Mana Marina (near Wellington)

Wednesday 8 April 2020 & Thursday 9 April 2020

Is it Wednesday, or is it Thursday?  Must be a sure sign that time is taking on a new dimension aboard.  Although, having been retired now for almost two years, it’s not the first time I’ve forgotten what day it is.  After all, every day is a Saturday, when you’ve retired.

Between cups of coffee and video-editing – my new field of discovery – my online search for crew to help me sail home, continues.  Although as I’ve mentioned before, the chances of finding someone seems to have been getting smaller and smaller with the passing of time.

I was reflecting on this earlier today, and in thinking back to high school maths, I thought it might be a problem well represented by “Set Venn Diagram”.  The key sets being …

1. Number of sailors in New Zealand …

2. Number of sailors in New Zealand, who have Australian permanent residence status…

3. Number of sailors in New Zealand, who have Australian permanent residence status AND who want to return to Australia – by yacht.

4. Number of sailors in New Zealand, who have Australian permanent residence status and AND want to return to Australia – by yacht – AND, live within a very close distance of the Mana Marina AND can get here without breaking the Lock Down travel restrictions … you get the idea.

For example …

Although yesterday, I DID have an inquiry from a New Zealand passport holder, who is also a permanent Australian resident – from Melbourne no less – who travelled to Christchurch in January to spend time with their grandma, and now can’t get back to Australia because of the travel restrictions.   They even had a friend who might also, possibly, maybe … want to come as well.  The only problem to overcome was the Christchurch to Wellington travel restriction.  Although there was news of this restriction being relaxed slightly for those wishing to meet connecting “flights”; from Auckland.

Well, that was yesterday, and today, I’ve heard no more.

In trying to get the word out to more people, I even sent an email to the local media company www.stuff.co.nz … in the guise of what you might call a … “human interest story”.   Anyway, they followed up with a phone interview and a visit from a camera/video chap who took shots from almost every angle. 

He didn’t do any filming on the boat of course, or even on the marina, or the cruising club property … but from the nearby “public” breakwater, which is conveniently located just a short distance off our starboard side.  He certainly had some serious gear with him, and a very long fluffy microphone on an extendable pole, that looked straight out of Hollywood; or at least a low-budget, suburban sit-com, or soapy.

Looking back, I should have asked if I could take a photo of him.  Because the two of us, out on the breakwater, surrounded by sunshine, sand, blue sky and rippling water lapping at our sides … could have been taken for a warm-up photo-shoot for a re-make of the Calendar Girls.   But it definitely wasn’t. I deny that completely.

At one point though, as he changed lens on his big format camera and adjusted the tripod, I found myself having to resist the urge to give a “Zoolander Stare”, but I was very good and stayed on pitch throughout.  Basically, putting the word out that … “I’d love to hear from any stranded Aussies who’d like to sail home”

One good feature of sailing back to Australia, as opposed to flying back … or, heaven forbid, arriving on a cruise ship … was that the Australian Border Force website says that … “self-isolation commences from the day of departure from your last international port” …  

Which basically means that if the voyage takes 14 days, and on arrival everyone aboard is fit and well, then you are allowed to “go free’” so to speak.  HOWEVER, upon further investigation, I was informed that each state is applying different rules and that in the case of Victoria, they DON’T count “time at sea” towards the self-isolation requirement. 

Via email, I asked my helpful man at Border Force, “how many yachts have you cleared into Victoria under these new regulations” and his answer was … “none yet”.  And in signing off his last email to me, under the heading … “For-Official-Use-Only”, he closed with … “It does seem that lately I bring you nothing but bad news.”  This being the same guy that informed me that my last two crew hopefuls … “do not have Australian permanent residence and cannot enter Australia”

So, at the moment, I’m seeking further clarification, and if necessary, an exemption (from the Victorian Department of Health) – or at least consistency with the sensible, common-sense approach of Border Force.    But I’m not holding my breath. 

In Vanuatu “Cyclone” news, it seems all our friends in the affected areas have come though, although damage is significant.  A recent Vanuatu Daily Post report is included below:

LUGANVILLE MAYOR PLEADS FOR URGENT HELP, 8/4/2020

The people in SANMA Province are in urgent assistance of food, shelter and water after category 5 cyclone Harold.

Mayor of the Luganville Municipal Council (LMC), Peter Patty, conveyed this to the Daily Post via satellite phone yesterday.

He said: “We are badly affected.

“We urgently need water, food and shelter at the moment.

“Many have lost their homes. Schools are destroyed. Electricity is down.

“I’m urgently calling for help. This is one of the worst experiences of my life.”

According to Mayor Patty, the worst affected areas in SANMA are West Coast, South Santo, Malo, Aore including Luganville.

Currently, communication networks in the affected islands are still down thus, assessing the impacts of the cyclone is difficult.

However, the government has begun deploying teams to conduct aerial assessments and also to restore communication networks, water and electricity.

https://dailypost.vu/news/luganville-mayor-pleads-for-urgent-help/article_43abe1da-791c-11ea-9c4d-3bce13ffdb85.html

On the “food and catering front”, and I vowed I wouldn’t turn this blog into a culinary-calendar … but I hit on a revolutionary new idea last night that has the potential to take the world by storm.  The emphasis being on the word “potential”. 

It all started as I considered the dinner menu …  “Maybe pancakes”, I mused … “or what about a stir-fry of finely chopped potatoes, bacon, onions and gherkins, topped with a fried egg and a side salad”

OR … how would it be if I combined the two?    A pancake … AND … the other thing.  Maybe I’ll leave the photos to tell the story, but I had to resist the temptation to add maple syrup, sugar and lemon!     

Whilst I’ve been treating Chimere much like an apartment-by-the-sea, every now and then I’m reminded … “oh, yes … this is an ocean-going yacht … with a motor, sails, a generator and lots of moving parts – not just a kitchen, a fridge, a bed and a DVD player”  … meaning that I need to keep operating all the systems onboard to ensure they still work. 

Chief amongst these “onboard systems”, is of course the diesel generator – that produces 240 volts – and the water maker – which, makes … water. 

After running it for 30 minutes or so, the good news is that everything worked perfectly … the diesel motor, the generator and the 240 volts, the low-and high-pressure water pumps … and the all-important water maker itself … out came fresh water at a rate of 3-4 litres per minute.  

One small problem, however, was that the fresh water wasn’t as fresh as you’d like.  Not that you could tell by just looking at it. And even the taste was OK.  The problem lay in the amount of salt still left in the “fresh” water … over 900 parts/million according to our little measuring machine.    That was the bad news …

… but the good news again, was that after cleaning two of the in-line water filters, and replacing the third filter, the salt-count was down to just 100 parts per million; pretty close to a personal best!

In closing, I’ve got to share with you one of the cutest photos I’ve found on a yachting website for some time.  Even cuter than kittens, puppies, or let’s face it … dolphins.  It’s a guy at anchor in Namibia where a local baby seal, which they’ve named Slipper, has taken up residence aboard.  Gotta get one for Chimere!

Smooth seas, fair breeze and still looking for crew

Rob Latimer

Mana Marina (near Wellington)

Tuesday 7 April 2020

Having locked myself down aboard Chimere, for nearly two weeks now … only going out for brief walks, and like everyone else, avoided human contact like the plague – perhaps not the best analogy, but I can see now where the phrase might have got it’s origins – I was ready to brave the local supermarket.

Who would have thought, entering a simple supermarket could become the suburban equivalent of … getting out of your vehicle … on the African savannah.  

It’s not as if I hadn’t been building up to it.  Last week I swapped a gas bottle using hand signals and a touch-and-go credit card through a glass window.  Yesterday, I’d even walked NEAR the supermarket and observed the long queue of patient souls, all maintaining their required 2 metre distance from each other.

This morning, it was my turn to set phobias and paranoia aside and actually venture INSIDE the building.

