Back to the Bay of Islands...Or why we love Russell boating club

We've been gradually creeping up the East Northland coast here with a new adventure in mind.  It didn't take us long to realise that we weren't going to want to stay in this corner of New Zealand until we head back to the UK for a bit and we certainly weren't going to get a car like most overseas sailors do once they get here.

It started after about a week looking around the beautiful bay of islands.  'This is lovely but wouldn't it be something to see the fjords...' The seed was planted.  So we've been getting ourselves ready, together with seeing a bit of the area.

Someone else with their spinnaker up near Great Barrier Island.

Whangamamu harbour, an old whaling station.  Rather gruesome to read about but a lovely walk across the peninsula.

Just shows I can still harbour double standards since we were delighted to catch this kingfish just after we rounded Cape Brett.  We got changed and washed the cockpit down a bit before the photo.

From the top of Motuarohia island.

This area of Northland is famed for it's beauty and clement weather and as such is something of  a holiday destination.  But with a boat and all those islands to chose from you can still find yourselves a quiet corner. There's also loads of scallops, mussels and oysters around to supplement your dinner.

Urapukapuka...

So, whilst we've been enjoying our sail back up the coast and around the islands, we've been thinking about how we need to be prepared for our forthcoming trip.

We've started to rebed our portholes.  They all need their rubber seals replacing where they open and close and this is much easier to do when they are out of the wall.  Some of them were dripping a bit occasionally so we'd like to get them all redone before we leave the boat in a couple of months time.  A good time to give the wood behind some TLC too and a little shine doesn't hurt though don't count on the eighth one getting this attention!

 This is the really big job.  Since it might be quite windy down around the bottom of South Island we feel we'd be pushing our luck to solely count on our 40 year old main sail to stand up to it.  We wanted our spare ready to use just in case.

 When we bought Impetuous she came with an old and a new main sail.  Brand new never been used with the name and number of the boat on it. Imagine our surprise when we hoisted it for the first time and found that it didn't fit.  We puzzled for a bit as to what we'd done wrong, we'd built our new mast taller than the original but we couldn't work out why this would make any difference...

In the end we couldn't find any other explanation other than it was wrong and we'd need to change it significantly before it could be of any use.  So we paid a sailmaker in Guatemala to recut the leech shape and remove the foot, add a new panel and reshape it.  We'd left it at that all this way but here we will need the reefs when our old sail finally gives out.  So we removed the old reef patches and eyes (except one which we could make work) and very carefully measured where we wanted the new ones to be.

                                     

So we made new strengthening patches.  6 layers starting small and getting bigger to spread out the strain on the material.  Then onto the sail so when we were sewing them under the leech tape that made 9 layers, we were so pleased that our machine could just about manage it, the material is very tough (9oz dacron).

Next we had to add the eyes through the patches to do the work.  We'd bought the equipment to do this in Panama so we were ready, we just refreshed our minds by watching the sailrite youtube video again.  Cut the hole with a stanley knife, punch holes where the stitches will go and then sew the brass ring on.  Two rings of stitches of different sizes for added strength (a la Moitessier).  Once it's finished, hammer on a grommet for the ropes or hardware to run through.

                                     

                                                           

So this is why we love Russell boating club.  The people are friendly and helpful, they have a hot shower, a bar open 3 evenings a week, a big dinghy dock and a lovely big space where we could work on our sail.  It's all done now so we're leaving this afternoon, sailing round the top at Cape Reinga then heading straight for Milford Sound.  The wind may not let us go straight though as we're likely to pass through a patch of variable and light winds but we'll hope for the best.

The other reason I love Russell boat club is that it has a community garden.  It's lovely to potter in a garden and get your hands in the soil. Contribute and you can share so we've got some beautiful chillis, lettuce, chard and a few little carrots for our trip.

Budget Bonanza

It's a topic many blogs broach and people often wonder about so we thought we'd toss our hat into the ring.

On Impetuous we don't have a budget as such. We just try to make our money last as long as we can whilst having what we value. Though we did try to guess how much we might spend this last year and made that our goal to save up whilst we were in England. As we've been sailing for a year now I thought it was high time we work out how much it really has cost us.

We rejoined Impetuous in the third week of January 2014. Between then and now (the end of January 2015) we have spent exactly £7,829 on living on Impetuous. That's $11,978 (USD), €10,177 (Euros), $15,814 (NZD) or 745,869 Indian Rupees at todays exchange.

