A Conspicuous Lack of Logic...

We're back in Whangarei town basin, having now sailed all the way around this beautiful and sometimes windy country. Whangarei is a convenient place to stock up and get parts for the boat before we head back to the pacific islands. The town is quite small so all shops and useful businesses are close by. We've been doing an awful lot of ordering and buying around town, a job made significantly quicker, easier and more fun with our new folding bikes.

We have been pretty busy getting Impetuous ready for the off as well as finding a little bit of time to have fun with some friends who like us left their boat in New Zealand whilst they went back to Europe to earn some pennies. So busy infact, that we haven't written a new blog. Fortunately we have a story from the last time we were here that we never got round to posting. Now that we have our new foam mattresses, various pretty, hefty and useful bits of bronze and new kitchen worktops ready to shape and fit at a later date its time to go. We set out towards Fiji on Sunday.

There are some facts in this watery life upon a boat that need no explanation. Why a boat floats or for that matter why they sink. How altering a foil in the water; the rudder, affects the direction a boat travels in and why rocks are bad.

There are other details that though they may take a little pondering over, are essentially perceptible. The ebb and flow of the tides and their relationship to the moon and sun or the necessity to trim sail to take best advantage of the wind direction.

But occasionally there is a phenomenon which evades all reason! There is a conspicuous lack of logic. For example, How the concept of sailing to wind, can usefully be explained by the analogy of squeezing a dried pea between a thumb and forefinger, why some people motor when they could be sailing or why boat hooks are not always made to float if dropped.

There was undoubtedly a look of disbelief as the pole that had slipped beyond the tentative grasp of Ruth's outstretched arm fell in to the harbours still, murky water and didn't float. Petulant with frustration Ruth muttered a number of choice expletives, which basically boiled down to 'why doesn't that float'.

Everyone has dropped a boat hook at least once in there life, surely. Undoubtedly, more often realised that they were lucky not to have dropped it. Before long I was cynically pottering around town looking at potential replacements and it dawned on me that perhaps there was a conspiracy amongst boat pole manufacturers. Deliberately manufacturing them to sink, thus ensuring future sales.

The pole in question was a particularly fine example. Telescopic stainless steel tubes, a handle that the designer, clearly capable of having lucid thoughts, had riveted on; Its usually the handle that slips off the pole, that results in the poles loss. And a variety of interchangeable heads to collect: hook, brush, mop etc. Giving one all the enchantment of a child collecting a Worzil Gumage toy. But best of all we kept the boat hook head in a drawer, so when, and admittedly rarely was I asked, 'where is the boat hook?' I really could legitimately say 'Second drawer down of the chart table.'

Still with an edge of cynicism and melancholy about our loss I tried to look on the bright side. Several years ago I had bought Ruth a bronze boat hook head, maybe now was the time to marry it to a pole. Now you're probably thinking one of several things. How lucky Ruth is to have a boyfriend who buys her pretty pieces of bronze, perhaps, Or maybe. Bronze, lovely alloy, great for marine applications, not generally known for its inclination to float.

As it happens it was I who was lucky to have Ruth as a girlfriend, for whilst I searched listlessly for a replacement pole, Ruth searched stoically for the lost one. With mask and Fins she scoured the drop zone until triumphant she emerged from the murky effluent rich depth clutching her very own Excalibur, complete with detachable head.

So now we are a two pole boat. There, lashed down amongst the dinghy mast detritus, are the boat hooks. Poking out like twin exhaust pipes, But somehow poles apart. One made from buoyant wood, the other a product of a different age, a salesman’s dream, with its multiple sell 'head variations', contractability and its negative buoyancy. Safely stored away is the boat hook head in the second draw down of the chart table ready for me to tell an unsuspecting guest where we keep our boat hook. Or rather the spare, because now we will use the one that floats. 

We've Turned our Dorades Around...

Dorades are those funnel shaped protrusions you sometimes see adorning the coach roofs of boats. The idea being that they funnel air, but not spray, down into the boat keeping it cool and ventilated. As the sun set early after another beautiful but cool day in the Abel Tasman, we thought it was time to turn ours around. They were wafting us with cold air that sent us scurrying for our jumpers and thinking with more urgency that we must head north.

We'd had our shake down cruise. We'd seen a little of Pelorus Sound including Duncan Bay; listening out for the mating calls of the deer. We'd transited French pass and had spent a few days in the Abel Tasman national park, meeting with friends new and old. But autumn was here.