In order to avoid a long queue, I’d banked on getting to the store for opening time, which I took to be 8:00am.  My newly acquired habit of sleeping-in soon put paid to that, and so it wasn’t until 8:30 that I was donning rubber gloves and reaching for a trolley, as I engaged in friendly chatter with the only guy there outside on the pavement; who I initially thought was wanting to use the ATM at the supermarket entrance.

Reading the sign on the window, I noticed that the store didn’t open until 9:00am … well, that accounted for the very small queue … of two.   Pretty soon, another couple of guys turned up, and seeing that there were “customers”, the store manager came out around 8:45 and in a friendly tone said he’d, “open up early” … which was nice.

Inside, it was eerily normal.  Lots of stock on the shelves – even toilet paper, on special.  Friendly helpful staff.  Nothing really to suggest that I was undertaking what could be termed in the current environment … a “high risk activity”.   As more customers entered the store, it was clear however, that some had moved well beyond the mere rubber gloves, as a form of protection, with a variety of masks and face coverings employed. Including one guy, with what looked like multiple scarves wrapped around his head like an Arab Bedouin, or  an Egyptian mummy, with a gap just big enough for his eyes to see out … and viruses to get in too no doubt … but I wisely didn’t engage in conversation.

Twenty minutes later I was packing my “essential items” into bags and onto my little two-wheeled trolley, for the short walk back to the boat, stopping a little distance down the road to dispose of the rubber gloves in a bin. Oh, and spray everything I could with my trusty bottle of hospital-looking-pink-liquid.

So ended my one outing for the day, with the rest of the time spent, pretty much in front of the computer. 

Between “compulsory”, Youtube viewing that included … “10 Fastest Planes Ever” … “Simon Cowells Favorite Britain’s Got Talent Acts” and “11 Construction Fails…”, I was mostly communicating online with boating folk … in my continued attempt to find crew to help me sail home.   

Despite my initial, unsuccessful attempt at finding crew online, and the polite warning from the NZ Customs to … “more fully check out potential candidates”, I still have a small amount of hope that there are stranded, sailing-Aussies out there  – somewhere in the Wellington area – just waiting to step aboard Chimere.  

Perhaps it’s the optimist in me, but apart from anything else, this online social networking thing is occasionally amusing. Certainly, there are some yachties out there doing it tough in some remote and far-away places.  Others are very keen, as it turns out, to give gratuitous advice, suggestions, pearls of wisdom and whatever else, to … pretty much anyone.

Along with a few choice photos, of Chimere etc … my Facebook post included the usual … “Greetings all, I’m still looking for crew to help me sail my 16m Chimere home to Melbourne (Aust) ASAP bro.   Crew need to be Aussies, or Australian residents – already in NZ and can get to Mana without breaking the lock down rules. Tall order I know, but no harm in asking …there might just be a few Aussies stuck in New Zealand who’d like to sail home.”

In response, a lot of people might post a supportive comment, or a thumbs up about a photo, or perhaps an observation like…  “be sure your crew have proper health check etc”, but one person posted … “Maybe the crew should be only women”. 

Say what??!!  Why would someone write that?!  Who would write that?!  … A man, or a woman?!

Obviously, this isn’t something that deserves too much thought, but of course with just a couple of clicks you can end up at THEIR Facebook page.  Which curiosity did of course.  And in this case, under the heading “Intro” … I see that they studied … “Fat at … Puting on Weight University, Little Rock AR”  

Which seemed a little strange I thought.  But let’s face it, anyone who doesn’t know that the word “Putting” has got two “t”s in it, should probably have gone to a different university.

On the topic of social networking, I had an email from a German chap, Heiner, that I met in Vanuatu in 2017, under what you’d call, unusual circumstances, which are described in detail here … (if you’re interested)

https://msm.org.au/sea-rescue-lift-raft-red-flares-sinking-yacht-action-stations-the-works/

… but since 2017, Heiner has continued his circumnavigation of the world. 

As it turns out, he is currently in Deshaies, on the island of Guadeloupe in the Caribbean, which just happens to be the location of the fictional town of Honoré, in the British-French crime-drama television series Death in Paradise is filmed.

Well, like me, Heiner has been looking for crew.  But in his case, it’s back to his home port in Germany.  His creative solution has been to by pair-up with another German in the same location, with the same problem.  Their plan involves the other guy leaving his boat on a mooring, and them both sailing home on Heiner’s yacht…  The other chap will obviously return at a future time to resume his journey.

While engaging in semi-useful, online activities I also checked out a website I used to visit a lot.  It’s called … “The American Life”, and it’s essentially a weekly radio show out of Chicago that has been running for more than 20 years.  Each week they present a story … sometimes funny and sometimes poignant or sad … or bizarre or unbelievable.

One of their most popular shows, investigated what constitutes a Fiasco.  That situation that no one really wants to occur, but can result when plans are big, there’s a lot at stake and everyone is reaching just a little further than they normally would.  They use as their case study, an extremely ambitious school-production of Peter Pan, remembered decades later in intimate detail, for all the wrong reasons.  If you get a chance, and like me, you’ve got time on your hands … it’s well worth a listen …

https://www.thisamericanlife.org/699/fiasco

Another, This Is Your Life story, but this one falls into the very, very emotional category, involves a story of a man who installed a public telephone in Japan, in the place where over 400 people are still missing, following the 2011 earthquake and tsunami which killed around 16,000. 

The public phone box is not connected.  It’s called “The Phone of the Wind”.  And people come to use the phone, to speak with lost and missing relatives … sons, daughters, parents, grandparents …   

From one man’s way of dealing with his own grief and loss, it has now become an avenue through which hundreds of  grieving Japanese can “communicate” with lost loved ones.  It’s well worth a listen, but have a box of tissues at hand.

https://www.thisamericanlife.org/597/one-last-thing-before-i-go

And this is a link to the film documentary of the same

In Vanuatu, Cyclone Harold has now left a path of destruction across the southern part of the island of Santo, and the main city of Luganville. It seems that our friends and their families have come through okay, but with communications still down in many parts, it’s hard to know for sure.

The latest report I could find, relayed the following

https://www.rnz.co.nz/international/pacific-news/413645/cyclone-harold-reports-of-destruction-emerge-assessments-begin

“Reports of extensive damage are emerging from parts of Vanuatu struck by Cyclone Harold yesterday, but communication with much of the battered region is proving difficult.

Winds in excess of 230km/h tore across the country’s northern and central islands, and heavy rain has damaged many roads and food gardens.

On Santo, where Harold first made landfall yesterday, damage is understood to be extensive.

Already, pictures sent from the region have told a grim tale; a large ship shunted ashore by ferocious waves; palm trees splintered and stripped of colour; rivers spilling over banks and into villages, forcing residents to flee in the backs of utes; roofing iron being thrown across towns.

In Santo’s main town, Luganville, a local MP, Matai Seremaiah, said initial reports suggested about 50 to 70 percent of buildings in the town were damaged, with hundreds sheltering in evacuation centres.”

It seems TC Harold, which is still a Category 5 hurricane, is now continuing on to Fiji

Smooth seas, fair breeze and the supermarket experience

Rob Latimer

Mana Marina (near Wellington)

Monday 6 April 2020

The day started with good intentions … my goal being to walk down the road to the local supermarket.  Once inside the supermarket I was going to buy a few items, assuming they were on the shelves, such as bread, tomatoes and cheese … plus anything else that might have jumped out at me as being useful or necessary.

Having heard about the queues, I thought it was wise to get there at opening time – 8:00am.  And I might have made it, because I was up in time – just – but on reflection I thought I’d leave it till tomorrow.  What’s another day I thought?!    After all, being Monday, there might have been less on the shelves – less choice – because there might have been less workers employed on a Sunday to re-stock the shelves. 

And maybe there would be a queue on a Monday morning, because it comes straight after Sunday and people might have run their pantry down on Sunday and would naturally be there Monday.

