Bland Bay, North Island

Wednesday 23 June 2021

There’s something very nice about sailing WITH the wind.  The last few days it’s been blowing from the West, the South West and the South … all quite wonderful when you consider we’ve been poking our way north, and today north east out to Poor Knights, then north west back to the coast again. 

The wind has basically been blowing from behind, or even better still, off our stern quarter, even off the beam … in short, it’s enabled us to average about 7 knots and even sit on 8-9 knots for extended periods.

Today, for example, we had a dream run out to the Poor Knights Islands, reaching the southern-most rocky outcrop before 10:30.  We then headed north a few miles to the start of the main islands, dropping the sails finally in the sheltered confines of Maroro Bay. 

Being such a popular spot, I suppose we should have expected that other people might be here … but it is winter time … anyway, our arrival coincided with the appearance of two other boats – one a dive boat, the other a sailing eco-tour ketch. 

They obviously knew exactly what to do, anchoring within about 10-20 metres of the sheer cliffs.  Us, on the other hand, well we putted around gawking at the rugged beauty of the place, while making our way to the next small island in the chain … a mere half a mile around the headland.

Considering our options, number one was finding a spot to drop the pick for an hour or two – just to have lunch.  There was an anchorage shown in the Cruising Guide, around the next headland, but to find water shallower than 20 metres had us uncomfortably close to the cliffs.  There was, however, a small round patch of “darker blue” indicated on the chart plotter, about 100 metres from the cliffs, all supposedly around the 15-metre mark.

Checking it out, we did a couple of passes over the patch, and sure enough, the depth shallowed from 60, to 50, to 35, then finally to 20 metres – just on the edge of the maximum depth in which I’m comfortable anchoring.   The sea surface was relatively calm, the sun glowed on the rugged cliffs in shades of orange, white, green and yellow, plus we were a respectable distance from the shore – so, anchors away it was !

John slowly motored us in reverse as I fed the chain out … 20 metres before it even hit the sea-bed … then another 20 metres to at least have something laid out, and pretty soon after that another 30 metres for good measure, it simple raced out through the windlass … a total of 70 metres. 

John kept calling out the depths as we fell back onto the anchor … 22, 19, 15, 20, 30 … 55 metres … OK, we’re now back into deep water, but the good this was that the anchor was resting in the shallow water, and not likely to just fall of the edge.

By way of comparison, tonight we are anchored in Bland Bay … either named by a man called Mr Bland, or by someone who simply wanted to put people off coming here.  The water is around 4 metres deep and we have around 25-30 metres of chain out – approximately 7x the depth.

To maintain the same anchor-chain-ratio at the Poor Knights, in 20 metres of water, I’d need to have put out 140 metres of chain.  Not a practical option, given we only have 110 metres of chain, and that alone weighs around 500kg … plus the anchor of around 40kg.  So, as you can see, putting out just 70 metres of chain, in a depth of 20 metres is less than half the recommended ratio.

The unmistakeable sound of chain rubbing against rock could be heard as I attached the “snubber” to the chain, and before retiring to the stern to soak up the serenity with the others, two small thoughts remained in my mind … I hope the anchor doesn’t get stuck under a rock down there … and … I hope the anchor winch can handle lifting such a heavy weight in chain when the time comes.  

In the end, I needn’t have worried. The winch did its thing admirably and the anchor managed to dodge any snags.  It would have been great to have actually dived below the surface, to see the schools of very large fish up close, but that will have to wait for anther day.  As you can see from the photos it really is a stunning place.

Having decided not to anchor here for the night we set a course back to the coast – as far north as we dared, given the remaining hours of daylight.  In the end, we settled on Bland Bay … not such an inspiring name, but after reading the Cruising Guide it seemed to offer all that we needed – perhaps not for “sunbaking”, but certainly from the southerly wind, and also the swell that had developed, oh, and water depth of no more than 5 metres.

Again, the winds had us racing back to the coast, with John and Martyn even managing to catch a tuna … which became our dinner little more than 4 hours later.  Plus, sashimi in lemon juice and soy sauce, with crackers and cheese as the sun went to bed in the distance.   This really is a cruise!

In total, we covered around 35 miles today and expect to do much the same tomorrow, north around Cape Brett followed by a hard left in the direction of Opua; right in the middle of the Bay of Islands.  So, tonight is our last full night together. 

On arrival in Opua and the Bay of Islands Marina, Gary jumps ship to stay with his wife Theresa (onshore) – who has driven up from Wellington – and then on Saturday, Martyn, Annette and Nicola catch an early morning bus back to their homes down south.  With so much family in the region, John is still assessing his options, but there’s plenty of time to make definite plans.

Assuming no change to the COVID travel restrictions, my much-missed wife Linda will be stepping aboard Friday evening – after travelling from Melbourne – and with that, this particular stage of the voyage will officially come to an end. 

Meanwhile, I’m still seeking crew to help with the sail home to Oz!  Have I mentioned that?? But that’s a problem to be solved another day

Smooth seas, fair breeze and our last night together.

Rob Latimer

Tutakaka Harbour, North Island

Tuesday 22 June 2021

The strong wind overnight, coming across the bay and down from the nearby hill had as swinging in an arch on our anchor all night.  I was pretty sure we were well dug in, but when Nicola’s friend, and local resident, mentioned during his visit aboard yesterday afternoon, that the holding ground here was “average”, I felt inclined to take a few extra precautions.

Specifically setting the Anchor Alarm on the chart plotter to around 40 metres and sleeping with my cabin door open so I could actually hear the alarm … if it sounded.  In the end it sounded numerous times, but each “excuse” was the same … a combination of the wind and tide having pushed us to the limit of our chain. Sometimes in a South East direction, at others to the North West, and with around 40 metres of chain laid out that means around 80 metres distance from one extreme to the other. 

Whilst it was a pain having to get up and check every time, the good thing is that our movement wasn’t backwards towards the beach … around 200 metres away.

But you could hear the wind through the rigging, at times it sounded more than 30 knots, which got me thinking and reassessing.  If it’s going to take another day for this wind to abate, then tomorrow at the Poor Knights Islands, 20-miles-or-so from here, might be a little uncomfortable. 

Not so much getting there, because the wind would be right up our tail and the seas would be relatively calm.  It’s when we got there that potential problems could be experienced – gaining sufficient shelter at anchor, and simply enjoying the unique beauty of the region.  On that topic, a howling wind, can have a “unique beauty” all its own, but you can definitely have too much of a good thing some times!   

So, by the time life started stirring onboard and light began emerging in the eastern sky, I’d decided that our trip to the Poor Knights would have to wait a day.

In the end we travelled just 22 miles up the coast to Tutakaka Harbour, which took around 3-4 hours.  From here it’s just 12 miles offshore to Poor Knights, which is looking good for tomorrow.

