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

Wednesday 5 February 2020

Our night at Resolution Bay was blissfully still, particularly after having endured the furious winds on arrival just a few hours earlier. 

As the night drew on, the wind gusts diminished, till by 5:30am – our waking-up time – it was … “as still-as bro” … to use the common vernacular.  To emphasis the point even more, of course I could have used the phase … “as if we were beached-as bro”.  You can see why I let Kiwi-John do most of the talking on the phone.  Although, having studied here in New Zealand between 1978 and 1981, I managed to acquire a fair smattering of the local lingo, much of which was already starting to return.

For those with an interest in history, the name “Resolution Bay”, is an obvious pointer to the presence of the famous man himself – the explorer and navigator Captain Cook.  Cook spent around 12 months, throughout 1769 and 1770, charting both the North and South islands.  Just around the corner, to the south of Resolution Bay, is Endeavour Inlet, and to the north, Ship Cove and Cannibal Cove (named after, yes, you guessed it). 

It’s at Ship Cove that a large monument was erected in 1913 to the memory and achievements of Captain Cook – a place he visited a total of four times – 1770, 1773, 1774 and 1777.    And while I’m on the topic of Captain Cook, since this NZ2020 voyage is dubbed … “in the wake of Captain Cook” … it’s worth mentioning that whilst James was referred to as Captain, out of courtesy, he never actually held the rank of “Captain”.  As explained on the James Cook Society website …    

“When Cook set sail in 1768 on his first voyage of discovery aboard Endeavour he held the rank of Lieutenant.  Soon after his return to England in 1771 he was promoted to Commander (one rank under a captain).  He never actually held the rank of captain, but in 1775 was promoted to the higher rank of Post-Captain”

A bit of trivia for you…

So, after around 12 hours at anchor in Resolution Bay, we were away … further up the Sound to the town of Picton and our allocated berth in the Picton Marina; to await boarding by the NZ Customs and Quarantine officials who would be driving down from Nelson.

We had originally been told to berth just out of town at a place called Waikawa Marina.  But at the last minute we were directed to Pier One, Berth One, almost in the centre of Picton-proper – opposite where the Cook Strait ferries ply their trade many times a day.

Our allocated berth turned out to be an amazing address and what’s more, we were permitted to remain in the same place for the 5 days we had planned to remain in this part of the world.  Yes, we would have to pay, but at $44 per day, (which included power and water) I didn’t think it was such a bad arrangement, given it probably took just 3-5 minutes to walk to the start of High Street.

The two friendly, yet efficient, uniformed officers were there to meet us, and within an hour we’d been officially cleared into the country.  This involved all six crew filling out our Arrival Cards, (just like they hand out on a plane) – “what was my seat number”… chirped John –  the  having our passports checked with the details I’d sent prior and even having them stamped (if we asked nicely).  

The boat was searched for the usual things.  All fresh food, honey, cheese, meat etc etc  handed over, even the contents of our vacuum cleaner was surrendered.  Six big bags of accumulated voyage-rubbish was taken away for incineration (yeh!) and we were able to satisfactorily demonstrate that the hull of the boat was clean and harboured no bugs or nasties.  To put it in a way a local would understand … “we were clean-as bro” … sweet!  

It was a good feeling to receive our inward clearance, which also included an additional form to say that if the boat remained in the country for more than 2 years then GST of 15% would be payable; that ain’t going to happen!

After the formalities, there was a brief time to enjoy the sunshine, soak in the vibe and pull the celebratory bottle of champagne from the fridge; compliments of boat-partner Barry Crouch – thanks Barry and Andrea 

Jodi’s parents joined us aboard at this time, with the fizzy white drink soon giving way to some yummy red stuff; again, compliments of Barry and Andrea. 

I could say that the increased alcohol consumption of the past 24 hours had something to do with trying to reduce the risk of having to pay GST on the importation of foreign grog over the allowable personal limit, but that might be stretching it.  That said, on one of the forms I was obliged to declare the quantity of alcohol (in 4 separate categories) and tobacco being imported and by the time we were searched I think my initially (low) estimate was probably pretty accurate. 

As we approached the Picton marina, and knowing that all fresh produce on board was destined for the dustbin (or the quarantine official’s … “next backyard BBQ, or cook-up“ … as I heard one local suggest) Jorge was seen at the galley stove madly frying up all the fresh mince from the freezer, squeezing the last of the limes, eating as much honey (from a 1kg bottle we’d only opened in the last few days!) and chopping apple into yoghurt for his breakfast.

“What’s this?” asked the Quarantine lady (Vicki), as she pulled a large yoghurt container from the fridge, “Oh, that’s Jorge’s breakfast, I’ll get him to eat it”, I replied. 

