Yay!! It looks like I’m able to upload photos again so I am going to stuff as many as I can into this post. The technical difficulties may have stemmed from the fact that the wifi antenna at the yacht club was left sitting on a rather jaunty angle after some rather gnarly winds swept through here. It appears to be upright again now, so fingers crossed!
Paddy with our shiney new NZ ensign flag ready for duty
I should probably also mention that I have Cal the travelling good luck troll with me as I upload, so credit where credit’s due 🙂
Fergus takes the wheel
Night watches were a little chilly until we got further north!
First mate Fergus
Heading round East Cape
East Cape
Fergus hoping in vain for some wind to blow us around East Cape
It's a tough life!
Leaving Whitianga after refuelling due to lack of wind
Paddy playing with his navigating toys
Sun setting over Needle Rock leaving Whitianga
Needle Rock
A slightly salty sunset
There are some much better sunset shots from the Opua trip!
Auckland skyline - lots and lots of lights!
The awesome orange flowers work gave me before we left
Okay, so the last shot has nothing to do with the Welly to Auckland trip – I just really like the flowers!
Sorry guys! WordPress seems to hate my photos at the moment so this is all you get (will try sticking them up on Facebook)
Well my idyllic introduction into the world of cruising has been a little less than idyllic.
It has, however, been an amazing learning curve and certainly hasn’t been boring!
We are holed up in Opua with the rest of the fleet at the moment and it doesn’t look like we will be out of here any time before Friday. The weather, not to put too fine a point on it, has been complete arse – interspersed with the odd fine patches.
Apparently this has been the longest time the Island Cruising Association has held off on leaving and one or two skippers are definitely getting a little bit twitchy! The good news is that from Friday onwards we should be heading into a great big high with just the right amount of wind blowing in the right direction – ie perfect sailing conditions. Most people (particularly those of us who had a bit of an uncomfortable trip up here) are more than happy to hang around for the good stuff!
The only real issue is boats with crew who have a set amount of leave and have booked flights back from Tonga – though it looks like our crew will be okay – thank goodness! It sucks for some people who pretty much have to turn around and go back as soon as they arrive but, as I am fast learning, that is the nature of cruising!
Poor old Paddy had this lovely vision of us having a b beautiful sail up north, which would help me become more of an experienced boat-chick for the trip offshore. Unfortunately. the weather had other ideas.
We either had no wind at all or it was blowing from the direction we wanted to go in – making for a couple of lumpy nights.
I’ve had some great help through the scarier bits from both Paddy and a friend of ours Fergus, who was kind enough to help us take the boat from Wellington to Auckland and Auckland to Opua. Fergus was really patient with me jumping at shadows and was a brilliant help when it came to the early morning watches. I definitely think I would be in a much different headspace going in to this if it wasn’t for him!
For the first couple of days out of Wellington both Paddy and I were rather jumpy. Paddy was up and down like a meerkat checking out the boat’s every little whirr and creak and I was making myself nervous about having to do night watches.
For my first couple of night watches I was hyper-vigilant, jumping at stars and shadows, thinking they were land or other ships. At one point I dragged Paddy out of bed because I spotted the port light of a HUGE ship that wasn’t showing on the radar and was heading straight for us. It turned out to be the moon rising.
(I have since discovered this is a common rookie mistake so I don’t feel so bad!)
After a while though I realised that things happen pretty slowly out at sea and looking around every 10 minutes is just fine. Once I got a little more relaxed about it I was able to set up an alarm, put my ipod on and lie back and watch the stars, which was quite lovely.
I have to admit there were times when things were a little challenging for me on that trip. We had quite a few fishing boats lurking around in the dark during a particularly lumpy night when the wind was against us, and they did make me a bit panicky. We were also shepherded out of the way by a ridiculously long vessel we later discovered was a ship towing a 10 kilometre cable doing a seismic survey. We suspect it was the Petrobas boat, which could be why it didn’t radio to tell us what it was up to – it probably thought we were protestors, but all we wanted to do was get out of its way!
