Opua: sailed to Paradise (Bay)

        I sailed off the mooring under mainsail at 1130 on Wednesday with an ebbing tide and light wind from the southwest. 

        The Torqeedo was in place on the outboard bracket, but tilted out of the water.  I thought that if the wind died completely, I would use it to reach an anchorage, but didn’t need to.  The dinghy was deflated and stowed in the aft end of the cockpit.  As it happened, I didn’t need it either.

        Spinning GANNET in a half circle, I unfurled the jib and she began gurgling along at three knots.  I hand steered past the ferry crossing, then engaged the new Raymarine.  I have yet to complete the wiring of the test tiller pilot. 

        It was very pleasant, if not exciting.  Light wind, sunny day, temperature in the 70sF/low 20sC.  I wanted pleasant, not exciting.

        After an hour, when GANNET was off Russell, a sea breeze reached us from the northeast and we went from a broad reach to close hauled.  A better wind angle in light air and the little sloop began to make five and six knots, matching the wind speed.  We also began passing other, bigger boats who weren’t.

        The glorious weather all week, combined with long New Zealand Easter holidays, made for an unusual number of boats on the water and anchorages more crowded than usual.  Most of the boats, even those with masts, were under power.

        Looking at the Yellowbrick track now I see that one hour intervals are too long for a daysail.  We sailed almost to Moturoa Island before tacking to the east and Te Rawhiti Inlet.  And then as the wind in the inlet veered, slow tacked up it in smooth water, passing the Lagoon at Roberton Island which was too crowded, and two bigger boats that to their credit were trying to sail.  GANNET is a jewel.

        I knew there would be room at Paradise Bay on Urupukapuka Island, which can probably hold a hundred boats and where I always anchor much farther out than anyone else.  And there was.  Only three boats, all anchored right off the small beach.

        My desire to have everything ready in advance in this case caused me to make an error in judgement and furl the jib a half mile from where I wanted to anchor.  Once I had done that I placed the anchor rode bag and the anchor at the bow and couldn’t easily unfurl the jib again without moving them.  It took me a half hour, tacking slowly under mainsail alone in ever weakening wind to cover that last half mile and go forward and let go the Spade anchor in 20’/6 meters of water.  

        All but 20’ of GANNET’s rode is line.  All chain is better, but she can’t carry the weight.  So I need to veer more scope and she needs more room in which to swing.  In that light wind, I snubbed the rode first at 60’/18 meters to set the anchor, then slowly let out another 60’ and cleated it.  GANNET being light and low profile is easy on anchors.  There didn’t seem any chance of more wind that night; and if there was, it would wake me and I could let out more rode.

        Paradise Bay is protected from the east; but the reason I like being there is the open view to the west in late afternoon and evening.  Ashore there is only a small beach surrounded by impenetrable bush.  The bush has been cleared above another cove just to the north and you can land there and walk up to the crest.  I never have.  Perhaps I should.

        The anchor went down at 1600 hours.  Five hours to sail a route of thirteen miles, though tacking we had sailed farther. 

        I poured myself an iceless gin and tonic, sat on deck, listened to music, and watched the sunset behind islands and later the moon rise over Urupukapuka.

        The anchor came up clean Thursday morning with just a few pieces of weed wrapped around the line.  There was a little more wind than the day before, but it was easy to pull GANNET hand over hand up to the anchor and no strain on my left shoulder.  With lots of room around me, I gybed the mainsail, engaged the tiller pilot, returned the rode to its deployment bag and lowered both bag and anchor through the forward hatch onto one of the failed plastic curtains I had made for around the companionway.  At least I had found some use for them in keeping the v-berth clean.

        I didn’t have a plan or a destination.

        I let the tiller pilot steer as we headed north between islands.  Once we emerged from Urupukapuka’s lee, the wind increased by a knot or two, perhaps to as much as seven knots; and I let GANNET continue north at six and seven knots on a beam reach until we were almost to Cape Wiwiki.  

        There were wavelets in the open bay.  GANNET even took some spray over the bow from one or two.

        I gybed farther north than the Yellowbrick track shows and turned us southwest, thinking I might check out Roberton again, or maybe anchor off Russell.

        We were on a broad reach.  Conditions were perfect for the asymmetrical, but I wasn’t that ambitious and just sat on deck in my Sportaseat and enjoyed the sunshine and the sail.