Is that a lot or a little? We have mixed views on this. It's less than we'd thought, but we always think we could live more frugally. Lets run through what this year entailed.

We've sailed over 10,000 miles this year. We left Guatemala for Belize in March then had a month in Cuba. We then spent a few months in Panama seeing some of the San Blas islands and Las Perlas on our way out into the big blue. Over three months spent in French Polynesia were a joy; sailing most days and visiting some of each group; the Marquesas, Tuamotus and Society islands. We then moved on through the Cook islands to lovely Tonga before heading down to New Zealand for the cyclone season.

So what were our main expenses?

The Panama canal was a big deal for us and cost us £650 ($1,000). You can pay more but we did it without an agent; standing our own bond, doing the tiny amount of paperwork and avoided hiring help by taking backpackers through as line handlers. It was a great experience for all. The officials were a joy to deal with and we think, on reflection, that it was great value for money.

Checking into and out of so many countries adds up, but we were saved financially by both French Polynesia and New Zealand being entirely free to us lucky Brits. We estimate around £700 (just over $1000) going on such fees this year. We may have had to pay to be in Cuba (around £150) for a month but it was a wonderfully cheap month where we were able to replenish our rum stocks for £2 ($3) a bottle and a roadside pizza cost the same as a roadside icecream; 12.5 pence (20c).

We filled up our diesel three times this year. Firstly we'd left it empty in Guatemala, then again before leaving Panama and lastly in Bora Bora where they offered duty free fuel. We'd had some windless times around Panama and then the Societies particularly while we were trying to show Chris and Jean (Duncans' parents) a good time. We've still got over half a tank left of this. That's £500 ($750) a surprisingly large amount to us; given how much we avoid motoring and rely on solar for all our electricity. The price of fuel was almost exactly the same at all three places, about £2.60 ($4) a gallon.

We use on average a 9kg gas bottle about every 6 weeks, that's £130 ($200) largely used to make an inordinate amount of tea. We've never paid for water though others certainly do sometimes. We only stayed in a marina that one time in Panama ($50 for one night... still spitting feathers) and we paid for a mooring buoy once in Tonga (12 Panga, £4) – then moved to anchor the next day.

This total also includes a fair amount of cash going to the marina in Guatemala where we'd left Impetuous for 5 months whilst we were back in England visiting family and friends, and earning money. This was $110 per month US for an excellent service; a clean boat and monthly email about how beautiful she still was (thanks Burnt key). Whilst still in the Rio Dulce we paid a sailmaker to recut our new main (which had come with the boat but didn't fit). He quoted for the whole job; re-stitching and three new reef points but we baulked at the price and decided a better investment would be to buy some sailmaking equipment and hardware for a fraction of the cost.

About £500 went on the boat; filters, varnish and said sail adjustment stuff. We were ahead on this; though we didn't leave Texas with a finished boat, we certainly left with a dependable one given all the work we'd done on her.

We have third party insurance for Impetuous. At £200 a year we think it's important. If she drags her anchor and ploughs into a superyacht the damage (to it) is covered. Also morally we want it, lest we accidentally injure anyone else. The responsibility for our own health and the boats wellbeing falls to us.

So that leaves about £4,800 (£100 or $150 per week) for flour, fishing gear and fun; pillows, pasta and peanuts; bouncy balls, bacon and beer. Our biggest spending months on these were in Panama stocking up ready for expensive French Polynesia and now we're in New Zealand where our stores are intentionally low and the availability of nice things is high.

Of the people we've met we're certainly at the more frugal end, though some do spend less. We eat really well on Impetuous. If it was a problem we could save money by buying less vegetables, no meat, less olive oil, capers, olives, whole spices, chocolate, butter and milk but we don't want or need to. We've purposefully not estimated the proportion of this total that goes on alcohol... make of that as you will!

What probably helps to keep our costs down is that we always cook at home. We never feel the urge to eat out unless there's something new to learn and it's cheap. In the Marquesas one of the main local favourites is 'Poisson Cru' which we tried at roadside stalls a few times; trying to learn the quantities of lime and coconut in which you eat the raw fish, so now we can have it at home; delicious. About 10 different kinds of dried beans, 3 different lentils, various flours, rice and pasta provide a backbone to an endless variety of meals aboard Impetuous. We love visiting local markets, trying to find foods growing wild and attempting new things; of course this results in plenty of disasters along with the triumphs.

We do every job we possibly can ourselves on the boat. We both share an interest in how things work and enjoy learning new skills even if this means making mistakes sometimes. After spending so long restoring Impetuous we really value the confidence we have in our own work and understanding her simple systems on which we rely.