Navigating our way into Auckland harbour at night was also pretty exciting. We wouldn’t have done it the way we did if we didn’t have Fergus’s local knowledge, but he was able to expertly guide us on a rather interesting course. The scary thing about heading towards Auckland is that there are so many damned lights it seems impossible to see which ones apply to you – what I thought was a navigation buoy tur ned out to be the Skytower!
It took us four days to get to Auckland and we arrived at 5am, absolutely knackered. Fergus’s wife Dianne had managed to secure us a berth next to their boat in the marina (they are both live-aboards too) and we had a Champaign breakfast – minus the breakfast – to celebrate completing our first leg, before falling into unconsciousness.
We camped out at Bayswater Marina for a few days waiting for a window in what was already looking like some pretty crummy weather. It worked out great for us though. We were literally able to step off our boat and onto Fergus and Dianne’s, where we had some delicious meals (Dianne is a primo cook!) and great company. Dianne also gave me lots of helpful tips for cruising survival and some bread recipes I’m looking forward to trying out.
I also had a surprise visit from quite a large chunk of my family, some who live in Auckland and even an auntie from Australia (will post pics when WordPress loves me again) which was really lovely. So Paddy got to meet the family, all at once, in a very small space! He did very well and I have a sneaking suspicion they might quite like him 😉
Mum and Dad came to check out the boat before heading off to meet us in Opua (which is just as well because we couldn’t get a marina berth in Opua and had to anchor off and I don’t think Mum fancied a lumpy dingy ride!) They’ve spent the past few days with us, which has been really great and even arranged for a bit of shore leave for me.
Hanging around in Opua has been really interesting actually because it has given me a good insight into the sailing community here and the people we will be travelling with.
The next blog will be an Opua special (including the trip over) and hopefully I’ll be able to get some photos up as well xx
I apologise in advance for what will probably be a sorry excuse for a blog.
I have enough material and photographs to write about 10 of the things on our last few weeks of preparation, but we have pretty much run out of time – so you’re not getting any of them.
I do promise a huge blog backlog when we get to the islands though!
At this stage it looks like we will be leaving for Auckland on Monday. That should take 4 to 5 days, and then we head for Opua. From there we will sail on to Tonga around April 30.
I have to say this unemployment lark has not been living up to its reputation at all! (Although I’m not technically unemployed as I am taking unpaid leave from my job)
Instead of sitting around smoking pot and playing playstation (or whatever else our lovely minister of social development believes unemployed people do) we’ve been getting up earlier than did while we were working and have been going round the clock getting Wildflower ready to leave. Paddy even ended up pulling an all-nighter rewiring the engine panel!
At this stage it looks like sailing across the Pacific is going to be the easiest part of the whole process! (touch wood.)
There have been a few speed bumps on the road to paradise (like the company we insured the boat with going bust and me thinking my cat had done a runner) but everything has been sorted now.
We have been given the okay by our new insurance company, and just minutes ago Wildflower had her category 1 status sign off – woo hoo! (there is a whole blog waiting to be written about this, but it will just have to continue waiting for the moment.)
I know I have been a bit of a stress bunny lately – and I would just like give a big thank you to my family and friends who have helped and supported us and put up with my twitchiness.
I would also like to thank those people (and tradespeople) who have gone the extra mile to help us out and who gave us faith in humanity when others were stuffing us around.
In the wonderful people category I would like to include;
Mike our lovely next door neighbour – an engineering geek like Paddy – who has been over on our boat day and night helping weld stuff and mount stuff and who lent us his 4W drive to help clear out one of Paddy’s sheds. We will be meeting he and his wife Danica in New Caledonia and they will be sailing back to NZ with us, which should be a lot of fun.
Jenn and Trevor for helping us out with the (increasingly frustrating) job of getting the cockpit cushions sewn. In the end it turned out that we were working with a sewing machine that was in need of a serious tune-up – so Jenn’s infinite patience and Trevor’s help in eventually out-sourcing the work was very much appreciated.
Rebecca and Jared for helping me out with the grocery shopping trip to end all shopping trips at Moore Wilsons to stock Wildflower up for the journey.
