Akaroa Harbour

Sunday 16 February 2020

The big day had arrived – we were going to relocate Chimere from Lyttleton Harbour all the way around the Banks Peninsular to Akaroa Harbour; the site of the popular and ever-quaint village of Akaroa.  Whether it’s the sense of remoteness, the beautiful surroundings, or the early French influence dating back to 1840, or maybe a combination of each, Akaroa is a popular destination for many visitors to New Zealand.

So popular in fact that 92 cruise ships will anchor in the bay this season, with a steady stream of small tender craft ferrying passengers to and from the local wharf, where they are welcomed by town officials, to then enjoy what the region has to offer, or just wander the charming streets; many of which, along with the houses and other buildings, are distinctly French.

Whilst we would be going around Banks Peninsular, the truth is we wouldn’t be going right the way around.  And although Captain Cook, way back in 1770, recorded this prominent piece of land as an island (which it certainly looks like from out at sea), it most definitely is a peninsular; extending out east from the edge of the Canterbury Plains.

Of course, as Captain Cook travelled around he wrote the charts.  For us it was somewhat easier.  We had, maybe 4 or 5 forms of electronic charts and plotters on board, all linked to GPS trackers, tour guides, cruising guides, plus the official paper charts to boot; actually based on Cooks original 250 year old efforts.

It was an early start for us, because with close to 50 miles to travel, we would need at least 7 hours to cover the distance, at an average speed of 7 knots.  Aboard for the ride we welcomed Matt’s wife Philomena, plus John’s daughter Felicity and Felicity’s friend Alice; making a total of nine.

The all-important weather forecast looked “Okay” … not brilliant, but just OK.  At one point, a couple of days ago, we were considering deferring the trip, but in the end we felt conditions would be “acceptable”.  At least the wind would be from the north east, and NOT on the nose, and so long as we got underway early when it was predicted to be lighter, we would be further around the peninsular – and in more sheltered waters – by the time it came in stronger in the afternoon.

One thing I hadn’t fully anticipated, it must be said, is the sloppy and confused sea that remained from the past few days of blowy conditions, which hadn’t fully subsided by the time we made our way out of the Lyttleton Heads.

In summary, it must be said that – at the end of the day – everyone performed admirably.  Despite the lumpy conditions we made remarkable time (ably assisted by the engine) and by around 2:00pm we were anchoring in the blissfully calm and sheltered Flea Bay; close to the entrance of Akaroa Harbour itself.

Apart from sitting under a gum tree for 5 minutes, there is nothing like a calm, settled anchorage for revitalising those who might have, just a few minutes beforehand, been suffering the effects of the ship’s motion.  Empty stomachs certainly guaranteed good appetites and we were especially fortunate to have amazing food and drinks to share – courtesy of Felicity, Philomena and Alice.

At this point a very special mention must be made of Felicity’s egg and bacon pie creation.  It was enormous, it was delicious and it was stunning.  It seemed to feed everyone, with more to spare – thank you Felicity.    

At lunch, after much anticipation (plus a certain amount of initial embarrassment possibly) Alice broke out the ship’s violin … doesn’t your yacht have a violin?!  After a short period of intense tuning, ably assisted by John whose strength and skill with timber, enabled him to successfully twist the final A-string peg a quarter-turn – Alice thrilled us with her amazing skills.  This was backed up by Dean on the ship’s guitar – which is usually stored in its solid, corner-sewn case, that he felt might have been taken from Maria Von Trapp – and Samantha on vocals.  For the communal numbers, like Maltzing Matilda, we all joined in, making for a wonderful end to a most memorable day.

Whilst the sea conditions left a few feeling a bit off-colour, for part of the trip, (and I think we all know what colour that might have been) the amazing wildlife – dolphins, albatross, massed bird gatherings and penguins – along the way, kept us all spell-bound.  The dolphins in particular must have been with us nearly the whole way, diving, jumping, racing away, racing back … they just seemed to be having such fun. 

In addition, there were the stunning cliffs, rolling hills and valleys, plus the steady succession of bays and inlets, to our starboard side, all remnants from when Banks Peninsular was a very large, twin-volcano; now the harbours of Lyttleton and Akaroa.

On reaching Akaroa, there was uber-mum and wife Maryke to greet us, with smiles, hugs and of course the all-important car for the return drive home.

It really was a successful day.  Full of new experiences and sensations for many, and an opportunity for those of us who’ve spend a lot of time aboard, to look again through new eyes at just how amazing and unique this sailing and exploring caper really is.  To see the world from the sea and to remove yourself from the familiar home environment for just a time.

While this stage of the NZ2020 voyage was fast coming to an end, focus was starting to turn to the next leg – 300 miles south to Bluff; the port of New Zealand’s most southern city, Invercargill.

To undertake this passage, I was hoping to recruit some more crew, and up until two days ago, all my efforts had been unsuccessful.  “What about the internet?” I thought.  So I got back on-line sending multiple “Waves”  (not “Winks”) to every (nearly every) possible candidate on the “FindACrew” website, who was currently resident in New Zealand.

Fortunately, fishing for crew members has been more successful than fishing for fish, because within a day I had an online response from a chap called Carsten, a German guy in his 50s who had been travelling around the country in a campervan with his daughter, who now had time to spare; his daughter having just flown back to university in Sydney (where she is studying marine biology)

“Yes, I would be happy to come aboard” said Carsten, during our 4 minute phone conversation. 

“Can you meet us at Akaroa?”, I inquired.

“Yes, no problem, I see my daughter off on Sunday, and can then maybe catch a taxi to Akaroa”

Such was the extent of my in-depth crew-screening process.  Carsten sounded like a decent bloke.  His on-line profile seemed believable.  And what’s more, he would be waiting at Akaroa when we arrived; willing and able to be aboard for the next 2 weeks … and possibly more later on.  What could possibly go wrong?!  

