Wednesday, 18 November 2015

Lying Auckland

That first evening in the bar at the yacht club was when we felt we were home (see previous post). As  we motored down the shipping channel into the Waitemata harbour, continued past the wharves and downtown Auckland towards the harbour bridge, and radioed Westhaven marina on approach, we could almost maintain the illusion of being a foreign yacht. But despite the Australian flag which flies from our stern, we know this town well. We're not foreigners here. 

Light winds on the way down from Whangarei

Finally, the tray comes home to Auckland.

Skytower and skyscrapers....Auckland city from the water

We got the boat tucked into her berth, did the paperwork at the marina office – and then it was over.  Our life flipped, just like that. We were no longer cruisers.  We changed costume and dressed for another part, one we used to play routinely but which we needed a little prompting for on that first evening.

Bridget brought peonies...

Barb and Greta came with more spring flowers, already in a vase

Be prepared....the bubbles were well chilled. 

 The girls arrived with flowers.  I wasn’t quite ready for that. Barb knew I wouldn’t be – she brought her bouquet in a vase.  We produced a bottle of bubbles from the boat fridge, but that didn’t touch the sides.  We very quickly moved onto the bar at the yacht club.  No trouble finding more of everything there.

Athe Royal NZ Yacht Squadron members' bar with Robyn... 

...and Bridget 

Every night is race night in Auckland, and we celebrated our modest achievement amongst racing yachties fresh in from the course.  Little was said of boating. That was not the point of our gathering. The point was that we were back in town, safely. There has been some worrying about us along the way, we know.  We couldn’t help that, but we could say thank you – never enough.
The commodore needs no introduction 

Hey, it's Mike! 

Mother and doctor (Puds and Warrick)

Location, location, location....Westhaven marina

The Auckland harbour bridge, naturally lit, from the RYNZS

We fly out to Sydney tomorrow.  By the weekend (all going according to schedule) we’ll be living in our  own house again. Nobody will want to see our boat papers or hook us up to electricity.  We’re re-connecting to shore power at an entirely different level.

Getting the feel of a bigger galley - at Warrick and Robyn's Ponsonby place


You can't get closer to the sea than my mum's new house on Orewa beach

Checking out Mum's garden and dealing with her dog's need for affection

Actually, we’re leaving the boat for a few weeks only. We’ll be back in Auckland in the New Year.  However, there is a critical difference in our leaving this time. Enki II is for sale. 

The curtains came down, got washed, and went up again - never a pleasure

 We don’t want to make too big a deal about this on the blog. There are other places to do that. Any of you who have difficulty finding those places should let us know.  But you could start by googling Hallberg Rassy 48 for sale. …give it a few days.  There aren’t many of these beautiful  Swedish boats which make it this far, and none others for sale that we know of down under.

Men in small spaces: (above) Jason the electrician sorts out an alternator problem while (below)

Alex climbs into the aft lazarette (must he?)

The stuff that comes out...

 We’ve sold boats before, and we have a fairly good handle on the process, but we’ve never before sold a boat which is our home.  Enki still feels very much like home as we pack her up and head back to our tribe in Sydney.  When we come back for a family beach holiday in January,  we’ll be able to introduce her to those of our children who haven’t yet met her.  After the holiday is over, we hope to cruise in New Zealand’s northern waters on Enki until the end of summer – or until we sell her. Whichever comes first.   

Do dolphins ever become boring? I don't think so. 

Sunday, 8 November 2015

The way she moved

We're in.  We sailed through the Whangarei heads on the afternoon of Friday, November 6, and by early evening, Enki II and her crew were cleared to enter New Zealand.  That felt good.

On approach to Whangarei (and below)

We've slept, we've cleaned, we've re-stocked, we've re-connected. The reality of Enki's home-coming is soaking through our pores. This is not the same as other landfalls we've made. Some people may argue that we've still got the Tasman to cross before we get home, and technically they're right. The boat is registered in Sydney, and that's the city we call home.  Our children live there. But I'm a Kiwi by birth, and as far as my mother is concerned, we're home! She drove up from Orewa, bringing us a rack of lamb and homegrown broad beans.  Yum.

We've hoisted the NZ flag on our starboard spreader, and the burgee of our yacht club, the RNZYS, on our port spreader. When we sail past Rangitoto into Auckland city, tuck Enki into a berth at Westhaven marina and show up at the squadron bar, we'll feel like we've arrived, I reckon. Auckland is a long way from Turkey, that's for sure.  