In reality, we had very little food to surrender, knowing, as we did, that this would happen.  After all, Australian Quarantine does such a good job in the other direction, that it’s been turned into an entertaining TV show; as everyone knows.

Amidst our state of relaxation and celebration, the manager of the marina gave us a call on the phone – John’s phone of course – saying that we’d parked in the wrong berth.  He’d had a call from the owner of the berth we were currently occupying that his boat would be returning (a small ship actually, worth many millions of $$) in about an hour, and would we (respectfully) care to vacate.

It seemed in my haste to “park”, that I’d gone to the right of the big post instead of left.  I was actually in Number Two berth and needed to back out and return on the other side of the post – into Number One.  A simple mistake any newcomer could make, says I.

“That explains why there were beautiful, high quality, sponge fenders and pre-hung mooring lines laid out for us when we came in” declared John.  

It was now after mid-day.  I’d got the gate-key from the marina office, been given the run-down on the location of the toilets, showers and washing/drying facilities.  Also where to buy fuel and the direction of town … “straight over that there foot bridge, then turn left”

All this time Jorge and Jodi were gathering their things together while Jodi’s parents – their Uber-ride out of town – patiently chatted, sat in the sun, wandered around the water front, went shopping and generally filled in time; never appearing to hurry the process along any.  Then finally it came time to say good-bye and with hugs all-round we waved the car off, choker to the roof with bags and belongings, plus four bodies of course.

It was sad to say good-bye to Jorge and Jodi.  They had been such valuable members of the crew and after just 10 or 11 days a strong bond had clearly been formed with other members of “Team Chimere”.

In the afternoon, as opportunities to relax presented themselves, Jim and Gee got on-line to start planning their departure-plans back to Australia.  There was also a chance to wander up-town to get some lunch, and I finally got a chance to buy a New Zealand SIM card for my phone and begin the process of responding to the dozens of emails and messages left unanswered while out of range at sea.

Rather than cook aboard, us four remaining crew wandered over the foot bridge to the main street, in the hope of finding a restaurant still open.  It was after all, 8:30pm and whilst we were all fading fast and in want of sleep, food was now uppermost in our minds.  So it was that we settled on the Irish Pub, whose tradition probably meant that it was the most likely to be open at this hour.

It must have been close to 10:00pm by the time we all headed back to the boat … across the road, then the small open community space and the tour-boat wharfs, in the direction of the foot bridge. 

Then Gee asked a question I haven’t heard anyone ask for a while … “is that a naked lady in that apartment window holding a glass of wine?”

“Let me check Gee”, says me, “I’ll need to adjust my spectacles”.  “Well, yes Gee, that does look very much like a naked lady holding a glass of wine … quiet obviously unaware of the need to draw the blinds … or too drunk to care”

I mention this purely as a community service announcement you understand …  to anyone thinking that just because they can’t see out of a window, that others may not be able to see in. 

Once back on board, the lights went out very quickly, with the peace of the marina berth, and the (temporary) absence of any sailing responsibilities, making for a solid night’s sleep.

Smooth seas, fair breeze and it’s official

Rob Latimer

PS A massive thank you to Matt Latimer for uploading all posts (received by me as satphone emails) since we departed Australian waters.

And more photos will be uploaded soon to past posts to illustrate the text.

Resolution Bay, (Lat 41 06S, Lon 174 13E), AT ANCHOR 
Marlborough Sounds 

Tuesday 4 February 2020 

The magic weather continued through last night with the wind strengthening, as predicted, throughout the day. One reef in the main became two, the working jib got smaller as we continued to reef, till finally we were doing 8-9 knots before a 30+ knot nor wester across Tasman Bay. 

Tasman Bay leads into Cooks Strait, but before we’d gone that far, it was a right hand turn into Queen Charlotte Sound and the Marlborough Sounds, within which a myriad of bays, inlets and islands are contained. 
It was around this time that “brisk” became “hairy”. The cruising guide mentioned something about “funnelling wind”, the further you made it into the narrowing waters of the Sounds, and on this point they were spot on.  
Once upon a time we would have looked at the white caps, the rising columns of spray-drift, plus of course the screaming of the rigging and thought … “gee that’s strong”. Now, we have a brand new wind instrument at the top of the mast which not only tells us where the wind is coming from, but also its strength. 

All I can say is that I’m pleased the wind was largely coming from behind, and on the sides. Because gusts of 40-50 knots can be born reasonably well aboard Chimere, just by reducing sail. And it was on this point that, for a time, we struggled. Making for some intense moments, requiring coordinated input from all on board; to which everyone rose admirably! 
After 10 days of perfect weather, a wonderful, uneventful crossing of the Tasman, this most certainly was Chimere’s “finest hour”. Or, as it turned out, more like 3-4 hours, with wind and spray-surges hitting us continually, as we made our way further down the Sounds till we came to rest at anchor in Resolution Bay.  