So now, after seeing off our sailing guests and soaking up the vibe of this wonderful little part of New Zealand, Dean, Sandy, Samantha and I  were looking for a German man in his 50s wearing a blue t-shirt.  In the end, after my second phone call and conversation … “yes, I’m near a small building with a red roof, near a restaurant called Ma Maison, wearing a blue t-shirt … there is a pier here as well”

It was now a little clearer to me … I was at the wrong end of town, searching amongst the patrons near the main tourist wharf, NOT the commercial centre of town.  The problem fixed, we were soon united with Carsten, but not before the four of us scanned and scrutinised the faces of many people from a discreet distance. Samantha in her boldness even approach a suitable looking man, sitting at a table by himself and asked “excuse me, are you Carsten?”  At least, I think that’s what she asked, I was too embarrassed, looking the other way at the time.

At first chat, Carsten seemed as great bloke, confirming my initial phone-vibe.  But don’t think I didn’t check him out some more, with additional probing questions … “do you like warm beer?” I gently inquired … “No, I only drink cold beer”, came the immediate response.  And when Carsten offered a jar of peanut butter from his bag, I asked another revealing question “is it crunchy” … “yes, it is crunchy”, confirmed Carsten … And then, if there was any lingering doubt, after dinner, Carsten presented a boxed-bottle of Australian Penfolds Port as a gift for Chimere; for which we all instantly developed a sudden taste.

So it was confirmed … Carsten would be the third crew member to accompany John and me on the voyage south, starting in three day’s time.  Carsten made himself comfortable in the cabin vacated by Matt, making sure NOT to bump his head – atop his 6’ 4” frame –  on the ceiling, and other obstacle, aboard.

It would soon be time to start planning our voyage south – the weather, the route and the conditions in Fiordland given the devastation following recent rains – but for now it was time to relax, engage with our new team member and think about turning in.

Smooth seas, fair breeze and not quite a circumnavigation!

Rob Latimer

Lyttleton Harbour, Te Ana Marina

Saturday 15 February 2020

The day began with the mist still hanging around the upper peaks of the surrounding hills; but with the promise of clearing skies sometime through the day.  That said, a rainbow could be seen in the low, grey clouds to our west, as the yellow rays of sun woke the day. But this would soon pass.

Around this time a smallish cruise liner with a dark coloured hull, backed into the berth off the township.  Soon after, an enormous cruise liner could be seen in the distance advancing up the bay and the thought occurred to me … “they’ll be anchoring out there in the harbour and shuttling people to and fro”.  Not so.  Having forgotten about it, I was busy having breakfast 30 minutes later and looked out to see this enormous wall of white windows, portholes and perspex drift past our starboard windows into a berth almost next to us.   It was  quite a sight and an exhibition of precision manoeuvring on the part of the two tugs in attendance and the dudes on the bridge of this behemoth.

With a couple of days in port, we were keen to pack in as much shore-based activities as possible and so John, who had departed to his Christchurch home (and wife, Maryke) for a few days, would be returning late morning with a “spare” car for us to use in seeing some of the local sights.

But first there was the local Lyttleton Saturday Market to enjoy, as we mixed it with passengers off the two cruise ships. 

The market itself was what you might call earthy, authentic and grassroots, with an eclectic mix of artisan food vendors, crafts people, entertainers and miscellaneous extras … all arranged either side of the blocked off main street.

In some respects, the market gave hints of a 1970s cheese-cloth, ty-dye, macramé past, (only with a lot more face and body metal and tattoos) … that you might have thought was long past, but not so.  Think Ninbin, Woodstock and Brunswick St Melbourne, all wrapped into one, and you kind of get the idea. 

It was a great experience and well worth a visit.    

As Sandy observed … “if ever I need more water buffalo tiramisu mascarpone, accompanied by organic brewed coffee and locally grown spices, with a wedge of water buffalo camembert cheese on the side, then I’ll know where to come”.

Speaking of water buffalo, which you don’t do a lot of on a yacht it must be said, I asked the nice lady at the water buffalo camembert stall … “where do you keep your water buffalo?” … As non-plussed and as expressionless as you like she answered … “in the paddock”.  I suppose I was hoping for more, but I thought better of pursuing things further and instead strolled on.

It was about 11:30am that John dropped the car off and after dropping him back to his home, just 15 minutes away, plus having lunch with him and his wife Maryke, I returned to have second-lunch with Dean, Sandy and Samantha, aboard the boat; which consisted of a really big slice of non-faux meat slice, bought NOT at one of the market stalls, but in a regular pastry and pie shop. 

By early afternoon we were ready to hit the road, all four of us eager to see the nearby sights and views of Banks Peninsular.   Looking back, you might say we were ambitious, even courageous, in what we set out to do… probably covering 200 kilometres or more in just a few short hours.   

Our first destination was Sumner Beach, up and over Dyers Pass, where we indulged in a coffee and soaked in the beach vibe and setting.  It was then off to Lincoln University.  Something of a nostalgic trip for me, which Dean, Sandy and Samantha happily accommodated, because it was here between 1978 and 1981 that I pursued the “getting of wisdom”, finally obtaining a bachelor of commerce degree in horticulture.

Before heading to the Lincoln Pub (the traditional watering hole of all young folk back in the day), we had a quick look at the key university sights, including the old flat of John Matt and me.     

The pub itself is no longer simply called “Bob’s”, as it was 40 years ago.  Like many things around here it suffered the effects of the big earthquake and in addition was “yuppy-fied”  over the course of years into a slightly more upmarket establishment called the “Famous Grouse”

Ordering a jug of beer, instead of individual glasses, Dean was keen to know the name of the local drop … “It’s called Pin Hid”, said the jolly lady behind the bar … “Pin Hid?”, repeated Dean with a quizzical look … “yeh, Pen Hed”, she repeated … “you know, like frying pin” she continued … pointing to her head with one hand while shaking what looked like flying pan in front of her with the other.        