        In the middle of the bay we passed a small open aluminum power boat that New Zealanders call ‘tinnies’ with a man about my age fishing.  I had the depthsounder on and was impressed that he was anchored in 115’/35 meters of water. 

        We were within easy speaking distance.

        He called over to ask what my boat is.

        I told him.

        He said, “Pretty boat.”

        A little further on we almost ran down some gannets.  I didn’t see them behind the jib until they took flight when we were within a few feet.  Perhaps they thought big sister was coming to join them.  By the time I ducked below and grabbed a camera they were distant.

        I thought about turning for Roberton, but I didn’t do anything.  I thought about anchoring at Russell and rowing ashore for an ice cream cone, but I didn’t do anything except trim the sails as the wind deflected off the hills.

        I did decide that I really should use the Torqeedo as we neared Opua, so I lowered it into the water and attached the tiller handle, lowered and furled the mainsail, furled the jib just north of the ferry crossing and powered back to our mooring, which I picked up at 1430.

        I saw another gannet high in the air near Russell.

        I learned that neither of my Torqeedo batteries will any longer take a full change.  One stops at 89%.  One 81%.  They are supposed to have a five year life.  One is four years old.  One three.  I never use more than about 10% anyway.

        I look up often at the masthead tell tail.  It is good to know that the new one is telling me the truth.

        My shoulder held up well except for one painful jolt it took when the mainsail collapsed and filled on a power boat wake.

        I had a good time.

Opua: Torqeedoed; gennakered; words; gone

        That GANNET is almost an engineless boat is shown by my only this afternoon dragging the Torqeedo and the outboard bracket from beneath the cockpit and mounting them on the stern to see if the engine works.  It did.  Instantly.  Good Torqeedo.  

        The battery was at 46%.  I don’t recall if I charged it after last use last year.  I probably didn’t.  I brought the battery back inside and am doing so now.

———

        While ashore this morning I made the deposit on a 35 square meter/377 square feet North Sails G1 gennaker.  Although a G1 is a close and beam reaching sail and therefore cut flatter, this will be 5 square meters/54 square feet bigger than my present reaching/running gennaker, and might serve well enough broad reaching to enable GANNET to remain a three sail boat.

        I doubt the sail will be completed before I fly back to Evanston on May 19.  All the more to look forward to when I return later in the year.

———

        Some have observed that GANNET’s boom is tilted up while she is in port, rather than parallel to the deck as on most boats.  I agree that parallel looks better.  GANNET’s boom is tilted so I can duck under it.

        Last evening I noticed that moving from side to side was to move to two completely different skies.   

        The photo above and this one were taken seconds apart.

        And here is what was in the middle.

        This was taken earlier in The Great Cabin. 

        You can see the Yellowbrick’s new home.  The compass control box for the trial tiller pilot in the upper right.  The new orange JetBoil beside which dinner of Backpacker Pantry Santa Fe Chicken and Rice is steeping.

———

        Some words and phrases have always charmed me.  Among them is ‘gibbous moon’.  I looked up at one last night.

        Some words do not charm me.  As long time readers know, I find ‘blog’ ugly.  Also ‘selfie’.  The full name of this site is:  self-portrait in the present sea.  ‘Selfie in the present sea’ isn’t quite the same.

———

       

        In Lisbon, Portugal, Luis and friends worked hard on SCALLY, his new-to-him Morgan 31, removing wiring, unsticking a stuck jib furling gear, and preparing to unstep the mast.

        Work as joy.

------

        San Diego has come to Opua.  And I don’t just mean me.  Opua’s weather is San Diego-like.  Sunny.  Even slightly warmer than San Diego this week.  And light wind.

        I plan to sail somewhere tomorrow and anchor.  I doubt there will be enough wind to make it around to Whangamumu, so probably I’ll go to the Lagoon at Roberton Island or Paradise Bay at Urupukapuka.

       I’ll be away two or three days.

Opua: worked

        Not very hard, but some.

        I replaced three of the cockpit sheet bags, one was torn, the other two are now a size bigger.  

        I’ve moved the Yellowbrick mount from the stern pulpit to the partial companionway bulkhead inside The Great Cabin.  

        During the passage from Neiafu, when because of a battery charging problem I kept the unit in the cabin to send up manual positions, I found It convenient to be able to check battery status and tracking history.  It is also much easier to turn bluetooth on and off to email Carol.  Going back to the stern was sometimes an ordeal underway, and seeing the display in bright sunlight difficult.  Also the unit will stay drier in the cabin, though on GANNET of course not completely dry.