When I say “rest” … well, whilst we are confident that with 60 metres of chain out, we aren’t going anywhere, the repeated gusts of wind from the nearby hills of up to 45 knots, has had us dangling on the chain like a kite on a string. Sometimes from the hills on our left, then sometimes from the hills on our right. And between the gusts, there was an eerie stillness and calm that fell over the boat that was somewhat spooky. Then it poured with rain, which did a wonderful job of cleaning the decks. 

A massive feeling of relief and satisfaction overcame us all, following the dropping of the anchor in this wonderfully sheltered bay. Amidst the mayhem, we received a call from NZ Customs on John’s phone inquiring about our plans to drop anchor before proceeding directly to the Picton wharf for clearance. Something which they obviously had issues with. From our perspective, we wanted to avoid a night-time arrival in (unfamiliar) Picton, through the narrow Sounds, with winds gusting 40-50 knots. I essentially presented it as a “risk and safety” issue, which met with general acceptance on the other end of the phone; the conversation being between John and the official because I was on the helm, and after all, kiwi-John speaks the local dialect.  
As a compromise, we will be up at 5:30am tomorrow and away by 6:00am, with a hope of reaching Picton by 8:30am for Customs and Quarantine clearance. 

For now, we are just happy to relax, soak in the vibe and unwind. (sometime, we’ll have to show you the pictures and video) 
Jim did a beautiful spag bol for dinner, and now that I think of food, I remember that during our time of testing this afternoon – sails thrashing and lines flailing all over the place – Jorge called to Jodi in the galley below … “how is the bakery going?”. Soon after two loaves of bread appeared full of grated cheese, sliced meat and other tasty green things, for all to share. Magnifico!! 

Smooth seas fair breeze and one crowed hour

Rob Latimer 

Tasman Sea, (Lat 40 17S, Lon 171 55E), Course 72 degrees (compass)
(48 miles west of Farewell Spit)

Monday 3 February 2020

Nine days out of Westernport, as the New Zealand coastline looms ever closer, and the cloud-filled horizon spreads away to the south, it was inevitable that land would be sighted soon.

“We must be able to see some high peaks in that cloud somewhere?” I announced. And before long, the faint outline of the Tasman Mountains, including 1600m high Mt Domett, could be seen below the clouds, marking the north west corner of the South Island.

Land had indeed been sighted. It was official.

Meanwhile, on board, the well-established late afternoon routine continued, with the weather still being conducive to drinks and nibbles in the cockpit. This was followed by the arrival of dolphins on the bow, where we all then gathered to gawk over the side and take the obligatory selfie shots.

Having successfully notified NZ Customs a couple of days ago of our anticipated arrival in Picton on Wednesday morning (5/2), using the “Advanced Notice NZCS340 Form”, I have now started tackling the additional paperwork, including “Inward Report C18 Form”, “Masters Declaration For Full Biosecurity Clearance” and “Masters Declaration” forms. Each crew member will also need to complete a Passenger Arrival Form when we tie up, just like on the aeroplane.

To ensure I can demonstrate Chimere has a clean bottom, I have a selection of photos from her recent slipping, plus signed letters of “hull cleanliness” from selected tradespeople back at Hastings. All of whom worked on Chimere and can vouch for her condition within the past 30 days. It’s quite a process. Just glad I’m not in charge of the Dawn Princess!

Despite putting our clocks forward two hours, to be in sync with New Zealand, last night’s watches came and went as normal. One additional curved ball, however, was that, unbeknown to us, the built-in clock on the chart plotter made the time-change automatically. So, for a while we were adding two hours to the already added two hours, making for confusion, particularly when the sun refused to show itself at the “usual” time this morning?! Makes you wonder if we were all safe to go to sea at all in the first place doesn’t it??!!

With this Delivery Leg to Picton almost complete, it’s been fascinating, quite apart from a great relief, to see how Chimere’s small band of six, have come together as a supportive team over the past 10 days. Apart from John and I, we were all strangers – to Chimere and each other – when we stepped aboard at Hastings. But our diverse skills and experiences have given us a breadth of capabilities to tackle everything from IT communication issues to engine-fault troubleshooting; quite apart from cooking, sailing, cleaning, plumbing, carpentry, watch-keeping and navigation.

It’s now, 9:30pm (NZ time). We are closing in on a point 5 miles off Farewell Spit, and from there we will head further east to round Stephens Island, Cape Jackson and the entrance to Queen Charlotte Sound. In daylight hours we will set a course into the Marlborough Sounds, towards Picton, anchoring first to rest for the night in, or around Ship Cove (nowhere near Ship Creek you’ll be pleased to know). We’ll be sure to fly our yellow “Q” flag and not go ashore, saving that for the official “encounter” mid-morning on Wednesday.