“Pen Hed??”, persisted Dean, clearly still a little unsure of this strange combination of words, but wanting to get it right, he repeated … “It’s called Pen Hed? is it?”, thinking he’d finally nailed it.

“No, it’s a Pan Head IPA”, said the bar lady; probably wondering, by this time, about Dean’s cognitive ability.

“Oh!!!! … Pan Head”, smiled Dean, by now eager to move away and wrap things up.   

The beer went down well, and it was nice to soak in the memories and feelings of times-past as a student, in this place, at a very formative time of life.

We now mounted a serious assault on the peaks, valleys and winding roads of Banks Peninsular, taking in a quick stop at Little River to buy fruit from an old class mate who owns an orchard and road side stall there.  We almost got to see Matt and Philomena’s home at Little River, but they were out at the time.  So we headed up to the Hill Top Hotel, overlooking Akaroa Harbour, before making our way to Pidgeon Bay, Port Levy and Diamond Harbour before skirting Lyttleton Harbour back to the marina.    

By the time we’d got to Port Levy, it occurred to me that we’d certainly covered some ground in this wee car.  And whilst small Toyotas are very fuel efficient, they still need to be filled up occasionally.  Glancing at the fuel gauge a few things then instantly ran through my mind as I lifted my foot slightly from the accelerator … in particular … “how far will this car travel when the gauge is below empty?” …  “Is there any chance there might be a petrol station this side of Lyttleton – still at least 50 km away?”, and is it worth telling my passengers of the impending dilemma?”

In the end, to my immense relief, we made it to an automatic petrol station on the outskirts of Diamond Harbour, where I put in as much of the precious liquid that I could.

It had certainly been a big day and after dropping the car back to John’s, having a chat with my new-best-friend Alan, off the yacht next door, it was time for dinner – it was around 9:30pm.

Sleep was fast approaching, but not before we watched the enormous cruise ship inch its way out of its berth, just a short distance away.

Tomorrow would be our big trip around Banks Peninsular … by yacht … Chimere in fact,  with friends and family joining us for the jaunt.  The weather for tomorrow looked “OK”, not brilliant, just OK … but there was the guarantee that as we headed south and west around the coast, that the land would afford an increasing amount of shelter … always a good thing for novice sailors.

For now, it was time to go to sleep bro, big time!

Smooth seas, fair breeze and up, down and around

Rob Latimer

Lyttleton Harbour, (Te Ana Marina)

Friday 14 February 2020

The drizzle that persisted through the night did nothing to disturb our sound sleep, as we lay at anchor in Little Pidgeon Bay.  It was very snug, both outside and inside.

We had planned to stop the night in the much larger Pidgeon Bay next door, but the cruising guide suggested that when the wind blew, it funnelled down the long stretch of water making things a bit uncomfortable.  And that’s not a word I like to associate with sailing … given the choice.

Little Pidgeon Bay is one of many bays that extend into what is known as Banks Peninsular … actually named by Captain Cook way back in 1770 after the (onboard) botanist Joseph Banks.  If truth be told, Cook actually named it as an island, not realising that low land either side of the high volcanic outcrop made it a peninsular.  Given his overall track record we can probably let the great man off with a small reprimand on this inaccuracy.

For me, this was very much a home coming, with the waters of Banks Peninsular being a regular playground when Matt Brosnahan and I owned a small dinghy while I was at university here between 1978 and 1981.  The dinghy could accommodate 4 people, and the adventures we got up to in that wee craft could fill a small book.  I’ll include a few old photos I happen to have on my computer to give you a bit of an idea of what I’m talking about.  

After our 240 mile trip from Picton, it was now just a 10 mile hop around a couple of headlands to the Port of Lyttleton.  It was still overcast, but at least it had stopped drizzling, as we entered the small, inner harbour, where we did a quick look-around – past a big cruise ship snuggly tied up in the corner – towards the Te Ana Marina, where we took our (pre-arranged) allocated berth.  This berth offered safety, security … plus the all-important hot showers and on-shore facilities.

Soon after our arrival, we were greeted by John’s wife Maryke and daughter Felicity, plus Matt’s wife Philomena along with her brother Tom and two family dogs … all happy to see the safe return of their men.  Particularly Marke and Felicity because they hadn’t seen John since January when he flew over to Melbourne to join me for the initial leg across the Tasman Sea.

Felicity had baked a wonderfully large chocolate “Guinness Cake” to celebrate John’s birthday (from a few days earlier), with everyone singing Happy Birthday to create the usual level of desired embarrassment.

Once tied up and settled in, with gate keys issued from the office, Dean, Sandy, Samantha and I went for a stroll into town, with Matt and John returning to their respective homes onshore – John to Christchurch and Matt late in the day to Little River (actually on the Banks Peninsular)

Our walk took us up a nearby hill to see the historic (and recently restored – after the earthquake) TimeBall – used to help shipping back in the day to accurately set their chronometers.  It was then a leisurely stroll downtown for a coffee.

Around this time a long-time, close friend from Melbourne texted me to say that her and her husband were on a cruise ship that had just dropped anchor in Akaroa Harbour, and were we anywhere nearby.   I explained in response that we were 1 ½ hours drive away, and whilst it would be nice to catch up, the chances were against it, given they were only stopping for the day.  A few hours later Helen texted again to say that she was booked on a Christchurch bus tour that was returning via Lyttleton where it was really only going to slow down for photos.  We agreed that it would be virtually impossible to synchronise any sort of catch-up.  Then, out of the blue, as Matt and I were walking back to Chimere after some time down-town, my phone rings and it’s Helen … “Look to your right” … she says … and there before me is a big tour coach with Helen standing at the front window waving frantically, phone to her ear, as the bemused passengers sat quietly in their seats behind the tinted windows.