        I’ve placed it just to one side of the companionway so it doesn’t interfere with my standing there, yet still has a view of the sky.  I’ve had it operating since yesterday.  Here on an even keel at the mooring it has no problem sending positions.  I do not know if it will have difficulty when GANNET is heeled over and/or I am standing in the companionway when it is trying to transmit a position at sea.

        I have also almost completed the installation of the tiller pilot I am testing for Brian Boschma.  Two small boxes, one the motor control unit, the other the compass/control unit, are in place.  The compass/control on the port side of the companionway bulkhead, the motor control on the partial bulkhead below the cockpit.  And the deck plug into which the above deck drive arm connects is positioned.  All that is left is to connect the wires and properly seal the deck plug.  I may get to that tomorrow. 

        I also did a load of laundry today and managed somehow to lose a hat.  I have others.

———

        In Sydney, Richard anti-fouled his DUYFKEN, which Google tells me means ‘little dove’ and was the name of a Dutch ship used on an early voyage of  Australian exploration.

        From the photo he sent, DUYFKEN’s topsides are as immaculate as her newly anti-fouled bottom.

        In England, Ian had his first sail of the year, helping deliver a friend’s boat from Brighton to Falmouth.  They found joy pushing hard through the night to get in to beat the weather.  And did.

———

        I haven’t checked our weather forecast, but hope to go sailing to a nearby anchorage or two later this week.

        I’ll have the Yellowbrick on sending up positions at one hour intervals while I’m underway. 

        The tracking page is:  http://my.yb.tl/gannet

        You can go there now and see GANNET dancing around her mooring. 

Opua: walked

        I have a distraught app.  

        After awarding me the Suez Canal badge for walking 120 miles—I transited Suez in CHIDIOCK TICHBORNE II but never expected to walk it—the app became despondent at the limited number of steps I have taken since returning to GANNET and started sending me frowning faces and encouragement to do better.  

        When I stayed aboard GANNET one day last week working on the boat and didn’t even put the phone in my pocket, thus registering 0 steps for the day, the app when into cyber-shock and deep despair.

        For lunch that day I grabbed a protein bar I later realized I bought last June in Honolulu.

        Needing supplies beyond the limits of the Opua General Store, I taxied to Pahia yesterday.  Next time I go I will either sail or walk, but didn’t want to take the time yesterday.  

        New Zealand’s Prime Minister was in town, trying to influence the outcome of an election that is not going his party’s way, accompanied by a lot of police.

        I did walk around Pahia enough to take more than 5,000 steps, partially appeasing the app, and took these photos with my iPhone.

        Last evening was perfect on GANNET’s deck.  Assisted by an air temperature gin and tonic and lime—all of which were among the previously lacking supplies.

        Today when I went ashore I walked up the Opua hill.  Unexpectedly flatland walking prepared me for the hill, which I chugged up at speed and with ease.  1100 steps from top to bottom, each at a steep incline.

        My app would worry less if it counted the strokes I row as steps.

———

        THE NEW YORK TIMES ran a piece this morning about the new Whitney Museum and included images of some of its collection, including this by Dan Schulz.

        I include it because of the title:  Building the Boat While Sailing.

        I have no other comment.

———

        Scott in San Francisco sailed his First 32 both days last weekend:  on Saturday with his wife and son; on Sunday solo.  

       Joy shared and doubled.

Opua: more joy; first passage; orange; name

        Reports keep coming in:

        Here in New Zealand, Zane’s joy-in was a ‘mast-in’:  final stepping of the unstayed carbon fiber mast on his junk-rigged OCEAN PARTIZAN.

        In England Chris, who recently sold his boat, did a hill climb in a 1930’s Model A Ford.

        Above California’s Morro Bay, Lynn, a delivery captain, looked out to sea.

        In eastern Canada where water is still solid not liquid, Matt, helped drive a freight train—not his usual job.

        In England Bill cooked and with Roger sailed and powered in the Bristol Channel.

        In Australia Pat, whose boat is on the hard preparatory for anti-fouling, and Randall made a wonderful bird feeder.  I hope the birds appreciate the design and craftsmanship.  And Pat still found time to drive 240 kilometers/150 miles to sail on the 30.5 meter/100’ SOUTH PASSAGE training ship.