Smooth seas fair breeze and Land Ahoy!!!

Rob Latimer

Tasman Sea, (Lat 40 12S, Lon 168 36E), Course 70 degrees (compass)

Sunday 2 February 2020

It seems the northwest wind has been blowing for days now. Pushing us effortlessly towards our destination of Picton.

The sea was a bit higher through the night, but has quietened down now to a steady swell that moves our speed from around 6.5 knots to around 8 knots, as it passes underneath.

Being down to our last tank of freshwater, I thought it would be prudent to crank up the water maker in order to replenish supplies. All started well, the generator fired up, we were part way through the warm-up phase, then it decided to stop, just as easily as it had started. “Hasn’t done that before”, was my initial response. “Fuel OK?” asked John. “Maybe it’s electrical?” offered someone else. Before long we had the cupboard dismantled and the engine exposed to sunlight, as we looked in search of the most obvious …”ah ha, there’s the problem” … solution. Nothing jumped out. We checked the water intake and then in an act of pure desperation, I dug out the instruction manuals.

Around this time Gee, our onboard Aussie-of-Italian-background started fiddling with the engine’s wires, hoses and knobs. “It’s an Italian generator Gee!” I announced, in search of a response. “Then you should no bought him”, said Gee in his distinctive Italian accent. “Try him now”, said Gee … and hey presto, the generator motor fired up and what’s more it stayed running. “Three cheers for Gee!!”

Then, after a few ON and OFF tests, to isolate the source of the problem between the motor cut off lever and the electronic control panel, there came a point when no amount of button pressing was going to illicit any life from the motor whatsoever. What started as one problem, now seemed like two. “We should have left him running, while we had the chance…” I think the words might have been Gee’s, but the sentiment was universal.

Before we set about trying to “hot-wire” the unit with a length of Number 8 wire (a suggestion from our New Zealand crew member John, we will contact the supplier in Queensland (via email) and implement our “work-around” solutions … use the main engine to charge the batteries and be even more careful with the remaining water supply. In terms of a long-term solution, the smart money is on a replacement electronic control unit, or internal motherboard, but being Sunday, we won’t get much joy until at least tomorrow.

Realising we were getting very close to New Zealand and that the sun seemed to be getting up earlier and earlier, I asked no one in particular this afternoon … “What time is it?”. “Take your pick”, replied John. “It’s 2:00 o’clock where you come from, but 4:00 o’clock in the Land of The Long White Cloud, Aotearoa”

“Maybe we should make the switch?!” … so, even though every device onboard says otherwise, we are now officially operating on New Zealand time.

The captain’s call to change the time forward two hours to New Zealand time ended up having unintended consequences. It started with “Happy Hour”, which usually started at 6:00pm. “So is it six o’clock, or is it 8 o’clock”, inquired Jim, “because if it’s 8:00 o’clock then Sundowner time is past”. Well clearly, we weren’t going to miss Sundowners, so the time-change was changed to occur AFTER we’d had a drink and some cheese and crackers.

Then came the issue of “who’s on watch” … because at the end of Sundowners it was really only 7pm, but 9:00pm by the newly adopted New Zealand time, signifying the end of the first watch of the night hardly before it had started. Then ensue a long discussion backwards and forwards about who WAS on which watch and what time that now signified … so that getting up at 3:00am under the new time was really 1:00am under the old time and so on … and what do we do about the three hour shift at the start of the evening which miraculously turned into a one hour shift ???

In the end it all ended politely with Gee and Jim left in the cockpit to finish the bottle of Aldi Tawny Port and do their duty on watch

The satellite weather forecasts continue to be amazingly accurate. With the wind having slackened a little, we now have the full main back up, along with the jib and staysail. It’s expected to remain this way for the next 24-36 hours. Then there’s a predicted blow from the north, which is still a favourable wind, but we might shelter somewhere near Nelson Tuesday night, so as to avoid a night-time sail in strong winds through the approach to Picton.

As a precaution, we reefed the mainsail for the night and as 10:00am approaches (new time) all is becoming quiet onboard. The sea is calm, we are doing 7 knots +, and the engine is ticking over in the background charging the batteries and giving our speed a slight boost.

I’ve asked each of the crew members to write a “Post Card” from Chimere, so we’ll see who takes up the challenge.

Smooth seas fair breeze and where did those two hours go …

Rob Latimer

Tasman Sea, (Lat 40 11S, Lon 165 11E), Course 75 degrees (compass)

Saturday 1 February 2020

Our dream run, with wind of 15-20 knots coming in over our left shoulder, continued through last night and all of today. Our speed rarely dipped below 6 knots, with occasional flashes of 9 knots, as we surged down the face of the small 2-3 metre swells that advanced from the stern in regular intervals.

