Chaffers Marina (in Wellington)
Wednesday 22 April 2020
The sleep seemed so brief. No sooner had I turned out the light, than the six o’clock alarm sounded. But pretty soon I was working through the list of final tasks – breakfast being one of them
It was around this time that the wind started picking up. The sound of the passing air through the rigging, after a month in this berth, has refined and calibrated, my sense of wind speed.
I can now easily distinguish between each end of the scale, from … “I’m glad I’m not out in this” at one end, to … “it’s all motoring today” at the other. Right now, the wind was sitting at … “mmm, I hope it doesn’t get any stronger”
Keith and Adam arrived spot on 7:30, and there was ample time for Keith to have a cup of tea, and for me to finished off my toast and coffee
The wind remained reasonably light, and from the stern, as I backed out then threaded our way out of the marina and into the channel. From here we followed the leads, making a perfect exit … down the Porirua channel and then a hard-left turn over the bar and out to sea.
Passing inside Mana Island, and over what is known as “The Bridge”, the depth got down to around 6 metres, but with “local knowledge” aboard, Keith and Adam showed no sign of flinching. Although, that said, Keith did suggest a slight course alteration to avoid an inshore kelp-bed … which, not surprisingly, showed up on the chart.
Of course, Keith and Adam are predominantly “Motor Boat Men” … so there was always the risk that Chimere’s 6-7 knot average speed might have them reaching for the morning newspaper for excitement.
Not wanting to make the journey too demanding and strenuous, we avoided the mainsail, and instead unfurled the jib, keeping the motor ticking over in the background at around 1600 revs. “You don’t mind if I leave the engine running … you happy with the noise?”, I asked them both cheekily, as we started to make our way clear of the harbour.
“That’s alright!” observed Adam, pointing at the chart plotter, as the speed on the dial touched 9 knots.
By now, the wind had picked up to 15-20 knots and we were rocking along before a relatively small swell of 1-2 metres.
“The outgoing tide runs down the coast here … so we’ve got that with us” said Keith.
Even so, 9 knots was pretty good. Particularly with just a jib hoisted – albeit, motor assisted – and even better … Chimere was as steady as a tennis court … once the effect of the north-west wind, against the outgoing tide, in the shallow waters of the harbour-entrance were clear astern.
Further down the coast, we passed a place called Pipinui Point and a local feature known as Boom Rock. It is here that my father, Bill … and Keith’s father, Ted … as brothers, would camp and explore, back in the 1940s.
Along with their mates, Bill and Ted would build driftwood huts, make rafts, catch fish and generally “survive” on whatever they could find, for days on end. News at the time – radio and the daily papers – were no-doubt full of war coverage. First across Europe, then throughout the Pacific. And as teenage boys, it would have seemed an inevitability, that their turn to participate would eventually arrive – which, fortunately for them, it never did.
Dad’s old photo album has one shot of him, or it might have been Ted, sitting out on top of Boom Rock. (I’ll see if I can find it)
I remember back in 1972, Mum and Dad brought us four kids over to New Zealand to … “meet the family” … the New Zealand branch of the family that is – Uncle Ted, Auntie Norma, plus cousins Keith, Pearl, Pam and Judy … plus granddad, who was aged 72.
At the time we did many of the usual touristy-things, but over a couple of days, Dad and his lifelong mate, George Hardgrave, (who is now 92 years old, refer blog on 6 Feb) took me (an impressionable, 12-year-old-lad), my older brother Andrew, plus George’s son Simon … (refer blog posts in Picton, 6, 7, 8 Feb) hiking over the hills to Pipinui Point and of course, down the final “cliff” to the rocky, drift-wood-stewed shore.
For dad and George, it was probably 40 years since they’d mucked about on that rugged coast – and yes, in 1972, we made a raft, started building a hut … and we even saw a pod of orcas come close to a small motor boat, a short distance offshore. It would have been a fun, nostalgic journey back to their youth for dad and George. For me, it was just further confirmation that New Zealand was a pretty cool place. A place to which I would return.
Well today … here I was sailing close-past Pipinui Point. Sadly, no killer whales … but I did try and take a photo of Boom Rock – naturally, a very different perspective on a place and time that dad captured, 75 years ago. (Above)
As our speed hovered close to 10 knots, briefly touching 11 at one point, talk onboard moved to … “how fast can this thing go” …
“Well, our PB is around 12-13 knots I think”, I said. And after gybing, (bringing the jib across to the starboard side) and altering course to round Cape Terawhiti, our speed just continued to climb as we tightened the sheets; the wind coming in over the port beam.