Paddy’s Dad David for looking after my fur-child Ollie while we’re gone. It makes me feel so much better knowing he will be living in a place that he knows, where he will be looked after and fussed over rather than being shoved in a cattery.
My Mum and Dad, for supporting me through all the lunacy. Mum for staying strong and supportive even though I know this trip worries her and she will find it hard to let us go (we will be fine though!) and Dad for going back to school to get his amateur radio licence so he can talk to us out at sea. Oh, and one more for Mum for letting Dad put a dirty great pole in the middle of her garden to aid in said communication!
(there is a blog – and photos – on this to come!)
In the wonderful tradies category I want to include our international boat building family (Gregor the Maltese welder and David the Chilean carpenter) for all their hard work making Wildflower safe and beautiful inside and out.
Grant Henderson who managed to tame our recalcitrant sewing machine and even made us a repair kit to take away with us, should it need further ‘persuasion’ (for the record, the machine is running beautifully now.)
Dave and Ian from Wellington Providoring who have also been a great help.
Finally I would like to thank Paddy for building a beautiful boat for us to go away in and for working so hard to make sure that it is safe. Also a huge thank you for being there for me when I became a crumbling wreck after I thought Ollie had run away. To be fair (even though he probably has better eyesight than me) an 80 year old man looking for a black cat that likes hiding in dark places was always going to be a big ask – but I wasn’t about to see sense. I think it was the final push that broke down the damn holding the stress, tiredness and nervousness in and I just needed to wail like a banshee for a bit. I’m fine now (and the cat came back) and feel heaps better for it, and Paddy didn’t run away screaming, which is always a good sign!
Hopefully we will be able to jump online some time before we head to the islands, but if not. I’ll write again when I’m lazing under a coconut tree drinking something with an umbrella in it 🙂
Just a quick entry because I am in the middle of house packing hell at the moment.
This one is for the nervous family members, nosey parkers and stalkers among you (you know who you are! 😉 )
The Island Cruising Association has set up a way for people to see where in the ocean we are as we travel.
This running fleet position reporting is done through a map on a website called Skipr.net, which will follow us as we progress on each leg of the trip. It’s free so friends and family can use it to have a perve at where we are, and it’s pretty easy to use.
* In the box that says “where is that boat?” type in Wildflower II (long story and the subject of another blog) and press ‘search’
* You’ll see a picture of us with a map next to it. There is an upsidedown teardrop on the map that shows where we are (at the moment it says Chaffers Marina Wellington)
It’s pretty basic at the moment but we will add more information and pretty pictures when we have a bit more time.
A few of you lovelies will be meeting us on various islands to dodge the winter for a bit – and no doubt we will be missing you all by then. For others interested in hanging out in pretty places with us for a while, here’s our itinerary – there are lots of cheap flights to the Pacific on at the moment and we would love to see you xx
Yesterday I learned that you cannot leave this country in a boat unless you have 12 new hacksaw blades and four buckets on board. This is just a small sample of the demented shopping list we need to check off to get Wildflower up to category one standard so we can legally go offshore.
One or two hacksaw blades I can understand, but 12! What on earth for? Are we going to need to break out of prison? Is there an island I don’t know about that barters in hand tools? Are we going to be boarded and demanded to produce the requisite number of hacksaw blades?
The buckets make a little more sense – they can be used for bailers or collecting sea water and make excellent receptacles for queasy passengers (which I can sadly vouch for from personal experience…) But even if you are sailing single-handedly, you still have to have four of the things – offerings for a passing lolrus perhaps?
Along with the hacksaws and buckets, category 1 also involves spending thousands of dollars on equipment we don’t ever want to use. Flares, lifeboats, fire extinguishers and flashy beepy locatory things all have expiry dates on them – so you buy them and (all going well) don’t use them, only to have to chuck them out and buy new ones that you don’t want to have to use – a little perverse really.
Also, it turns out that New Zealand is the only country in the world where you have to meet a required standard before you can leave on a boat – and, while I would like to think this is because we are a particularly safety conscious nation, it probably has more to do with the fact that New Zealand covers the largest search and rescue area in pretty much anywhere. If people get in trouble in their patch then a lot of money is spent getting them back – and it’s a pretty big patch!