Duncans bay

Sailing in the Tasman Bay

Mending the depth sounder by Adele island, it's co-ax socket had pulled off

Torrent Bay and the Anchorage, Abel Tasman

After spending a quiet night in D'Urville island, with a light and favourable forecast we set off for Wellington. Wellington has an infamous reputation as a wind factory but we both had fond memories of the city so we wanted to pay it a visit. We were also running perilously low on eggs!

Windy Wellington certainly lives up to its name; it took us fourteen tacks to beat our way in under double reefs. Then after our brief visit we were whooshed out by a forceful wind; fortunately it was behind us this time. The forecast had been for 15kn but the gale we encountered was strong enough to break another of Beryls (our Aries wind-steering mechanism) wooden vanes. This one had barely been used but probably snapped because we were hand steering so it was held still against the wind. Good job we're not short of spare ply to make more. Certainly, New Zealand's South island is beautiful but it has cost us dearly in these vanes.

Shock horror, one night in a marina in Wellington.  Very nice showers!

We find it easy transitioning between our lives on Impetuous and back on our narrowboat. We never particularly miss anything whilst in either one of our homes. But there are some things you forget how much you enjoy. When I let the fishing line over and within minutes saw the huge splash behind the boat as an albacore tried to free itself from our hook I instantly remembered the thrill of fishing. It got off unfortunately as did the next two; both about a meter from the boat, but we did land two more. One weighing in at around 15lbs which I know is not gigantic but certainly fills our fridge and has now filled our bellies for over a week.

The next destination was Napier, where we spent a couple of days meeting up with a childhood friend who has emigrated there and his family. We also enjoyed lots of walking along Hawkes bay and around the art deco neighbourhoods. We stocked up at some of the fantastic speciality shops that both Wellington and Napier have to offer us keen cooks, in preparation to head back into the South Pacific.

Despite crossing back from the sub 40° S the dorades are still facing the wrong way. We have a 'to buy' list for jobs we'll be doing over the next 6 months or so, and a few little jobs to complete before leaving New Zealand in the next couple of weeks. We're spending the weekend on the lovely Kawau island then we'll press on to Whangarei back to the metropolis and other boaters. Its amazing to think that in all the six months we have spent down in southland we only met one other foreign couple.

And We're Off...

Sailing 2016 got off to a flying start today.  

We've very much enjoyed our last week back afloat in the Waikawa bay.  Sailing Fidget in to get the last spares and stores, varnishing the mast and making new friends.  Yesterday we headed out along the Queen Charlotte Sound under a brilliant blue sky with the gusts always on the beam and rested overnight in endeavour inlet. 

This morning under a threatening sky we ventured out into the Cook Strait. It was a perfect sail on a beam reach with a good force 5, at times 6 hefting us along as the skies gradually cleared.  We caught a fish as the line was still paying out so enjoyed a lunch of fish soup and Kawai sushi for dinner.

For the next couple of days we shall explore Pelorus Sound before the Abel Tasman.  We must catch our own Blue Cod which has eluded us thus far.

The New Zealand List...

We're back. Actually we've been back almost a month. Impetuous weathered her solo nine moths well and just this afternoon we splashed back into the water. Our plan is to enjoy the last of New Zealands' autumn; sailing a little more in the Sounds, the Abel Tasman National park, back to Northland, then head further North to the Pacific islands in May.

Its been a long month on the hard, working away at the jobs list, but nothing compared to last time. The last time we were out of the water the boat was where we bought her.  It was Texas and it was early 2013. We were at that frantic, exciting time of Impetuous' renovation where we felt very strongly that this was when we had to go and that Hurricane season was coming all too quickly.

Four years is a long time to spend behind the dull side of a paint brush, it was time for a sail; to reap the rewards we'd been working towards and to avoid the entrapment of the never ending project. There would have to be some things we could live with unfinished, undone, or untackled; for a bit. We'd do odd bits and bobs and maintenance as we went but next time we stopped for longer, we'd tackle the big jobs left over. No doubt there would be more jobs by then anyhow. So in our scrap book we wrote 'The New Zealand List'

We're delighted that we got this far without incident but the list grew as we found foibles with what we'd already done. Our waterline was way off; the kitchen tiles though beautiful at first, do not stand up to the rigours of salt water and keen cooks. Also having a sprayhood on this boat is a necessity keenly felt after the third wave has dumped into the galley and all over the chart table.

We'd learned an acute distrust of elderly stainless steel whilst still in Texas. This was only heightened as we met people along our way with various rigging and gear failures; stainless in a salty hot environment does not last as some would have us believe. We'd made new bronze chainplates all round after finding corrosion in our originals but had put off the bobstay and staysail fitting until now.

