This is Roxie and I at the too-insane-for-words blowholes on the west
coast of Tongatapu, the Tongan capital island. (Or at least the island
with the capital city. I'm not sure how it works.) As you can see, I
am assuming a characteristically reserved and respectable demeanor.
Unlike previous, lesser blowholes you may have seen, this is not one
meager sea-puff brought about by chance erosion of the rocky cliffs;
no, this is _several_kilometers_ of noisy awesomeness spurting forth
from the cracks between vertical ramparts of lava tubes. A solid
southwestern swell impacts with a string of
*crash*pfft*pfft*pfft*BOOM*s zooming up the coast in righteous,
natural mega-surround stereophonics.
Shipside update: despite all of our animals dying in port due to an
unfortunate accident involving power supply to the reefer unit, things
seem to be going unnaturally well. We've had time and fresh energy to
put together several key improvements to the van, which should greatly
increase the efficiency of our experiments once we get some fresh
The flipside of this is that I now seem to have a small amount of
mysterious 'free time,' in which I can actually choose to do
non-work-related activities, like yoga or sleeping. I have to admit
that I find this to be somewhat unnerving.