Our search and rescue patch
So mother, you can rest assured. I will be leaving New Zealand in a ridiculously safe boat!
On a different note – a couple of people have asked me if the quake in Christchurch has put me off going on the trip, and I have to admit there were a couple of moments (and I recognise them for what they were) when I didn’t want to leave because I was afraid something else might happen while I was gone. But I know that is something that, even with all the willpower in the world, I have absolutely no control over.
What I do have control over (and what everyone does) is my fear. And a perfect example of that is Christchurch. Watching life doing its damnedest to go on when I was down there at the weekend was truly awe-inspiring.
You can’t live a life of what-ifs, because you never know when a boulder is going to roll into your living room and sell on TradeMe for $60,000. If the quake has taught me one thing it’s not to put off what’s important. Do the things you have always wanted to do, tell the people you love that you love them, don’t hold anything back because you never know what’s around the corner. If the people of ChCh have the strength to pick up their lives and keep going, then I sure as hell can run away to sea with the pirate I love and have a life-changing experience.
I’m a Cantabrian born and bred, and every day we are seeing how tough that lot are!
Being about as practical as a rollerskate on a walrus, it will come as no surprise to many of you that mastering Paddy’s industrial sewing machine has proved a bit of a challenge for me.
That machine has an amazing ability to turn me into a swearing, sobbing, fabric munching, bobbin snagging monster. I don’t like it when i can’t do something and when something as simple as sewing a straight line flummoxes me, I become a very angry, frustrated little person.
But last weekend, I actually managed to complete something useful
Paddy quietly worked on his generator while I cursed and spat at the machine in an attempt to make drawstring bags to secure various bits and bobs onto the boat. It didn’t help that I’d left Paddy’s canvass-sewing-for-dummies book at home and that every ‘how to make a drawstring bag’ page on the internet started with “this is a great project for a child learning to sew” – and hardly any of them had pictures!
Now I like to think I am a reasonably smart person, but when it comes to reading technical stuff – I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed. So when something that was supposedly so simple that a child could pick it up just wouldn’t compute at all, I started getting pretty shitty with myself. In the end Paddy took pity on me and helped me make the first one (admittedly after a fair bit of “I should be able to do this myself dammit!” protesting from me) and once I actually saw one physically done, it made much more sense to me, and the rest were much easier.
One of the cool things about canvas is that instead of cutting it, you melt it – which means you get to burn along the edges with a hot-knife (kind of like one of those poker machines you use to make pretty designs on money boxes in woodwork at school.)
Burn baby burn!
Industrial sewing machines are quite grunty too – because they have to sew things like sails – so it was a wee while before I managed to master the art of the straight line…
Look! A straight line!
…and was pretty proud of myself when I did!
Okay, so they are only small – but they are something useful, and I made them myself!
The next step is a little more complicated and I will be enlisting the help of a lovely friend of mine Jenn, who knows a little more about this sewing lark than I. We are going to get stuck into the cockpit cushion covers, which should be a challenge!
Unfortunately, after celebrating my success with the drawstring bags, I got a little cocky and tried to sew together a couple of lee cloths (basically a bit of netting that stops you rolling out bed when the boat gets a bit wobbly) but unfortunately and this point the sewing machine decided it didn’t want to play anymore and stubbornly refused to sew.
No matter what I tried it didn’t work and Dr Paddy ended up having to take a look under the bonnet.
Paddy operates on my nemesisChecking under the bonnet
When this didn’t work we both decided it was probably time to put the machine away before one of us threw it at something. When it still wasn’t working days later, Paddy was muttering about taking it back to the guy he brought it from and I was convinced I was jinxed and had destroyed the thing.
But on a flight to Auckland Paddy had a Eureka moment. He was reading the instruction manual on the plane (as you do…) and discovered that sometimes when sewing particularly thick material the machine’s timing can go a bit skewiff. The actual answer is much more technical but went in one ear and out the other – so I will leave it to Paddy to explain in the comments for anyone who is interested.
