Wairahi Bay, Great Barrier Island, North Island
Friday 18 June 2021
If someone was considering the purchase of a yacht, then today would have tipped them over the edge … in favour, that is. It had everything … magic overnight anchorage … calm seas … brilliant sunshine … amazingly remote and spectacular scenery … another stunning anchorage … plus a fun and jolly crew.
In just a couple of days, Great Barrier Island has become our new most favourite-est places – at least the bits we’ve seen.
First though, I’m extremely please to announce that the anchor winch decided to start working again this morning. Not totally on its own, because Gary had a lot to do with it … resuming where he left off last night – but trying a few new tricks, before we mounted a full assault involving the removal of the motor. One such trick involved a spanner … but not in any conventional sense. I actually had this idea the other day … hitting the side of the motor with a big stick, to no avail.
Apparently, according to our yacht maintenance guy back in Melbourne, Steve Cullinane from Professional Marine Maintenance, (who I called yesterday for any tips he might be able to bestow) you need to hit the side of the motor while simultaneously pressing the ON switch.
Given Gary was in charge, completely hidden from view inside the anchor well, and him being of the more qualified, academic class … he used a spanner. A socket spanner actually. And he didn’t even hit it all that hard. “Just a smart tap” … is how he described it … “and it started on the first try”
At the time, I was up in the forward cabin, making it look clean and beautiful for Nicola’s arrival later in the morning. I was spraying and wiping the walls, all surfaces really, and suddenly there was that unmistakeable grinding, whirring, mechanical, gear-drive sound of the motor and winch on the other side of the bulkhead. The mere sound bringing forth a spontaneous cheer … “HAZZAH!!” … what joy!! Deep down, I kind of knew it was nothing too serious, and as John explained … “it’s a bit like putting the handbrake on the car and leaving it for a year … it can get stuck in that position”
Apparently, a small and very important part of the motor, that rubs against another small and important part, got stuck … and simply needed a push … but while the ON button was being pressed. Our diagnostic efforts had isolated the problem to the motor, so this was the best outcome we could have hoped for; even though we had resigned ourselves to a little more chain-pulling, morning exercise, since it was all in a good cause.
While soaking up the morning serenity, listening to the birds and the very occasional car – maybe three vehicles in two hours – travel along the shoreline road, Nicola was busy boarding a flight (a very small plane that carried around 12 people) in Auckland. Pretty soon we received a text to say … “I’ve landed” … and “will be arriving by taxi in 15 minutes” … Unfortunately, I thought the taxi (and Nicola) would be arriving at the boat ramp at Puriri Bay, whereas Nicola thought I’d be waiting at the main wharf in Shoal Bay. Both within Tryphena Harbour, but probably a mile away by sea and two miles by the windy road.
The hiccup was soon sorted and before long Nicola, her belongings and the extra groceries she had kindly brought, were being loaded into the dinghy and transported aboard Chimere – just in time for lunch.
I’d like to say that we SAILED the 17 miles north to Port Fitzroy, but in reality, we drove. The only real wind was what we made ourselves, ploughing gracefully along at 6-7 knots, over very flat seas.
Also out on the briny, motoring in our direction, was clearly a classic yacht. Her lines were graceful, old, like a pearling lugger, maybe 60-70 feet in length, probably timber. Her rig was that of a schooner … the forward mast being shorter than the aft, with a cross spa indicating that she was also a topsail schooner.
At first, she started out as an indistinct object on the horizon, only to converge to within 300-400 yards of us over the course of an hour or more, as we crossed her stern to overtake.
We weren’t initially going to overtake. John actually slowed down to around 5 knots out of courtesy, thinking they should maintain their lead as we were just a few miles from the narrow channel between a few islands. Not a place for competing interests. We did the usual wave and through the glasses could see her name clearly displayed on the bow … WINDBORNE … and within a few minutes Martyn was showing me the vessels website and a beautiful picture of her, fully clothed, all canvas up. She truly was, and is, a classic lady.
Check her out HERE
Windborne is a 62 ft. gaff rigged topsail schooner that has been sailing the oceans of the world since 1928. A vessel of great character, charm strength and comfort, she was rebuilt in New Zealand in 1981 to combine the finest of seafaring traditions with the comfort and safety of the 21th century.
Our course to Port Fitzroy, on the western side of Great Barrier Island, took us north and inside the Broken Islands, then through a narrow channel named Man of War Passage (aka Governor Pass). As you can see from the snap of the Chart Plotter, it really was a maze of small islands, bays, coves and rocks.
On entering Man of War Passage, we could see several rubber duckies, each full of people paddling. “What’s this, tourists off a cruise ship?” we initially thought. As the narrow channel opened up into the confined, sheltered waters of the bay, what should we spy but the tall ship Spirit of New Zealand, sitting proudly at anchor in the middle of the bay – a grand sight to be sure.
Passing close to the rubber duckies we observed a bit of slacking amongst the rear paddlers, with two of the four small vessels – straggling well behind the others – definitely in need of some encouragement. This we generously provided by means of our ships horn, and loud exclamations of … “ROW, ROW, ROW … PUT YOU BACK INTO IT NOW, STROKE, STROKE, STROKE” It was hard to tell whether it made any difference to their performance, I suspect not, because the only words I could hear in return were … “Give us a tow!”
What a wonderful sight, as you can see from the photos.
On anchoring, in the very secluded arm of the harbour called Waiahi Bay, we were immediately struck by the absolute stillness of the place. There was no movement of the boat, none, making all the prior anchorages seem rough by comparison.
Being washing day, there were plenty of clothes hanging in the rigging, making the most of the sunshine and gentle breeze. There was also just enough time before dinner for John and I to zoom off in the dinghy, optimistic once more that we would finally catch ourselves a fish … using bacon for bait.
Bacon perhaps isn’t the first choice of bait amongst fisher-folk, at least not to my knowledge. But finally, our persistence paid off. We did indeed land a fish. Not big enough to photograph, unless you got up real close, but our hope is that if used for bait, it will lead us onto bigger and better things. Stay tuned!
On the plus side, John and I did return with a couple of buckets of good-sized mussels. Which I should say, were very tasty. It did help that there was a mussel farm in the nearby bay, but as John observed, “some of those little fellows escape”, choosing to grow up outside the confines of the “farm” … well, they’re the ones we “landed” … nothing illegal here … not like Martyn, Annette and Gary’s trespassing of the other day.
That best do for today.
All I can say again is that this Great Barrier Island it truly amazing. Kind of a cross between Stewart Island and the SW coast of Tasmania; Port Davey. No doubt the folk in Auckland are well aware of the place and that in summer it’s wall-to-wall boats, but right now, this place is remote as!
Oh, I should mention that as John and I were readying ourselves to go fishing, who should motor past, but the yacht “Magic Carpet Ride”. I immediately recognised it as the vessel I shared 4-5 weeks in lockdown last year, while stuck at Mana Marina near Wellington.
I called out as they passed and they veered over for a chat. Apparently, they have a mooring about 250 metres off our stern, and a small house up the wooded valley at the end of this small bay. Small world.
Smooth seas, fair breeze and Our New Most Favourite-est Place
Rob Latimer
NZ2020 