It was after 9:00 this morning that we finally let go the anchor and prepared to hoist the mainsail.  As we headed up into the wind, with the tip of the sail already maybe 20 feet up the mast, it became apparent that there was activity out in the channel.  No big ship could be seen, but two tugs were hovering in readiness for something. 

“Just check on the AIS to see if a ship is coming into the harbour”, I yelled, while calling to Gary and Martyn to stop pulling on the halyard.

Sure enough, the chart plotter showed a large ship doing 7.5 knots half way up the Whangarei channel and just minutes away from appearing around the nearby headland.  This was NOT the sort of vessel to mess with, in a channel or anywhere else for that matter.

Lowering the mainsail, we decided to loll around for a bit, heading over to Alvin’s red boat, proudly sitting on her mooring a short distance away.  Alvin was on board, his small dinghy bouncing on its painter from the stern.  After a brief chat with Alvin across the water, the large ship was well passed and we resumed our sail-hoisting activities.

Soon enough we were in the channel, a small jib out front, the engine ticking away in the background, beating into the wind … and the incoming tide, as it turned out.

Fortunately, the tidal flow wasn’t significant, and whilst the wind was blowing against us, it wasn’t blowing against the tide; something that can lift the seas into a nasty chop. 

As it was, Chimere held her own against the elements, ploughing forward from one green channel marker to the next, till we could bear away safely to port, in order to round the headland.   

It was a funny sensation.  One minute we were all riding the lumpy waves up and down, sails pulled in tight to capture the force of the strong wind on the bow. The next we’d veered off 40 degrees or so to the left and loosened the sheets; the boom moving out over the side, the jib billowing up front.  Instantly things became calmer. Chimere levelled off, no more the feel of wind on the face, as we all sat in the sheltered cockpit gazing out at the sunny surroundings and the rugged land moving past on the port side.

In the distance we could see the first point to be rounded, Taiharuru Head, roughly halfway to Tutukaka Head and our short-hop destination.  Out to sea we could clearly make out the Poor Knights Islands, from this distance much like any other set of rocky islands   

Before long, we were sailing into the narrow entrance of the harbour, heading up into the wind towards our chosen anchorage – just short of Phillip Island and between Pacific and Kowharewa Bays, in about 5 metres of water. 

It really was an idyllic setting, made more so by the glorious sunshine and clear sky.  Judging by the expensive looking homes on almost every available cliff, headland and beachfront there are a lot or people who also appreciate this place’s idyllic setting.  A large marina is located a little further up the bay, but for now we are escaping civilisation … at least until we enter the Bay of Islands Marina on Thursday, just 2 days away.

Already, the wind has died down.  We’ve been at anchor all afternoon – time enough for me to have a sleep and for everyone else to wind down in their own way.  John and I went fishing (unsuccessfully) in the dinghy for an hour or so before dinner, with dinner itself being another one of Annette and Martyn’s frozen, pre-prepared creations – yummy.

I have resolved that it really WILL be an early night, so I’m typing in my cabin while the animated sounds of a “board game” can be heard being played in the saloon.

Smooth seas, fair breeze and instant calmer

Rob Latimer

Urquhart’s Bay, Opposite Marsdens Point, near Whangarei, North Island

Monday 21 June 2021

It was an easy task of letting go the mooring line and weaving our way out of North Cove, making sure not to run over the other mooring buoys which lay on the surface here and there between the many boats.

The night had been still, but whilst a steady breeze from the south west had moved in, clouds and the potential for rain was in evidence on the eastern horizon as we left Kawau Island to starboard before gybing and setting a course north. 

When I say north, it was really north west, with our destination being the port of Whangarei about 40-odd miles away.

To be on the safe side, we’d estimated an ETA of around 4:00pm, but owing to the direction and strength of the breeze, plus the largely flat seas – on account of the offshore wind – we eventually dropped anchor around 2:00pm.  And what an amazing ride it was too.  A heel of no more than 15 degrees and speeds of 8-9 knots, touching 10 knots for one brief moment – and no motor, making full use of the “free” wind.

For most of the time we had all sail hoisted, although as the wind strengthened to around 25 knots, and the entrance to the Whangarei Harbour channel loomed, we felt it prudent to “de-power”.  This basically meant winding in the staysail, halving the size of the jib and throwing a reef in the mainsail. 

There’s always a bit of effort involved in such activities, but the effect of de-powering was instant.  It’s funny, the speed was barely affected. Only reducing by around 1 knot, to 7.5 – 8.5 knots; despite halving the amount of sail out.   The main impact was in the heel, back to around 10 degrees … plus that sense of NOT being out-of-control.   

Maybe better expressed as “bringing things more under control”, because from my experience, the seeds of bad events are sown in good times.  When things are going really well … the sun is shining, the sailing seems perfect and the weather ideal … it’s then that you run the risk of overlooking something, you don’t prepare adequately and are found wanting when conditions change.  A metaphor for life in general really, I suppose

Like the reef in the mainsail you should have put in BEFORE the wind strengthened, the fishing line you forgot to wind in before coming into port because you were distracted, or the inadequate amount of chain you fed out when laying the anchor.    

Anyway, no such issues this time.  John and I … plus our trusty crew, had things well under control!

This region is well known, in local circles at least, for the location of New Zealand’s oil refinery at Marsden Point – which just happens to be a few miles away, across the shipping channel.  We have anchored in Urquhart’s Bay in the shadow of Mount Lion, (at least the morning shadow) with the industrial chimneys of the refinery clearly visible in the distance – the regional city of Whangerei being reached by continuing up the channel a further 10 miles or more.

We chose to anchor in this small bay because it’s relatively sheltered from the wind and sea, plus it’s home to Alvin and his red steel yacht, which sits on a mooring here just 250 metres off our stern.

Readers might remember Alvin as a valuable part of our crew from Wellington to Tauranga.  Well, we caught up with Alvin late in the day.  He had come down to do work on his boat and paddled over to say hello.  It was good to catch up, to see his boat and more fully appreciate the local region

While having a visit from Alvin, we also caught up with two friends of Nicola’s, who also, very kindly, brought us some groceries – cheese, butter, bread … the basics.  Having anchored so early in the day really had its benefits – particularly with the sun going down so early these days.  It also meant there was time to knock out some scones for afternoon tea – I think that was Martyn and Annette’s doing.  You can see what sort of sailing trip this is …

Looking forward a few days, plans are still on track for my wife Linda to join Chimere this Friday the 25^th June in the Bay of Islands.  It would seem the “COVID bubble” between Melbourne and New Zealand might actually open tomorrow, as announced, once again establishing two-way, quarantine-free travel.  Given all that’s happened in recent times it’s still a little difficult to believe that it will all come off, but at this stage, all the signs are positive.