So I haven’t killed the machine, its sewing again and the big stuff is yet to come – will keep you posted.
Over the past lord only knows how many nights, Paddy has been lurking in his shed pasting fibreglass into moulds and inhaling all manner of chemicals.
This has all been in the name of plastic surgery for Wildflower – eyebrows to be precise.
Like eyebrows for people – which are designed to keep sweat out of our eyes – eyebrows for boats are designed to keep water (rain, sea spray) out of open windows.
Monobrow!
This weekend we got the chance to complete Wildflower’s facelift and since so much work went into these things I feel the event should be documented.
Paddy with two of his creations
Paddy was so persnikety about his work that we even ended up with a spare – one perfectly fine specimen hit the cutting room floor just because it had a couple of tiny green splodges.
The successful candidates
Like plastic surgery, you have to mark where the work will be done…
EyelinerEmo Wildflower
And then there’s the heavy-duty eyebrow trimming
Slightly more hardcore than tweezers
And finally the application.
Perfectly sculpted eyebrows
Don't hate me because I'm beautiful
The bandages will come off tomorrow and an extra layer of sealant put around the edges and she’ll be good to go.
It was a labour of love for Paddy but he did an awesome job. The amount of work he’s done to make Wildflower what she is is phenomenal. I’m really proud of him – and his beautiful boat.
It’s 2011 and it’s official – we are running away to sea in a matter of months.
I am excited, exhilarated and scared out of my mind.
Sorry Mother but this is not a window to try to talk me out of this! 😉 It’s a stock-take of my own capabilities – where I am now and where I need to be in a few months time when Paddy, Wildflower and I take on the briny deep.
This is really happening. I am stopping work, putting my life into storage and disappearing for eight months. It’s one of the biggest, maddest things I have ever done. I’m not going to lie to you, it’s scary – but scary in the most thrilling way!
We spent a fabulous week over New Year’s sailing around the Marlborough Sounds, which gave me the chance to hone my practical skills and work out where my head was at.
But I was faced with my first limitation before we even left the marina. I discovered that – despite having done two sailing courses – nobody had actually taught me how to throw a sodding rope. Unfortunately trying to tie a boat up alongside a fuelling dock (in full view of people on the waterfront having coffee in the sun) is not the best time to realize this! Luckily, after a few abortive attempts and a lot of ineffectual arm flailing, a kindly chap managed to catch the end of the rope and help pull us in.
This humiliation necessitated some remedial rope- throwing lessons once we got to the Sounds, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn’t actually that difficult once I knew the technique (it’s all in the way you coil the rope before you throw it.) Being slightly ambidextrous also made things a bit tricky – but that’s the subject of an entirely different blog!
The Sounds were gorgeous – we chilled out in our favourite spot in Erie Bay where I did a lot of reading, writing, snorkeling (and maybe a teensy bit of wine drinking…) and then headed to one of Paddy’s favourite haunts, Flipper Bay – near Picton.
Chilling out at Erie BayFlipper Bay bound
On the way to Flipper Bay we did a bit of sailing and I got to practise my boathandling. Unfortunately – because of either crap weather or a depressing lack of wind (yes I am aware of the irony of the latter, living in Wellington) – most of the travelling I have done on Wildflower has been under motor. So I have actually had more experience on the little boats I learned in at the Port Nick Yacht Club than I have on the boat I spend half my time living on.
This meant I over-steered, under-steered and sailed us round in circles – which would have been fine if there weren’t so many other boats about! At that point I was getting so flustered that I would go into a blind panic every time another boat approached, despite the fact that I knew all the give way rules and exactly what I should do.
This was around the time that wretched little beast Self Doubt reared its ugly head. “How the hell am I supposed to take this thing around the Pacific when I can’t even get it to go in a straight line?!” The funny thing (and a credit to Paddy’s patience) was that the more I breathed through the frustration and just did it, the easier it became and the more I watched the other boats in the water and worked out where they were going, the less frightened of them I was. By the time we were heading home even the ferries weren’t phasing me.