Tuesday, on the other hand, doesn’t stand out as much.  It’s a day that’s kind of lost with Wednesday, and Thursday in the middle of the week, and they would have all of Monday to re-stock.

It could also have been that I was feeling a little lazy and felt having breakfast was a higher priority.

I finally started writing the Chimere Operations Manual today.  It’s something I’ve attempted several times over the past 14 years, and there are certainly components of it sitting on my computer’s hard drive.  Trouble is, every time I get close to thinking it’s finished, we alter something or add something, resulting in the need for an update.  But now with time on my hands, there’s no better time to bring it all together. 

The beauty and benefits of having a “Manual” are pretty clear.   After all, it’s taken me all these years to get familiar with Chimere and her ways, and so to commit all that information and knowledge to a permanent record will make it so much easier for others who come aboard, or one day maybe, her new owner.  Learning by accident can be a good thing, particularly if they are the accidents of others.  And whilst I haven’t had any accidents … or any major ones … in Chimere, I know I would have really appreciated an Operations Manual when we bought the boat in 2006.

Linda has been doing a great job of scanning photos, and emailing them to me.  Being in New Zealand, as I am, she is currently focusing on the photos from 1978, 1980 and 1981, which covers my time studying down at Lincoln University, just out of Christchurch.

I’ve mentioned before that towards the end of 1980, Matt Brosnahan and I bought a small dinghy and had a lot of adventures on both Akaroa and Lyttleton Harbours.  Some of the photos I haven’t seen for a long time, but I’ll include a few here just for fun. 

It’s interesting that back in 1982, then again in 2003, a group of us at Lincoln buried time capsules on the university campus, in which we not only deposited a bottle of wine to share at a future date, but also wrote of our future, our dreams, our plans and ambitions.   Exactly two years ago, a group of us returned to dig up the “15 Year Time Capsule” – buried in 2003 – and in it I’d written, amongst other things,  that by 2018 I would … “be close to 60 … would like to be retired … and have a goal to own a 50 foot yacht in which I’d like to sail the South Pacific …”

They say, “you are what you eat” … but there’s also something about, “moving towards what you think about” … good or bad.   I remember Dad would sometimes say that, “anyone who never made a mistake never tried anything” … so maybe it’s a case of making enough mistakes to finally achieve your goals.

Looking at the situation in Vanuatu, Cyclone Harold is slowly moving across the central islands of the country, leaving a path of destruction in its wake.  (An extract from a recent report has been included below)

Smooth seas, fair breeze and nearly went to the shops today

Rob Latimer

As reported a few hours ago …

https://www.theaustralian.com.au/news/latest-news/fears-as-cyclone-harold-reaches-vanuatu/news-story/e2971821aa029b0ece5121adb8bd8664

Fears as Cyclone Harold reaches Vanuatu

5:15PM APRIL 6, 2020, By BEN MCKAY, AUSTRALIAN ASSOCIATED PRESS

Relief agencies are warning of incredible destruction in Vanuatu as Tropical Cyclone Harold bears down on the Pacific country as a category-five system.

Five years after Cyclone Pam brought 250km/h winds to the country, killing dozens and displacing thousands, Vanuatuans are bunkering down once more.

The system made landfall on the biggest island of Vanuatu, Espiritu Santo, on Monday afternoon according to Radio NZ, and is on course to track through the archipelago nation.

“We are very concerned,” Save The Children’s Jacqui Southey told AAP.

“It’s going to be just as big, if not bigger, than Pam based on what we know about it so far.”

Harold is the region’s most powerful storm since 2018 and could yet grow stronger than Pam and Winston, the Southern Hemisphere’s biggest storm on record, which devastated Fiji in 2016.

Harold developed near Papua New Guinea before tracking East and crossing the Solomon Islands as a category-two system.

There, 27 people were reportedly swept overboard from a ferry which defied orders to head out into storm waters.

In recent days it has gained strength and tracked directly towards many of Vanuatu’s 300,000 inhabitants.

“It’s been pretty slow moving which is concerning as it means the storm has a lot of time to do a lot of damage. Its a critical time for Vanuatu,” Oxfam New Zealand’s Darren Brunk said.

Fijian Prime Minister Frank Bainimarama said the cyclone “couldn’t come at a worse time” for the Pacific given the outbreak of COVID-19.

“Flights are grounded, foreign aid workers have withdrawn, and medical supplies are limited. The world must be prepared to respond to this disaster at our doorsteps,” he tweeted.

Mana Marina (near Wellington)

Sunday 5 April 2020

It’s always a welcome surprise … the extra hour you gain each year from turning the clocks back at the end of Daylight Saving. 

The effect might only last half a day, but the extra hour in bed, or doing whatever, is certainly a better option to losing an hour when Daylight Saving starts. At the start of Daylight Saving, you inevitably realise it late on the Saturday night, “ … oh no, it’s 11 o’clock,  but wait, it’s really 12 midnight because Daylight Saving starts tonight … one less hour of sleep!”

Well, this year the “extra” hour kind of lost its currency.  What’s an extra hour, when you’ve got as many extra hours as you like here in isolation.  Ah well … mustn’t grumble.

Being Sunday morning, and thanks to those clever IT and multi-media folk back at our church in Melbourne, I was able to attend the online service.  Which, like last week, was really good.  Got a chance to communicate with all those friends I haven’t met for several months … in a world that seems so far removed from where I am here and now in New Zealand.  And where we all were, just a few short weeks ago.

For the rest of the day, I worked on the video presentation of dad’s 1947 Milford Track adventure.  It’s been a lot of fun and very satisfying, to incorporate a pile of old black and white snaps, with the audio recording I did of dad back in 2008, plus additional commentary (from me) along with some maps and a musical backing track. 

It’s also been good to learn more about video editing.  Next, I’ll have to get my own YouTube connection to upload everything onto.  Who knows where it might end!??   My very own kitten movies, or singing dolphins, or crazy killer albatrosses … now that would silly … unless you were a fish of course.

Video conferencing was very much the order of the day, today.  First, there was the regular catch up with my lovely wife Linda – home bound in Melbourne. 

Through Linda’s iPhone I was able to see the vegie garden she has been progressively planting, in various spots around the backyard.  Plus, the remedial work she has been doing on our old glasshouse – using lots of clear duct tape to patch several panes of glass.  The glasshouse was a second hand “dismantle yourself” eBay acquisition from a few years back.  It’s been in need of some love and attention for some time, and after sealing up all the cracks, I could see that there is now a fine selection of seedlings sprouting.  Linda’s turning into a regular Homesteader she is.  

Which, as I understand from my research, is different to a “Prepper”.  Preppers are generally the ones queueing for faster guns and more ammo, while the rest us are queue for toilet paper and pasta.  

Still got to get us some chooks … although there are still a few hurdles to get over before we go down that path; like getting home, for example.  No doubt there’s a long queue to buy chooks too these days, because Linda was saying there’s been a rush on vegetable seeds and seedlings.  Maybe we could buy a dozen eggs (not from the supermarket) and hatch our own  

While we’ve all been naturally adjusting to our new lives of isolation, spare a thought for Vanuatu – my second home in many respects after the time I’ve spent there and the relationships we’ve established over the past 10 years through Medical Sailing Ministries Inc. (MSM), www.msm.org.au   Well Vanuatu is being hit right now by Tropical Cyclone Harold, a Category 5 system with winds gusting over 250km/h.  It’s currently making landfall on the islands of Malekula and Santo, with a track that is likely to take it right through the Shefa Province, just north of Efate and Port Vila.  

All very reminiscent of TC Pam that hit almost exactly five years ago and which I experienced first hand with my friend and co-founder of MSM, Mike Clarke. 

With the onset of the COVID-19 restrictions and threat, things were getting even tougher for our South Pacific neighbours … a category 5 cyclone is exactly what they don’t need right now.  Please keep the people of Vanuatu in your thoughts and prayers at this time, and be generous if opportunities arise to assist with any necessary reconstruction.