As a very special treat, I received a video call tonight from the family back in Oz, primarily to share the wonderful news that my younger son James, has had his PhD in soil chemistry accepted … with prospects for continued employment at ANU looking very positive.  Having observed the years of work James has put in to his academic achievements, there’s no doubt that this latest milestone is well deserved.  CONGRATULATIONS JAMES!!!       

After all the effort in trying, today was a very special day in the fishing department.  John finally landed a good-sized fish – a kahawai,  or as it’s known back home, an Australian salmon.  There were smiles all round and it even caused us to loosen all sail and head up into the wind for a brief time, in order to slow down.  It certainly made deciding what to have for dinner a little easier, with the one fish being enough to feed all six of us.

Looking at the weather … with the approach of a high-pressure system from Australia, it looks like a southerly wind will start to dominate over the next couple of days coming in at around 30 knots tomorrow, reducing to 15 knots by Wednesday. 

Our current plan is to get away from here in the morning and head to the offshore islands – about 25 miles away – known as the Poor Knights Islands – which is actually a protected reserve and a world class diving site.  (Rated by Cousteau as one of the top 10 sites in the world, apparently)  I’m not sure we’ll be doing any snorkelling, but if we do, by all accounts, this is certainly the place to do it.  Just got to get over the 15-degree water temperature.   

More information on the Poor Knights can be found HERE   and    HERE

At this stage I’m NOT expecting to have a phone or internet connection while at the Poor Knights, so tomorrow night’s Ships Log entry may be delayed, or get posted without photos.  

From there we will head back to the mainland, with the plan to reach Opua and the Bay of Islands Marina on Thursday – just in time for Linda’s arrival the next day

By the way … I’m still looking for crew to help sail home from the Bay of Islands to Sydney!

Smooth seas, fair breeze and shortest day, fastest sail

Rob Latimer

The Poor Knights … a bit of History

The islands were earlier inhabited by Māori of the Ngāti Wai tribe who grew crops and fished the surrounding sea. The tribe traded with other Maori.

A chief of the tribe named Tatua led his warriors on a fighting expedition to the Hauraki Gulf with Ngā Puhi chief Hongi Hika in the early 1820s. While they were away, a slave escaped the islands and travelled to Hokianga where he told Waikato, a chief of the Hikutu tribe, that the islands had been left undefended. As Waikato had been offended by Tatua some years previous, he and his warriors set out on three large canoes to attack the islands. They arrived at the islands one night in December 1823[12] and soon overpowered the islanders in the absence of their warriors. Many islanders jumped off the high cliffs to avoid being taken as slaves. Tatua’s wife and daughter were captured and taken to the mainland where a distant relative recognised the wife and helped the two to escape.

Tatua returned to the islands to find a scene of destruction. Only nine or ten people were left on the islands, including his five-year-old son who had been hidden in a cave during the attack. The islands were declared tapu and Tatua left with the survivors and went to Rawhiti in the Bay of Islands where he unexpectedly found his wife and daughter.

Private Mooring, North Cove, Kawau Island, North Island

Sunday 20 June 2021

It seemed to rain all night, but by morning it was clear, sunny and fine.

Being tied up to a freshwater source, at the Kawau Boating Club, and with the generator having run for an hour or so – which heats our water – everyone grabbed the opportunity to have a hot shower.  Luxury!!

Martyn knocked up some scrambled eggs for everyone, after which John and I stayed aboard while the others went for a walk up the hill and far away – and back again – all within about 45 minutes.  Just in time for us to untie the lines and head around the corner to Mansion House Bay.

Now, I’d seen this establishment on the way into Bon Accord Harbour, in fact it was one of the photos in last night’s Post … I cheekily suggested it might be my next house.  Anyway, Nicola – who used to sail these waters as a kid with her father, mother and brother, explained that it was actually built by one of New Zealand’s early Governors – a certain Mr Grey esq.   You can check out the man himself HERE

… but apparently he even developed a zoo, with giraffes, zebras, wallabies … all sorts of animals.  He was quite the man. Check out more HERE

As for the “house”, sorry Mansion … after a short motor and anchoring nearby, we launched our big dinghy off the foredeck and all six of us made our way to the small jetty out front.  We even had a look inside, and it really was impressive.   As you can see from the photos, it is fully furnished, as per the Victorian era, and has an amazing history.   It really was worth the visit – there’s even remnants of the copper mine and smelter that was here in the early days, although we didn’t have time to check that out fully. 

What we did see were building blocks dating from the mid-1800s, made of copper ore slag that have been used to make the wharf.  You could tell they contained copper because of the green stain that seemed to ooze from some of them.  

Another highlight was making our way back to North Cove to see Lin Pardey and David Haigh – as reported in yesterday’s Post.  David suggested we pick up the mooring, described as;… “orange with a white float attached, just off the stern of a double-ender about 36 foot long … you can’t miss it” … virtually out the front of their place, which certainly made things easier. 

By way of a re-cap … I met Lin and David in Westernport, just before setting sail for New Zealand in January 2020.  I’d known of Lin, as a sailing author and adventurer, with her husband Larry.  This was back in the 1970s when my brother Andrew was building his library of boating books – Lin and Larry Pardey being close to the Bible in the sailing world when it came to learning from the wisdom and experience of others. 

As they waved good-bye, quite disbelieving that we’d managed to re-rig Chimere, having returned the mast to her just three days before heading off, they called out that we should drop by, if we happened to be in the area. ie near Kawau Island.   

After the wind of the last few days, I’d resigned myself to NOT meeting up, but our fast return from Great Barrier Island with the wind up our tail, changed all that.

Having picked up the mooring, John and I took the dinghy to Lin’s nearby jetty equipped with a tasty red wine and a block of fruit and nut chocolate.  Nicola, Annette, Gary and Martyn stayed aboard to relax and basically do what they liked – within reason.  Which included making two loaves of bread … strictly according to Linda’s laminated instructions – which have been stuck to the wall of the galley for years.

Anyway, it was great to meet with Lin and David, and after finishing off our “offering”, plus lots of crackers and dips it was time to head back aboard.  In the course of our discussions, Lin mentioned that she knew a woman up near where John hails from in Northland … “not so-and-so?”, said John … “yes, that’s her” said Lin … “Well I built her house”, replied John … to astounded laughter all round.  Eventually, after more than two hours chatting, the quiet waters of the inlet below us and the last shadows of light disappearing beyond the surrounding hills, it was time to say good-bye.

As an aside, the small wooden yacht that Lin’s husband Larry built – way back – and in which they sailed around the world was moored below us, just two boats away from Chimere.  She is named Taliesin and whilst not owned by Lin any more, IS owned by a young couple who share a similar dream to Lin and Larry more than 40 years ago.   