The obedient and accommodating driver let Helen disembark and soon after brought the bus to a halt nearby as Helen and I behave like silly teenagers, catching a kiss and a selfie before she jumped back on the bus once more – like I say, Helen and her husband Guy go back a long way with our family back in Melbourne, because the casual bystander might have got the wrong idea?! The photos kind of tell the story

As a special treat Dean and Sandy treated me to dinner at the nearby establishment … the Eruption Brewery – a local restaurant and maker of boutique beers with names like Lyttleton Pale Ale, Pyroclastic Haze and Eruption IPA …

While Dean, Samantha and I indulged in the local drop … only to support local industry and employment you understand … Sandy sipped on a wee glass of Pinot Gris.

Once back on board, it was a case of … “lie down before you fall down”, with tiredness quickly taking over.

Being tied up in Lyttleton was great feeling and was good to be back in familiar waters   

Smooth seas, fair breeze and a real homecoming!

Rob Latimer

Little Pigeon Bay  

Thursday 13 February 2020

The day started last night, with our departure from Gooch Bay, 80 miles north at Kaikoura.  It was just as dinner stop over really, with our sights set on making Banks Peninsular before a breezy southerly wind took hold in the afternoon.

All started well, with ol’ faithful Perkins chugging away under the floorboards, pushing us along at around 6 knots into calm seas and a light breeze.

Sandy and Samantha took up residence in the bow on departure, directing search lights into the dark before us in order to spot cray pot-bouys – not the sort of thing to have wrapped around your propeller, that’s for sure.

Through the night, John and I took turns on watch, me at first with Dean, Sandy and Samantha, till 1:00am, then John on duty with Matt from 1-4:00am.  After that, it was my turn again.

As light winds and calm seas persisted, motoring south at around 5-6 knots meant that our journey was expected to take around 12-14 hours … our arrival at Banks Peninsular planned for around 12:00noon. 

It was some time after 1:00am, while John and Matt were on duty in the cockpit, that things began to change pace somewhat.  I was sound asleep in my bunk when John’s familiar voice raised me to consciousness … “we’ve slowed right down, and the wind and seas have picked up”.  Words guaranteed to slip the mind into gear and the body into action.

Up on deck, a quick assessment of conditions revealed headwinds of around 20 knots, a short choppy sea of 1-2 metres, into which Chimere was regularly dipping her bow, sweeping waves of water across the deck.

 A short walk out of the shelter of the cockpit then saw me cop a direct hit from a wave, prompting me to return to my cabin to don full wet weather gear, including sea boots; the first time I’d used them in 3 weeks, including the Tasman crossing.

Back on deck, John and I were preparing to hoist some sail in order to start the process of tacking south, when Samantha emerged from her cabin …”there’s water coming in through a small hole near the handle in my deck hatch” … “do you think you could fix it with some duct tape and towels” I said, Samantha looking somewhat surprised at seeing us dressed for something close to a moonwalk, when just a few hours earlier she’d retreated to her warm, cosy, still, dry bunk after a friendly mug of hot Milo.  “Yep, no worries” was her no-nonsense reply as we made sure all deck hatches were indeed closed to their fullest.

At this point I should make special mention of Barry Stewart who assisted us in preparing Chimere for sea by re-sealing all the hatches.   Cos there’s few things worse that wet and dripping hatches when conditions take a turn for the worse.  Well, Barry’s careful handy work had not been full tested till now, and so far we’ve all remained dry; the leak in Samantha’s hatch being my fault on not using enough silicone when fixing the handle.

Back on deck, John and I hoisted a double-reefed mainsail and set a 50% jib, starting the first of several tacks that would be made over the next few hours.

So much for a strong southerly coming through in the afternoon, here it was maybe 12 hours earlier, making for a cold and wet wake-up call.

Several sail adjustments and tacks later we were finally able to lay a course for the Lyttleton Harbour entrance.  Through the pre-dawn hours Sandy stood spell-bound just outside the cockpit, totally entertained and engrossed in the comings and goings of a large pod of dolphins as they gambled alongside, sometimes jumping clear of the water.  It was a performance that certainly jolted her out of any feelings of tiredness as the sun battled to make n appearance through the grey, leaden sky.   

Sometime in the mid-afternoon Banks Peninsular, turned from being just a misty haze on the horizon, to an ill-defined land form, to brown hills, then to clearly visible real land with sharp rocks, crashing white water and cliffs to match.

In the end we dropped anchor in Little Pigeon Bay, rather than nearby Pigeon Bay, with plans to move around the coast a short distance to Lyttleton in the morning; where I’d booked a spot at a marina for a couple of nights.

After our 36-hour sail from Cloudy Bay, it was time to give Chime e a good scrub and clean, after which it was time for sundowners in the cockpit, a lovely shepherd’s pie dinner (thanks Dean) and the invitation of hot showers all round.

With most of us deficient in the “sleep department” it was an early night for all, with conditions still and rather cool outside once the sun had fallen below the hills which surround us on three sides.

Smooth seas, fair breeze and taking the good with the bad

Rob Latimer

Kaikoura – Gooch Bay 

Wednesday 12 February 2020

Oyster Bay met all the criteria for a top spot to drop the pick … calm, sheltered and very good holding.  Which basically means the anchor stays where you plonk it, along with all the chain and by default, the boat.

Before us lay around 80 sea-miles to Kaikoura, then a further 80 miles or so on to Lyttleton Harbour (Christchurch); our final destination for this leg.  We had studied the weather forecast and of course the preference of every (gentleman or lady) sailor, is to have the wind coming from behind, or at least on the side.  But definitely NOT from the front … or, “on the nose”.  Too much of which can definitely be on the nose.