Finally Fidget Sails

Finally, after what's been a very long time in the making, our nesting dinghy; fidget, has been sailing for the first time.

We started off, still in America by making cardboard models to scale. Finally happy with the appearance, we roughly cut the ply needed, storing it under the forward berth; which didn't make for a very comfortable bed.

In Guatemala we shaped and glued up the hull between torrential downpours. A word of warning from this; if you're trying to build a nesting dinghy, obviously it must nest, but when you glue the hulls to the mating surfaces, bolt the surfaces together so they will definitely mate later!

Some more progress was made before we left; we scoured a timber yard for wood suitable to make into a mast, gaff and boom for our Gunter rig. Knowing we wouldn't have access to a table saw for a while, a bolt rope run was made in the gaff with this and an inverted T shape router bit. I used a 1” radius roundover bit to route the shape from the square stock (we made our oars the same way). If you ever do this don't attempt a perfect circle, leave enough wood for the bearing of the bit to run along. Then knock off the edges with a plane. The gaff jaws were made with offcuts of plywood.

That's where the progress stalled. At first we hoped we'd have her sailing around the enchanting San Blas islands in order to visit exotic villages in tucked up spots. It was not to be.

When that opportunity sailed by we dreamed of having the rudder, sails, mast and daggerboard ready as we visited the coral encrusted Pacific islands. We set to in Taiohae bay, Nuku Hiva, first concentrating on the buoyancy chambers. Progress was made, but a disproportionate amount of time was spent wrestling fenders on, trying to stop her beating up Impetuous as she swung around in the swell of that rolly anchorage. That cemented her name 'Fidget'.

As we left for the Tuamotus we still hoped we might explore shallow lagoons with crystal clear water, swept by the refreshing trades; mask and snorkel in hand, in our own little bug. There were always more islands and atolls coming up in the future. We dreamed of her sails providing the tranquil power we have grown accustomed to, gliding across the large open stretches of brilliant colour; Impetuous safe at anchor in deeper water. But, it wasn't to be. To be honest we were having too much fun being fleet of foot to concentrate on the task.

When we arrived in Auckland for Christmas we turned to each other and agreed we should really use the opportunity of inactivity amongst joviality to finish the sailing part to the dinghy. So, between partying, we set to work.

The vision I had always had for Fidget was a smaller version of the mirror dinghy. To that extent no plans for fidget ever existed beyond the cardboard model. How the mast, sails, rudder fitted together as well as its general appearance draws from my happy memories of sailing a mirror dinghy as a child.

Buoyancy, seemed the first place to start, no point putting in all this effort to have fidget sink on us the first time we capsize. This was simply a question of sealing up the inspection hatches.

We had been given an old dinghy sail which Ruth set about converting in to main and jib. The boom is particularly high cut as it exactly follows a seem in the original sail. It has the added bonus of not hitting our heads as we tack. The jib tack has since had to be further reinforced where we were delighted to find our sewing machine could manage 6 layers of heavier sail cloth with a run up and a following wind!

The rudder pivots up into the stock so we can land ashore without fear of tearing off the gudgeon’s that are bolted through her transom. These are made from offcuts of teak strengthened by stainless steel. The whole arrangement is topped off by the tiller, perhaps douglas fir from the bowsprit; we have so many offcuts.

'Life is too short to splice wire', Bernard Moitessier reputedly once said. This didn't deter Ruth from spending a couple of days learning how to splice eyes in some old guardrail wire to make a fore stay and two shrouds. Frequently piercing her fingers in the process, the result was not as neat as she'd have liked but will be strong and saved us $60 in cable clamps. Perversely, this took about as much time as making all the stays for Impetuous. A wise chap, that Moitessier.

Of course, as you would expect for her maiden voyage there was scarcely a breath of wind. We did manage to sail around the headland of the bay and far out of sight of the grown up Impetuous.

Despite having all sailed thousands of miles across the Pacific, sailing Fidget brings out the inner child in us all. We had barely finished our morning tea and had scarcely thought of putting on some clothes when the rasp of our neighbours outboard alerted us to Jean-Michels' imminent arrival, gleaming like a child on Christmas. Soon he was reaching across the bay in the light winds of the morning. Other friends are keen to get sailing and we've even had a race challenge.

