We arrived in Savusavu feeling really excited about the trip to Futuna, after our very sedate overnight sail here. Then Murphy’s Law struck; a quick check of engines before clearing out revealed milky oil in the port sail drive; a sure sign that it’s leaking water into the gear box, meaning a high risk of damaging the gear box beyond repair if we keep using it without replacing the seals. That means having the stern out of the water so we can access the sail drive. Of course, in Savusavu, no parts are available, the only trailer capable of hauling boats is under repair, and Fiji law now forbids beaching/careening of catamarans here. So we needed another extension to the cruising permit. After a week of waiting for the decision, yesterday was the day we had picked as D-Day. In the absence of a positive response to our application, we’d decided to risk doing the voyage to Futuna on one motor. Not ideal on a catamaran as they tend to go in circles when you try to steer with only one motor on, especially at low speeds going through tight passages between coral reefs. Leaving yesterday, we would (only just, hopefully) have had enough time to get to Futuna and back in time to catch our return flights to Melbourne, and then only if I could delay them by a day or two. It led me to wonder what the ‘D’ stood for… Decision? Deadline? Dismal? Distress? Doomsday? With a quirky interest in etymology, I did some Googling. The first two of my possibilities came up as suggestions; clearly the others are not common and no doubt reflect our state of mind this week. Other suggestions offered up on the Internet were Departure, Designated, Debarkation, and even Deliverance. But the informed consensus of historians appears to be that it actually stood for nothing at all. When D-Day was being planned well ahead of time, it was impossible to know which actual date would be chosen, due to a multitude of factors. So during the many months of planning, D simply stood for what would eventually become the date that allied soldiers would land on the beaches of Normandy, invading German-occupied Western Europe.
Over the last seven days, I feel as though I’ve been walking a deadline tightrope between safety and flight bookings, strung up high over a pit of politics. Maintaining a mental and emotional balance has been challenging. As always, I’ve relied on my core values to stay centred. In this situation, it’s my values of Conduct and Community that have been called upon. My own conduct; truthfully representing our situation, submitting our requests with respect and humility. Demonstrating trust and patience with officials who make earnest promises with reassuring smiles but remained unable to obtain decisions day after day. Understanding the Community in which we find ourselves; or rather, understanding that we are visitors here and don’t understand it. That we were, in effect, requesting permission to break their rules, and that we need to learn what those rules are and how to plan and to function within them.
Even my stoicism was put to the test yesterday afternoon as we waited for the Regional Manager yet again, who could not get his superior on the phone. Richard left me at Customs office and went to begin the preparations to clear out. Both of us were nervous about making our first trip to Futuna on one motor but felt we were left with no other option. Finally, a smiling official ushered me into the conference room; permission had been granted. There was too much built up tension to feel relief initially. 
But as numerous deep breaths allowed that to ebb, the dominant emotion was not relief but joy. Joy that in the end, by holding true to my values and believing in trust, patience, respect, honesty and humility, diplomacy had won out. Call me old-fashioned, romantic or even naive, but the tales of Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table digested as a child are still with me today. I know and lament that there are still, in 2016, many moments when ‘might is right’. But I will always hope that in the end virtue will be victorious.
This morning, all that stress is behind us we’re back in our peaceful routine of a cup of tea, breakfast, exercise and a swim. The local fishermen are back, cleaning their catch before taking it in to market. Richard went ‘fishing’ with his wallet and despite the outboard now being repaired, I was surprised to see him paddling the dinghy over and back to purchase a fresh fish to barbecue for dinner. He really must be feeling calmer; he usually has nothing but disparaging remarks about stand up paddle boarding! Could it be that he will eventually be converted?