Unfortunately, our weather forecast for the next couple of days was something of a mixed bag.  Wind from the north-east (good) for part of the way, turning southerly (bad) sometime over the next 24 hours, plus some westerly (also good) for good measure

The dilemma we faced was whether to stay tonight at Kaikoura, the half-way point, or continue on through the night and into tomorrow, so as to miss the worst of the forecast southerlies

No matter what we ended up doing, though, the first thing was to get away early … which we did, leaving Oyster Bay around 6:15am into a still, chilly and misty world.  First it was out of Port Underwood, across Cloudy Bay, past Cape Campbell and south towards Kaikoura

The motor got a fair amount of use throughout the day but for a time we were touching 8 knots before a fresh nor-easter, with the mainsail out one side and the jib poled out on the other, wondering whether we should start reefing the sails.  But even when the wind died off were still able to maintain 6-7 knots by firing up the Perkins.

We were now sailing … motoring … through the famed Kaikoura Coast, where tourists pay good money to view the big, majestic creatures.  We figured it was just a matter of time and we’d be fending them off with sticks.

Then the cry went up, “dolphins!!”  … and sure enough, a small group of what John identified correctly as Hectors Dolphin, (New Zealand’s only indigenous dolphin) kept us company for a while.  They really were different to any dolphin I’d ever seen before, but like all such creatures, they knew how to play and frolic at the bow of a boat.

We then saw some seals jumping around, followed by albatross and even little blue penguins … but still no whales – maybe further down the coast; not that we were ungrateful for the wildlife already revealed.

The further we travelled, the more we could see of the stunning coastline … in particular the backdrop of the Kaikoura Range, rising to 2,000m just inland.  No snow, being summer, but still, a wonderful accompaniment to the misty shoreline less than 10 miles off the starboard side.

Around 8:00pm we dropped anchor in Gooch Bay, on the southern side of the Kaikoura township, where we stopped briefly to make dinner and finally decide on the next course of action.  The wind was light, and we predicted to remain light for the next 18 hours … till 2:00pm tomorrow afternoon, according to the forecast. 

In the end, the rolly-ness of the anchorage, coupled with the desire to keep moving while favourable conditions prevailed, meant that all were in favour of carrying on through the night.

Prior to dinner, we ate the second half of the mussels gathered yesterday, making this the third such feast.  I’ll never want to pay for such an entrée or meal, ever again – just what we’ve all consumed would have to run to around $200, if bought in a restaurant.

While dinner was being prepared, I retired to my cabin to write the day’s blog (or at least the blog from yesterday or the day before) I heard a piercing alarm sound out from the cockpit area.  “Oh, the anchor alarm”, I thought, “Better go out and check” … which I did, only to discover that no one was doing anything, everyone was calm, and certainly no one was at the chart plotter figuring out if should be concerned or if it was just the effects of the wind or tide, spinning us around .  “Oh, that was the smoke alarn”, said Sandy calmly “we’ve put it under a t-towel” …

“Fair enough”, I thought … but it does bear an uncanny resemblance to the Anchor Alarm.

After a two hour Kaikoura stop-over it was back to sea around 10:00pm for a night sail, under near-full moon, to Lyttleton … the port of Christchurch.  We were all excited, with Sandy and Samantha in charge of the search lights in the bow making sure we didn’t fall foul of one of the many craypot bouy-lines that we spied on the way in.

Smooth seas, fair breeze and dolphin delights

Rob Latimer

Oyster Bay  (Lat 41 17S, Lon 174 07E)

Tuesday 11 February 2020

Our night at Ship Cove was tranquil and calm, giving us all a wonderful night’s sleep; even our new adventurers Dean, Sandy and Samantha, this being their first night aboard.

We were up to see the sunrise, with Dean completing his drone, aerial video footage from the night before.

By 8:30am we were letting go the mooring and setting a course south of Motuara Island and out into Cooks Strait keeping White Rocks, Stella Rocks (there really are a lot of rocks here) and Cape Koamara on our right.

We were now out into the “big blue”.  Beyond the confines of the Sounds and heading south towards our chosen destination for the night … somewhere in Port Underwood, around 40 miles away.  Not a long way, but a respectable distance to ease everyone into the movement and life at sea, so to speak

With so many rocks about, the fear is that one day there might be a rock named after me – for all the wrong reasons.  I had read that Captain Cook almost came to grief in this vicinity; a combination of strong tides and weak winds.  And as we rounded the headland, there to our left lay Cook Rock, right near another called Awash Rock … how good are chart plotters!

The breeze increased from the north west as we found open water, but all the while our speedometer kept registering low numbers … 3, 4, even 2.5 knots at one point … the result of very fast tides, in the wrong direction.  Certainly, the water looked confused and in some places like it was boiling, as eddies and whirlpools often merged into short choppy seas that appeared to be bouncing up and down on the spot.

We were soon past Tory Channel, the narrow opening to Queen Charlotte Sound taken by the large ferries that shuttle between Wellington and Picton several times a day.

A little further the water took on a blueish cloudy appearance, almost like a glacial lake as we entered Cloudy Bay and Port Underwood.

Along the way we had seen a couple of happy looking seals, plus an albatross, but still no dolphins or whales … or fish; only tuna from a can

Heading up into Port Underwood we figured that Oyster Bay would afford the most shelter and a short time later we came to anchor in about 8 metres of still, still water.  It was sunny and warm and after a quick excursion ashore for a walk, a swim for Samantha, and some time gathering more wild mussels on the nearby rocks for Rob and John, we all watched the sun’s rays retreat up the nearby hills that surrounded us, extending long shadows across the bay..

The onboard-guitar got its first work-out, from both Samantha and Dean today and it really adds a wonderful feel and atmosphere

Just like last night, dinner was preceded by a feast of mussels in the cockpit, washed down with … I was hoping to be able to say … “an Oyster Bay Sauvignon Blanc” … but sadly no.

 

Big thanks to double-act chef-duo Matt and Sandy for their 10 out of 10 Spag Bol which topped off a wonderful day.

Smooth seas, fair breeze and Cloudy Bay really is cloudy

Rob Latimer

Ship Cove, (Lat 41 05S, Lon 174 14E)

Monday 10 February 2020

Dean, Sandy and Samantha came aboard around 8:15am as John, Matt and I were attending to the last-minute departure-tasks.  We were fuelled-up, fooded-up, watered-up and ready to go. 