It was great to also have a video conference with MSM volunteer and friend Peter Wright, and his wife Gigi, from their home in Hobart Tasmania.  As a retired micro biologist, Peter knows more than most about viruses, infections and pandemics.  In fact, he was telling me that back in the day, he’d get his students to watch the 1995 film “Outbreak”, starring Morgan Freedman and Dustan Hoffman and together they would dissect fact from fiction.

So, if you’re getting sick of watching the real news about the current real, global viral pandemic, you could escape into a little bit of lite, fictional Hollywood escapism by watching the movie Outbreak yourself … or one of the many films in the,  “struggle-for-human-survival-genre-” … such as Contagion, Contagious, Flu, The Andromeda Strain, Pandemic, Carriers, 12 Monkeys … I could go on.   And it’s nothing new … who can forget, (more to the point, who can remember) the 1950s movie “Panic in the Streets” … ?  (Don’t go there, unless over-acting, dramatic batman-esq music, or corny wisecracks and one-liners are your thing)

Late last night there was also the opportunity to catch up, online, with friends from North Ringwood, Graeme and Sue Duke.  Linda even joined in on the video, with a candle to blow out, as we sang happy birthday.  It was Graeme’s birthday, and he apparently had the week-end off.  As an intensive care specialist doctor, he’s at the front line of state and national coordination and planning, not to mention treatment; when it comes to the current pandemic crisis.   Not that Graeme’s relaxed approach gives much away.  Like many, he’s working from home as best he can, but he has more than one computer on his desk and is constantly communicating and advising.

As an aside, Graeme’s elderly parents live on Norfolk Island, and in checking in with them over the last day or so, they said that there haven’t been any tourists on the island for a week, and all the restaurants are closed, as people self-isolate.  The net result is that the supermarket shelves are still pretty full, particularly with fresh produce, and probably toilet paper too … because there’s fewer customers now to buy anything.

Around the marina, the tide came in and then went out again.  And whilst there are supposed to be a few people in the marina living on their boat, like me, everyone seems to keep to themselves.

Smooth seas, fair breeze and an extra hour today

Rob Latimer

Mana Marina (near Wellington)

Saturday 4 April 2020

It was a simply gorgeous day today.  Or at least it might have been.

Under normal circumstances, boats would be coming and going.  Families would be playing on the beach beyond the breakwater and there’d be the noise of fun and activity.

But of course, like everywhere else, frivolity is on hold,  at least for the foreseeable future.

Linda and I still “Messenger” each other and today I was taught the “Hamburger” game.  Which is really quite silly, but rather addictive.  If you haven’t yet played the Hamburger game on your smart phone, then find someone under the age of 10 … or an adult who’s been locked up in their home for too long scrolling through free Apps, and ask them for an introduction.

Linda also conducted today’s video-chat wearing whiskers and ears – another phone App – as you can see from the photo … of course I’m too mature for things like that.  So we’ll see what tomorrow will bring.  Apparently there is a new smart-device game and face-mask-feature, to do a different one each day till the end of the lock-down – and beyond.   

In the early afternoon, I received a “Howdy” call from Keith, who was passing by the marina with Christine, on their bikes.  It gave me an excuse to get off the boat and walk the full length of A-Row, where we sat – at a distance of about 5 paces from each other – to simply chat in the warm sunshine.  If nothing else, this “isolation” time in New Zealand has been a good chance to catch up with family; which me might be doing more of, online, in the next week or so.  On Zoom, apparently!  It’s definitely the new thang.

I also caught up with John Land briefly yesterday.  He sent me a WhatsApp message suggesting that we got out of Bluff just in time.  As you can see from the newspaper headline, a recent wedding down there resulted in 55 of the 70 or so guests contracting the COVID-19 virus, despite active measures to maintain cleanliness, including hand sanitizing etc.

While I’ve been making good use of my time here, I’ve also been assessing different options for possibly returning home earlier.  Which includes maybe leaving the boat here and flying home.  No option is totally without risk or “issues”, however, I see that Qantas and Virgin are putting on extra flights to return “stranded” Aussies from four global locations … one of which is Auckland.

As I say, no option is perfect, but I’ll certainly check it out and compare it with the current “sit it out” option, while continuing to look for a crew to assist me sail home; however unlikely this might be in the short term

Oh, I see that daylight savings ends tonight … which means we get an extra hour to sleep in.  There was a time, not that long ago, I would have been really excited by that.  Since the lock down … an extra “free” hour has lost it’s meaning somewhat.

Smooth seas, fair breeze and It Might Have Been a Gorgeous Day

Rob Latimer

Mana Marina (near Wellington)

Friday 3 April 2020

The big news today is that I started the motor, untied the mooring lines and went for a “voyage”. 

It was a very short voyage.  Probably too short even for the GPS tracker to even pick it up … but here I am neatly tucked up in a real marina berth, just like I was back home in Westernport.

The move was something of an inevitability really, as my “temporary” situation had tipped over into more of a “permanent” situation, with the berth at the Cruising Club’s seawall being a kind gesture, well beyond the courtesy three days.

I finalized the berth arrangements with the marina manager yesterday, and it looks like I’ll be able to stay here for at least the next 3 weeks – the remaining term of the current national “lock-down” – and possibly even longer.  The yacht that normally lives in this spot is currently down at Picton, and like everything else, is locked down.

It sounds like a pretty simple procedure … moving a boat just 75 metres from there to here … but as they say, “it’s quite deceptive really” … and I can’t say the word “deceptive” without being reminded of the short comedy cartoon featuring a beached whale and a duck … if you haven’t seen it, and I’m sure there’s still a few … then here it is … https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZdVHZwI8pcA  

Anyway, despite the lockdown, I was able to recruit three authorized “helpers”, who each naturally kept the required distance, and didn’t come aboard … to assist with the mooring lines – leaving and arriving – in the form of Tara, the marina accounts and administration manager, her husband and their friend.    

I made the move relatively early in the day … at least early for me of late … before the wind got up, because maneuvering a boat in confined waters, and particularly Chimere with her high sides and NO bow thruster, can lead to [expensive] unintended consequences.  Getting into the new berth wasn’t a problem, despite it being just slightly wider than Chimere, the big problem lay in the fishing boat called “Tradition” that was sitting just a few metres off my bow.

You might have seen how those cruise ships come and go from a wharf … they basically rotate their fore and aft motors to firstly drive sideways from the wharf, then rotate on their own length. 

Well Chimere can’t do that. 

If we had a “bow thruster”, we could come close, but instead we use what’s called spring lines.  These are essentially mooring lines that you either attach from the front, or the back of the boat, to a cleat or bollard on shore.   

When used correctly, spring lines can push your STERN away from the wharf, when you drive onto them … or, alternatively push your BOW away from the wharf, when you back onto them. 

I suppose you had to be there … but after a time … or a couple of times anyway … I was able to back Chimere a sufficient distance off the wharf (without hitting the wall behind me, or the row of boats off to the side)  to then enable me to drive forward without hitting the fishing boat or wiping out the dinghy hanging off my stern davits. 

Again, fortunately, there was little, to no, wind.  Throw a breeze into the equation … other than one that is conveniently blowing you off the wharf … and I think I’d still be tied up at the wharf.

As for the new address?  It really is the end of the Row … with only a narrow entrance channel between me and the rock wall off my starboard side. 

One nifty thing is that a homemade, very solid step ladder, belonging to the yacht that normally sits here, just happened to be positioned exactly where my port side gate ended up coming to rest, once we’d tied up all the mooring lines – sweet as bro!  Although, once I’d plugged in my shore power, I’m not sure I’ll be using the ladder very much … maybe to get some exercise … but I have pretty much everything I need onboard.       