On our way back to Chimere, I couldn’t resist taking a photo, but you can see some original video of the yacht – Lin and Larry aboard – HERE, and HERE

Returning to Chimere, John and I were greeted by two wonderful loaves of bread – created by Annette and Nicola – with plans well afoot for a dinner of pizzas.

Plans for tomorrow are pretty simple … head north … hopefully to Whangarei.  Not exactly Whangarei proper.  But around 45 miles to the harbour entrance … Urquharts Bay … where we plan to stop for the night and say hello to Alvin, who sailed from Wellington to Tauranga with us.  Alvin has a boat moored there and is currently knee deep in maintenance tasks aboard.

As for now, it’s an early night aboard Chimere so we can get away “at sparrow’s fart” … to quote John … at least early for us …

Smooth seas, fair breeze and Sunday of rest & recreation

Rob Latimer

Lin and Larry Pardey

Lin and Larry are among America’s (and the world’s) most knowledgeable and recognized cruising sailors. They are known as “America’s first couple of cruising.” The Pardeys have sailed over 200,000 miles, including two circumnavigations east to west and west to east aboard self-built, wooden, engine-free cutters under 30 feet. Author of a dozen books, countless magazine articles, and co-creators of five cruising documentaries, Lin and Larry have shared their sailing experiences with tens of thousands around the globe prompting many to take up the sport and live the dream of the cruising lifestyle. They have preached their motto of “Go simple, go modest, go small–just go”. Learn more about the Pardeys at http://www.landlpardey.com.

Kawau Boating Club Wharf, Bon Accord Harbour, Kawau Island, North Island

Saturday 19 June 2021

Despite the howling wind and driving rain that descended on us in the early hours of the morning, our anchorage at Wairahi Bay remained still and calm. 

After giving us a good shake-up, the storm-system moved onto the Auckland region leaving a trail of destruction in its path.  You can check it out HERE

Around 8:00am, however, as we contemplated the day’s activities – the passing gusts swinging us this way and that – I wasn’t convinced we’d be doing anything; other than retreating to our cabins, or the corner of the saloon to read a book.

It’s amazing the difference some blue sky and sunshine can make though, with the latest weather forecast also predicting things to lighten throughout the day – but more importantly, all the wind, along with the rising seas, would be going our way.  Which made a change, because since leaving Tauranga last Monday – about 6 days ago – we’ve largely juggled around wind that seemed to be going the wrong way.

Pretty soon it was agreed that we’d try and head out, setting a course for Kawau Island, and if things were too unpleasant, we could always find another small anchorage in the Great Barrier Island region to find some shelter.

The small dinghy was lifted onto the stern davits – a process that can take 15 minutes or more, as it is securely tied in all possible directions in order to ensure it doesn’t swing about.  By the time it was up and stowed, everyone was in their full wet weather gear, all hatches were closed down and all lee clothes up.  The wind kept gusting, but the blue sky was breaking through and the clouds appeared to be lifting.

Next, it was time to wind in the chain and lift the anchor – and yes, the newly “fixed” anchor winch did its thing and worked perfectly.  One small problem, however, was the mud which came up with the chain – messing our beautifully painted deck and requiring a bit of water to be thrown around in order to make good. 

Our course took us back out past the Spirit of New Zealand, still lying at anchor with no life to be seen on deck, and through the Man of War Passage.  It was past this point, with ample sea-room, that we hoisted a double reefed mainsail, pointing up into the wind to ensure the sail’s smooth travel up the mast.  Soon after came a heavily reefed jib as the wind began to set in, despite the shelter afforded by the land on three sides. 

Dropping below the Grey Group Islands, a course was then laid for the Kawau’s North Channel, a distance of around 25 miles, which we hoped to do in record time – maybe 3 hours, on account of the wind up our tail.   

Clear of the land, the wind picked up, with the sea off our starboard stern quarter lifting us at regular intervals, moving us forward in predictable surges.  It was truly a pleasant ride.  Smooth, stable and above all fast.  The 720 metre high Little Barrier Island soon came and went off our starboard side, and as we passed the half way point the seas had definitely flattened out somewhat.  The lightening wind had us fully hoisting the mainsail, rolling out the jib to its full extent and even giving the staysail a fly.

Pretty soon we were rounding the northern tip of Kawau Island, the returning Spirit of New Zealand clearly visible on the horizon, also making her way back from Great Barrier Island – no doubt to drop off her latest complement of intrepid teenage adventurers.   

As mentioned in earlier posts, my reason for coming to Kawau Island was to take up the offer to “drop in” on Lin Pardey and David Haigh, whom I met briefly in Melbourne in January last year.  They waved us off as we set sail to New Zealand, from the Westernport Marina, with the parting words … “make sure you drop by, when you pass our way…” 

Well, here we were, and sure enough, we were dropping by.    Trouble was, I didn’t know Lin and David’s address and didn’t even have a phone number or email address. 

After a little bit of online detective work, I deduced that they were in North Cove.  At least this was a start.  The next question was … which wharf?  Because pretty much every house had its own private jetty and even if I anchored out in the bay, and returned in the dinghy, I’d still need to know which door to knock on.

Fortunately, Nicola had the idea to call the local ferry service.  The one she nearly used before the plan was changed to instead meet us at Great Barrier Island.   Maybe it was Nicola’s trusting voice that did the trick, because after providing some initial qualifying information to the natural question … “why do you want to know where Lin Pardey lives?” … we learnt all we needed.    This was confirmed by a couple of lads, paddling in the bay, on our arrival, who pointed out the property and wharf as we lolled past the various moored boats that crammed the bay – the sunny stillness making for a perfect afternoon.

After hovering off Lin’s private jetty for 5 minutes or so, it was clear – or, seemed clear to us – that no one was home.  We contemplated anchoring at the entrance to the bay, but it’s a small bay and not wanting to get in the way of the regular ferry that drops people, parcels and mail to each of the private jetties – just like the postman might – we instead chose to chug around the headland into the main bay … Bon Accord Harbour (aka Shark Bay)   

There was also the need to fill up our water tanks – all those hot showers and clothes washing had taken their toll – and there was a good chance we might find a public jetty in the bigger bay, one that had a tap!  Nicola did some more homework and discovered that we could tie up at the local boating club, where water and fuel could be obtained.  Despite flying two flags high on their clubhouse, no one was in residence at the club, but we tied up anyway, safe in the knowledge that we weren’t going to be in anyone’s way – even though this was a sunny Saturday afternoon.    

Once tied up, the water tanks full again, I managed to track down David Haigh’s phone number through a mutual friend and soon discovered that he and Lin were home and that tomorrow at 3:00pm would be fine to drop back; there was being a nearby mooring we could pick up.

Afternoon tea, led to an afternoon sleep, with dinner soon after, followed by a couple of hours chatting, message-checking and storytelling in the saloon. 