The morning sun was warm, the wind was light and the sky was without clouds.  And what’s more, the forecast for the next week looked favourable and friendly for our planned trip down the coast to Lyttleton.

We returned the borrowed power-lead extension cord to the marina office, said good-bye to our new best friends off a nearby boat, Roger and Matt, and then plonked our two gate-key-passes into the metal box at the end of our pier-row.  It was now official.  We could go back out the gate … but if we did, we could NOT come back in.  Only one-way now – forward, and out of here.  

After backing out of our berth without incident – always a good start to the day – we excitedly headed out of the harbour, Picton fading in the distance on our stern, and the waters of Marlborough Sounds and Queen Charlotte Sound on our bow.

Our lunchtime destination, after investigating Endeavour Bay and passing Resolution Bay (our first anchorage on reaching New Zealand a mere 5 days ago) was Ship Cove. Less than 20 miles down the harbour.

As mentioned the other day, Ship Cove is something of a Mecca for Captain Cook devotees.  It is here that Cook landed in January 1770, then again in 1773, 1774 and 1777 and I was keen to see the monument erected in 1913 to the memory and achievements of this great navigator and explorer.

On arrival at Ship Cove, with the sun beating down and cloudy mist still hanging around the higher peaks, we looked for an anchorage in water, ideally, less that 20 metres in depth.  It really is deep close to shore and after an initial attempt, where we had trouble getting the anchor to hold, we grabbed the opportunity to pick up a mooring when the only other boat in the bay headed home.  

The bush grew down to the water’s edge and as we surveyed the beautiful surroundings, Sandy made the comment, “It’s like we’re in a brochure … it’s just perfect”

The dinghy launched off the stern, we headed ashore to view the Cook monument and soak up the vibe.  With time to spare we headed up a “40 Minute Return” track to a nearby waterfall, along a well maintained forest track  

Before returning to Chimere we mixed it with folk off a visiting tour boat and chatted with a lone hiker, plus an English lad showing considerable pluck by trying to convert his under-sized kayak into a square-rigged ship by means of a large ground sheet and found sticks held together with a small quantity of precious string.  The wind was, at the time, onshore, which made for a challenging start.  Which in effect became a “false start” because after little more than four metres the wind quickly returned him to the pebbly beach.  Not to be deterred, his new strategy was then to paddle to the southern headland of the bay from where the wind would be in his favour.  We wished him God-speed and a successful voyage back to Picton.   

John had spoken earlier in the day about the farmed mussels in the nearby waters and how the baby shellfish are often swept on the tide beyond their enclosures.  Well, as if on-cue, we stumbled across a cache of these wee sea critters in returning to the dinghy, with a large bag filled in very short time.   This was soon to become an extremely tasty seafood feast – for free.  Oh, there were also a few paua (abalone), which first bashed into submission before cooking them to perfection.

Back aboard, Samantha, John and Dean went for a swim – the water registering a rather balmy 16-17 degrees.  Samantha certainly won the award for the longest aquatic excursion, staying wet for a good 30 minutes and even exploring a 10 square metre beach a short distance from our stern.

Dean assumed responsibility for dinner, utilising some of the very juicy lemons (along with pears and plums)  provided by Blenheim friends Simon and Jenny to dish up a delicious Lemon Chicken ensemble.  

We had originally thought of sailing to a different anchorage for the night, but everything pointed to staying here for the night. Which we did.   For Dean, Sandy and Samantha, this was to be their first night aboard, and there could have been few better spots.  There was even time, before the sun disappeared altogether, for Dean to nick ashore to successfully try out his drone-camera device

It was the end of a truly perfect day.

Smooth seas, fair breeze and it’s like we’re in a brochure

Rob Latimer

POSTCARD FROM ONBOARD CUB REPORTER – Ms Samantha Allen-Craig

Monday 10/02
Today was the definition of idyllic.  Starting with a walk from our marina-side accommodation, across the footbridge to Chimere in the still-frost morning air. I’m too impatient to write about all the good bits,  in chronological order, so for now, we’ll start at the end.

My evening post-dinner star gaze was magic. There was a light breeze blowing but being in southern waters with a clear sky, my light breeze outfit consisted of woolly socks, trackies and my down jacket with ridiculous hood pulled all the way on – covering eye brows and bottom lip. I sat with my cup of tea and then reclined in the tarp-covered dingy, full to the brim with fenders. Wrapped in a cosy blanket, watched the starts glisten and satellites wiz by and eventually the moon rise. The moon was full.  Full and as bright as anything, which, though amazing, did put a prompt end to my stargazing.

Prior to our delicious dinner we had dined on a large bucket of mussels and beautifully cooked abalone – or paua as they are called here – freshly harvested by all on board. Even with the freshest muscles possible and a beautiful Pinot Gris, I can’t say I’m a big fan of the shellfish… Oh well, not for lack of trying.

The fresh seafood was collected while we were ashore in Ship Cove – a cove with much dedication to ol’mate Captain James Cook. Coming ashore had involved a fascinating read about his time here, but more up my alley, a walk to a lovely dual waterfall. Simple, medium-sized, in a damp green gully *French chef kiss*.

The absolute highlight however, was the simplest pleasure of all. Paradise is how I would describe it. Actually no, in paradise I imagine the water is a good 20° warmer. I dived off the boat into the highly refreshing southern sea or little inlet if you will, and swam to a tiny patch of beach. It had only revealed it self in the full moon level low tide and was surrounded by cliffs and palm trees stretching rapidly back and up.

I simply stood there in the knee-deep water, taking it all in (and staying in the sun, as it was too close to setting to be warm). When I die, honestly, I hope wherever I go looks a lot like that two square meter beach, with its vibrantly blue water. Maybe God could warm it up for me a bit though!