———

        I have written here before about Dan who I met in San Diego’s Quivira Basin after he bought COYOTE, a Medalist 32.  Dan is an Australian former submariner.  He and Ashley sailed south to Mexico late last year and have just left on their first ocean passage, heading for the Marquesas Islands, a distance of about 3,000 nautical miles.

        I’ll be following their progress on their Yellowbrick tracking page.

        I wish them a fine and uneventful sail.

        Beautiful islands are ahead.

———

        The threads stripped on my JetBoil stove.  At first I thought it was the threads on the gas canister, but when I couldn’t connect a second canister, the source of the problem was certain.

        Even on GANNET I try to have back-ups and have a tiny burner by a company named MSR.  It screws directly onto the gas canister and heats water quickly.  In port when GANNET is steady, no problem.  However, it would require close attention at sea.

        I googled and found JetBoil stoves available here in NZ and placed an order on the Internet.  I received a response that black is not in stock, only red and camouflage.  I chose red.  It arrived today and is really tomato orange.  So garish I almost like it.

———

        I like the name GANNET.  But if I had not spent time in Opua in the past, the little Moore would have another name.  Lamentably there are no gannets here now.  I believe I have already paraphrased Villon, ‘Where are the gannets of yesteryear?’

        Based on today’s residents, I would be sailing TERN or SEA GULL or SHAG.  

        I miss gannets.

Opua: worked

        Intermittent misty rain the past two days kept me from working on deck, although I did get the deck scrubbed.  It was dirtier than I expected considering there is no industry within fifty miles and few roads near the marina.  Perhaps power boat exhausts.  Which reminds me:  when I returned to THE HAWKE OF TUONELA, one of the first things I did was check to see if the diesel would start.  I have yet to touch GANNET’s Torqeedo.  

        Today was sunny and fine.

        A rigger came as per appointment to replace the masthead Windex which has been sticking and lying to me for too long.  When it did on Sunday I had had enough and went to Northland Rigging Monday morning.

        After he left, I installed the new pedestal mount for the tiller pilot and then replaced two solar panels. Sounds simple, but it took most of the afternoon.

        The pedestal mount only required drilling three holes and tightening three bolts.  But first I had to remove two duffle bags of clothes, a plastic bag of food and a jerry can of water from the starboard pipe berth.

        Then I found that I couldn’t remove the old pedestal mount fitting which is held by a bolt through the deck.  Usually when faced with this kind of a problem I can attach a vise grip to the nut in a way that it comes against an obstruction and holds, then go on deck and unscrew the bolt.  In this case there was nothing to prevent the vise grip from turning; so I left the old fitting which was flush with the deck in place and bolted the new above deck base over it.

        One of the dead solar panels was located in the same area.  I removed it; but when I positioned the new panel, which has the same model number, I discovered that Aurinco has reduced its size by an inch/2.5 cm, so I had to drill new holes for the screws.

        I also replaced the long narrow panel on the port side of the deck forward of the mast.

        A third panel to starboard of the mast that I thought was failing tested at full voltage, so I didn’t replace it and have a spare which I stowed beneath the v-berth cushions.

        All this involved considerable twisting, bending, slithering, lifting, stretching.  My shoulder imposed some limitations and is presently complaining.  Slithering on the pipe berth is unexpectedly difficult with a torn rotator cuff.  

        However, I got everything done that needed to be done in time to watch the start of the Wednesday evening race with a plastic of fine New Zealand sauvignon blanc while standing in the companionway.

        8:26 and dark.  The photo was taken just before I started to write this, twenty minutes ago.

------

        Gerry, a Canadian sailor whose world is frozen, skied.

        Jim went racing on an Arizona lake on an Evelyn 26.

        Sam and his brother hiked in the Grand Canyon.
        Scott sailed his Sea Pearl 21 from Florida's Fort Desoto to Egmont Key and back.
        In England Martin found joy by solving a long overdue bow thruster problem and celebrated with a dinner of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.

        

Opua: sailed

        A glorious day.  Sunny and warm.  In the 70sF/low 20sC.

        I dropped the mooring at 10:00 a.m. in calm conditions and rode the tide north at 1 knot for a half hour before any wind came up.  GANNET went from 1 to 5 faster than I can write the words.  We stayed mostly between 5 and 6 knots, but, still being helped by the tide, did see some 6s and 7s in not more than 5 knots of wind.  