In other news … around sunset, I looked up from my laptop and noticed the sky looked pretty outside.  So I couldn’t resist nicking up on deck to take a photo.    One thing the photo doesn’t show is that with the wind now blowing from a south-ish kind of direction, it’s a bit chilly outside.  It’s nice and warm down inside, but it does make you wonder how much colder it might get in a month or so?!

Smooth seas, fair breeze and same postcode – different address

Rob Latimer

Mana Marina (near Wellington)

Thursday 2 April 2020

My friend Murray asked me the other day … “Are you on WhatsApp? … or maybe we could Skype?” 

“I’ve got WhatsApp on my phone, but I could Messenger you on the computer”, I said

“Is that the same as FaceTiming?”, I asked

“Not sure”, said Murray,

“I hear Zoom is the new thing”, I continued … “Do you have Viber?”

“Viber?!  That’s so yesterday!”

So began our planning for a Thursday night “Dance Club” meeting.  Not that dancing gets in the way of this particular weekly beer drinking and world-problem solving ritual … carried on well after Murray’s daughter, and his mate’s daughters as well, finally finished with lessons, probably around 25 years ago.

Of course, my attendance at this – now online gathering – is purely as an invited, “Associate Member”, not having had a child in attendance at these dance classes, all those years ago. 

Naturally, I lack the shared sense of duty, joy and sacrifice that these men shared from that time, plus the deep bond they forged, waiting together in the foyer of the cold, local public hall, as the upright piano inside beat time to bouncing tutus and shaky pirouettes. 

“I’ll call you on WhatsApp … 4:30pm Melbourne time,” confirmed Murray this morning. 

This was the second Dance Club meeting I’d attended.  The last one was a year ago, or maybe two, at the Mitcham Lawn Bowls Club, where I was hoping to find beer still at 1970s prices. But, having just got back from sailing up the West Coast of the South Island, I think you have to go to the Westport Returned Services Association – which John and I did – to get anywhere near cheap beer prices served over a bar.

The Dance Club meeting turned out to be a lot of fun.  The agenda was pretty loose and free, with the COVID-19 virus and strategies for its global containment, right at the top of “General Business”. Not sure people are speaking about anything else these days, but for a novel interlude I was able to take the guys on a tour of the ship, (after I’d figured out how to reverse the camera lens on my phone) even going outside and giving them a view of the sun starting to go down and the general marina hereabouts.  Climbing the companionway ladder, however, I realized this was the first time I was going outside today … and it was close to 7:00 in the evening.  I even had my slippers on. “Don’t forget to do the dishes!” called Murray as the phone swept past the galley sink. “I’ve gotta save something for tomorrow” I called back

After signing off from Murray and the Dance Club, it was only 20 minutes later that I was into my second Skype Sundowners Session with Melbourne friends Mike and Robyn Clarke.  The first Sundowner with Mike and Robyn, was last week when the lock-down had just begun in New Zealand and they had just returned to Australia from a holiday – in New Zealand – and were in their own private 14 day home lock-down.  They are now just 2 days short of completing their time, and with good behaviour will be on day release from Sunday I think. 

Not that “isolation freedom” means as much now as it did 14 days ago, because pretty much everyone else in Victoria, and Australia, are now also in lock-down… or should be.  But at least they can now walk, or cycle around the block, or within their postcode.

It’s funny, our “session” started on Skype, but for whatever reason it kept freezing up, so I sent Robyn a “Hi” on Messenger and pretty soon we were video-conferencing flawlessly but on an alternative platform.  And as an aside, Robyn wasn’t up to doing a “re-cap” on last week’s lesson on fractions, per medium of beer in glases…

My cousin Keith kindly gave me a good morning “Howdy” call this morning.  “Didn’t wake you, did I?” he jokingly asked, the time being around 9:45. 

“You might have, if you’d called yesterday,” I said “But today… I’m eating my breakfast and learning how to use a new Video Editing software program”

We chatted away for some time.  Keith was sitting in a car, in a carpark, while Christine did the supermarket shopping inside.  Apparently, yesterday there were big queues outside all the local stores, so Keith and Christine figured whatever they needed could wait.  At least until this morning, with 8:00am being the preferred time to go, if you want to avoid the rush … or the wait.

“Now that was a north west wind that brought in the fog yesterday, not a north east wind that you wrote in your blog”, corrected Keith.   “You see, I DO read it” he continued.   While I had Keith on the line I took the opportunity of asking about the gnomes.  After all, Keith used to have a boat berthed here in the marina … “what gnomes” was Keith’s response … so I’ll have to keep asking around.   

As for the wind today, I really don’t know where it came from … south-ish I think … because I spent the whole day inside, in front of the computer, trying to synchronize video, music, text and audio into a coherent 7 minute video production that will hold an audience longer than 5 seconds.  I can see what they mean by each 1 minute of video taking an hour to produce.  I think they’re being conservative there.  Because I’ve certainly spent more than 7 hours on this production.  But then again, I am also learning the program for the first time as well, which must skew the numbers.

Local friends Gary and Theresa … that’s the Gary who very nearly came on a sailing adventure aboard Chimere, along with Annette and Martyn … also gave me a call. Just to see how I’m going.  Which, again is really comforting and reassuring.    

It looks like tomorrow I might be moving Chimere … not far … I’d estimate about 75 metres at the most.  Across onto A Row, out on the end.  So I can say good-bye to passing, chatty foot traffic, but given my stay is likely to extend for some time yet, it’s best that I not abuse the privilege of the “temporary” tie-up here at the Mana Cruising Club sea wall. 

Hopefully the wind is light in the morning when I make the move.  If it’s not, I’ll just defer moving until it is. It’s not as if another day will make that much difference.

It’s been great to be able to chat with Linda on Messenger from time to time.  We have lots of old photo albums and so Linda has been scanning selected photos and emailing them to me.  The current batch is from Dad’s 1947 walk of the Routeburn and Milford tracks which I mentioned a couple of days ago. 

Looking more closely at the photos, there’s one of the Christchurch cathedral from 1947, along with the main street of Queenstown and Timaru, plus a fine selection that illustrates the text of dad’s story, which I recorded in 2008; and which is included at the end of the blog two days ago.

The flat screen DVD player is getting a bit of a work-out.  So far, I’ve resisted the urge to watch the movie Castaway, but I have got through the 2-box set of the quirky “Flight of The ConChords” … if you’re not familiar with this NZ group you really have to see it to believe it, I’m not going to try and describe it.  Suffice to say, it pushes the small-town-New-Zealand cultural cringe to new boundaries and beyond.  Plus, it’s extremely funny while doing it. 

Plus, I’m working my way through the delightful … “The Number 1 Ladies Detective Agency”.  A must for anyone with a love for Africa and the triumph of right over wrong … plus those who are “traditionally built”    

Smooth seas, fair breeze and communications overload

Rob Latimer

Mana Marina (near Wellington)

Wednesday 1 April 2020

It’s strange, that a walk down the road, little more than 1 km, to replace an empty gas bottle, should be considered my highlight of the day. But such is the nature of social isolation.

We have two gas bottles on board.  Solely for cooking, and when one runs out it’s a simple case of switching over to the spare, with the empty replaced or filled up at the first opportunity.

Not that there’s any hurry.  A bottle generally lasts more than a month, and with me just cooking for myself, it would probably last nearly two months.  But, better to be safe than sorry, and so I lashed the empty to my back, along with a small collapsible trolley, and headed off to the petrol station.

There, through a mix of hand signals, and mumbled voices through the thick glass- serving-window, I was able to complete the transaction.  Then, it was a slightly slower walk home, dragging the bottle-laden trolley behind me – those full bottles are heavy.

Although I had good intentions of doing the “gas job” before lunch, a combination of waking up late (it’s becoming the way of things I’m afraid) and starting to learn a new computer program, meant it wasn’t until mid-afternoon that I went for my outing.

