We stepped off the ferry at Gulf Harbour and looked around for Te Kaihōpara, somewhere off in the distance, a dog barked.

*The crew waiting to be grilled by New Zealand border control. From left to right, David (Toddy), Markus, Nicole, Ian, Bill.*

Did you hear the one about the Englishman (Skipper), the Scotsman (First mate), and their delivery crew: the Swiss guy, the young German lady, the experienced sailor from the USA, the genuine Aussie bloke and the first-time sailing Kiwi?

Buckle in. You’re about to.

The delivery crew for Te Kaihopara assembled on board at the Gulf Harbour Marina during the afternoon of 30 April. The last to arrive was Ian from Aussie who had experienced the joys provided by two flight changes, one delayed flight and the wonder that is Auckland rush hour traffic. Introductions were made and bunks allocated.

Provisions arrived late in the day and were loaded into the boat with everyone secretly looking to see what we were in for in terms of a culinary experience.

To set the cooking standard “Scotland”, as we later found Iain our First Mate was sometimes known, delivered a magnificent one pot stew for an introductory dinner. A round table introduction from each of us gave us an insight into who our sailing and travelling companions were before we retired for the night.

The plan was for Customs to come and see us at 2pm the following day, then we would set sail for Fiji, via the Kermadecs and Minerva reef.

Plans change.

Overnight news came through that Customs wouldn’t come to us at Gulf Harbour. We were to meet them at Westhaven at 9.30 tomorrow morning. So be it.

The briefing(s) from Jason (Skipper) and Iain were comprehensive to say the least – and took virtually all day. So much to take in, particularly for the first time sailing Kiwi who took comfort from his more experienced colleagues to whom the various nautical terms seemed to make absolute sense. One thing that stood out to us all was “when we’re in the open ocean and you’re outside the cabin you’re tethered”. Roger that. Those watches from 2am – 5am look like the ones to cherish!

*Te Kaihōpara official briefing documentation.*

Briefings complete meant we were able to exit the marina. Plans change. The wind was such that there was no plausible way for us to leave the berth without being sure we wouldn’t hit the neighbour. After a couple of hours the wind dropped and we inched our way out, keeping well clear of the neighbour who, having not shown his face the previous 24 hours, miraculously appeared to take the shore line as we left!

We steamed across the Hauraki Gulf to anchor alongside Rakino island for the night. Showing his faith in the one with apparently the steepest learning curve the skipper handed the helm to the Kiwi (Toddy) on this short jaunt. An incident free crossing of the inner gulf ensued before the skipper resumed the helm and anchored TK for the night.

Scotland introduced us to his “20 questions” after dinner with Toddy being first up. All the others followed over the coming nights when conditions allowed. An interesting way to learn about people.

The transition from the absolute calm of the marina to the gentle roll of the inner Hauraki Gulf was a good transition, as it turned out, to the nights that were to follow.

The morning of Friday May 2nd dawned clear and fine. After breakfast we steamed into Westhaven to meet the customs officials. Job done, lines clear and we are off – Union Jack flying proudly in the morning breeze.

Out through the channel and heading for the gap (it pays to sail in the gap!) between Great Barrier Island and the northern tip of the Coromandel peninsula.

Out of nowhere Scotland heaves a fender overboard and then it’s all on. “Man overboard” drill. Rumour has it this was the best execution of this drill the Skipper has ever seen.

Once we were into the open ocean it was all hands on deck to raise the mainsail and the mizzen. Still not enough wind to sail but good to have this done in daylight.

*Bill, Toddy and Markus after some sail trimming.*

Still under power we headed out into the Pacific Ocean with our nose pointed to the Kermadecs some 700 nautical miles away. The first experience in the rocking and rolling galley that night was an eye opener. Wrestling with hot pots and pans amidst flying sharp kitchen knives and the screaming of the smoke alarm whilst feeling somewhat less than 100% is a whole new experience. The “one pot” rule makes total sense now! Bill (USA) and Toddy (Kiwi) got there in the end and we went to bed fed – except Nicole (Germany) who was fully engaged with seasickness.

As a side note Bill (USA) and Markus are of the view that the next Olympics could include a new event. A scale model of the galley on TK is made and mounted on a bucking bronco. Contestants, likely to be gymnasts, are then tasked with making a cup of soup without any knowledge of where anything is in the kitchen.

The watch routine had kicked in by now. The first night watch, 8pm – 2am of Markus (Swiss – living in Aus), Ian (Aussie) and Nicole (in the foetal position upstairs) made some sail adjustments during the night but there was still not enough wind to be under only sail power.

