Boat rides (Fiti mwota)

It goes without saying that, in an island nation, boats are ubiquitous. You'd be hard pressed to stand in one spot, spin in a circle and NOT see a Yamaha outboard motor on a fiberglass boat from most places on this island. As there are no beaches near where I live, the comforting sound of outboard motors often serves as a replacement to the comforting sound of crashing waves.

Stepping onto a boat brings a whole new color to life - there are few things in Chuuk more exhilarating or more breathtaking than a good boat ride. When the weather is good - the sun is shining, the water is calm - very few things rival the feeling of flying across the water surrounded by tropical islands and sparkling blue water. The moment that motor starts up and the boat sprints away from the island, cares, concerns, worries - all surrender to the unmatched beauty of the islands, the absolute freedom of wind in your face and the rhythm of a boat gently skimming across the waves. That rhythm has created some of the most peaceful moments I've experienced in Chuuk. Add a sunset, or a flying fish skimming the surface of the water, or a rainbow stretching in a full arc from one island to another and it could hardly be more perfect.

When the water is rough, the ride looses a bit of its idyllic beauty, but for whatever it lacks in scenery it generally makes up for in adventure. The roughest boat ride I've experienced during my time in Chuuk occurred last January on the way back from a neighboring island after administering my school's entrance exam. There is a point, when curving around neighboring island Fefan, when the protective forces of the land against rougher waves abruptly gives way to a patch of open waters between Weno, Fefan and Tonoas. On this particular day, the water was rough everywhere and I was soaked from the waves within minutes of setting off for Weno from Tonoas. That, however, was nothing compared to what we faced once we rounded that crucial point on the north end of Fefan. Immediately the boat was slammed up and down by huge rolling waves. We would catch one wave, ride it up, and remain airborn for a matter of seconds before slamming back onto the water - over and over for a good thirty minutes. These kind of boat rides induce roller-coaster style stomach dropping and require snowboarder-like reflexes. You must read the waves and brace yourself accordingly - if I'm sitting on the floor of the boat, I like to sit sideways on my legs, turning them into shock absorbers as the boat slams across the waves; if I'm sitting on the bench, it's best to brace myself along the side or with my arms, lifting the tailbone during that key moment when the boat slams back down onto the water. These rides, though they can be painful, always leave me feeling exhilarated and somewhat giddy. And, as everyone from toddlers to great-grandmothers have to weather the same conditions to get to and from their homes everyday, I, as a robust young 20 something, can certainly handle it as well.

I'm grateful for the transformative power of boat rides - no matter where I'm physically traveling, a good boat ride always manages to transport me to a state of peace and exhilaration.