On return, it was strange to see a bank of cloud move in; from the north-east I think.  It was strange because normally you watch clouds – white or grey – track across the sky at a reasonable height, and either they keep moving, or they just get heavier and dump some rain.  This cloud came in at grass-height, like a wall of brownish-grey in the form of thick sea mist.     

I took a few photos, which hopefully convey the phenomena.

I wasn’t outside looking at the clouds long though.  On my return from the shops I resumed my position in front of the computer, clicking and dragging the mouse through a video editing program, that I imagine has always been on my laptop, but which I’ve never had time to investigate; until now.

In fact, there seems to be several video editing programs in the directory, (each of varying complexity and functionality) and after checking each one out … even Powerpoint – although I’ll probably regret saying that – I settled on one, called … surprise, surprise … “Video Editor”, because it seemed so simple to use … even for me. 

It naturally doesn’t have all the bells and whistles of the professional editing suites, if truth be told, this program barely has a triangle, but in less than 15 minutes I was trimming video clips, adding music, captions and titles – plus recording a voice-over.  Give me a few more days of obsessive, screen-time and I’ll be a force to be reckoned with … in a media-kindergarten kind of way.  

The main reason for looking more closely at video editing, is because it seems such a useful skill … which I currently don’t have.  I have certainly amassed a lot of video, on various hard drives, over the years, and to date I’ve relied on the generosity and skill of my son Matt, to … “knock something together” … which he always does so professionally and willingly. 

No more!!  It’s time that I produced short films.  Well, when I say that, I mean … it’s time I started learning how to at least combine video, audio, music and text into something resembling a film.  And I promise NOT to use Comic Sans font, or gimmicky Swishes and novelty Magic Transitions.  It’ll be plain vanilla productions or me.

As for uploading to Youtube??  That seems a bridge too far right now, but let’s face it… how hard can it be, really?!  Particularly when you see some of the online content and where it’s derived … surely not all of those folks have a 33-year-old son called Matthew who’s always more than happy to oblige his father in producing a film for this or that purpose.

In closing, I was going to hold this piece of news over until I really had little else to write about.  Till the cupboard was bare in the daily-activity department … well I think we might almost be there. 

It concerns gnomes.  Now gnomes are generally not the sort of thing you associate with boat marinas, and I’m really not sure of their origin, but the fact is, there’s a generous collection of gnomes here at Mana.  Each one appears to be a proxy for a boat, or maybe a skipper, crewmember or past event, that has gone before; in something like a memorial along the side of the pathway.  Certainly, a lot of work has gone into making each unique creation, with a story attached to each to be sure … to be sure.

I’ll include some photographs of a selection to give you an idea. 

I tried doing a web-search of “gnomes at Mana Marina” … but it wasn’t really that helpful.  If I find out some more information, I’ll pass it on.

Smooth seas, fair breeze and cooking with gas

Rob Latimer

Mana Marina (near Wellington)

Tuesday 31 March 2020

Thought I’d go for a walk today.  Not a long walk.  But the sun was shining, the air was still and I thought I’d take the opportunity to check out the neighbourhood – the LOCAL neighbourhood of course – just for future reference. 

I’ve been watching the trains go past on the nearby line – both freight and suburban – over the past 10 days or so, and figured I should have a closer look. 

Due to the “lock down” the passenger service is running to a Sunday Timetable apparently, with travel restricted to emergency and essential personnel only.  Consequently there aren’t many people in each carriage, and no one I could see on the local Mana station.    

There were naturally very few cars on the road and everyone I encountered, either walking, or on their bikes, seemed happy to share a wave, or a “hi” … from a respectful distance; the threat of viral attack not dimming people’s innate politeness … yet.

Linda, back home in Melbourne, has been busy scanning selected memorabilia, photos and writings from my Lincoln University days (near Christchurch, NZ) and sending them through as email attachments.  All part of keeping me “occupied”, and it’s been really appreciated. 

Looking through all the material, it’s hard to believe that it’s forty years since I shared a student flat with three other blokes – one of whom was John Land, my sailing buddy up until a little over a week ago. 

One of the key documents Linda sent through was a “Ships Log” from that time.  A hand written, wool-bound manuscript, grandly titled – by a 20-year old me – “Nautical Log of the Good Ship Siebzehn” … which chronicled the adventures and misadventures of the small 15-foot dinghy that I owned jointly with friend and fellow flatmate from the time, Matt Brosnahan.  For regular readers of this blog, you’ll remember Matt from the Picton to Akaroa stage of this voyage.  

Siebzehn (the name we gave our gallant vessel) – we were informed at the time – was German for 17 … the same number as our flat. I don’t know why we chose the German word to name our boat, but our flat could be described as a vibrant, active residence, (set among 20 or so other flats on the edge of the university campus) where there was never a dull moment.  Actually, that’s putting it mildly, because whilst we all did the required study and passed the necessary exams, we never let the demands of study get in the way of a new distraction, prank, project, or adventure. 

At the time, buying a “flat yacht” – in October 1980 – seemed the ultimate in time-wasting.  Even rivaling our, mid-week snow skiing, running a direct-sales-cheese-retailing-business and having the university contract for posting the daily mail in alphabetical order on the public notice board.    

The idea for a boat came from Matt Brosnahan I think, which I quickly endorsed. Since I was the only one who had ever sailed a boat, it was also a fun opportunity to introduce others to the joys of sailing … and as it turned out … to better understand why it’s sometimes said that … “worse things happen at sea”.

In fact, I meant to bring the Siebzehn ship’s log over with me on Chimere, so as to recall in greater detail our specific Banks Peninsular adventures from all those years ago, and contrast them with our new adventures, albeit on a slightly bigger vessel this time round!

Maybe once I’ve sorted through things a bit more, and matched some of the photos with each sailing adventure, I can add them to the end of these daily blogs, as regular episodes; there seems to be a bit of a common theme running through both, as it turns out.

My online search for potential crew, to help me sail Chimere back to Melbourne, has effectively ground to a halt.  The chances of finding a suitable-someone, who lives just down the road, is kind of slim.  It doesn’t stop me checking out the various sailing forums and Facebook sites, (full of beached yachties from around the wolrd, all with similar issues to me – but some far worse off) where I invariably end up down rabbit-burrows of “online content”, ending with cat videos, ships battling storms at sea and Twenty Greatest/Smallest/Fastest/Most Expensive … this or that.

Something that did grab my eye, however, which is really an amazing coincidence, was a collection of video clips from a chap called Harold Neel.  Now, I met Harold in Port Vila in 2017, while we were conducting the National Oral Health Survey with Medical Sailing Ministries (www.msm.org.au) aboard Chimere.  I even bought Harold’s book and visited him aboard his, once-glorious, 63 foot schooner Cassiopeia. 

Last November, during my visit to Port Vila, I got to wondering where Harold had got to, because his boat was no longer on its mooring, over near Iririki Island.  So, imagine my surprise when I found a video of Harold, filmed live yesterday in the US Virgin Islands from what I can tell, enthusiastically engaging with his virtual, online crew-audience.  His distinctly Texan accent delivering a mix of hope, love and goodwill, with a mix of global spiritualism, planet-saving-philosophy and home-spun sailing and life-skill advice, thrown in for good measure. 

Harold was, and obviously still is, an irrepressible force.   And you can check him out at the following link:

https://www.facebook.com/harold.neel

Seeing Harold again, it got me looking back through my Vanuatu Ships Log from mid-2017, (plus photos) to see how I recorded my “Harold Encounter” from that time. 

It certainly brought back a few classic memories and if you’d like to read more, I’ve included the links here:

Mark’s first day in paradise, Thursday 13 July 2017, Port Vila

http://msm.org.au/marks-first-day-in-paradise/

Circus comes to town. Friday 14th July 2017, Port Vila  (Refer to Post Script)

http://msm.org.au/circus-comes-to-town/

Tomorrow marks the end of Week 1 of the NZ lockdown … and whilst technically there’s supposed to be just 3 weeks to go after that, in reality, it’s probably going to be months, rather than weeks before an end is in sight.  On my walk today I see that the family is still “living” in the small hike-tent over by the water’s edge, and the motor homes from the other day are still there. 