By 4am Skipper Jason was confident the wind would support sailing only and the motor was shut down. Oh, the serenity!

We sailed on the same tack all day in reasonable conditions with the auto pilot doing a sterling job. The occasional tweak from Jason or Iain was all that was required. The ever diminishing Union Jack at the stern is testament to the consistency of the breeze.

*We found a stow away called “Jacques Cousteau”. J.C has become a core part of the team.*

Ian (Aussie), a reasonably seasoned sailor, illustrated the wisdom of the one pot theory in the galley and presented those up for a meal that evening with a memorable steak casserole.

A big gust during the night called for a hands on “bear away” manoeuvre and illustrated just how quickly things can change (aka “go pear shaped”) and the need to be on watch.

The wind and sea state were such that a firm grip on something was required at all times and sleep was becoming an increasingly rare commodity for most of us.

Markus also set the tone for lunches with the “build your own sandwich/wrap” model. Good call. Especially before the bread and wraps ran out!

*Markus or Jean Reno???? Every now and then Markus appears from nowhere, I have my suspicions.*

As predicted by the Skipper, Nicole bounced back from her seasickness on day 3. Good to see her perk up so much. She has been a trooper.

It should be noted that we were dragging a couple of lures too in the hope of snaring a hapless tuna. Tying a knot that will endure hundreds of miles in the ocean helps! At some point we lost them both. We can, with 100% confidence, report that dragging a piece of nylon in the water will not catch fish.

With his apparently faultless powers of weather prediction the skipper timed our arrival at the southernmost Kermadec Islands, Cheeseman and Curtis, with absolute precision. Doing so did make for a less than comfortable ride at times as we lolled around at slow speed in an effort to arrive at sunrise.

Picture this: you’ve been watching two islands appear out of the darkness as the dawn begins to break. You’ve been sailing for 3 days and nights and this is the first land you’ve seen. Just as you pull alongside them being careful to maintain more than the required distance, in the centre of the gap between the two islands, the sun rises to greet you and the new day. Now that, ladies and gentlemen, is (Swiss) timing and (German) precision! The Skipper’s face was a magnificent mix of (possibly) smug and delight. Perhaps his delight was enhanced because he knew this land sighting could stem the flow of “are we there yet” from Toddy.

As we passed the Kermadecs we had some radio comm’s with another boat who was concerned they were taking on water in their stern. We had a new friend in Ludwig. We saw him cross about 1km behind us as he headed for an anchorage at Raoul Island, having sought and been granted permission to do so.

Once well clear of the Kermadecs some seriously heavy duty knots were deployed and the ever hopeful fishing continued.

The following day, again still on the same tack we have been on since we left Auckland, we arrived late afternoon at Minerva reef, 989.6 nautical miles since we departed. It was certainly a relief, and weird, to not have to hang on to anything while moving about the boat.

*Ian finding his rhythm on Minerva Reef.*

Te Kaihopara sailed brilliantly with its ketch rig and sail arrangement. Often seeing 9-10 knot of speed as she took on the seas up to 3 metre swells. Wind speeds from 20-30 knots required some sail reefing and momentary bare-away to be kind to both the boat and its crew. However Bill (racer boy) strongly desired a Mizzen stay sail to finalise the sail plan.

We spent 4 full days at Minerva. Plans change. The plan was to spend 3 days there but a low pressure system (re)appeared in our track to Fiji and it made total sense to let it do its thing before we left the tranquillity of the reef.

Whilst at Minerva we did a couple of visits to the reef at low tide, primarily in search of lobsters. Perhaps it was beginners’ luck, but we did return with two lobsters on our first trip which made for a nice fresh lunch – as part of a wrap of course! The second trip included the discovery of an old anchor (see the waypoint on the chart) on the reef. There’ll be a story behind that. We’re picking it’s not a happy ending.

We also had a visit from Ludwig, and his wife, who came over to say hi and “thank you for being a friend”. There has to be a song in there somewhere.

Toddy and the Skipper did a lap of the eastern end of the reef and along the southern boundary to the channel where the skipper had a snorkel. The rib then made a rather bouncy trip back to Te Kaihopara – with Toddy at the helm. “Masterclass in helmsmanship” was allegedly heard being uttered by the skipper as he described it to Iain.

As this is written we are riding out Day 4 at Minerva waiting for the weather system to pass. The breeze is such that excursions on the rib might be limited.

Somewhere, off in the distance, a dog barked. Wooofff, wooff….

(Written by Toddy, edited and curated by Ian, Bill, Jason and Iain. Pictures and comments by Iain)

Life is too short but have you ever experienced anything longer?

Bula Paradise

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