Tutakaka Harbour, North Island
Tuesday 22 June 2021
The strong wind overnight, coming across the bay and down from the nearby hill had as swinging in an arch on our anchor all night. I was pretty sure we were well dug in, but when Nicola’s friend, and local resident, mentioned during his visit aboard yesterday afternoon, that the holding ground here was “average”, I felt inclined to take a few extra precautions.
Specifically setting the Anchor Alarm on the chart plotter to around 40 metres and sleeping with my cabin door open so I could actually hear the alarm … if it sounded. In the end it sounded numerous times, but each “excuse” was the same … a combination of the wind and tide having pushed us to the limit of our chain. Sometimes in a South East direction, at others to the North West, and with around 40 metres of chain laid out that means around 80 metres distance from one extreme to the other.
Whilst it was a pain having to get up and check every time, the good thing is that our movement wasn’t backwards towards the beach … around 200 metres away.
But you could hear the wind through the rigging, at times it sounded more than 30 knots, which got me thinking and reassessing. If it’s going to take another day for this wind to abate, then tomorrow at the Poor Knights Islands, 20-miles-or-so from here, might be a little uncomfortable.
Not so much getting there, because the wind would be right up our tail and the seas would be relatively calm. It’s when we got there that potential problems could be experienced – gaining sufficient shelter at anchor, and simply enjoying the unique beauty of the region. On that topic, a howling wind, can have a “unique beauty” all its own, but you can definitely have too much of a good thing some times!
So, by the time life started stirring onboard and light began emerging in the eastern sky, I’d decided that our trip to the Poor Knights would have to wait a day.
In the end we travelled just 22 miles up the coast to Tutakaka Harbour, which took around 3-4 hours. From here it’s just 12 miles offshore to Poor Knights, which is looking good for tomorrow.
It was after 9:00 this morning that we finally let go the anchor and prepared to hoist the mainsail. As we headed up into the wind, with the tip of the sail already maybe 20 feet up the mast, it became apparent that there was activity out in the channel. No big ship could be seen, but two tugs were hovering in readiness for something.
“Just check on the AIS to see if a ship is coming into the harbour”, I yelled, while calling to Gary and Martyn to stop pulling on the halyard.
Sure enough, the chart plotter showed a large ship doing 7.5 knots half way up the Whangarei channel and just minutes away from appearing around the nearby headland. This was NOT the sort of vessel to mess with, in a channel or anywhere else for that matter.
Lowering the mainsail, we decided to loll around for a bit, heading over to Alvin’s red boat, proudly sitting on her mooring a short distance away. Alvin was on board, his small dinghy bouncing on its painter from the stern. After a brief chat with Alvin across the water, the large ship was well passed and we resumed our sail-hoisting activities.
Soon enough we were in the channel, a small jib out front, the engine ticking away in the background, beating into the wind … and the incoming tide, as it turned out.
Fortunately, the tidal flow wasn’t significant, and whilst the wind was blowing against us, it wasn’t blowing against the tide; something that can lift the seas into a nasty chop.
As it was, Chimere held her own against the elements, ploughing forward from one green channel marker to the next, till we could bear away safely to port, in order to round the headland.
It was a funny sensation. One minute we were all riding the lumpy waves up and down, sails pulled in tight to capture the force of the strong wind on the bow. The next we’d veered off 40 degrees or so to the left and loosened the sheets; the boom moving out over the side, the jib billowing up front. Instantly things became calmer. Chimere levelled off, no more the feel of wind on the face, as we all sat in the sheltered cockpit gazing out at the sunny surroundings and the rugged land moving past on the port side.
In the distance we could see the first point to be rounded, Taiharuru Head, roughly halfway to Tutukaka Head and our short-hop destination. Out to sea we could clearly make out the Poor Knights Islands, from this distance much like any other set of rocky islands
Before long, we were sailing into the narrow entrance of the harbour, heading up into the wind towards our chosen anchorage – just short of Phillip Island and between Pacific and Kowharewa Bays, in about 5 metres of water.
It really was an idyllic setting, made more so by the glorious sunshine and clear sky. Judging by the expensive looking homes on almost every available cliff, headland and beachfront there are a lot or people who also appreciate this place’s idyllic setting. A large marina is located a little further up the bay, but for now we are escaping civilisation … at least until we enter the Bay of Islands Marina on Thursday, just 2 days away.
Already, the wind has died down. We’ve been at anchor all afternoon – time enough for me to have a sleep and for everyone else to wind down in their own way. John and I went fishing (unsuccessfully) in the dinghy for an hour or so before dinner, with dinner itself being another one of Annette and Martyn’s frozen, pre-prepared creations – yummy.
I have resolved that it really WILL be an early night, so I’m typing in my cabin while the animated sounds of a “board game” can be heard being played in the saloon.
Smooth seas, fair breeze and instant calmer
Rob Latimer
NZ2020 