The weather forecast spoke of continued storms and rain over the next 24 hours, so it looks like we are in the right place at the right time.  Our passage north to the Bay of Islands will likely resume on Monday, with the winds expected to start blowing from the west and south – not bad for heading north!

Right now it’s pouring with rain and there’s something comforting about the sound coming through the coach-house roof – particularly while securely tied to a floating wharf.

Smooth seas, fair breeze and really didn’t think we’d be sailing today  

Rob Latimer

Wairahi Bay, Great Barrier Island, North Island

Friday 18 June 2021

If someone was considering the purchase of a yacht, then today would have tipped them over the edge … in favour, that is.  It had everything … magic overnight anchorage … calm seas … brilliant sunshine … amazingly remote and spectacular scenery … another stunning anchorage … plus a fun and jolly crew.

In just a couple of days, Great Barrier Island has become our new most favourite-est places – at least the bits we’ve seen.

First though, I’m extremely please to announce that the anchor winch decided to start working again this morning.  Not totally on its own, because Gary had a lot to do with it … resuming where he left off last night – but trying a few new tricks, before we mounted a full assault involving the removal of the motor.  One such trick involved a spanner … but not in any conventional sense.    I actually had this idea the other day … hitting the side of the motor with a big stick, to no avail. 

Apparently, according to our yacht maintenance guy back in Melbourne, Steve Cullinane from Professional Marine Maintenance, (who I called yesterday for any tips he might be able to bestow) you need to hit the side of the motor while simultaneously pressing the ON switch. 

Given Gary was in charge, completely hidden from view inside the anchor well, and him being of the more qualified, academic class … he used a spanner.  A socket spanner actually.   And he didn’t even hit it all that hard.  “Just a smart tap” … is how he described it … “and it started on the first try”

At the time, I was up in the forward cabin, making it look clean and beautiful for Nicola’s arrival later in the morning.  I was spraying and wiping the walls, all surfaces really, and suddenly there was that unmistakeable grinding, whirring, mechanical, gear-drive sound of the motor and winch on the other side of the bulkhead.  The mere sound bringing forth a spontaneous cheer … “HAZZAH!!” … what joy!!  Deep down, I kind of knew it was nothing too serious, and as John explained … “it’s a bit like putting the handbrake on the car and leaving it for a year … it can get stuck in that position” 

Apparently, a small and very important part of the motor, that rubs against another small and important part, got stuck … and simply needed a push … but while the ON button was being pressed.  Our diagnostic efforts had isolated the problem to the motor, so this was the best outcome we could have hoped for; even though we had resigned ourselves to a little more chain-pulling, morning exercise, since it was all in a good cause.    

While soaking up the morning serenity, listening to the birds and the very occasional car – maybe three vehicles in two hours – travel along the shoreline road, Nicola was busy boarding a flight (a very small plane that carried around 12 people) in Auckland.  Pretty soon we received a text to say … “I’ve landed” … and “will be arriving by taxi in 15 minutes” … Unfortunately, I thought the taxi (and Nicola) would be arriving at the boat ramp at Puriri Bay, whereas Nicola thought I’d be waiting at the main wharf in Shoal Bay.  Both within Tryphena Harbour, but probably a mile away by sea and two miles by the windy road.

The hiccup was soon sorted and before long Nicola, her belongings and the extra groceries she had kindly brought, were being loaded into the dinghy and transported aboard Chimere – just in time for lunch.

I’d like to say that we SAILED the 17 miles north to Port Fitzroy, but in reality, we drove.  The only real wind was what we made ourselves, ploughing gracefully along at 6-7 knots, over very flat seas. 

Also out on the briny, motoring in our direction, was clearly a classic yacht.  Her lines were graceful, old, like a pearling lugger, maybe 60-70 feet in length, probably timber.  Her rig was that of a schooner … the forward mast being shorter than the aft, with a cross spa indicating that she was also a topsail schooner. 

At first, she started out as an indistinct object on the horizon, only to converge to within 300-400 yards of us over the course of an hour or more, as we crossed her stern to overtake. 

We weren’t initially going to overtake. John actually slowed down to around 5 knots out of courtesy, thinking they should maintain their lead as we were just a few miles from the narrow channel between a few islands.  Not a place for competing interests.  We did the usual wave and through the glasses could see her name clearly displayed on the bow … WINDBORNE … and within a few minutes Martyn was showing me the vessels website and a beautiful picture of her, fully clothed, all canvas up.   She truly was, and is, a classic lady.

Check her out HERE

Windborne is a 62 ft. gaff rigged topsail schooner that has been sailing the oceans of the world since 1928. A vessel of great character, charm strength and comfort, she was rebuilt in New Zealand in 1981 to combine the finest of seafaring traditions with the comfort and safety of the 21th century.

Our course to Port Fitzroy, on the western side of Great Barrier Island, took us north and inside the Broken Islands, then through a narrow channel named Man of War Passage (aka Governor Pass).  As you can see from the snap of the Chart Plotter, it really was a maze of small islands, bays, coves and rocks. 

On entering Man of War Passage, we could see several rubber duckies, each full of people paddling.  “What’s this, tourists off a cruise ship?” we initially thought.  As the narrow channel opened up into the confined, sheltered waters of the bay, what should we spy but the tall ship Spirit of New Zealand, sitting proudly at anchor in the middle of the bay – a grand sight to be sure.

Passing close to the rubber duckies we observed a bit of slacking amongst the rear paddlers, with two of the four small vessels – straggling well behind the others – definitely in need of some encouragement.  This we generously provided by means of our ships horn, and loud exclamations of … “ROW, ROW, ROW … PUT YOU BACK INTO IT NOW, STROKE, STROKE, STROKE” It was hard to tell whether it made any difference to their performance, I suspect not, because the only words I could hear in return were … “Give us a tow!”

What a wonderful sight, as you can see from the photos.

On anchoring, in the very secluded arm of the harbour called Waiahi Bay, we were immediately struck by the absolute stillness of the place.  There was no movement of the boat, none, making all the prior anchorages seem rough by comparison.  

Being washing day, there were plenty of clothes hanging in the rigging, making the most of the sunshine and gentle breeze.  There was also just enough time before dinner for John and I to zoom off in the dinghy, optimistic once more that we would finally catch ourselves a fish … using bacon for bait.  

Bacon perhaps isn’t the first choice of bait  amongst fisher-folk, at least not to my knowledge.  But finally, our persistence paid off.  We did indeed land a fish.  Not big enough to photograph, unless you got up real close, but our hope is that if used for bait, it will lead us onto bigger and better things.  Stay tuned!    