The bobstay was a particular concern having been encased in fibreglass some forty years ago. Its charged with holding up the mast and was unavailable for inspection. To give an idea of the forces involved, the wire that links this fitting to the bowsprit should be strong enough to suspend the boat from. Imagine that 13+ tons of Alajuela just suspended in space from one wire. One wire attached to a bit of rusty old stainless.

Then after we'd sent off the pattern we gave it a bit of a polish up and found this, the beginnings of trouble.

Job number one. The last few weeks have seen us set about learning a new skill; pattern making and getting the bobstay fitting cast. We have nicknamed it the ice breaker, which caused a little confusion on facebook. In our defence it is what would hit ice first and is certainly going to be strong, but we're heading back to the tropics for now.

New Zealand is a great place to be doing stuff like this. People have been very helpful and everything we've needed has been available. We've also been sorting out our starter motor, renovating the anchor locker, mending one of our water tanks, replacing the cutlass bearing, replacing the bearings in the rudder (which meant removing it). 

The list is by no means complete and plans are afoot for replacing the worktops, building a new staysail and a sprayhood, but once we've got the materials we need we can do these jobs somewhere else.  Very soon we will be sailing again.

In England's green and pleasant...

So here we are in England.  First things first, we did lots of visiting in the first few weeks.  Sadly the only photo either of us thought to take is of this Scottish village my friends have moved to.  Duncan has been to Cornwall twice, visiting his parents, siblings and working on his beloved wooden sailboat 'Starshell'. Whilst I was in Scarborough visiting my mum there was a surfing competition, a marine festival and a jet ski race where they did very noisy big laps around the bay, view-able from my mums front room window for a very long time... but no photos.  Sorry. 

So where in the world are we when the dust settles?  Back on our Narrowboat just outside of Bath.

We're here to work but not just for money, we also really need to try to get our boat fitted out.  Seth on our second day back; more chaos than ever and lots of really big spiders!

So work starts with building a work bench...

Setting it up in a shady spot, and getting cracking...

The key is to try not to get too sidetracked by the fun that goes on here, such as pig moving day...

It took ten of us to guide the pig down a chicane of pallets and on to the trailer.  She was going to a better place but not the kind that she feared; to a new pasture down by the stream where she can wallow to her heart's content and root around new ground.

and our big procrastinator... Our patch of garden.

All in all we're having a splendid time here.  Duncan is off delivering boats/ instructing, so far I have not been to work since they deleted me off the database.  I've reapplied but am in no hurry to rush them since I know there is plenty of work once it is sorted out.  For now I just want to dig the garden and feed the pigs, ducks and chickens. And ermm... work on the boat...

Travelling with boxes part 2...

It was with heavy heart that we had to finally succumb to our plan to leave Impetuous in New Zealand. We'd put it off for the last five months but now the weather was getting wintry and our visas were on the cusp of expiration.  Once we'd chosen our place and yard we set to; getting Impetuous ready for immanent abandonment.  Most of the windows got rebedded and all manner of varnished teak prettiness got covered in rosy red jackets.  Impetuous is now adorned with multiple Fez'.

Though she's mostly stood up extremely well to what we've thrown at her this last 15 months, the interior oiled walls were looking rather forlorn.  The problem started whilst crossing from Panama when not having any sprayhood (dodger) meant that whilst we were thundering along at 8 or 9 knots the occasional wave would break over the boat and soak the interior which was left open for ventilation. This then got much worse when we hit colder climes and suffered from condensation.  Both these things will be resolved in time.  We plan to make a sprayhood on our return to Impetuous next year and improve our insulation and add a heat source before we go to the next cold country.

We've still got three more windows to pull out and rebed when we get back.  

The Marlborough sounds was a pretty area to stop and do some work.  We still moved every few days.  A short sail, a little fish and a change of scenery is a great refresher.  The walking and foraging was brilliant too.  We managed to find a few dry days and so gave the mast a light sand and two more coats of varnish.  It was very pleasing to see how well the varnish has held up.  Keeping on top of it this way should mean that a strip down won't be necessary any time soon.

So then it was time.

We raised our anchor for the last time, got pulled out by the Waikawa marina travel lift and put up the road in Clint's yard.

We managed to get our rental down through negotiation to half price and we think she'll be nice and safe there.

Then it was time to set off again, travelling with boxes.  Of course we still don't have any proper cases or bags for the plane.  The bits and pieces we want to work on and fix from the boat, and tools to use on the boat in England all got crammed into cardboard and wrapped up in tape.