At last we are able to explore to our hearts content under sail, as we did exploring Great Barrier island. Fidget may not be the prettiest dinghy but she fits perfectly under our boom and is very roomy for guests and shopping. It takes us about 20 minutes to get her from lashed down to intact in the water and another 10 minutes to get all her sailing paraphernalia in place. But she is still light enough for us to pick up and walk up a beach, just. Finally, with all the offcuts stuck together and only an unfinished table leaf to contend with, we sleep a lot more comfortably.

Ingredients for our sailing nesting dinghy;

4 sheets 1/4” marine ply

Cable ties and epoxy

Fibre glass to tab the joints

Offcuts of wood for various reinforcements

Various small offcuts of stainless steel (from an old stove)

10 metres of 2”square softwood

Rigging (old lifelines)

Donated old sail

Miscellaneous bits of rope

A whole year without...

There honestly isn't much I miss of accepted home comforts during this life we're living on Impetuous. What people who live in houses in the western world take for granted doesn't appeal to me. I don't dream of central heating or cooling, TVs, cars, limitless electricity or piped hot and cold water.

Catching our own fish and water, using only what power is produced by our solar panels, doing our own laundry by hand and finding what we can, without spending too much, comes naturally to me as someone who likes to live frugally and pay attention to our environment.

I don't find being out of contact a wrench, although I'm learning that almost having internet or patchy phone contact is much more frustrating than none at all. I love the way that if we have a problem we have to rely on ourselves to sort it out. Risk is assessed in a slightly different way when you don't have the safety nets we're used to.

I don't wish our life was easier either. I actually really enjoy rowing ashore and finding out how we will organise water, gas or recycling in each new place.  Looking around to find the cheapest shops and hunting out markets for fresh stuff or even better finding what is growing wild is never a chore but an engaging way to spend our time.

We both equally choose not to have an outboard motor, or expensive electronics such as chart plotter, autopilot, radar, watermaker, or electrical anchor winch; our 'raison d'etre' is not for our life to be as easy as possible (or for that matter to be as hard as possible) it just comes naturally to both Duncan and I to relish some challenges in our lives. We're young and need to do exercise. Pulling up the anchor chain, lugging about water jugs, rowing, walking or cycling about keeps us happy and healthy.

Nor do I long to stay in a marina in order to use the facilities. This year (February 2014 in Guatemala to January 2015 here in New Zealand) we have stayed in a marina a grand total of one night. This was Shelter Bay in Colon, Panama and cost us over $50 US for one night; we hated it. As soon as we found out there was an anchorage possible instead, we moved there.

We're not purists; we have a very efficient fridge which we can make ice in, two cheap ($200) computers and a diesel engine on our boat but in short I'm extremely content with exactly what we have on Impetuous and if I felt something was lacking I'd be working on sorting it out. Having said all this there is one thing that I have really been missing this whole year whilst we've been away from the UK...  

For an entire year I have not experienced the shear unbridled joy of a long, luxurious hot bath.

That is, until last night when we anchored off Smokehouse bay on Great Barrier island. In this bay, for free community use by any boater is a bathhouse. Built by Eric Webster and maintained by his family and the community which uses it. There is a smokehouse to prepare your fish, a campfire area with benches, tree swings, mangles and washing lines, an area to dry out your boat for maintenance on the tide and best of all the bathhouse. It's a simple system with rainwater caught from the roof, a fire with a backboiler outside which gravity feed heats a big hot water tank inside. A beautiful cast iron bath in a lovely clean, spacious yet cosy room. The water was copious and boiling hot after tending the fire for a few hours.

The joy; I cannot tell you...      

End of an Era...

With Christmas and New Years' celebrations over...  With last years aim of crossing an ocean crossed...  As friends take their boats out of the water, or spirit them away to marinas stripped of sails thinking of earning some money here in New Zealand or travelling in a different way for a while...  It feels very much like we are reaching an end of an era. And so I realised we are; when I rummaged around to find that we were down to our very last can of American bought tomatoes.

It was a happy day back in February of 2013 when a special offer saw the price of canned tomatoes drop to three cans per dollar at our local store. We had been studying the market for a while where we were working on the boat in Dickinson, Texas and knew that this was the time to buy buy buy.

We knew that there would be places over the coming years where you could expect to pay a considerable sum of money for our staple and we wanted to be sure we would never run out until we could buy them cheap again.

'Can I have eight cases please?' I asked at our local store, 'As I'm buying so many can I have a discount?' (I had to try) 'No way. They are on offer three cans for a dollar, that IS the discount' came the reply. 'You can pick them up tomorrow.'

