Taking the Good with the Bad

Little Pigeon Bay  

Thursday 13 February 2020

The day started last night, with our departure from Gooch Bay, 80 miles north at Kaikoura.  It was just as dinner stop over really, with our sights set on making Banks Peninsular before a breezy southerly wind took hold in the afternoon.

All started well, with ol’ faithful Perkins chugging away under the floorboards, pushing us along at around 6 knots into calm seas and a light breeze.

Sandy and Samantha took up residence in the bow on departure, directing search lights into the dark before us in order to spot cray pot-bouys – not the sort of thing to have wrapped around your propeller, that’s for sure.

Through the night, John and I took turns on watch, me at first with Dean, Sandy and Samantha, till 1:00am, then John on duty with Matt from 1-4:00am.  After that, it was my turn again.

As light winds and calm seas persisted, motoring south at around 5-6 knots meant that our journey was expected to take around 12-14 hours … our arrival at Banks Peninsular planned for around 12:00noon. 

It was some time after 1:00am, while John and Matt were on duty in the cockpit, that things began to change pace somewhat.  I was sound asleep in my bunk when John’s familiar voice raised me to consciousness … “we’ve slowed right down, and the wind and seas have picked up”.  Words guaranteed to slip the mind into gear and the body into action.

Up on deck, a quick assessment of conditions revealed headwinds of around 20 knots, a short choppy sea of 1-2 metres, into which Chimere was regularly dipping her bow, sweeping waves of water across the deck.

 A short walk out of the shelter of the cockpit then saw me cop a direct hit from a wave, prompting me to return to my cabin to don full wet weather gear, including sea boots; the first time I’d used them in 3 weeks, including the Tasman crossing.

Back on deck, John and I were preparing to hoist some sail in order to start the process of tacking south, when Samantha emerged from her cabin …”there’s water coming in through a small hole near the handle in my deck hatch” … “do you think you could fix it with some duct tape and towels” I said, Samantha looking somewhat surprised at seeing us dressed for something close to a moonwalk, when just a few hours earlier she’d retreated to her warm, cosy, still, dry bunk after a friendly mug of hot Milo.  “Yep, no worries” was her no-nonsense reply as we made sure all deck hatches were indeed closed to their fullest.

At this point I should make special mention of Barry Stewart who assisted us in preparing Chimere for sea by re-sealing all the hatches.   Cos there’s few things worse that wet and dripping hatches when conditions take a turn for the worse.  Well, Barry’s careful handy work had not been full tested till now, and so far we’ve all remained dry; the leak in Samantha’s hatch being my fault on not using enough silicone when fixing the handle.

Back on deck, John and I hoisted a double-reefed mainsail and set a 50% jib, starting the first of several tacks that would be made over the next few hours.

So much for a strong southerly coming through in the afternoon, here it was maybe 12 hours earlier, making for a cold and wet wake-up call.

Several sail adjustments and tacks later we were finally able to lay a course for the Lyttleton Harbour entrance.  Through the pre-dawn hours Sandy stood spell-bound just outside the cockpit, totally entertained and engrossed in the comings and goings of a large pod of dolphins as they gambled alongside, sometimes jumping clear of the water.  It was a performance that certainly jolted her out of any feelings of tiredness as the sun battled to make n appearance through the grey, leaden sky.   

Sometime in the mid-afternoon Banks Peninsular, turned from being just a misty haze on the horizon, to an ill-defined land form, to brown hills, then to clearly visible real land with sharp rocks, crashing white water and cliffs to match.

In the end we dropped anchor in Little Pigeon Bay, rather than nearby Pigeon Bay, with plans to move around the coast a short distance to Lyttleton in the morning; where I’d booked a spot at a marina for a couple of nights.

After our 36-hour sail from Cloudy Bay, it was time to give Chime e a good scrub and clean, after which it was time for sundowners in the cockpit, a lovely shepherd’s pie dinner (thanks Dean) and the invitation of hot showers all round.

With most of us deficient in the “sleep department” it was an early night for all, with conditions still and rather cool outside once the sun had fallen below the hills which surround us on three sides.

Smooth seas, fair breeze and taking the good with the bad

Rob Latimer