Flipper Bay is a lovely spot. It’s sheltered, the water is relatively warm and it is surrounded by regenerated native bush. This means you wake up in the morning to a gorgeous chorus of native birds. There are also quite a few jellyfish (not the stingy kind!) about and they are fascinating to watch propelling themselves through the water.
Neighbours at Flipper BayNative bush at Flipper BayPaddy looking for mussels on the beach What became of said mussels
Flipper Bay also has tame ducks. These crafty little devils have worked out that if they tap on the side of visiting boats in the mornings for long enough someone will eventually come out and feed them. Paddy once witnessed a mother duck teaching her babies exactly how to do this. We ran into a mother and brood while we were there but I don’t think she was the sharpest tool in the shed because while we were standing on the beach throwing out food for them she decided to swim the troops over to the boat that we were no longer aboard and tap in vain instead.
Mama duck and broodBut you're going the wrong way!Mama duck's failed attempt to tap food out of Wildflower
We left Flipper Bay for Wellington when we had what looked like a good weather window and we had a gorgeous sail for a good part of the trip. We had a 25 knot northerly pushing us exactly where we wanted to go.
Waiting at the entrance of Tory Channel
Then we reached the south coast of Wellington – and things got a little exciting.
We probably should have reefed the sails in sooner, but we were having such a great trip. Unfortunately this meant we had quite a bit of sail up when we got walloped by the 45knot winds (gusting 50k Paddy says). When the boat started tipping so far on its side I thought we’d be able to converse with passing fish Paddy suggested we should perhaps pull in the sail. I agreed (in a very small voice while clinging to the safety rail with every muscle in my arms.)
A note for the worriers: The boat cannot tip over. It is physically impossible. Because of all the weight in the keel it will only lean so far sideways before righting itself again. Paddy has actually experimented with Wildflower to see how far she will lean (NOT with me aboard I might add!) Secondly, we are attached to the boat at all times by safety harnesses that we can move up and down the boat with.
I handled it fine for the most part (with a few terrified noises and the odd expletive) but there were a couple of gusts that had me praying under my breath. At one point we had a postage stamp sized scrap of sail up but were doing 9 knots (which is apparently faster than the boat is actually supposed to be capable of going) which I think was pretty impressive! In the end though it was nothing the boat couldn’t handle, and that’s what helped me through it. When I saw Paddy calmly steering the boat in the direction we needed to go it really helped.
It was actually really good for me to see that the boat can cope with those conditions easily. The only casualties were the wind indicator at the top of the mast (Paddy says we needed a new one anyway…) and a few books that came out of the bookshelf. Wildflower and skipper did brilliantly and it gave me even more confidence in both.
Besides, apparently it would be very unusual to come across conditions like that in the Pacific (touch wood). They do say if you can learn to sail in Wellington you can sail anywhere!
The northerly stuck around so we had a bit of a sloppy trudge into the harbour using the motor, but at that stage I was so pleased that we weren’t diagonal anymore that it didn’t faze me at all.
So in short (with a few hiccups along the way) this trip has given me more confidence in the boat, the captain and myself. I intend to get out on the water as much as I can before we go – and to keep learning.
For those of you who don’t know – my Dad was a navigator in the Air Force.
For those of you who know me well, this fact is hilarious – because I couldn’t navigate my way out of a paper bag with the aid of a GPS.
I’m one of those people that need to drive to a destination at least twice (under the supervision of someone who is not directionally challenged) and preferably walk past it a couple of times to make sure, before admitting I know how to get there. And even then I prefer to have a map just in case.
My abysmal sense of direction is somewhat legendary – I’ve gotten lost in teeny tiny one street towns, shopping malls and even some of my friends’ houses. In short, I didn’t inherit the navigation gene.
So you can probably hazard a guess at how last night’s navigation lessons went.
To be fair, the tutor made an heroic effort to get the information through, and in the first hour some of it actually managed to sink in.
Unfortunately the course pretty much starts straight after work and after a while my brain begins to tire and start wandering. By the time he got to the variation between true and magnetic North, it had wandered out the window and was watching the birdies hop around the car park.