On the plus side, John and I did return with a couple of buckets of good-sized mussels.  Which I should say, were very tasty.  It did help that there was a mussel farm in the nearby bay, but as John observed, “some of those little fellows escape”, choosing to grow up outside the confines of the “farm” … well, they’re the ones we “landed” … nothing illegal here … not like Martyn, Annette and Gary’s trespassing of the other day.

That best do for today. 

All I can say again is that this Great Barrier Island it truly amazing.  Kind of a cross between Stewart Island and the SW coast of Tasmania; Port Davey.  No doubt the folk in Auckland are well aware of the place and that in summer it’s wall-to-wall boats, but right now, this place is remote as!

Oh, I should mention that as John and I were readying ourselves to go fishing, who should motor past, but the yacht “Magic Carpet Ride”.  I immediately recognised it as the vessel I shared 4-5 weeks in lockdown last year, while stuck at Mana Marina near Wellington. 

I called out as they passed and they veered over for a chat.   Apparently, they have a mooring about 250 metres off our stern, and a small house up the wooded valley at the end of this small bay.  Small world. 

Smooth seas, fair breeze and Our New Most Favourite-est Place

Rob Latimer

Puriri Bay, Tryphena Harbour, Great Barrier Island, North Island

Thursday 17 June 2021

It was an early start today, with the expected 50-60 miles ahead of us, likely to include a few tacks on account of the predicted wind basically coming from the west – the direction of Kawau Island, our chosen anchorage for the night.

It was also where we were going to pick up our next crew member, Nicola, who lives in Auckland and was going to catch the ferry across to meet us tomorrow morning.  

Kawau Island is also the home of a woman – Lin Pardey – whom I met in January last year while in Melbourne preparing to head to New Zealand.  Lin was travelling with a bloke named David, on his yacht Sahulu.  Anyway, it’s a long story, but as they waved us good-bye from the Western Port Marina dock, they invited us to visit them at Kawau Island. (Refer to Ships Log from January last year, HERE … and more about Lin Pardey HERE

At the time I really didn’t know where Kawau Island was.  It was too far in the future to afford it any brainpower, but it was north of Auckland, on the way to the Bay of Islands, and so I figured – “No worries, see you there!” 

So, here we were, beating into a strengthening westerly wind, our destination – North Cove,  Kawau Island.

The good news was that after a bright, clear start to the day, the sun continued to shine.  Low in the winter sky admittedly, but at just the right angle to create sparkles and glistening spray in the waves of water pushed from the bow as we beat our way forward.  Sometimes our course took us in the direction of the rugged Coromandel cliffs, on a starboard tack, then out to sea again as we crossed the wind onto a port tack.

Nearing the top of the Coromandel Peninsular, I was doing some mental calculations.  As you do.   Assessing the 4-5 hours of sailing still ahead of us … that even with the motor running we were barely doing 6 knots into the conditions … the possibility of arriving after dark into an unfamiliar bay … not to mention the frustration that of all the places we could be going Kawau Island just happened to be where the wind was coming from.

Just then I received a text from Nicola asking … “Are you still on track for Kawau, or are you going to Great Barrier Island?” … which had me looking again at the chart and Cruising Guide.

“Can you catch a ferry to Great Barrier Island?” I replied … “No, but I can catch a small plane”.

After a bit more texting back and forth, I confirmed that we’ll skip Kawau Island and go straight for Tryphena Harbour, Great Barrier Island … a mere 15 miles to our north – Nicola will fly into the nearby “airport” (less than 60 miles from Auckland) and catch a taxi to the bay and join us at 11:00am in the morning – just in time for second breakfast.

Wow, that was easy … and a great solution all round.  Sure, I’d miss out on possibly meeting Lin and David again, but sometimes you’ve gotta do what ya gotta do. 

Anyone familiar with the various points on a compass – or using Google Maps – will realise that our new northerly destination was at right angles to the westerly wind that we were, up until that point, beating into.  Having made the decision to go to Great Barrier Island, it was a simple task of baring away 30-40 degrees, (to starboard) easing the sheets and turning off the motor.  Almost instantly, the speed increase to around 8 knots and the pounding forward motion was replaced with a steady, stable “ploughing-forward-and-through” motion – it was bliss.

Less than 90 minutes later we were dropping anchor to the right of the moored boats in the bay, just past the 5 metre line, less than half a kilometre from the shore and in the lee of the surrounding hills.  What’s more, we had the whole afternoon to relax and didn’t even have to go anywhere in the morning – just sit around and wait for Nicola to turn up.

There was also time to have a look at the anchor winch and pretty soon Gary was wrist deep in wires, poking this way and that with the multi-meter, working his way from the power source, through the switch mechanism to the motor itself.   Thinking it might have been the solenoid, I dug out a spare from the electrical drawer … but it seems the problem may lie in the motor itself – or possibly another connection within.  At this stage, all we can say is that it’s a work in progress.  Hopefully we can solve the dilemma tomorrow!

Having good internet and phone communications, I received a Travel Advisory from the Australian Government today saying that the Victoria-NZ travel bubble would be opening up on the 22 June … just three days before Linda is due to join me … and little more than 8 days away, next Friday!   Not many sleeps now, with Matt, Cathy, James and Eva due to also step aboard a week later on 2 July.  Talk about cutting it fine!

It was another wonderful dinner tonight– one of Martyn and Annette’s chicken creations  (pre-prepared and frozen) and while I’ve retreated to my cabin to write today’s missive … they are all in the saloon playing a 6-dice game called   Farkle – nothing to do with gambling I’m assured. Outside, it’s as calm as … bro … the sky is clear, it’s a bit on the chilly side and the anchor is well dug in.  All is fine with the world!   At least this little part of it…

Smooth seas, fair breeze and slight change of plan

Rob Latimer

Learn more about Great Barrier Island

Huruhi Harbour, Great Mercury Island, North Island

Wednesday 16 June 2021

After two days of overcast, rainy and all-round dodgy weather, the day dawned with clear skies and a blazing yellow sun which streamed into the saloon as we ate our Weet Bix, coffee and toast.

It had been a wonderfully still night, with the sound of munching crustaceans on the seafloor echoing through the hull.  Not something you hear all the time, but maybe it was the shallow water that made the sound easier to hear.

The anchor was retrieved again by hand – we’ll get to that switch box eventually … in fact I just discovered that Gary is an electrical engineer by training, so he may well have scored himself a job – and by 9:30 we were hoisting all sail and setting course in a roughly northwesterly direction towards our next destination – Great Mercury Island, near the top of the Coromandel Peninsular

The weather just got better and better.  The sun beat down, the wind remained steady and the seas stayed slight, allowing us to plough forward at anything from 6-8 knots.  Even better, the engine was turned off and most power for the day was complements of Mother Nature and the Good Lord above.