Our good ol’ faithful Perkins has been given a break, with the fuel tanks remaining untouched. And this looks like continuing for the next few days, based on the continuing forecast

It was a bread-baking morning today, which, if I say so myself, I rate my best effort yet; achieved through subtle changes to the process, after seven days of practice. The whole process can take an hour or two, and since I was already up helping with some sail adjustments, there were two steaming loaves on the bench as bodies began emerging from around 8:00 onwards – and a couple were going back to bed after completing their watch.

Sea-life routine has definitely taken hold, with each person finding their rhythm, largely based on ensuring they are bright and sparky enough to stand their 3-hour night watch. Days are filled with reading, eating, sleeping and generally lazing around, or solving the world’s problems. Conditions remain stable enough for work on the foot space below the nav table, and this has really made a difference to comfort levels.

With the wind strengthening through the night we felt it necessary to shorten sail on two occasions. Before the sun went down we had already wound in the big (light-conditions) genoa sail, replacing it with the working jib. This was then reefed to less than 50% of its size, before then needing to reef the mainsail on two occasions, leaving us flying three little sails – double reefed main, staysail and reefed jib – with minimal reduction in speed, of 7-8 knots, but a significant lift in comfort and stress on the rigging; which after all is still being run in.

John did a magnificent job with dinner tonight – a combination of baked vegetables, hamburgers and salad; seemed a shame somehow to squeeze tomato sauce over it, but some habits are hard to kick.

The occasional wave hit the side of the boat today, sending small dollops of water where you least expected them. Jorge was reading a book in the cockpit and the open pages scored a direct hit. How, I don’t know. Now that it’s dark we’ve zipped up the covers to enclose the cockpit, making it very cozy indeed.

With New Zealand looming large on our chart plotter, and just a few days away now, I started completing the necessary arrival and notification forms today. Unfortunately, once completed, they exceeded my file attachment limit, so I’m now in the process of breaking it up into lots of smaller bites … or is that bytes ? So long as I give 48 hours notice I should be fine. At this stage we are planning to be at Picton Wednesday 5 Feb at 9:00am

Smooth seas fair breeze and sea-life routine …
Rob Latimer

Tasman Sea, (Lat 40 00S, Lon 161 39E), Course 80 degrees (compass)

Friday 31 January 2020

Jorge calculated at 5am this morning that we have reached the official half-way point. And now at the end of the day, we have around 570 miles left to travel to reach Picton. That’s four days at an average speed of 6 kts

The weather forecast remains idyllic and so there’s every chance we will complete the crossing in the expected ten days, sometime next Tuesday 4 February.

We continue to chart our course along the 40-degree line of latitude – on which Cooks Strait lies – with tonight seeing us officially swap the order of our flags. Instead of Australia above New Zealand, it’s now New Zealand above Australia.

In preparation for arrival, we’ll start to complete the paperwork tomorrow; emailing NZ Customs at least 48 hours before arrival.

John and I continued with our “home improvement” tasks, with Jorge and Jodi adding three coats of teak oil to the toe rail, which I was able to finish with a coat of Teak Sealer before the sun went down.

Gee was in charge of dinner tonight and apart from cooking pop corn to accompany the showing of a movie in the saloon, there’s little more to report.

We continue to see the occasional albatross, but apart from that, and a few other birds, we seem to be the only ones out here. That said, Jodi called out during dinner (she was on watch) that she’d seen a big animal … probably a whale, but despite everyone searching far and wide, nothing more was sighted.

As for the night watches, there seems to have been some reorganisation of the times, with Jorge and Jodi just about to wind up the 6-9pm shift, followed by John, then Jim, then it’s Gee’s turn to see in the sunrise.

Smooth seas fair breeze and it’s all downhill from here

Rob Latimer

Tasman Sea, (Lat 40 05S, Lon 158 35E), Course 80 degrees (compass)

Thursday 30 January 2020

If ever there was a dream run to New Zealand, this is it. The wind has remained 15 knots from the North West. We are heading East. And with the full main and big genoa hoisted, we have been powering along at around 7 knots over calm seas as if we are stuck on rails.

Mercifully, we have been able to give the engine a rest for the past 12 hours or so, saving us fuel of course, but also enabling us to feel the sea passing by and hear the whistle of wind in the rigging.

It’s been so calm that John and I got stuck into some construction tasks aboard; involving much cutting, sanding and drilling of wood and miscellaneous bits. John’s task revolved around the shower seat – making sure the legs remain vertical when in use.