The sun also sets at sea - en route to NZ from Minerva

The six-day leg from Minerva reef could have been much worse. Some of the boats which left on the same day as we did got caught in a low which developed very quickly off New Zealand's East Cape after our departure.  It wasn't entirely unforeseen, but the chances of it coming to anything were considered slight by the weather forecasters. They were wrong, but nobody holds that against them. Predicting the weather on this passage has become a black art of late. 

Radio sched for the West Pacific Magellan net

In brief, we held to the rhumb line as far as possible. That wasn't an obvious thing to do - the conventional wisdom on this route is that you make your 'westing' and then, at about the longitude of North Cape, you hang a left and head down to New Zealand. That's certainly a good way of dealing with the prevailing southwesterlies. But sticking to the rhumb line in these volatile conditions  ("the forecast changes faster than I can breathe", I heard the skipper of one boat say on the radio) worked out pretty well for us.

The buck stops HERE

We encountered a front at 32 deg S on our 4th day out, with strong NW winds and big sloppy seas.  Alex drove the ship through that. He got wet, and cold, but the front blew through in about three hours, after which the wind (predictably) backed southwest and then south, which wasn't ideal. The seas dropped off quickly and we sailed on, hoping against hope that the wind would keep backing to the south-east. A day later it did, and those lovely south-easterlies took us all the way into Whangarei under blue skies. 

What a thrill to see first the Poor Knights, then the Hen and Chicken Islands and finally, that bold headland which says, 'you are here. Whangarei harbour this way, please'.  I've seen Bream Head many times but it's never moved me as it did then. 

 Bream Head

The Minerva reef chapter of our voyage was superseded by the urgency and intensity of the ocean passage, but we spent 7 days there - longer than we spent at sea - so it's worth re-capping in pictures.  

Looking for the pass into N. Minerva reef

We anchor a respectable distance from State of Mind

Walkie talkie radio headsets aka marriage savers .... as good as their word 

Low tide at Minerva (and below)

Reef combing - Brenda and Diana

The brave and foolhardy spear fish on the ocean side of the reef

Parrot fish for dinner?

The crew of Penn Station on the reef

We've looked at clouds from all sides now - the squalls circulate 

More reef life (and below)

Clams come in all colours

Rod and Brenda with State of Mind in the background 

When we arrived in N. Minerva, there was just State of Mind (sailed by Rod and Brenda) anchored. Penn Station (with Wiki, and Nikki, and a web-footed diver called Red on board) came in soon after us, and for a few days, there were just the three of us.  But by the end of the week, 10 yachts were in N. Minerva, champing at the bit to be on their way.

La Belle Epoque is a true voyaging vessel

That sarong - given to me in Tahiti when I was 16, still good for tropical wear. 

She who tires of sunsets, tires of life....(adapted from S. Johnson)

The weather conference on Enki on the final morning was something to behold. Everyone brought their ideas about the gribs. Some boats were taking instruction from MetBob (Bob McDavitt), most were tuning into Gulf Harbour radio for David's weather discussion. But in the end, every skipper has to make his/her own call.

Our daily life - the radio scheds

Boys, focus on weather  -  if you can (and below)

Several other boats chose to leave Minerva on the same afternoon we did,  most of them bound for Opua. We tied up at Marsden Cove marina's quarantine dock about 12 hours after the speedy State of Mind.  Some boats slower than us got caught out badly by the low and had to sail west. They didn't expect to make landfall until Sunday. We felt most keenly for Jan, a single-hander sailing Phoebe,  a yellow slip of a yacht (27 feet). We very quickly lost contact with him because he has no SSB radio and cannot check into either radio nets.  Nor can he download weather gribs.  Jan has sailed his boat from Germany via Patagonia. We shouldn't be worried about him, but you can't help it - he's young enough to be our son.

Phoebe weighs 2 tons vs Enki's 20 tons

Some of the cruisers coming into New Zealand now will stay around for the summer, and we may cross paths with them in January and February. Some are selling their boats, others are putting their boats into marinas or onto the hard and going back to the US or Europe to see their families. Then next May, there will be another migration out of New Zealand back to the tropics.  That's the pattern known as the cruising season.

Alex on deck duty - every boat needs a strongman

We don't know what Enki's next chapter will be, but it seems reasonable for now to assume that this is where we part company from the fleet. We'll keep in touch with some, lose touch with most, but we won't ever forget how interesting this group of people are. From the true adventurers (we count among those Mike and Alisa on Galactic, but there are others we passed along the way including La Belle Epoque, anchored next to us at N. Minerva) to the merely adventurous like ourselves, the crew of every cruising boat has a story.

Enki II at rest at Marsden Cove Marina

We'll keep feeding you tasty snippets of nautical-flavoured news for as long as this beautiful boat is part of our life.