Return to sea - 10/12/09
Despite failing to impress with knot tying, a second yacht crewing opportunity arises, with the 'cavalier' skipper Ted. After arrangements with work and trip planning, 'After You' is readied in the Napier marina, and the trip commences in fine conditions, with a good forecast for the voyage down the Wairarapa coast, and up the Cook Strait to Wellington.
Wind-free, oily-seas for a few hours presents little opportunity for sail time, but the wind picks up into the night. At a point in time before 6am (but well after departure), the coast guard radio issues a severe storm warning for the Castlepoint, Cook and Stephens shipping regions.....our route home. As the part of the crew containing myself attempt to get some shut-eye below decks, in growing swells, the skipper drops anchor behind Castle Rock, a place he never intended to anchor, but with growing winds.....needs must! The local fishermen do not recommend the anchorage either (though kindly donating seafood for our efforts).
After a sleepless few hours, mixed with meals, and some severe gusts shaking and rolling 'After You', the anchor is fortunately holding well. A reposition to get closer shelter from the land, and we settle in for what the coast guard reports indicate will be a long storm (storm / gale forecast for Saturday, Sunday and Monday). Cooking, sleeping, talking, eating and trips to the deck to feel the force of the winds (up to 75 knot gusts) and tie things tighter, all helping to pass time.
Time passes in this nautical bolt-hole, most of the daylight hours of the weekend. As the forecast drop in winds is brought forward, the storm jib is hooked up, and the boat readied to brave the notorious Cook Strait.
Quite a soaking into the night takes us south, and as a new weeks sun comes up, we round Cape Palliser and into the strait, heading slightly north to Wellington. The Cook Strait is good to us, not living up to a ferocious reputation, although not quite a pleasure cruise. Next battle is to meet and beat the Karori rip, but with winds in the wrong direction, tacking across Palliser Bay shows this to be a tough target.
The seas treat us well, though the winds are a tad unfavourable, and the genoa luffs a little too easily. The decision is taken to head for Wellington Harbour, after bashing away at the seas for almost another 24hours, and so into the harbour we take in the views and I anticipate the marina side May, a square meal and a shower. And the next (slightly postponed) adventure.
Wind-free, oily-seas for a few hours presents little opportunity for sail time, but the wind picks up into the night. At a point in time before 6am (but well after departure), the coast guard radio issues a severe storm warning for the Castlepoint, Cook and Stephens shipping regions.....our route home. As the part of the crew containing myself attempt to get some shut-eye below decks, in growing swells, the skipper drops anchor behind Castle Rock, a place he never intended to anchor, but with growing winds.....needs must! The local fishermen do not recommend the anchorage either (though kindly donating seafood for our efforts).
After a sleepless few hours, mixed with meals, and some severe gusts shaking and rolling 'After You', the anchor is fortunately holding well. A reposition to get closer shelter from the land, and we settle in for what the coast guard reports indicate will be a long storm (storm / gale forecast for Saturday, Sunday and Monday). Cooking, sleeping, talking, eating and trips to the deck to feel the force of the winds (up to 75 knot gusts) and tie things tighter, all helping to pass time.
Time passes in this nautical bolt-hole, most of the daylight hours of the weekend. As the forecast drop in winds is brought forward, the storm jib is hooked up, and the boat readied to brave the notorious Cook Strait.
Quite a soaking into the night takes us south, and as a new weeks sun comes up, we round Cape Palliser and into the strait, heading slightly north to Wellington. The Cook Strait is good to us, not living up to a ferocious reputation, although not quite a pleasure cruise. Next battle is to meet and beat the Karori rip, but with winds in the wrong direction, tacking across Palliser Bay shows this to be a tough target.
The seas treat us well, though the winds are a tad unfavourable, and the genoa luffs a little too easily. The decision is taken to head for Wellington Harbour, after bashing away at the seas for almost another 24hours, and so into the harbour we take in the views and I anticipate the marina side May, a square meal and a shower. And the next (slightly postponed) adventure.
A different view - 26/11/09
A break was taken from the strenuous school work, on offer of the chance to help crew a 36' ketch yacht from Tauranga to Napier. After making it to Tauranga, equipping, tidying and readying the vessel, the compasses (well GPS) were out and a course set for Motiti Island, White Island, Hicks Bay, Tolega Bay, the Mahia Peninsula and finally Napier. High jinks with the Coats family.