My job had me cutting a big hole in the floor-panel under the navigation table so as to better accommodate feet and legs. It’s long overdue, because for the past 14 years, every time I’ve squeezed into the space, it’s bugged me that there is no room for your feet to rest naturally, unless you’re under about 5 feet 4 inches tall. I’ve now almost completed the work, and for the first time I can honestly say I have happy feet while typing, or doing anything at the chart table. Now we’ve just got to complete modifications to the seat and back rest! Maybe tomorrow

Jim put his hand up to cook dinner tonight and served up a very tasty stir-fry noodle “ensemble”, with fresh vegetables, and noodles, and flavours and stuff. We even got through a bottle of white wine without spilling a drop. It might be calm, but a special kind of “at anchor” calm is needed to prevent wine glasses from toppling over.

To share the watch-times around, everyone decided to switch the order up a bit … just for a change. We now have John on duty till 9:00pm … he’s now had a hot shower and gone to bed (luxury) … Jim is in the cockpit now till 12 midnight … and it really is sublime out there with starry sky, setting crescent moon and a steady warm breeze from the north west. Last I looked Gee was sound asleep, because he takes the reigns from 12-3am, after which Jorge and Jodi take over till dawn.

Seems the best hand to be dealt here is to ME. I don’t get a set time … which doesn’t necessarily mean I can get a solid 9 hours sleep with no responsibility. It just means I’m available to assist with sail changes, and decision making if conditions change significantly

It is great to have six on board. Particularly the present company. Everyone is making a significant contribution, and no one person becomes strained or fatigued

We are all looking forward to having fish on the menu … I suspect it’ll be out of a can before our hooks and line pay for themselves. I think I’ll check the warranty.

Smooth seas fair breeze and the dream run continues

Rob Latimer

Tasman Sea, (Lat 40 03S, Lon 155 27E), Course 80 degrees (compass)

Wednesday 29 January 2020

The sun went down, the sun came up … just as we’d expected. Likewise, the wind died down as forecast, till it was reluctantly necessary through the night to turn on the motor in order to maintain an average speed of around 6 knots

Although light, the wind remained from behind, enabling us to continue our straight-line sailing. Dry decks and pleasant conditions meant that I could carry on the tradition of my father in wearing my slippers for much of the day.

The absence of bread to make our breakfast-toast meant it was time again to knock out a couple of loaves, which were cooling on the galley bench by 8:00am.

The day started out cloudy and grey, but this soon gave way to a sunny sky with the occasional albatross gliding effortlessly by, rising and falling in harmony with the regular 3 metre swell

There is sadly nothing to report in the fishing department. Other than we persist, now with two lures astern in the vain hope of achieving success. Surely two hooks in the water must be better than just the one.

Jodi and Jorge excelled themselves in making a vegetable kind of lasagne for lunch and a burrito ensemble this evening. All eaten in the cockpit, with not a drop of wine spilt, unlike last night. The sea has definitely calmed off a bit. Although it was never high. Just a little confused, with a side-chop helping to create an occasional roll making it necessary to definitely place things down on one of those grippy rubber maps.

During the day, we set the staysail, that small jib closest to the mast. Maybe I just like seeing three sails set, but we all agreed that it gave us an extra boost in speed, with the wind still coming in over our starboard stern quarter. That said, the wind made a definite shift after dinner tonight. Relocating itself to South-Southeast (SSE), just forward of the beam, but still 60 degrees or so from the bow. It’s the first bit of wind so far with any sniff of east, although it’s only around 10 knots and so we continue to have the engine chugging away in the background.

Our latest forecast reveals the wind moving and strengthening to the north west, in the next 24 hours, helping us to continue on our comfortable way, ideally, all the way to New Zealand.

John completed his work modifying the shower plumbing today. A plan long on the list, with parts purchased years ago to tackle the job, John’s persistence over several days has seen the hot and cold shower lines, re-plumbed to behind the walls, with the nozzle and hose neatly installed for maximum convenience. Great work John!

Meanwhile, Jim puts his sewing skills to the test in his effort to restore and raise the nav table stool, using fabric and foam salvaged from an old saloon seat cushion. It’s still a work in progress but the fine weather is very much in favour of completion soon.

By my rough reckoning we are now around 500 miles out of Westernport, with Picton still approximately 900 miles on the bow; that’s around 6-7 days away.

Smooth seas fair breeze and straight line sailing

Rob Latimer

Western Tasman Sea, (Lat 39 43S, Lon 152 16E), Course 98 degrees (compass)

Tuesday 28 January 2020

Today was truly a dream sailing day. A 20-knot breeze off the starboard, stern quarter. A calm sea with minimal swell. Plus, a full main and poled-out jib off the port side, set solid as if in concrete.

