There were times when we were bouncing around in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, miles away from anywhere, when the most calming sound in the world was my Dad’s voice.
Before we left New Zealand, Paddy donated his old radio to Dad so he could keep in touch with us (it of course had nothing to do with the fact that it gave Paddy the perfect excuse to buy a flash new radio…) – and Radio Clarkville was born.
At one point Dad and I were both studying – me for my Boatmasters certificate and Dad for his amateur radio license, and we both managed to pass. Dad did a bit of radio work while he was in the airforce though, so it wasn’t really a surprise that he did well on the test, but it’s pretty awesome that he went ‘back to school’ and did that for us.
So Dad turns 70 today and I’ve decided to mark this milestone by sharing that fact with the internet (I know you still love me Dad – you have to!)
I’d also like to use this opportunity to say thank you Dad, and let you know how much it meant to hear you in the middle of nowhere (even when I was too crook to come below deck and talk to you!) It even helped just knowing (when we were too far for conversation) that you guys were listening to our position reports. It was great to know that, even when there was nothing in sight but sea and sky, that my family knew exactly where I was.
Mum played no small part in this either – enabling the creation of Radio Clarkville by letting Dad stick a dirty great pole up in the middle of her garden and trail a bunch of wires from the trees to the sleepout. It’s not exactly something you can hide with some well-placed shrubbery!
Dad also played a vital role in sourcing all manner of bits and bobs for us while we were away. When you are in the islands the simplest things can be really difficult to get hold of – and the more complicated ones practically impossible.
And even though we were pretty much sailing in a floating toolshed, there were often times that we needed things even Paddy hadn’t foreseen.
So Paddy set Dad up with a bank account and every now and again he’d receive a shopping list from us asking for everything from batteries to ceiling fans.
Dad managed to arrange getting all manner of things with buttons, wires and flashing lights to us in all sorts of out-of-the-way places and knowing we had that back up there was really great.
When we got back to New Zealand our plan was to take the boat to a little place called Houhora – up North where Dad grew up.
When my sister and I were kids we spent a lot of our school holidays down South with our rellies in Dunedin. Now I’m not bagging Dunners, it’s an awesome little town – but it’s not exactly famous for its heatwaves…
In contrast, Houhora was our tropical holiday spot – and I have some amazing memories of visiting Grandpop, white sand beaches, critters in rockpools and attempting to catch fish. My tastebuds also have amazing memories involving Grandpop’s amazing home-smoked fish, eating oysters straight from the rocks and devouring far too many watermelons. I hadn’t been there for years and I was really looking forward to taking the boat over there.
Dad got in on the act too, sending us the GPS coordinates to all the good fishing spots and where the rock oysters were.
Unfortunately, the weather had other ideas. It blew from the North, it blew from the South, but never the same direction for more than two days. At one point it looked like we would be able to get there, but then we would be stuck for too long to be able to get home for Christmas.
I was gutted – I was really looking forward to going (and may have thrown a teeny, tiny tanty…)
Paddy, bless him, said that if it was so important to me we’d get a rental car and go. So we did, and it was awesome.
We found Grandpop’s old house and walked down to the harbour from there, and it was exactly as I remembered it. It was actually a little bit emotional.
Some things had changed though. The corner dairy had become a huge Four Square and the gift shop that sold tacky little souvenirs had been replaced by a liquor store.
There was also a gorgeous sign on the fish and chip shop saying ‘sorry, but we will no longer batter fish you bring yourself’ – sign of the times I guess!
So happy birthday Dad. I hope you have a great day, and thank you for being with us while we were away – in more ways than one!
Lots of love,
Anna and Paddy xxxoooxxx
Thanks Anna. Even though you have well and truly outed me on the “How old am I?” issue, I do appreciate your acknowledgement of my small contribution to your adventure. Thanks to having Paddy’s radio – we were very comforted by the ability to follow your progress by radio evesdropping. Your daily position reports while at sea enabled us to feel that we were sharing your experience and certainly took away a lot of the worry about how you were fareing. Glad you got to re-visit the far north – it doesn’t seem to have changed too much. The weather used to be pretty hit-and-miss back then as well!
Love Dad
Thanks Anna. Even though you have well and truly outed me on the “How old am I?” issue, I do appreciate your acknowledgement of my small contribution to your adventure. Thanks to having Paddy’s radio – we were very comforted by the ability to follow your progress by radio evesdropping. Your daily position reports while at sea enabled us to feel that we were sharing your experience and certainly took away a lot of the worry about how you were fareing. Glad you got to re-visit the far north – it doesn’t seem to have changed too much. The weather used to be pretty hit-and-miss back then as well!
Love Dad
If 60 is the new 40, 70 is the new 50. You are only as old as you feel (or are feeling) so enjoy Radio Clarkville! Happy Birthday too, btw
So you are pretty much up to date now!