Cans for us means one thing; tomatoes.  This simplicity is very helpful when the labels come off. Argued there could always be a few odds and sods to be found; maybe an artichoke here, some chipotle chillis there, or a sauerkraut may sneak in... if they're small they may be water chestnuts, but generally all cans we carry and use are tomatoes.  We mix them with beans for chilli or a herby breakfast mix; we use them as a base for many curries, pasta sauces and various soups; and I love to make pizzas whenever we can face the heat of the oven!

Stacked up on the galley side they gave us a real sense of achievement. We had come a long way and the goal was well and truly within sight. We had bought four years prior, what many might have regarded as a wreck of a boat. Though Impetuous was still out of the water, it wouldn't be long until she was launched and we would be sailing off on her. Here we were, stocking up on tomatoes that would last us until we were somewhere totally different.

During the years on Impetuous our 192 cans didn't all rust and no, we didn't varnish them. Before crossing the Pacific we did re-order them, checking for damage. We had a slight list to starboard, in part caused by our food stores, so as we were going to be sailing on a port tack for a month or more, it was time to shift to port anything heavy... Who says cruisers don't think of these things!

It will be with both sadness and joy that we open that last can of tomatoes. An end of an era suggests a loss.  But we will be happy to have crossed an ocean with no shortage of canned tomatoes, happy to have never paid silly money for more supplies and happy not to have died of botulism!   

Time to Creep up a Creek...

It's little wonder that settlers from Cornwall, Scotland and Ireland felt so at home in New Zealand. With her rugged, meandering coastlines which are often enshrouded in thick blankets of rain sodden cloud; the similarities to their homelands are easy to see.

The fair weather that had kindly swept us to these pleasant isles, had been pushed aside by the more boisterous weather that we'd feared might welcome us. Fortunately we were tucked away in relative shelter by then. With more gales forecast for Sunday and the next few days, we thought it might be time to hide further.

The temptation was to explore up a narrow estuary; as I would in Cornwall. Tucking our boat safely away in some sheltered pool far up river. The tide cutting off access as it drains away, with Impetuous safe from the ravages of the wind.

The image of the weathered sailor waking in the small dark hours of morning to catch the tide is often used but seldom the reality. After a peaceful lie in with our books and several cups of tea, followed by a leisurely breakfast and then coffee; we were ready to wind slowly up the Keri Keri river with the last of the rising tide.

Despite several shallow patches, we were pleasantly surprised at how effortlessly we were able to creep up the estuary without ploughing our keel into the soft mud, always carrying a healthy margin of 50 cm under us.

The river wound its way beyond many twist and turns, passing rolling hills drenched in leaden cloud. Upon each turn the wind that had swept us up lessened as we found our intended shelter. Then at one juncture it left us altogether. We started the engine; which we now refer to as the shoe dryer as we have resorted to drying our shoes upon its hot carcass after any use. 

Eventually we arrived at the estuaries head; 'Standing Stones' where the river is no longer navigable. This is the site of the oldest stone store in the country.  It was built by early traders to store grain and then used as a trading post when they found Northland too wet to grow grain. An impressively solid building, which somewhat dwarfs the white washed timber house located next door; the oldest building in New Zealand.

We walked up from the stone store in that hybrid of precipitation; mizzle. Thicker than mist but thinner than drizzle, mizzle has that unique quality that somehow soaks your clothes from the inside out. It was not to last. As the mizzle gave way to drizzle we lingered in the shops that had the heating on. As we trudged wearily back to the boat at the end of our day, the drizzle turned to rain.

How quickly things change; it was merely a couple of weeks ago that I relished an icy cold beer as it trickled down my throat.  Now we've taken to placing our wine in a saucepan of hot water to get it to what; without fire, we dream of being room temperature. The idea of cold beer now just makes us shiver. Still I'm sure it will be summer soon.

Last big passage of the year...

There's nothing quite like the whirr of a wind generator to spur you on for your next voyage. We had encountered the one in motion next to us, together with it's haphazard owner before. As it squealed it's way round up to terminal velocity and back down with every gust, we had no confidence that it would not disintegrate and ornament our boat and potentially our heads with shards of shrapnel. We had to get away from them both...

It was with mixed feelings that we pulled in our lines and anchor from Nuku'alofa's FREE harbour. On one hand Tonga was refreshingly gritty, interesting and fun. On the other hand the fact that it was the very end of the season and all the moderate organised people were already tucked up in New Zealand meant that our neighbours for the last week had all been of a certain ilk... Let me just say that it made for some great parties but it was time to have a dry, quiet week at sea.

