Spring has sprung.
A small gap in the blog previously. I was busy writing six stories for Cruising Helmsman. Two were published in June and July, and four more are begging to be published. I’ll give the commercial stuff a break until they squeal for more. The admiral and I are thankfully in a rugby free zone in the Bay of Islands. Unless we anchor off a town for newspapers or tune into the radio, we remain unaware of the latest surrogate world war. My friend Mike accuses me of killing people to prevent them watching the latest field battles. I replied ‘Mike, I have killed very few doing so.’
Getting some much needed vitamin D, Mercury Island
Yes, it sprung about the first of this month, but nothing prevents the aptly named cold fronts marching across Northland through the Bay of Islands where we are now roaming. We had good shelter in Oke Bay, which has sparkling clear water is just south of Cape Brett. The fishing was good out there, and a little waterfall sprinkles onto a rocky part of the beach where dirty yachties can shower or do their clothes in the same way ancient explorers would have done, and probably where the locals used to get their water.
Urapukapuka Island, Wild Bird Campground bay.
This spot is also the junction where trampers take off along the ridge to Cape Brett. The head of the bay has a dazzling white beach, an attraction for sweaty travelers who strip off to cool their bodies in the sea. The bay is protected at the mouth by an island where Marion and I once dived to collect our first mussels, not realising that the smaller ones were sweeter. We were spoiled for mussels at low water in the south island, but here we will have to dive for them. The convoluted side shores are typical northland rocky foreshore with seaweed, grading up to tea tree and pohutukawha.
On a saddle where the track joins the road, patrons of the local cemetery enjoy the best views in town and nearby, a huge new holiday home house sits incongruously above the modest dwellings of Rawhiti.
Tide rode in Whitianga.
We motored in for a three week stay and were forced to go onto a mooring when we became tide rode one morning. I had to motor in reverse for two hours before calling the harbourmaster for a mooring. This unpleasant event happens in strong wind when the boat sails over the anchor chain, which can wrap around the keel. Many moons ago, in Wild Honey we woke up at three am in the Opua esturary when our rope warp became tangled on the keel, the boat assuming a position perpendicular to the current direction. I had to buoy the warp, let it go, then motor back to pick it up and anchor again.
Sailing to Whitianga
When we were offered a mooring nearby and jumped at the chance to tie up securely in this worrisome estuary. On the morning of our departure by bus, a tsunami warning was given after a Kermadec earthquake. Several boats were leaving for the security of the ocean. The habourmaster assured us things would be fine. What the heck, our boat is steel, and the mooring strong.
We travelled to my parents in Tauranga by bus, defeated by the weather. Marinas are demanding insurance now, so a berth there was out of the question. How things change. We might be now doomed to sailing forever without ever tying a line to shore. I am not going to start paying insurance after 33 years of sailing. Unless…
Derek and Dorothy Preece.
On our last day, while motoring out of Whitianga, an old acquaintance Derek called me to say he was living in the Whitianga waterways, and would I like to come up for two nights. We had last visited them in Whitianga in 1979 when Wild Honey was on an event filled maiden voyage, Marion and I just 25 and 26. Back then Derek was building a big wooden boat called Hibiscus, which they later sailed to Tahiti. Today they are doing up their large wooden ketch beside their house. It is an admirable project, looking after a finely crafted boat.
Hmm I was wondering where that lost wrist watch got to!
This was also a good opportunity to fit a steel inspection lid onto the top of our steel diesel tank. I needed power to drill and jigsaw the hole then drill and tap for screws to fasten the lid. This was the first time we were able to see inside the tank after 20 years. Horrible greebly stuff from diesel of dubious sources accumulated on the bottom. A yukky but necessary job. It was also necessary if the ‘bug’ struck us.
As a precaution, I treated the tank with Grotamar 71 to kill potential microbes.
Dorothy and Derek were hosting an informal yachties’ smorgasbord get together and we were welcome to tie up to their boat and join the party. This was a monthly event that rotated around an informal group of cruising people in the area.
Whitianga tie up at friends' place.