Samantha

Find Chimere here … https://www.marinetraffic.com/en/ais/details/ships/shipid:4999839/mmsi:503054450/vessel:CHIMERE

Picton Marina, (Lat 41 17S, Lon 174 00E)

Sunday 9 February 2020
Our new crew member, Matt Brosnahan, enjoyed a blissful night’s sleep after a cold and windy arrival in Picton the night before. He awoke to the sound of the kettle boiling, as John and I set about the morning’s routine.

This was to be our last day in Picton, with Chimere now almost ready for the next stage … the voyage down the east coast to Christchurch, or more correctly Lyttleton Harbour.

After their brief visit to the boat yesterday, friends, Dean, Sandy and daughter Samantha would be coming aboard tomorrow morning, but as an introduction they joined us for a slap-up breakfast around 8:00am, after which we did a stocktake of the remaining food aboard. It was then off to the supermarket to stock up, along with dropping off most of their bags and gear while they still had use of their rental car.

While Dean, Sandy and Samantha went shopping, John, Matt and I had one last throw of the dice in relation to the generator. We would play with the wiring and control panel one more time, and if necessary, cut all eight wires each side of the almost inaccessible grey-plug-in switch, so as to reconnect them via a “chocolate block” wire joiner fitting that we’d bought at the chandlery.

“Try it now”, said John, after taking the back off the big control box attached to the generator engine and inspecting the wires by way of a mirror; all the while lying nearly upside down with his head down well below the floor level. Still no sound, other than a dull whirring noise, indicating that something was trying to do the right thing but lacked sufficient power, or instructions, to fully make it happen.

John persisted. “What about now?” … I pressed the START button again. At least the yellow solenoid light had stopped flashing on the display panel, and we’d already solved the power supply problem by reconnecting the red wire yesterday. Then all of a sudden, the engine sprung into life with its familiar, reassuring purring sound.
There was a collective “Yeh!!” and sigh of relief at the sound, as John explained he’d jiggled the wire loom, obviously restoring a connection that was a bit suspect. After 5 minutes of running we did what must be done – turned it off and then ON again. Then we did it again, and again, and again. Each time it worked perfectly.

With time running out we agreed NOT to pursue the wire-redirection strategy, preferring instead to stick with what we had done, knowing that we could always pursue the more drastic option if necessary, in the future.
It was a great feeling, knowing the generator was up and running again, and around this time it dawned on me that pretty much everything on board the boat was working as it should… now… simultaneously… and at the same time.

This may sound a bit strange to someone unfamiliar with boats, but it’s for good reason that in the book Wind In The Willows, Ratty is quoted as saying … “that there is nothing quite so much worth doing as messing about in boats”. That’s because there are ALWAYS things to do and to maintain on boats. But every now and then there are moments in time when everything is working.

To give you an idea, there’s probably eight or nine electric pumps alone onboard, for such diverse things as … fresh water from three individual tanks to six separate locations on board (including hot water to four), diesel fuel (from four large tanks), bilge water, toilet holding tank, grey water from the shower and basins, anchor well and also the deck-wash outlet for cleaning. Then there’s the fridge, freezer, main engine, generator, navigational instruments, lighting (inside and out) water making system, standing rigging, running rigging, sails, two outboard motors and dinghies, mobile Honda generator and sump-pump. Then there are the 16 through-hull fittings that feed water in and out of the boat to engines, toilets, drains and pumps – all of which need to be maintained to ensure they don’t seize up with corrosion, or fail. As for the air conditioner … it doesn’t work at the moment because I know it needs a new motor, but it’s not something we’ve found necessary, not even in Vanuatu … so I don’t count it.

Feeling pretty confident with everything aboard we headed out for a test-sail, out of our comfy marina berth, and down the bay to a nearby anchorage called Double Bay … where we picked up an available mooring for ease of operations. (The water is just so deep!) There was another big cruise ship in the harbour so we did a sail-by to have a squiz, returning around 4:30pm with enough time to stop at the local fuel wharf to fill up; we’d used only about 350 litres all the way from Australia.

Back in our berth once more there was time to plan for the next day’s departure, considering the expected weather, visiting the Captain Cook memorial in Ship Cove, the hope of seeing whales and dolphins down the Kaikoura Coast and where we might anchor along the way.

We all gathered together at a local eating house for dinner, with Dean, Sandy and Samantha agreeing to join us aboard at around 8:00 in the morning with a hope to be away around 9:00am

Smooth seas fair breeze and … every now and then

Rob Latimer

Picton Marina, (Lat 41 17S, Lon 174 00E)

Friday 7 & Saturday 8 February 2020

After a couple of days tied up on the edge of town, we are starting to become locals.  Friday we awoke to John’s birthday and while there was no cake and candles, we did mark the occasion with a dinner at the local Thai/Chinese Restaurant – just me and John … we held off lighting any candles, people might have got the wrong idea.

Ever-generous Simon Hardgrave returned from Blenheim to help with transport, along with mechanical advice and assistance.  Our biggest task being the repair of the generator, which supplies 240 volts when out at sea. This enables us to make freshwater, speedily charge the four 200 AMP/hour batteries (house and engine) and operate our hot water system.  The hot water isn’t essential, of course, but then again, we all like a hot shower from time to time!

After a quick trip to the local chandlery to buy a few bits and pieces, (those places are amazing – so many things, so little money!) we then called the Paguro Generator agents in Australia – Seawasp Australia,  with the question … “Any ideas why she might be stuffed bro?” …

Pretty quickly, we were passed onto a guy by the name of Drew, who, after asking a few questions of his own said rather emphatically … “It would be the grey power plug that comes from the console.  There are two screws that secure it to the unit at the bottom, at the back … take them out, pull the plug away from the machine and check for loose wires”

Trouble was, the generator was NOT sitting on a test-bench in a factory somewhere.  It was mounted below the floor, under the saloon settee, in the corner of the already small engine compartment, just above the bilge, with the previously mentioned grey electrical plug up-close to the side of a fuel tank.  