No doubt, this is where the tide runs at it’s strongest (marked on the chart as the Karori Rip. 0.75-5.5KTS) because pretty soon the speed just kept on climbing, eventually hitting 15.2 knots … I’ll type that again … 15.2 KNOTS. The generally flat sea showing signs of tidal swirling all around us. And I even managed to catch a photo! Just look along the top line for the speed – and yes, it was tide-assisted, but we’ll take it.
Once passed Karori Rocks (three different people had warned me about them – including the Harbour Master) and Sinclair Head we set a course for the Barrett Reef Light and the entrance to Wellington Harbour.
For those with an interest in history, the name Barrett Reef will conjure up images of the inter-island ferry, Wahine, that hit on this very spot during hurricane conditions on 10 April 1968, killing more than 50 people. The disaster was a combination of atrocious weather, as two separate storm collided over Wellington, and “errors of judgement” … to quote from the inquiry at the time.
https://www.nzonscreen.com/title/nzbc-wahine-disaster-1968
https://nzhistory.govt.nz/wahine-wrecked-wellington-harbour
Conditions for us, however, were ideal, with the very quiet Wellington International airport lying off the port side, (in fact, I don’t think I’ve seen a plane flying for two weeks or more) and as we entered the harbour, the seaside suburbs of Seatourn and Miramar.
By now, what was an outgoing tide from Mana had become an incoming tide at Wellington and so our luck continued as we rode the current home – our new home at least. We weren’t so fortunately with the wind, however, with the 15 knot breeze down the coast turning into gusts of 30 knots as our necessary course-changes brought it onto the bow. By now we’d reefed the jib right down to the size of a handkerchief, and with relatively flat seas and the engine continuing to tick over in the back ground we still made good progress.
It was well before 2:00pm that we were tying up in the marina, nearly two hours ahead of schedule, the bustling city of Wellington laid out before us; quite literally at our doorstep … or gangway. Not that there was really a lot of “bustling” going on, and in keeping with regulations slightly stricter … (or wanting to be seen to be stricter) here than Mana, we were required to don rubber gloves, as well as face masks, to accompany our Hi-Vis vests and lifejackets.
Special mention at this point, must go to Keith’s wife Christine, who sent a food hamper of an extremely tasty and filling egg and bacon pie, plus a stack of choc-muffins. They really hit the spot. I was too slow to take a photo of the pie … but the left-over muffins are still here … if only briefly.
Keith and Adam, having completed their “essential delivery service” of Chimere, were picked up by Uber-wife Christine, and after I’d done the final paperwork for my berth-lease, I was ready for a good lie down.
Oh, after maybe 30 minutes, in which time we’d secured the mooring lines and Keith and Adam had gone … a guy off a boat, two or three up along the wharf, came and introduced himself … “Hi, I’m Brian, pleased to meet you … I live aboard with my wife and two kids … and just wanted to say, if you need anything, just sing out. I know you’re going back to Australia, so whenever the wind gets up, I’ll be checking your lines, so don’t worry about that.”
I will certainly be sharing contact details with Brian before I leave on Monday! What a guy.
Having obtained authority from the Harbour Master and the Maritime Police for my brief day-sail, I wasn’t surprised that everyone here at the marina knew in advance of my situation and impending arrival. After all, I was “breaking into” their 4-week “virus-free bubble”, given around 50 people live aboard their boats here. I got a couple of friendly waves as we came in – and of course, my new best-friend Brian ! Just for interest, here’s the email that was sent around to all the “liveaboards” here at Chaffers…
Subject: Vessel Arrival into Chaffers Marina – Wed 22nd April (A pier)
Importance: High
Good afternoon All
Thanks to those who have already reported this to us, and here’s to those who might be interested in knowing…
Today we have had an arrival from Mana. This is an Australian yacht (Chimere) which you may have read about in the Dom Post recently. It became stranded in Mana at the start of lockdown at which time the crew flew back to Australia. The skipper (owner) is also due to fly home to Australia this Saturday (25th). This vessel has been cleared by Maritime Police and the Harbour Master (classified as essential travel) to make the journey from Mana to Chaffers Marina, into secure berthage for the next few months until it is possible for its return back to Australia.
The owner will not be using any onshore facilities and has been briefed on lockdown conditions & expectations within the marina.
If anyone has any concerns, please just contact the office.
Kind regards
So I had my lie down, and with an hour to go before sunset, I stirred enough to think … “I really should go for a walk before it’s dark” … which I did. Making sure to turn on my trusty heater and companion, before stepping ashore.
As the photos show, Chaffers really is close to town.
Smooth seas, fair breeze and Welcome to Wellington
Rob Latimer
PS And yes, I did write my name on a stone this morning and left it with the others at Mana before we set off. Now, I’ve got to return!
NZ2020 