if there were cloud one would never know just where the reef drop off begins or ends. Just to give an extra surprise there are often 'bombies', which are isolated coral heads, out from the reef rearing up through the water but below the surface just waiting for the unwary.

Then there are random fishing nets and pots some poorly marked, we only avoided one net when a local fishing boat spotted us and started waving their coats wildly, there was nothing to be seen on the surface so we were very glad they were about. Some of the pots are marked by what look like blown up carrier bags, others are more visible comedy floats:

This is a really large float, the platform is about 10 feet long and unlit of course. An encounter in the dark could do a wealth of damage to the hull. Being restricted to day sailing when we are moving on has caused no problems so far as there are so many anchorages that a sail of 25 to 35 miles will take us to a good place to spend the afternoon usually with good swimming. We have enough pilot information to know which anchorages could be roly and are usually able to avoid them.

Moving on has lots of other pleasures, these fellows never cease to please and amaze.

They were part of a huge school of about 150 dolphins that surrounded the boat and swam with us for half an hour whizzing around the bows, making the occasional breach and pirouette, and diving underneath, they are such playful creatures.

The scenery is just stunning and villages full of kids nestle along the shoreline. The children and young people are the other playful creatures that we meet regularly, either in their villages or very often coming out to the boat in or on their various modes transport.

These water enthusiasts used logs to come to the boat anchored quite a long way out from their village as the water quickly shallowed into the bay. They were full of smiles, as is the Indonesian character, greeting us with the usual, “hello mister, hello missus”, and were delighted when we could greet them and ask them how they were, their names and ages in Indonesian. We found them exercise books and pens which the children here value highly as they have to pay to go to school and not all can afford to go. However, they could not swim them back so logs were abandoned and Chris ferried the naked crew ashore in the dinghy where they all ran off to show the spoils to their parents. A man came out in his canoe with bananas, he wanted diving goggles but we had no spares, then he asked if we had spectacles, I had several pairs of off-the-peg reading specs that I collected together in UK and was able to sort him a pair which he tested with one of our books, with profuse thanks he paddled off in delight. We slept little here as we had a roly night at anchor so left bleary eyed just after dawn and didn't see the log boys or canoeist again.

Another day another anchorage, this time at Pulau Besar, a Muslim fishing village with a reef lined bay that ran deep then shelved sharply so we were able to con our way in through the reef and anchor quite close to the village. It was a stilt village with living quarters atop the stilts and fishing gear underneath or in some cases wooden benches where the villagers could sit in the shade.

The Mosque is the building with the pointed roof on the left side of the village.

They were all at home when we visited as this was the 66^th Anniversary of Indonesian Independence which is richly celebrated in the towns. Here there was nothing happening but it was also Ramadan so perhaps quieter. However, the children were calling us, “hello mister, hello missus”, jumping and waving from the beach. We went ashore clutching books, pens, off-the-peg reading glasses and tins of peaches, all gratefully accepted. Then Peter started kicking the small football he bought in Larantuka and soon there were goal areas marked out, teams organized and an army of fans sitting about. The game was played on a beach strewn with palm fronds (not something you would wish to trip on), pieces of wood, and fishing paraphernalia, with a stream running through one side and full of pot holes. Never the less a great game was had and the bystanders were all chanting, “Inggris, Inggris”, in our support. It was a wonderful spontaneous occasion.