How long I can remain on this seawall – free of charge – is also a question that will probably have to be addressed shortly.  There’s only so much free electricity and hospitality one can accept, before alternative … more conventional (and fee-paying) choices need to be considered – such as a marina berth.

Smooth seas, fair breeze and off my leash today

Rob Latimer

Mana Marina (near Wellington)

Monday 30 March 2020

I’ve always been a “morning person”.  Usually falling asleep by 9:30 in the evening … keen to go to bed, then firing on all cylinders again by 5:30 or 6:00am the next morning.   I don’t generally have trouble sleeping … I’m told I got it from my dad … and Linda often says I’ve got two speeds, ON and OFF.  Not sure what she means there…

Linda’s quite the opposite.  “How can you stay up this late?”, I’d often ask, as she starts watching a late-night movie, or opening text books to do complex maths problems – just for fun.

Here on the boat, it seems things have gone a bit topsy turvy.  I wouldn’t say I’ve adopted “teenage hours”, but if I’ve ever been critical of someone sleeping-in after 10:00am, I beg your forgiveness.

I suppose, the current “situation”, has altered the value of time.  We’re kind-of in a new dimension – particularly here in New Zealand, where everyone is being asked to stay in their homes.  For most this means no work, no travel, no school, no clubs, no group associations … and an abundance of free time. 

Of course, some are able to “spend” their time working from home, but if … “time is money” … then there’s been a “devaluation”, or maybe, more correctly, a “re-valuation”.  And we are now in the process of re-allocating that time to different tasks and projects as best we can. 

On the plus side, I’m now looking at all those things that, up until now I’d have considered, “non-productive activities” – like tidying up a cabin, looking back through old photos and audio recordings, watching a DVD, chatting with family and friends on line, writing, sharing gossip with passers-by – and not feeling guilty about doing them.  

It’s a whole new word and it’s good … at least for now.  But of course, I don’t have a couple of kids to entertain in a small apartment, or a large mortgage to service with the fear of no future income, or a business to run and employees to pay … I could go on… but you get the idea.   

Just to mix things up a bit, the fishing boat, tied up in front of me, went out to sea on the high tide early this morning. (Early, must have been 3:30, or 4:00am)  I thought he’d be out for a couple of days, but mid-afternoon he returned, after just 12 hours or so; presumably with lots of fish. 

We had prior notice of his return, because while I was chatting with Keith and Christine – who had stopped by on their cycling … “home-escape-exercise”… a small truck turned up with a fish logo on the side.  “They’d be here to pick up his catch”, Keith observed out loud.  And sure enough, within half an hour, the unloading began. 

I haven’t been watching, or listening to the news – at least not very much – but following the implementation of the Alert Level 4, affectionately known as the “lock down”, apparently there’s been a few people in the community NOT playing by the rules.  Can you imagine that?! 

But it seems for many, fully understanding “the exact rules” … is in itself, a challenge. 

For example, in reading some of the commentary, “exercise is permitted, but the messaging around what is allowed and what is not, has been puzzling and extremely open to individual interpretation.  Can we drive to the beach for a walk? And once there can we swim, paddleboard? Can we bike? And if we can, what’s stopping us driving to the other side of town to tracks, forests, parks?”

Reminds me of the classic … “going on holidays in the car with the kids”.   Apart from the ubiquitous … “are we there yet”, from the back seat, you might also have had the … “she’s looking out my window”, or, “he’s touching me”  … comments, resulting in the … “rules being laid down” … from the front seat of course. 

OK kids … “NO looking out each other’s windows” and “NO touching each other”. 

Pretty soon, the boundaries are being pushed, tweaked and tested, and the cries of protest and indignation from the back seat are modified slightly … “I’m NOT looking out YOUR window … I’m looking NEAR your window”  … “ I DIDN’T touch you … my hand was only NEAR you…”

So, apparently personal walks and other active travel like cycling or scootering is fine … [but it’s necessary] to stick to simple outdoor exercise and avoid areas where you can get injured or lost.  And you can only use travel if you’re accessing essential services, (not the pub or Bunnings!) if you’re an essential worker, or if you’re driving to a local area for a walk or to exercise.

Sadly, there was an announcement of New Zealand’s first death from the virus. Plus there was the introduction of a website for dobbing in suspected … “non-compliant individuals and business” and another one for reporting examples of “price gouging”. 

Apparently the “dob in” web site was so popular, the system crashed yesterday.  Authorities were appealing to people NOT to ring 111, the equivalent of the emergency number 000 in Australia to report “suspects”, but to instead use the “Online Form” … sounds a bit “un-Australian”, or the New Zealand equivalent, but then not everyone is a “team player” sadly. So go for it …    https://forms.police.govt.nz/forms/covid-19-l4-breach

One of the chaps walking past this morning seemed keen to have a chat, making himself comfortable leaning back on a boat trailer near the path.  “I’m going **** stir crazy” he said.  “I did a heap of jobs on my boat, ready to **** go out for a few days, and now I can’t go out and I don’t have any jobs to do.  I said to the other guy down there on his boat who wants to head over to the Marlborough Sounds to sit it out … I said, mate… **** don’t do it.  There’s people on the hill up there sitting in houses watch’n all the time.  They’ll **** dob you in mate.  Me?, I’m looking for jobs to do on board and watching DVDs, although mate, I gotta say, I’m gett’n **** sick of **** David Attenborough

**** insert common expletive here

So I’m glad the authorities clarified that you are allowed to cycle for exercise … “in your local area” … because I wouldn’t like to feel obliged to report Keith and Christine.  The only question remains, since they rode from the nearby suburb of Papakowai is the marina in Mana STILL in their local area, given they had to ride through Paremata to get here.   I’m sure they’ll clarify tomorrow?!

As I alluded to earlier, I’ve been making good use of my time, partly by digging back through my computer’s hard drive.  Looking at old photos and files, plus listening to 2008 audio recordings I took of dad’s historical recollections, particularly of things that relate to New Zealand; given I’m here.  (notice I didn’t say “stuck” here) 

You see, Dad was a fourth-generation kiwi, (born and raised in Wellington, just over the hill from here) with his great grandfather George, came from England back in the 1850s.  George even worked for a time in a shipping business on Port Chalmers in Dunedin, taking water and supplies out to ships at anchor in the harbour, particularly during the Otago gold rush of the 1860s – so the interest in the sea continues through the generations.

Whilst I was born in Melbourne, with mum and dad raising me and my three siblings there, we all grew up with stories of New Zealand – family, adventures, places and dates.  It was part of our family lore and identity, although I never got to experience it first-hand until mum and dad took us, as a family, “back” to New Zealand in 1972 and then again in 1977.   It also fueled my decision to study horticultural commerce here after completing my HSC in 1978. 

Anyway, one of these stories related to Milford Sound and how, when Dad was an 19-year-old lad, about to finish his apprenticeship as a fitter and turner, he travelled with his brother Ted and two mates, south to Queenstown and up Lake Wakatipu to Kinloch, aboard the steamer Earnslaw.  From there they walked the Routeburn track and after clambering through the unfinished Homer Tunnel – the year being 1947 – made their way down to Milford Sound, to start the Milford Track, only to be told, “Sorry lads, the track is closed … you’ll have to walk out the same way you walked in”

In my youth, I never really appreciated the significance of this “summer holiday excursion”.  Even after Dad brought us all over as a family to walk the Milford Track together in 1977 – no doubt something of a nostalgic journey for him, 40 years after he’d walked it earlier under very different circumstance – it still didn’t register, just how much of a … “problem-solving” … “overcoming-adversity” … adventure and formative experience this was for Dad.