They don’t exactly make it easy though. Latitude and Longitude I could handle, but then they took all these perfectly adequate measurement terms and made them mean something else entirely.
So there are 60 minutes in a degree – but minutes in navigation are entirely different to minutes in the real world. Then there is the nautical mile – which just has to be different from your garden variety mile doesn’t it? And don’t even get me started on the two different Norths!
Paddy tells me that navigation was deliberately made difficult to stop the rank and file from mutinying and taking over the ship – and I can see why it worked!
I must have looked like I was struggling because the tutor crouched down next to my desk after the session and asked if I was okay with it all. I told him I’d try to work out what I could on my own and then probably come hollaring for help.
I’m sure it will be fine with practice, I just have to get my head to work in a gear that I’m not used to. I feel like I’m back at high school failing miserably to grasp what my maths teacher was trying to tell me. But this time I won’t give up and start writing notes to my classmates or listing David Bowie’s top 10 albums. I’m going to keep trying until I get it.
I know how important it is. It’s rather daunting knowing the a decimal point could be the difference between sailing through clear waters or making friends with a rock, but its also a lot of incentive!
I guess I just find it hard because I don’t like feeling like I can’t do something and it’s been a long time since I have felt that way. I steered my career towards writing because I can do that easily and I guess I’ve subconsciously stayed away from the stuff that makes my brain hurt.
I think I can harness that though – if I don’t like not being able to do something then I guess I just bloody well have to learn how to do it – even if it does take me a little longer to catch on than the rest of the class.
So if you see me thumping a protractor or cursing at a compass, don’t worry – it’s just the learning process!
A boat out of water is a sad sight – all awkward and exposed. But it’s a necessary evil to ensure everything is in good shape below the water.
Fish out of water
Living on a boat out of water can be a little unnerving as well – particularly when it’s windy. Being several feet up in the air and swaying from side to side when you are nowhere near the ocean just feels wrong, as does climbing down a ladder to go to work in the morning!
Our longest stint out of the water was a few months ago while Wildflower’s decks were being repainted. We became temporary residents of the Evans Bay yacht club, and for several weeks the sounds of lapping water and ducks were replaced by passing traffic and power tools as people worked on their boats.
Paddy and I had a great time at the yacht club, with the locals embracing us as one of their own – but spending so much time so close to the bar probably didn’t do our livers any good (these guys drink rum and coke by the jug!)
Again, boat life forced me to sort out my coordination issues as I mastered the art of clambering up and down a ladder with any combination of handbag, gym gear and laptop.
Don't look dooown...
Paddy once had the frightening experience of being up out of the water during an earthquake – an experience he says he would rather not repeat! I had my own brush with an out-of-water natural disaster – it turned out to be a false alarm, but it was still pretty exciting.
While we were parked up at Evans Bay, on the day I was due to sit the theory part of my practical boating course, Paddy and I were woken up by a banging on the side of the boat. It was the club manager telling us to clear out because a tsunami was due to hit in 25 minutes. In autopilot I threw some clothes on, grabbed Bilgey the (stuffed toy) ship’s cat and jumped into the car. We headed up Mt Victoria (and discovered half of Wellington had had the same idea) and waited…and waited…. and nothing happened, not even a little splash. Which was a good thing of course, but I did end up missing my test (everyone else had ignored the tsunami warning and turned up anyway.) Luckily I was able to sit it in an empty office. I managed to pass but I did make a couple of really stupid mistakes that I blame squarely on my brain being frazzled by the early morning excitement!
While it was fun being honorary members at Evans Bay, it was an enormous relief to be back in the water. I swear I heard Wildflower sigh with pleasure when she was finally lowered back in. The process of getting her back in the water was quite fascinating, involving what appeared (to me at least) to be a giant mutant tractor. It was quite a process and I have included some pics below for those who are interested.
Taking the boat for a walkGiant mutant tractorAnd I thought reversing the car was scary!Bombs away!He made it look easy!Bye bye Evans Bay
PS – please don’t tell Wildflower I put photos of her bottom on the internet – I kinda want to stay on her good side!