We’d already had the owner of a local marine service business have a look at our problem, and what HE said about the location of the generator certainly can’t be repeated here; in fact, he said it several times for effect.    In the end, he suggested we call the New Zealand agent for Paguro in Auckland.  We did that, but unfortunately it was a Friday, and whilst yesterday (Thursday) was a national holiday, the business had made a 4-day week-end of it by closing down that day too.  So, we’d have to rely on Drew.  He seemed to know what he was talking about and there was nothing for it, but to give it a go.

Meanwhile, we called a local mast and spar rigger to see if they might be able to tension-up our new rig; which was recommended by the Melbourne rigger who had installed it just before we left a couple of weeks ago.  The rigging firm was called Hurricane Rigging and with a day’s notice the owner Matt, came down Saturday morning and went to work. 

It was necessary for John and I to take the jib and genoa off the furling system, which was a pretty straightforward thing in the still airs.   

Meanwhile, back on the generator, after much upside down fiddling and grunting, using a mirror taken from the bathroom to see the offending item, we finally gained access to the almost inaccessible grey electrical plug.  And sure enough, the red wire had corroded, parting company from socket; meaning there was no power getting through to the motor … “… dead-as bro”

Then, to my amazement, after stripping the end of the disconnected wire soldering a “work-around” lead, the motor fired up and chugged away just like new.  It was a wonderful thing!

Then, to be sure it wasn’t a fluke, we turned the machine off and, on a few times, and wouldn’t you know it, all of a sudden, the machine refused to start.  DOH!!

It was then back to the drawing board. 

The good news, however, was that we were now getting full voltage up at the control unit, proving that we’d solved the original problem, only to now face a different problem; of indeterminate cause. 

Was it another loose wire, was it the box on the side with a red button on top and full of switches and wires …   It was time to sleep on it.  It was late in the day (Friday) and so Simon went home, with the idea of doing some more web-searching, in the hope of finding a solution.   

Simon was back again on Saturday to help advance the work, and even though we could not solve the second generator problem, it was great to be able to go home with Simon for a lovely meal at their Blenheim property.

It was an early dinner because with new crew member, and fellow university flatmate, Matt Brosnahan, coming in on the evening bus from Christchurch it was necessary for us to be back to meeting him by 8:00pm.

Additional (new) crew members, and Melbourne friends, Dean, Sandy and daughter Samantha, dropped by around midnight to say hello.  They had flow into Christchuch on Friday and after hiring a car and driving as far as Kaikoura, had just arrived in Picton for a couple of nights ashore, before their planned boarding Monday morning.    

After a beautifully sunny day, the weather turned nasty in the late afternoon with freezing wind, plus on-and-off showers, well into the night.  But Matt received a warm welcome and despite the unfamiliar surroundings ended up having a solid night’s sleep.

Smooth seas fair breeze and maybe the generator will have to wait

Rob Latimer

Picton Marina, (Lat 41 17S, Lon 174 00E)

Thursday 6 February 2020

We awoke to a rather chilly morning, but felt somewhat refreshed after the last two eventful days; and even last night’s farewell dinner (and lemonades) at the local Irish Pub. 

Dew covered every exposed surface of the boat, but pretty soon the strength of the sun’s rays began to penetrate and it turned out to be a warm, blue-sky-day … a national holiday no less, Waitangi Day!

Mid-morning, Jim and Gee jumped on one of the ferries to start their journey back to Australia, via Wellington,  and after a heartfelt farewell, it was down to just John and me rattling around in Chimere. 

“Must be time for a coffee … or maybe a tea”, we’d say, between jobs aboard – cleaning, tidying, adjusting, checking and measuring.  There were quite a few less-important tasks left undone when we got away from Westernport nearly two weeks ago, and now was the time to tackle ‘em.

A great thrill around midday was a visit from my father’s old kiwi mate, George Hardgrave … or as I knew him growing up … Uncle George. 

Dad and George grew up together in Wellington, both doing engineering apprenticeships in the 1940s.   George is now 92 and travelled the world with dad in the 1950s – to Australia, England, Scotland, South Africa and Northern Rhodesia (Zambia) – sharing a variety of wild experience and near-death episodes that would fill a book.  George was even there in 1950 when dad, by chance, met a particular woman named Alice, in a train carriage between Sydney and Brisbane.  A woman dad would eventually marry four years later after a lot of letter writing too and fro across the world.  Pretty good letters they were too, it must be said.

Anyway, George came down for a visit at the marina, accompanied by son Simon and his wife Jenny – also long time close friends.   

“I remember seeing a photo of Bill standing there at the wheel” said George, as we shared ham and salad rolls together in the cockpit.  “Your father and I were good mates” he continued.  Then, out of the blue George shared an experience from times past … “I remember Bill and I were replacing all the bearings on a big ship in Glasgow. We were down in the engine room and I looked through to the other compartment and it was on fire.  I said to Bill, let’s get out of here. And we did, as quick as we could … got up on the dock”

Simon and Jenny headed off with George in the afternoon, with Simon kindly offering to help with transport, with the promise of returning from their home at Blenheim tomorrow.  We have a few chandlery items to buy, and the nearest shop is down the road at the other marina, at Waikawa.

John  and I continued work aboard, transferring the small dinghy off the foredeck to the stern, fitting the wooden  ladder to the port side, untangled the jib halyard (left extremely twisted after the strong winds of two days ago) straighten the stainless steel bow pulpit (this was bent 10 years ago and has never been fixed, but John is a kiwi and can fix anything) and generally tidying everything in preparation for the next leg south down the east coast.

Things were pretty relaxed on board, to be sure, and now for a short time, it was down to just John and me.  And what do you know, it’s John’s 61^st birthday tomorrow … so much older than me, my 61^st birthday isn’t until August  

Smooth seas fair breeze and then there were two

Rob Latimer