It rains in Pago Pago every day at some point. One of the peaks surrounding the harbor is even called Rainmaker Mountain. Usually, it’s a quick drizzle that passes before we even need to close the hatches. And quite often the result is a rainbow, or two, like this.

Goofing around at a beach a few miles up the road.

Celebrating twenty years of Bumfuzzle.

Buses run everywhere all day long. This has proven to be a very easy island to get around on. They mainly fill two very specific needs—one as school buses (kids pay .25/ride), and two as tuna factory shuttles (they cease running immediately after the last big shift change of the day around 5:30).

The bus drivers are really friendly and accommodating. I climbed on one afternoon with an empty propane tank in my hand. The driver looked at it and knew immediately where to take me. He motioned for me to set the tank on the floor next to him. The bus filled up and a lady was helped onboard with a box and four shopping bags. The driver shifted the propane to his left side up against his door and made space for her stuff in the entrance to his right. A little further down the road she said something, and he turned off the main route to a side road which climbed steeply for a couple hundred yards. She motioned for him to stop in front of another narrow street that seemed to disappear straight up into a cloud. He stopped but then pointed up the hill asking if that’s where she was going. Yes. Instead of dropping her and her groceries there at the bottom he turned up the hill. Trees scraped the bus across the top and both sides as the engine roared in first gear, straining to climb the hill. I was thankful Ali wasn’t with me. She would not have enjoyed the detour, or leaving the kids orphaned. It was that steep. Nobody batted an eyelash. He pulled off the road, scraping more trees along the way, and turned into her yard. Five dogs and three puppies happily climbed all over her as she stepped down. She turned around and I noticed she handed the driver $2 for the $1 ride.

Five minutes after we turned off the road we were back to curving along the water. Soon, everyone had gotten off except me. The bus continued maybe another mile and pulled up in front of the LP gas filling station. I stepped out as the engine turned off. The driver stepped out and lit a cigarette ten feet from the No Smoking/No Phones/No Sparks signs that covered the chain link fence and told me he’d wait. I finally gathered that this place was actually about a mile past his normal route turn-around spot. I imagine the drivers must make these helpful detours every day and everyone on the island has probably had a detour made on their behalf at some point.

We got a new swim ladder in the mail and Lowe helped me install it. Unfortunately, with the state of the water in Pago Pago harbor, nobody is willing to use the ladder.

Worth mentioning here that despite having a bunch of beautiful bays, the only place yachts are allowed to anchor is in Pago Pago. I honestly have no idea why.

The rain is always easy to see coming.

Rain, then sun, rain, then sun.

Since leaving Mexico we haven’t seen any garbage in the water anywhere in the Pacific. The Pacific crossing was litter-free. French Polynesia, even in the marina in Papeete, was virtually devoid of garbage. The Tuamotus were pristine. Cook Islands, nothing but fish and coral in the water. The Pacific felt amazing, especially after years in the Caribbean where you are rarely in the water without plastic garbage in view. American Samoa, though? The ocean here is an absolute garbage pit. Shameful. I would compare the water here to Haiti/Dominican Republic levels. Signs everywhere warn of high bacteria levels. While the American Samoans are incredibly athletic—we see non-stop games of volleyball, softball, rugby, soccer, and cricket being played by every age, boy or girl—there is nobody in the water. No kids jumping off the docks. Nobody paddling. No local fishermen tossing nets. Just nothing. Sad. Polluted, then abandoned.

We were having problems with our power that was causing the coffee maker to blow the fuse on the boat’s 12v system. I figured out that the breaker’s amperage was too low (probably fine for the smaller inverter and charger we used to have on here). We’ve since sorted it out, but for a while Ali was getting resourceful in the mornings.