There was the occasional roll, from side to side that had us reaching for loose objects in the galley, but nothing of significance.

What was truly astounding was Chimere’s speed. Through the night and in the early morning, with breezes light, we could make a comfortable 5-6 knots with the engine ticking over at low revs in the background. Then as the sun rose on the bow and the wind grew from behind, the speed climbed through 7 and 8 knots. It was then time to dispense with the engine altogether, as still our speed advanced … 9,10 and even 11 knots at times.

Consistently, we sat between 9 and 10 knots – for several hours – the stability of the ride making for an exhilarating time indeed. There was even speculation that we might break Chimere’s 24-hour record of around 200 miles; an 8 knot average.

With three day’s sailing and over 250 miles behind us, planning of the voyage ahead revealed that if we can average around 6 knots, then we should arrive in Picton six days ahead of schedule on 4 February – in 7 day’s time. The long range forecast gives us comfort that this is quite achievable, with winds predicted to remain between south west and North at around 10-30 knots. Otherwise known as a dream run!

After our, now-routine night watches, mid-morning saw Jodi and Jorge cutting up vegetables in the saloon in preparation for a delicious lunch.

Around this time Gee asked if I had a candle. Thinking it was my mis-hearing of the accent, I repeated … “you mean a candle, candle?” … “yes, I’ve cooked a cake and I need a candle” replied Gee. Still not quite sure where the conversation was leading, I enquired further, “what do you need a candle for?” … “It’s Jim’s birthday, and I need a candle to stick into the birthday cake” … “Oh!!!” say I, “I’ll have a look, we’ve got pretty much everything else on board, I’m sure we’ve got a candle”

Sure enough, I found a big candle and the presentation was duly made after lunch. “I thought everyone had forgotten” declared Jim, “So I wrote it in the Log, just in case!”

It was a great moment and full credit to Gee!

As each person took time through the afternoon to sleep, read, eat or just relax, a range of housekeeping tasks were attended aboard, including …

• pumping diesel up from one of the lower 4 tanks into the header tank,
• running the generator to heat water for showers while at the same time run the desalinator to top up the freshwater tanks (we can make around 3-4 litres a minute)
• Pumping out holding tank, and
• Obtaining the latest weather forecast via the satphone

Glancing up at our Australian and New Zealand flags in the rigging, John inquired, “Will we reverse the order and put the Kiwi flag above the Oz flag when we get half way?” … “That makes sense” I answered, “ but not many people can tell the difference”, I added … “I can” came John’s immediate response.

Although the bell wasn’t officially rung at 6:00pm tonight, it was clear that we’d drifted into “Sundowner Time” as we all sat in the cockpit sharing personal stories, relishing speeds of 8-11 knots over calm seas, beneath a warm sun and blue sky. Two episodes of Sailing Alone Around the World were played, stopped only by flat batteries in the mobile speaker box.

I assumed the role of chef this evening, knocking up my signature dish of Spag Bol, which was devoured in short time. “Red wine goes well with this dish” I announced, and pretty soon I was handing out long-stem glasses containing a naughty Aldi drop to all interested souls.

It was soon after this that we realised the movement of the boat was a little more pronounced than we’d at first though. Yes, it was calm enough to sit around the saloon table and comfortably eat dinner together, but the high centre of gravity of the wine glasses had two of them delivering their contents over those nearby in quick succession. The saving grace from this little episode was that the stylish wine “glasses” were actually made of plastic and there were lots of paper towels at hand.

Dinner behind us, Gee dived into doing the dishes, and soon after this we were all on deck watching a large and playful pod of dolphins dive and dart around us, as the evening sky astern of us grew redder and redder. It was a sublime moment

Jim finished his 6-9pm watch soon after the dolphins left us, with Gee then assuming control. John, Jorge and Jodi took their leave and retired to their cabins, with general agreement that we would mix up the watch times omorrow night; just for a change.

Smooth seas fair breeze and sailing on into the dark!

Rob Latimer

North of Flinders Island (20 miles), Lat 39 45S Lon 148 20E

Monday 27 January 2020

Our overnight stopover at Deal Island was just the thing; a time of rest and preparation. Plus, an opportunity to again soak in a most beautiful part of the world; due to its isolation, a place where very few people ever visit.

The day dawned still, sunny and clear. The occasional wallaby hopped along the beach a short distance off our stern, while many others grazed amongst the tussock on the hills that rose on three sides of the bay. Cape Barren geese honked a morning greeting and as 7 o’clock approached the sound of waking souls and the making of breakfast, could be heard aboard.

Some made use of the hot shower and I even had a shave. Because this truly was a big day. The day we would step beyond the familiar waters of Bass Strait, out and onwards into the Tasman Sea, with New Zealand around 10 days ahead of us.