It all began to fall into place, finally, when we sailed into Milford Sound and we actually anchored in Deepwater Basin and took the dinghy up to Sandfly Point … was it really just a few weeks ago.  Up until that point Dad’s story had just been something of a skeleton, now it seemed to grow flesh and substance.  I could picture it, value it, and in some ways identify with it.  Certainly, I could more clearly see my inherited desire to try something new from time to time and explore over the next horizon. 

At the encouragement of others, I’ve transcribed something of Dad’s historical recollections, specifically the Milford Sound adventure.  I’ve also included the few photos – at least the few that I have on my computer here, plus a couple of maps to help with understanding exactly where we are talking about.   If you’re interested, you can read on below.

In closing, I’ve gotta say, today was just like the return of summer.  Maybe it was the contrast with the howling gales and rain of the past two days, but it really was a glorious day.

Smooth seas, fair breeze and it’s like summer again

Rob Latimer

Summer of ‘47

Bill Latimer’s Milford Track Adventure: involving ferry, bus and steamer transport from Wellington to Kinloch/Glenorchy at the head of Lake Wakatipu.  Then a walk of the Routeburn Track, followed by a trek through the unfinished Homer Tunnel, down to Milford Sound. Only to discover the track had been closed since the war. Undeterred, Bill, along with brother Ted and friends Len Sutton and Ian Connor hatched a plan, with two other fellow adventurers, to walk the track anyway.  Returning home via boat on Lake TeAnau, then bus and ferry back to Wellington.  Their summer holidays complete, they went back to work for a rest, having covered over 120km of rough trails.      

[Transcript of a 2008 audio file, by Robert Latimer, of Bill Latimer’s historical recollections.  Done in 2008, just a few months prior to Bill’s death)  

[Robert:  And you travelled to the South Island as a lad …]

Oh Yes, oh yeh.  That was 1947, that was a year to remember. 

We went to the South Island on the ferry, the Rangatira, it ran to Christchurch.  And we went over with intent to walk the Milford Track.  Because a friend of ours, Reg Gilbert, his family knew a family who ran a cattle station in the Hollyford Valley. 

So anyway, I got interested in that.  There was me, and my brother, [Ted], Len Sutton, and who else, Ian Conner.  So the four of us.  And then we went by bus, through Cromwell, Central Otago, to Queenstown, then on the old Earsnlaw steamer, up Lake Wakatipu,  to Kinloch, and we got off there. 

When we go off, there’d been a terrific rain storm, and all the roads had been cut, closed.  We had been intending to walk over the Routeburn track, up the Routeburn Valley

So, we spent a couple of days sleeping at the house of the road foreman, helping him repair the roads.  He had an old truck and us boys gave him a hand, and they fed us.  There were a lot of wash-aways and everything.  There’s a suspension bridge over the Routeburn river and we had to cross that to get onto the track proper.  Because the Routeburn river runs into the head of Lake Wakatipu.

So that was a bad start really.  Anyway, it wasn’t too bad.  We had shelter in the foreman’s house. After a while, the weather cleared up and thereafter that it was pretty good really. 

We walked the Routburn track into the Hollyford Valley past Lake Howden, Lake Mackenzie it was all pretty rough country.   There weren’t too many people walking then, because nothing had really been done in the six years of the war and they were only just starting to fixing the tracks up.

When we got to Hollyford, Hollyford Valley – we got to the Homer Tunnel and the whole village had been left there and you could just pick any hut you wanted to stay in, and we did. 

The hole through to Milford Sound was just a bored, rough – rough-rock hole.  In fact, inside there was machinery just abandoned at the start of the war.  They’d started that job in the 1930’s and it hadn’t been completed except the hole had been bored through.  And it was a very rough walk through it. 

So we walked through there, down to Milford Sound which is probably 5-6 miles.  We got to the Milford Hostel and we bargained on buying bread there.  Well the manager said immediately,  “you are not allowed on the Milford Track … the Milford Track is not open.  You cannot.  You have to go back the way you came in.  The only way in here is by sea.  There are no provisions.  You cannot buy anything”.   

He was very “anti-us” walking the track.   He said the track is being repaired and the only people who go out there are workers, working on the track.

Well, by this time we’d met two blokes, one had been in the army and the other, his friend, said, “what are we going to do?” … he’d kind-of joined up with us. 

The older guy then said, “I haven’t been away 6 years in the army to be told by that bloke that we can’t walk the Milford Track.”  So, he was a natural leader.  And we come up with a plan.  We squatted on the beach.

We couldn’t build a raft.  ‘Cos you see, you had to cross from Milford to Lake Ada.  You couldn’t build a raft.  All the timber was wet and it would sink, so we came up with the idea that we would take a day-trip. A day fishing trip, on a boat which ran … there were a few tourists in the hotel, but they could only come by sea though … so we got on this fishing boat, for a day trip fishing and when we got to other the other side to,  Sand Fly Point … it’s called, nice name, well named cos the sandflies are awful there, they’re terrible …   we got off, had lunch and just went into the bush and never came back.   

We took some fish with us as extra rations because we didn’t have any rations.  We had hardly enough to last.  It takes three days … at least three days to walk the track when it’s in good nick, so we got off into the bush and the first hut we came to … Lake Ada, it’s called Sutherland Hut I think and we said, we need to be very careful here, because word’s going to get back to the manager at Milford that we are illegally on the track.

So, we walked early in the morning and laid up during the day and walked again late afternoon, when we knew the workers wouldn’t be working

So, we did that and we walked up as far as Pompolona Hut.     That was right.  Some of the huts are very hard to get by, because they’re in a ravine and they’ve got dogs.  So with shoes round our neck and bare feet we sneaked past.  But the dogs started barking and you’ve just got to keep going, right.   And someone might just think it was a possum or something in the bush

Then we got to the Jervois Glacier and you’ve got Mackinnons Pass to get over, our leader, I just can’t remember his name right now … well he said, “I’ll go ahead and reconnoiter, you guys stay here.  We can’t go past the hut, someone’s going to see us.  But I’ll go up and get the lay of the land, there’s someone up there for sure”.  So he left us in the bush, hidden well off the track in case any track workers, or officials came by.

He came back after two or three hours and said, “it’s OK, there’s a Maori bloke up there, his track is absolutely perfect three or four hundred yards either side of his hut, and then it deteriorates into bush again” – but there’s not much bush there anyway, really. 

Anyway, he then said, “… that bloke hates the manager at Milford.  He said he’s had a phone message on a land line, a single wire through the bush.  He said I’ve gotta keep a lookout for these blokes and I’ve gotta detain them somehow when I find them and then call him to let him know.” 

He said … “Well he can go and … you-know-what” … in rather colourful language.  He said … “he’s a good bloke.  He’s got plenty of tucker, lots of cans of food for mountain people who are lost  and he’ll feed us as well.”

So we all came out of the bush.  There were six of us all landed in his hut.  He made a great big stew in a kerosene tin, and we hopped into that  

Up till then, we were living on a few haricot beans, we couldn’t catch any fish, and we had a small amount of rice.  We were really on starvation rations.  We stayed there overnight with the track maintenance man, and then walked down into Clinton Canyon towards Lake Howith.  The Maori track worker gave us some food to carry on our journey and we kept walking till we got to Lake Te Anau.

Now the next problem was how to get to Te Anau, because we didn’t know when the next boat was coming.  We camped down by the lake and lit a big fire so the smoke would keep the mosquitos and sandflies away and after a couple of days a boat came up.  It had tourists onboard just for a day trip and so we got onto the boat, and we had enough money and asked for a fare down to Te Anau.

It greatly surprised the boat master to see these blokes just out of the blue.  Where had they come from … but he didn’t worry too much, as long as he got his fare, which we had.  Then from TeAnau we got the bus back to Christchurch, then the ferry to Wellington.  We went back to work for a rest.  It had been a very physically demanding thing – December 1947 and January 1948