The actively volcanic White Island appeared under close scrutiny from CCTV, more likely for geothermal activity than reckless travellers traipsing around without hard hats on. To clear the sulphur from the lungs a spot of fishing resulted in catching the propellor twice, and an icy cold dip for Dooner to recover a fishing line from the rudder. Perfect preparation for helming into the night (in thermals), with some fairly exciting swells and winds (for a while there), on to Hicks Bay. Kind donation of crayfish from a local (fishing boat 'Heather') settled the sea stomachs, along with a few beers and the Paihia Bombs.
The final crossing of Hawkes Bay into Napier was rowdy 10hours, with SW swells providing the incentive to don safety lines and get salt-water-soaked for jobs out on deck. No safety lines for being back on dry land, despite the continued swaying after almost a week on the waves, particularly noticeable in a shower cubicle.
Master James macerated and slept between helming duty, Galley Goddess Emma served up swell defying gastronomy at (almost) every meal, and Skipper Ted kept the whole mission together with knot lessons, learning and laughs.
The actively volcanic White Island appeared under close scrutiny from CCTV, more likely for geothermal activity than reckless travellers traipsing around without hard hats on. To clear the sulphur from the lungs a spot of fishing resulted in catching the propellor twice, and an icy cold dip for Dooner to recover a fishing line from the rudder. Perfect preparation for helming into the night (in thermals), with some fairly exciting swells and winds (for a while there), on to Hicks Bay. Kind donation of crayfish from a local (fishing boat 'Heather') settled the sea stomachs, along with a few beers and the Paihia Bombs.
The final crossing of Hawkes Bay into Napier was rowdy 10hours, with SW swells providing the incentive to don safety lines and get salt-water-soaked for jobs out on deck. No safety lines for being back on dry land, despite the continued swaying after almost a week on the waves, particularly noticeable in a shower cubicle.
Master James macerated and slept between helming duty, Galley Goddess Emma served up swell defying gastronomy at (almost) every meal, and Skipper Ted kept the whole mission together with knot lessons, learning and laughs.
Back in the mix - a late update - 23/11/09
So....back in the fold of the swing of things....
The latest academic term has swept by for the teacher, with visits from overseas dignitaries (from Shropshire), and a further week down south, along with salsa dancing, white water rafting at hen weekends and picnics in the botanical gardens. She even added in time to go car buying (although may be pushed for time for christmas buying), and to construct a hefty amount of knitwear.
In education, the balancing act of a couple working together appears a regular thing, and became reality for recent teacher aide 'Mr Down' at the teacher's school, despite his being sternly warned to keep relationship details on the QT from the young minds of the school. So three weeks helping with Maths, Science, English, Swear words, Filling water bombs and eating cakes in the staff room added to the old CV.
As Emily explored the Southern Alps, I accompanied a plethora of government types to a bach near the beach at Castlepoint. Several photos, some monopoly, idyllic animal painting, beach sports and generous gin portions filled a weekend completed with lighthouse and hill walks for some more mint views. Quite wholesome.
After an afternoon of sunshine in the botanical gardens, Wellington (and NZ) went all football for the final qualification game for the 2010 world cup....the All Whites (NZ) qualified, the White Noise area of the stadium took it's shirts off, and we all sunk some stadium beer before Indie discoing into the small hours. D to the R to the M.
Next up...plans for skipping isles and exploring the south for the summer....christmas....new years....who knows where? Hopefully some barbecues, camping and more big old views.
All after another injury scare. After stacking it well playing indoor footy, the wrist and knees took a bash. Tendon damage to the wrist, as well as uncovering a peculiarly healed break in another wrist bone, that may have happened with the last break, reassuringly overlooked. Tendon healing vibes please. Out.
The latest academic term has swept by for the teacher, with visits from overseas dignitaries (from Shropshire), and a further week down south, along with salsa dancing, white water rafting at hen weekends and picnics in the botanical gardens. She even added in time to go car buying (although may be pushed for time for christmas buying), and to construct a hefty amount of knitwear.
In education, the balancing act of a couple working together appears a regular thing, and became reality for recent teacher aide 'Mr Down' at the teacher's school, despite his being sternly warned to keep relationship details on the QT from the young minds of the school. So three weeks helping with Maths, Science, English, Swear words, Filling water bombs and eating cakes in the staff room added to the old CV.