All gathered in the saloon for the task ahead, there was a brief time to acknowledge the improbable set of circumstances that had led to us each being here together, in this one spot, at this very moment in time. Our respective life-journeys colliding in harmony (hopefully) for the exciting adventure before us. The crew’s origins including Italy, Spain, New Zealand and Australia

It seemed appropriate, as our friend and great Medical Sailing Ministries supporter Bob Brenac did before the start of a return-voyage from Vanuatu, to say a quick prayer of thanks, praise and safety, for this wonderful creation, our individual blessings and protection for the task ahead

There were indeed few tasks left to do, other than check our new rigging for tension and obvious “issues”. So around 8:30am we weighed anchor and made our way quietly out of the small cove, into Murray Pass and towards the Big Blue.

A short distance around the headland, we entered Garden Cove for a passing “good morning” to a yacht that had arrived around the same time as us late yesterday. Her name was Cool Change and she was also from Hastings, having recently cruised Lakes Entrance and Wilson’s Promontory.

After our brief exchange it was then time to circle out of the bay, pointing Chimere eastward; the light wind offering little assistance to the work of the motor.

As morning turned to afternoon, the wind grew from the stern to the point where we could dispense with the engine altogether. The immediate quietness giving way to a whole new array of sounds and sensations – the breeze through the rigging, the occasional flap of the sails, the clink-clanking of plates and cups in the galley, the whir of the wind generator above us astern, the passing waves and the predictable sounds of the lines tapping the mast.

The seas were mercifully calm. There was barely a swell and probably no more than a metre of sea, with the appearance of little white caps here and there.

With Flinders Island fading astern, the last of the iPhone communication was utilised to send a few more photos, emails and texts, plus chat with home.

The realisation that this was truly the fulfillment of a lifelong dream, and that too of my father, Bill, to be sure, was never more present than now.

Communications from this point on would be via SatPhone. An amazing little device that provides email, text and voice, plus stunning weather forecasts in a range of styles and durations, some with animated swirling arrows and fading shades of blue, yellow and … not too much red and black please … depicting direction and strength of the wind.
One thing we haven’t figured out is how to send photos as attachments. So, the regular blogs on our NZ2020 website may lack photos for the next 10 days. Although, that said, if anyone can figure it out Jorge can do it.

We were hoping to get the tracker function operating before we set sail, but there’s been an unavoidable delay. Expect something in the next 5-7 days. Although our latitude and longitude will be sent regularly to Home-Base-Linda”, so we’ll see what Matt can do with that as far as an alternative in the meantime.

Breakfast complete, and after we’d set the sails, with mainsail out one side and the genoa poled out on the other, I went back to bed for a few hours, waking to a lovely lunch of egg-muffins and bacon, on a “bed of garden salad” – prepared by Jodi – after which Jodi then set about baking two lovely loaves of bread.

“How good is this kids? When tucker like this gets served up every day. Why would ya anna eat anywhere else?”

Jodi was granted special dispensation for serving a night-watch, but I suspect she’ll be there at Jorge’s side for their three-hour stint come 12:00 midnight

Six o’clock came and went without the start of “Sundowner Time” and the ringing of the bell. I discovered later that it was for compassionate reasons, me being asleep in the saloon and the bell was sure to wake me. Isn’t that sweet?! As it turned out, the clinking of glasses had me bright-eyed and up around 6:20 and quickly slicing the fresh and still-warm bread, which we devoured with cheese, jam, honey and peanut butter.

Still Chimere marked on. A sail out each side, the 10-15 knot breeze up our tail and calm seas having us doing a bit over 6 knots in extreme comfort

As we munched on fresh-fare and shared a drop of grape juice, it was time to play an audio book with the most appropriate title, Sailing Alone Around The World, by Joshua Slocum. Something of a classic in boating circles. As the passing waves lapped the hull, we soaked up 3 episodes, with predicted fine weather tomorrow probably being conducive to playing more.

A tasty vegetable soup, with real chucks of real vegetable, appeared in the saloon soon after that, and before long we were watching a red sun sink slowly in the west behind us, and the promise of its return on the bow in around 9 hour’s time; we all hoped

It’s now 10pm. Jim has retired after his shift on watch. Gee has 2 hours to go till midnight, and life aboard is developing a predictable routine.

Gee just spotted a set of lights off the starboard bow, way in the distance … a red and a white, so it’s traveling from right to left, but no sign of the vessel on our chart plotter. Maybe it’s another yacht, maybe a fishing boat towing a net or long line … we’ll see.

Everyone else is asleep in their bunks, and that’s where I’ll be going soon

Smooth seas fair breeze and on our way – for real

Rob Latimer