The wind veered more to the west in the early afternoon, enabling us to better achieve our course, but still there was a need to point high and even tack from time to time, as we wove … or is it weaved? … our way between the numerous rocks and obstacles in our path.  In fact, we were surrounded by dots of land, all with a name speaking of its special significance at one time … Watchman Rock … Shoe Island (not to be confused with Slipper Island), Little King Rock … Big King Rock … Danger Rocks … Whale Rock … you get the idea.

Rather than chart a course through the “Hole in the Wall” and past Old Man Rock … we instead took the wider route, doing a dog-leg around Whale Rock, then on past Korapuki Island and around Ahikopua Point at the southern end of Great Mercury Island.  From here it was a simple sail across the bay to Huruhi Harbour – in the shadow of 95-metre-high Mt Cook.  I kid you not. Mount Cook … not to be confused with the “other” one … or, perhaps the other twenty or more…

Because, if this grassy knoll, covered in sheep, can first be labelled a “mountain” and second, deserve the name of the great man himself, then someone, once upon a time, must surely have had a sense of humour.   It was suggested onboard that perhaps an Australian thought it looked like a “Mountain”, which was a particularly low blow I thought …  

Local history of James Cook and his observation of the transit of Mercury in 9 November 1769  

The weather was so pleasant, and the sailing so “stable”, that there was even an opportunity to run the “watermaker”.  Always a bit “involved” … requiring the generator to be started and the equipment fired up and monitored.  In the end we made some very tasty freshwater, with the new filters (bought in Wellington) making all the difference. 

It was also a bread-making-kind-of-day … with our “system” usually knocking out two full laves, but today I thought I’d mix it up.  After all, we’d all agreed to delay lunch till we’d dropped anchor – which seemed to be getting later and later – so I thought we all deserved a herb and cheese roll, PLUS one standard loaf.   

In the end it all worked out rather nice, even if I say so myself, despite me putting in half the yeast I should have; Martyn even suggesting the rolls were as good as from a shop! 

By 3:00pm, with the winter sun fast sinking to the horizon,  we were ready to explore ashore.  The small dinghy was launched off the stern, and despite the vision of a mansion onshore, a helicopter on their lawn, plus high-class, trendy, architecturally designed, 5-star, barn-vertical-rustic-timber motif, B&B “sheds”, with their own private wharf, I dropped Gary, Martyn and Annette ashore for a stroll.  I then headed back to the boat to pick up John so we could race off to the nearby headland to get into some fishing.

“Ground crew to Chimere, ground crew to Chimere … come in please? “   Ahhh, the unmistakable sound of Annette’s voice on the mobile VHF radio from inside the drybag on the floor of the dinghy, under the fishing bucket.

“Chimere to ground crew, copy you”, I finally said, after digging out the radio, all the while wondering – funny they should be calling us so soon??!!

“Chimere, this is ground crew … apparently all this part of the island is private property”  

“Be back to pick you up in just a few minutes”  I replied.

So, here we had the most law-abiding members of Chimere’s crew being accosted for trespassing?!  

The good news was that other parts of the islands  didn’t have the same trespass rules, so it was just a case of dropping them somewhere else nearby.

In the end, the lack of light stopped play, with John and I keen to try some more promising spots elsewhere with something more than bacon for bait.

Back on board, the warm stillness of our little floating cocoon was like a welcome embrace as we discarded our wet gear, dried off and slipped on some warm clothes. 

Dinner is now well underway, comprising hamburgers … with the LOT, including pineapple, beetroot … and maybe even eggs  … and potato chups … the fish will have to wait.

Smooth seas, fair breeze and THIS is sailing

Rob Latimer

Great Mercury Island

This 5,000-acre isle, 30 minutes by helicopter from Auckland, is the private retreat of two millionaires—a haven so hidden that even the paparazzi can’t find the celebs who stay here. Mere mortals can visit, too, assuming they can afford the $20,000-a-day price tag. Included is free range of an island so large and varied that it feels like a small country, with miles of pristine white beaches, sensational scuba diving and fishing, and all manner of toys—from boats and Jet Skis to off-road trucks and motorcycles. There’s also a superb chef whose food is considered some of New Zealand’s finest. The two villas can sleep up to 16 (perhaps more if you count children) people between them and are airy mazes where irregular, white-plastered passageways lead to individually themed bedrooms full of whimsy, wit, and every conceivable creature comfort.

South Bay, Slipper Island, North Island

Tuesday 15 June 2021

After a lumpy and rather uncomfortable start to the voyage yesterday, it was good to see “normal” life commence onboard as everyone slowly woke with the morning sun.  Even before the morning sun, for some.  And when I say “sun” … we never actually saw it today, or barely a shadow.  It was definitely hiding somewhere up there, beyond the layer upon layer of grey misty cloud that seemed to touch the water at times.

Pretty much everything onboard runs on 12 volt – the lights, the fridge, freezer, auto-helm, navigation – so it’s important to monitor the charge and storage of the batteries, divided between the “House” (3 x 200 Amp/hr) and the “Engine” (1 x 200 Amp/hr)  After just a day away from the 240 volts of the shore power cable, and after a day’s charging from the engine’s alternator, things were still looking healthy.  But just to be on the safe side – and to heat the hot water (which is one of the few 240v systems on board) – I ran the 6.5kva diesel generator for an hour or so through breakfast.

Consequently, Martyn – an early riser – ended up with a luke warm shower, whereas mine was toasty warm.  But then I do have the home-ground advantage.    

The night had been calm, but with a slight roll in the early hours of the morning, as the tide and gentle breeze lay us beam-too the small swell that had found its way through the entrance of the bay. 

Spirits were definitely renewed after a good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast, allowing us to exit the bay around 9:30.  But not before overcoming the first problem of the day … a loose switch connection in the anchor winch control panel.  At least that’s what we’ve diagnosed, with no amount of “spray”, or emery paper solving our dilemma. 

In a way it’s a bit like hitching the trailer up to the Kingswood after a year under the plum tree down the sideway.   You plug it all in, are about to drive away and then you think… “s’pose I’d betta check the lights” … so you go through them one by one only to discover that they don’t work!  Your natural response is no doubt something like … “Oh, bother, how can that be … they worked last time?!”  So, you give it a good spray, clean the points and if that doesn’t work, you hunt up a screwdriver to have a look inside.

In order to get away in a timely manner we did all of the above, except the last bit with the screwdriver.  Having a bit of muscle on board, Gary, Martyn and I quickly had the 30 metres of chain retrieved and piled on the deck, (on a tarp of course – it’s newly painted) as John quietly steered us out into deep water.  We’ll take the screwdriver to the control box tomorrow.

Once underway, we made good time on our course northwest in the direction of slipper Island.  The flat-ish seas and steady breeze off the starboard bow, gave Chimere the sense of being on rails as we ploughed along at a gentle heel of 10-15 degrees.