We hitched a ride to Picton where we caught the ferry across to the North island.  Then we hopped on to an overnight bus to Auckland.  We just had time to visit our one remaining friend in Auckland whilst most had already headed North towards Fiji or Tonga then got the bus to the airport.  Then it was just a matter of a flight to San Fransisco, then another onwards to London before a bus to Bath.

A little dazed and confused after 65 hours travelling we staggered off the bus and round the back of the train station with our boxes to be met by our good friends Nic and Becs.  It took a little while for the news to filter down into our addled brains that the 8 month old baby Becs was holding was in fact theirs.  They had kept his whole existence a secret from us and everyone had been sworn to secrecy.  What great news to be welcomed back with!  And just the start of learning what has been going on and what has changed since we've been away.

We bought return flights from New Zealand so we are booked to return to our Impetuous voyages in March 2016.  Our plan in March is to do some minor work on her including building the said Sprayhood, explore the Marlborough Sounds a little more and visit the Abel Tasman and Nelson.  We will head North when the cyclone season is over around May towards Tonga, Fiji, New Caledonia, Vanuatu, Papau New Guinea and then on to South East asia.  There is a lot of sailing to look forward to.  

Until then our main priority here is to finish fitting out our narrowboat 'Seth' so that he can be a) a more comfortable home for us whilst in England working and b) hopefully be rented out so that someone else can enjoy him when we go away again next March.  In the mean time we will also seek remunerated employment, though with the beautiful British summer breaking out all around us, we're in no rush!

We plan to carry on writing the blog whilst we're here in the UK, though we're going to be busy so it won't be too often.  If you'd like to hear whenever we post an update rather than having to check the site, you can enter your email address in the space on the right.  As far as I know you won't get any spam from this; blogger will just send you an email of any new posts we publish and you can unsubscribe easily by following the link at the bottom of the email.

We have plenty of stories we never managed to get around to telling from our travels and we may also write a bit about our lives here in England.  If you'd like to hear more, feel free to get in touch. It's always nice to find out that we're not just talking to ourselves!

Old Brown Shoes

Many years ago, whilst I was at university, a group of us entered a match racing competition in the Solent. With all the excitement that the prospect of sailing on big boats brought to my fellow students it wasn't long before someone brought up the subject of spending some money so they might look the part. But hey, we were students; so the most this really was ever going to amount to was some snazzy footwear.

It was with a hint of the juvenile curmudgeon that I said I would not be wasting my money on posh wellies, let alone water proofs until, at the very least; I had a boat upon which to wear them. When the week came I made a point of being barefooted as I danced around; very much the foredeck elephant ballerina.

Several boats on, I find that the boot is somewhat on the other foot. I'd really consider buying some sensible footwear and decent oily's. Its just that with so many other things to spend money on, they seem to be relegated to the; 'for another time' list.

I do make a yearly donation to the 'looking the part' bit by purchasing a new pair of; soon to be old, brown deck shoes. They usually make it a year and a half before the worn out sole drops off, or the stitching on the bottom tears through the rotted leather and my foot slides out. When they're new, I occasionally wear them to the schools I work in. For a brief period a couple of years ago, they were considered en vogue, as a number of pupils pointed out. I like to think I played my small part in reversing this fad; a scruffy supply teacher in deck shoes and a woolen tie; it's not really quite how the youth of today interpret fashion.

Some people do get funny about footwear on boats. I did my yachtmaster instructor course a couple of years ago. The sun was shinning and my deck shoes were banished to a locker; no point of wearing them out prematurely I thought. All was well, but as the day came closer for our final assessment, the instructors' instructor pulled me aside and said, 'better wear your shoes tomorrow Duncan, the chap assessing you is bit funny about footwear on boats.' So I did, and passed. Funny to think that wearing my scruffy old deck shoes actually helped me become a yachtmaster instructor. Puts me in mind of Groucho Marks' thoughts on clubs...

All this is at the forefront of my mind as the nights draw in and gales proliferate. My current deck shoes might make it a bit longer, but the right foot shoe is on its last legs, of course I have got one shoe of the previous pair left, but I'm not sure if its for the left or right foot.

I remember an adage from my Dad. Actually come to think of it, it's probably what my mother says of my dad and his choice of footwear for when the weather turns nasty when sailing. 'When its cold, wet and rainy the best footwear you can hope to have on are your slippers.' Its dark and drizzling out side. But it's OK; I’m inside, staying dry with my slippers on.