We'd walked about the wonderful main market with temperance in mind. There's no good in loading up your boat with sumptuous tropical fruits and weird and wonderful root vegetables in order to check in to New Zealand and see the whole lot go into a big plastic sack headed for the incinerator. New Zealand as an agricultural nation has a real 'thing' about keeping out the pests and viruses it feels threatened by. All through the Pacific rumours flew amongst boaters as to the extent of what would be confiscated. Shells, feathers, stones, baskets, seeds, nuts, beans, lentils, rice, coffee, cocoa... what would they take?

It was the second time of our trip so far, that we'd met someone who cared about spices as much as us. After we'd had our 'spice swap' we really needed to confront the elephant in the room. Gaya like us was facing the threat of her hard won and precious collection being confiscated and our discussions turned to hiding places. Innocently in our view; it's not like the threat seemed big... but just the chance that they might decimate our collections meant we were being inventive. Tim finally brought reason to the table 'you're talking high scale smuggling if you hide the methi seeds there!'

In the end I emailed the biosecurity department in New Zealand asking for up to date and specific guidance. We were extremely reassured to hear that many herbs and spices were allowed and others; namely the whole seed variety were subject to inspection. The inferance was that if the inspector had cause for concern they could throw all kinds of things out but that they probably wouldn't. Thus placated we only hid a couple of particularly coveted items just incase we came into contact with an overly zealous inspector.

Even when we were in the Atlantic I'd been thinking about this passage to come. There are many stories about yachts coming to grief on their trip to New Zealand and several boats are lost in her surrounding waters each year. As we got closer, the people we spoke to, who knew, were much more relaxed about the passage. 'Leaving in November or December, it's the best time, it'll be summer when you arrive.' 'I've done it more than twenty times, you'll be fine, don't worry!' So when we set off we were ready for whatever. The forecast seemed like it would be fairly light winds but as we still can't get up to date forecasts at sea yet; we knew this could change as we got near New Zealand and our week old forecast ran out.

 

We started out Saturday early evening, just clearing Tongatapu by sunset. The breeze was gentle so we were sailing beautifully with all the sails out at around 7knots. The next night the wind got slacker so we discussed the possibility of stopping at Minerva Reefs. We'd not planned to, but a few people had recommended it to us. Intrigued we thought we'd have a look; it was on our way in any case. The wind got up again as we approached but it seemed churlish to miss it so, as we'd arrived at 1am we reefed and carried on for a few hours then sailed back to the pass.

Minerva reefs are two separate coral reef fringed lagoons around 30 miles apart. We entered North Minerva through the unmarked pass just after sunrise, which was obvious by the disturbed waters of the outflowing current. We sailed across the calm lagoon to anchor in the lee of the Reef in the North East corner, had a fry up and then snorkelled out to the reef. The water was markedly cooler and there wasn't much going on. We had the whole place to ourselves,but we didn't need to wait out any weather, it was perfect, so we decided to crack on.

In many ways, even with our restraint in Tonga, the passage was one of almost constant eating as we tried to consume all that we feared might be taken. Meals almost snowballed into each other, as we both expressed the gastronomic concerns we shared over our stocks by cooking and eating them. Breakfast the day we arrived, for example, was left over lamb curry; New Zealand lamb ironically. To compound our worries, it was by far our most successful trip with regard to fishing. The information we had received said no meat. Though we've met plenty of vegetarians who claim fish isn't meat we had our doubts. As it turned out we needn't have worried and we still have a freezer full of fish.

It turned out that the rules were; all fresh fruits and vegetables were thrown out, no questions asked. After that they wanted to see each cupboard where we kept foods but all they took were all dried beans and popcorn. Flours, lentils, quinoa, bulgar, sesame and flax seeds, pasta and rice were all ok. No meat; fresh, frozen or tinned is allowed, freshwater fish; canned or fresh is likewise prohibited but sea fish are fine. They never asked about spices and seemed in a tremendous hurry to chuck a few things out and then move on. They were probably only on our boat for around twenty minutes, it was a bit of a whirl. Wonderfully it was all gratis; we have a six month visa and the boat is fine to stay up to two years.

So here we are in the Bay of Islands. Look at our landfall photos; it's just how we both remember New Zealand to be; a thick veil of cloud covering the impressive landscape.

 

Down with the Tongan flag and up with the Kiwi; woolly hat covers still bad hair...

 

 

This was our landfall... can you see what it is yet?  It's less than two miles away!