John broke out the fishing rod, but so far, we haven’t found a fish worthy of being landed.  Either that or there are no dumb fish in these parts. 

Early in the day I grabbed an opportunity to have a sleep, which I learned later was the only time we were joined by dolphins which played around the boat for some time.  Once closer to the mainland we picked up phone and internet reception and it seemed strange to receive a photo of the dolphins, taken by Annette (while I was asleep) and then sent to Nicola through our Chimere Messenger Group.  Saved me having to get up and see the dolphins myself, when I could simply get a photo of them     

Rain became a little more serious today, and you could probably say it set in for a while as we chugged along.   But soon enough we were dropping anchor in around 3 metres of water at the southern end of Slipper Island.  Just in time for lunch, or a late lunch at around 2:00pm.

We’d only covered around 23 miles, but it was a pleasant sail, made all the more so by having the snug cockpit, or coach house, in which to shelter. 

There’s something about staying warm and dry, and out of the biting wind – it’s called comfort I suppose, and helps to balance those other days when giving up sailing might seem more of an attractive life-choice.

Late in the day we saw blue sky, and even a decent sunset, so we are thinking that if a red sky at night is a shepherd’s delight, then maybe it could refer to sailors as well.

For now, we have a calm anchorage, AND internet access, so I won’t have to rely on satellite communications.  Although, that said, I’d like to thank my son Matt for uploading yesterday’s episode when he finally received it this morning.  The good news is that I’ve just uploaded the photos to accompany yesterday’s entry …  which can be seen HERE

Smooth seas, fair breeze and the rhythm of the sea

Rob Latimer

South East Bay, Mayor Island, North Island

Monday 14 June 2021

They say a bad day at sea is still better than a good day in the office. Although there were a couple of people on board … maybe three if push comes to shove … who would beg to differ.

To give you the end of the story first, we are currently at anchor in a snug little cove barely 200 metres across. It’s open to the south east, where we entered, flat calm, with the northerly wind howling through the rigging and the trees that rise on the steep hills that surround us. Oh, and it’s raining.

Going back to the start of the day … after paying our dues at office, along with my farewells to Anna and Julie, we got away at slack water. That brief period of time between the tides when it’s neither coming in nor going out. In our case, it was high tide and so once clear of the marina we rode the ebb, gaining speed all the while.

By 10:30 we were leaving the harbour, setting a course for Mayor Island, just 25 miles north of here. Not a big day’s sail, but being winter, days are short, and this was the first day out for everyone. Some, for around 10 days, some for a few years and in Martyn’s case his sailing experience extended to a Day Sail aboard Chimere four years ago in Port Vila.

So here we were, off on a short hop north, into what we thought would be favourable weather. Not ideal, but favourable. Which, in this case meant seas of just 1-2 metres – easy to drive over or through … and northerly winds of around 15 knots – on the nose, but we could still make good time tacking to our destination. After all it wasn’t that far away.

Things started out so calm, we didn’t even bother putting up the sails. In the absence of a breeze there was nothing for it but to set our course, put the engine at around 1700 REVS and make the most of the conditions – a speed of around 4-5 knots into the lumpy conditions.

We were all nautically dressed for action, out in the cockpit, and so with John in charge, I retreated to my cabin for a sleep. Admittedly, it was only 11:00am, but there’s a built-in automatic response to build up the “sleep deposits” when any conditions allow, plus the fact that I can sleep pretty much anywhere. Which I did, only to be woken by John’s voice an hour later, informing me that the wind was up and that we could maybe hoist some sail.

This we did, putting a single reef in the mainsail and only setting about half of the jib. All sheeted in tight to maximise our forward motion into the 15-20 knot wind. The seas, although not large had a particularly large “pothole” about every 7th wave. Just enough to slow things down to an annoying degree, despite the engine still ticking over in the background.

In the end, I think there must have been five tacks in all. Each one sending us forward, but still around 30 degrees off our final destination, and each one more painful than the last as the wind and sea grew more and more. Eventually, the wind came in at around 30 knots, which had the effect of lifting the seas, and for a couple of souls onboard, whatever was left of breakfast.

No names, of course … and no photographs … we don’t want to break the “footy-tour-code”, but looking on the bright side, we all recovered remarkably on entering this small wee bay, where the calm, tranquillity and dare I say, “the serenity” is utter bliss.

The time was 4:00pm, and after a brief catch-up on lunch for some – consisting of cheese on toast – and a small mug of tea and a drink of ginger beer for others, we all retreated to our bunks for a recuperative sleep.

Our fisherman friend, from the marina, on hearing that we were going to Mayor Island, announced … “well you’ll have it to yourself” … and he was right. There are buildings on shore, but no sign of life. And certainly no one else anchored in here. In fact, more than 5 boats and you might start bumping into each other, with the swirling wind and tides having you pointing in all directions on your anchor

It’s now dark, we’ve all just finished an amazing (pre-prepared and frozen) chicken dinner – complements of Annette – and the earlier wind and rain has all blown away. It’s as still as … bro. The stars are shining above, and it’s not quite warm, but then again, it’s not really cold. The wind from the north sharing some small piece of the tropics, even this far south.

The stillness is quite spooky, just a gentle rocking, this way and that, accompanied by an occasional ripple of water against the hull. Our anchor light is shining forth atop the mast and the white “clouds” above us really aren’t clouds at all, they are clusters of stars; the Milky Way.

Just for the record, Mayor Island – where we are anchored – is a wildlife refuge, privately owned by the Tuhua Maori Trust. We don’t intend to land, so there’s no problem just dropping anchor, then heading off when it suits. For us, that’ll be tomorrow sometime, after a lazy start … possibly a very lazy start. After all, we’ve been aboard together a little over 24 hours now and already we’ve experienced a fair variety of conditions. Officially though, we are still in the “easing into it” stage.

That also goes for some of the essential systems on board. In particular, that most mysterious of machines … the toilet, or “head”. Specifically, the electric one on the starboard side. The one hooked up to the holding tank. Again, the bro-code prevents me from giving too much away, but in the candid, yet humorous, de-brief afterwards – the “blockage” having been successfully cleared – John suggested that we could write a guide titled … “40 Uses For a Ryobi Wet-Vac Vacuum Cleaner”. Point “Number 1” would naturally be vacuuming carpets, Point “Number 2” would un-naturally be vacuuming “Number Toos”. Regardless, she’s a great little machine that Ryobi … and tonight she really took one, or twos, for the team!

Feels bad to finish the night’s blog on such a low note, but everyone’s gone to bed, and with no phone reception out here, I’ll need to get this message relayed on the Iridium Satellite Phone; the first time since leaving Wellington. If I can’t then it’ll have to wait till tomorrow, when we hope to be back closer to the coast.

Smooth seas, fair breeze and it started out calm

Rob Latimer