As Emily explored the Southern Alps, I accompanied a plethora of government types to a bach near the beach at Castlepoint. Several photos, some monopoly, idyllic animal painting, beach sports and generous gin portions filled a weekend completed with lighthouse and hill walks for some more mint views. Quite wholesome.
After an afternoon of sunshine in the botanical gardens, Wellington (and NZ) went all football for the final qualification game for the 2010 world cup....the All Whites (NZ) qualified, the White Noise area of the stadium took it's shirts off, and we all sunk some stadium beer before Indie discoing into the small hours. D to the R to the M.
Next up...plans for skipping isles and exploring the south for the summer....christmas....new years....who knows where? Hopefully some barbecues, camping and more big old views.
All after another injury scare. After stacking it well playing indoor footy, the wrist and knees took a bash. Tendon damage to the wrist, as well as uncovering a peculiarly healed break in another wrist bone, that may have happened with the last break, reassuringly overlooked. Tendon healing vibes please. Out.
Checking out the strangely evolved birds of NZ 1/10/09
Naturists (or is it naturalists?)
The kiwi (the bird), being a bit of a fat flightless softy, has had a rough deal of it with the European introduction of the (cue colonial opinion) obviously much better European species such as cats, dogs, stoats, hedgehogs rats and gorse. If not eating the kiwi’s favourite foods, then they tend to be pulling it’s useless wings off (wings stunted by the curse of mammal free evolution – though some may dispute these true facts).
Thus chancing upon one of the comedic birds was a fair sledge of luck. Well not quite chancing. Going on a night walk in a place where they are monitored and defended with bait traps had to help a bit. After an hour and a bit walking, and discovering awesome kauri trees, massive kauri snails, cheese eating eels, huge spiders and a forest very much alive with activity; the clock and walk were counting down to home time. Then in a flash (of a red torch) the guide called ‘kiwi’ as the 40cm burly bird crossed the path at the gallop in front of us and galloped to cover. Worthy.
Sperlunking
E-May (as she is known to some) is getting braver. More regularly it is necessary to call her back from the edge of things, and more regularly she suggests overnight tramps than ever it would seem. In spite of this, and acceptably, the fear of dropping through a man-hole sized crack inside a cave, and then crawling through water for 15metres was ominous. The able guide, farmer and shearer Philip was able to comfort and persuade, going first, and promising to pull Emily through by her hair if she required.
She did it. But I quote: “#%$@ I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, #%$@”.
Following this, caverns full of glow worms, and hundreds, nay, thousands of stalactites, stalagmites brought a more positive (and expletive free) side back to conversations.
Fair play to the courage of her though, taking on the cave after a previous short lived snorkelling adventure. Choking in the swell at Goat island, being rescued on a rock, and then kicking the flippers with relentless vigour away from a harmless but intimidating sting ray.
The kiwi (the bird), being a bit of a fat flightless softy, has had a rough deal of it with the European introduction of the (cue colonial opinion) obviously much better European species such as cats, dogs, stoats, hedgehogs rats and gorse. If not eating the kiwi’s favourite foods, then they tend to be pulling it’s useless wings off (wings stunted by the curse of mammal free evolution – though some may dispute these true facts).
Thus chancing upon one of the comedic birds was a fair sledge of luck. Well not quite chancing. Going on a night walk in a place where they are monitored and defended with bait traps had to help a bit. After an hour and a bit walking, and discovering awesome kauri trees, massive kauri snails, cheese eating eels, huge spiders and a forest very much alive with activity; the clock and walk were counting down to home time. Then in a flash (of a red torch) the guide called ‘kiwi’ as the 40cm burly bird crossed the path at the gallop in front of us and galloped to cover. Worthy.
Sperlunking
E-May (as she is known to some) is getting braver. More regularly it is necessary to call her back from the edge of things, and more regularly she suggests overnight tramps than ever it would seem. In spite of this, and acceptably, the fear of dropping through a man-hole sized crack inside a cave, and then crawling through water for 15metres was ominous. The able guide, farmer and shearer Philip was able to comfort and persuade, going first, and promising to pull Emily through by her hair if she required.
She did it. But I quote: “#%$@ I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, #%$@”.
Following this, caverns full of glow worms, and hundreds, nay, thousands of stalactites, stalagmites brought a more positive (and expletive free) side back to conversations.
Fair play to the courage of her though, taking on the cave after a previous short lived snorkelling adventure. Choking in the swell at Goat island, being rescued on a rock, and then kicking the flippers with relentless vigour away from a harmless but intimidating sting ray.
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