South Bay, Slipper Island, North Island
Tuesday 15 June 2021
After a lumpy and rather uncomfortable start to the voyage yesterday, it was good to see “normal” life commence onboard as everyone slowly woke with the morning sun. Even before the morning sun, for some. And when I say “sun” … we never actually saw it today, or barely a shadow. It was definitely hiding somewhere up there, beyond the layer upon layer of grey misty cloud that seemed to touch the water at times.
Pretty much everything onboard runs on 12 volt – the lights, the fridge, freezer, auto-helm, navigation – so it’s important to monitor the charge and storage of the batteries, divided between the “House” (3 x 200 Amp/hr) and the “Engine” (1 x 200 Amp/hr) After just a day away from the 240 volts of the shore power cable, and after a day’s charging from the engine’s alternator, things were still looking healthy. But just to be on the safe side – and to heat the hot water (which is one of the few 240v systems on board) – I ran the 6.5kva diesel generator for an hour or so through breakfast.
Consequently, Martyn – an early riser – ended up with a luke warm shower, whereas mine was toasty warm. But then I do have the home-ground advantage.
The night had been calm, but with a slight roll in the early hours of the morning, as the tide and gentle breeze lay us beam-too the small swell that had found its way through the entrance of the bay.
Spirits were definitely renewed after a good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast, allowing us to exit the bay around 9:30. But not before overcoming the first problem of the day … a loose switch connection in the anchor winch control panel. At least that’s what we’ve diagnosed, with no amount of “spray”, or emery paper solving our dilemma.
In a way it’s a bit like hitching the trailer up to the Kingswood after a year under the plum tree down the sideway. You plug it all in, are about to drive away and then you think… “s’pose I’d betta check the lights” … so you go through them one by one only to discover that they don’t work! Your natural response is no doubt something like … “Oh, bother, how can that be … they worked last time?!” So, you give it a good spray, clean the points and if that doesn’t work, you hunt up a screwdriver to have a look inside.
In order to get away in a timely manner we did all of the above, except the last bit with the screwdriver. Having a bit of muscle on board, Gary, Martyn and I quickly had the 30 metres of chain retrieved and piled on the deck, (on a tarp of course – it’s newly painted) as John quietly steered us out into deep water. We’ll take the screwdriver to the control box tomorrow.
Once underway, we made good time on our course northwest in the direction of slipper Island. The flat-ish seas and steady breeze off the starboard bow, gave Chimere the sense of being on rails as we ploughed along at a gentle heel of 10-15 degrees.
John broke out the fishing rod, but so far, we haven’t found a fish worthy of being landed. Either that or there are no dumb fish in these parts.
Early in the day I grabbed an opportunity to have a sleep, which I learned later was the only time we were joined by dolphins which played around the boat for some time. Once closer to the mainland we picked up phone and internet reception and it seemed strange to receive a photo of the dolphins, taken by Annette (while I was asleep) and then sent to Nicola through our Chimere Messenger Group. Saved me having to get up and see the dolphins myself, when I could simply get a photo of them
Rain became a little more serious today, and you could probably say it set in for a while as we chugged along. But soon enough we were dropping anchor in around 3 metres of water at the southern end of Slipper Island. Just in time for lunch, or a late lunch at around 2:00pm.
We’d only covered around 23 miles, but it was a pleasant sail, made all the more so by having the snug cockpit, or coach house, in which to shelter.
There’s something about staying warm and dry, and out of the biting wind – it’s called comfort I suppose, and helps to balance those other days when giving up sailing might seem more of an attractive life-choice.
Late in the day we saw blue sky, and even a decent sunset, so we are thinking that if a red sky at night is a shepherd’s delight, then maybe it could refer to sailors as well.
For now, we have a calm anchorage, AND internet access, so I won’t have to rely on satellite communications. Although, that said, I’d like to thank my son Matt for uploading yesterday’s episode when he finally received it this morning. The good news is that I’ve just uploaded the photos to accompany yesterday’s entry … which can be seen HERE
Smooth seas, fair breeze and the rhythm of the sea
Rob Latimer
NZ2020 