        I let the replacement Raymarine tiller pilot steer some, but I mostly steered myself.  No problem steering with my left arm.  I even hand held the jib sheet with a single wrap around the winch for a while in my left hand.  

        I turned around near a cruise ship anchored north of Russell.  

        On the way back the wind dropped and it took me an hour to cover the last half mile.  I passed a moored sailboat three times both forward and reverse, forward with wind, back by tide.  I thought about digging out the Torqeedo, but didn’t, and finally a slight breeze carried us to the mooring which I picked up under mainsail alone.

        My shoulder aches, but not much more than usual.  

        Steve sailed SPARTINA on the Pasquotank River.

        Ken sailed on the Swan River in Perth, Australia.

        Tom sailed on Tokyo Bay.
        Shelton sailed on a lake in Georgia.
        Rik sailed off Aruba.

        I expect that Bill and Roger will sail in the Bristol Channel.

        A tennis player did play.

        A runner and music lover ran and listened to Bach whose 330rd birthday it was.

        And sailing friends near Chicago where marinas don’t open until May 1 enjoyed martinis.

        I trust more joy will be found before the weekend is over.

        After I post this, I’m moving on deck to listen to music and sip Laphroaig.

        Beethoven’s ‘Ode to Joy’ would seem appropriate, but is too boisterous.  I’ll find something more serene.

        Contrast the above with the last photo I took this month.

Opua: a joy-in

        On different sides of the world, Steve Earley, who had a hip replaced in January, hopes to go for his first sail of the year on SPARTINA this weekend at about the same time I will sail GANNET for the first time this year.  Saturday for him; Sunday for me.  Perhaps thousands of more miles distant Bill and Roger will sail CALSTAR on the Bristol Channel.

        I invite you wherever you are to join us doing whatever you love to do this weekend.

        If you have a boat on water which can be sailed,  sail.  Unfortunately that excludes my Chicago neighbors and Eric in Montreal and many others.

        If you are a runner, run.  A walker, walk.  A lover, love.  A musician, play.  A lover of music, listen.  A reader, read.  A tennis player, play.  A horseman or woman, ride.  A cook, cook.  A star gazer, gaze.  A gardener, garden.  A dreamer, dream.

        Whatever brings you joy enjoy it.

        And if you want email me about it, I’ll try to put it all together.

Opua: lost Eden

        The distance from the Kerikeri Airport to Opua is 15 miles/25 kilometers.  I know every bend in the road, and I’m filled with happiness as I near the Opua hill and see the harbor in front of me.

        Another sailor was about to leave the dinghy dock and kindly gave me a ride out to GANNET, so I didn’t have to row the marginal fiberglass dinghy I keep locked ashore.

        I found the little boat in excellent condition.  No water in the bilge, no mold, no spiders.  She smelled a bit musty and needs her deck scrubbed and hull polished.  Open hatches took care of the mustiness.  I’ll work on the deck and hull soon.

        One of the first things I do when I go aboard after being away is check the battery charge.  4.0 was not a number I expected.  Then I realized that the first and last numbers of the digital display on the SolarBoost 2000e solar regulator are no longer working.  4.0 is really showing charging at 14.0 something, which is normal.  

        It took me a couple of hours to stow the stuff I brought with me and get the cabin organized.  

        I got it all done in time to listen to music and have a glass—literally a glass because I brought two from Evanston—of duty free Laphroaig on deck accompanied by music in late afternoon.

        The music was Bach and Mark Knopfler.

        Mark Knopfler’s newest album, TRACKER, was released in the U.S. the day I flew.  I bought and downloaded it from iTunes while in the San Francisco Airport between flights.  I’ve listened to TRACKER a couple of times, like some of the songs, but none as much as several on PRIVATEERING.  Last evening ‘The Dream of the Drowned Submariner’, ‘Haul Away’, ‘Privateering’, ‘Redbud Tree’ and others drifted from GANNET.

        I got some sleep on the long flight across the Pacific and have had less jet lag than usual.  In fact I feel quite normal today.

        When I rowed ashore this morning, I went to the Customs Office to ask for an extension for GANNET to remain in New Zealand.  I did not know when I sailed in last year that New Zealand had changed regulations and now permits foreign yachts to remain two years instead of one and I only asked for one.  The pleasant woman in the Customs Office found that GANNET had been given two years anyway.  All problems should be so easily solved.

        Although there have been a few sprinkles of rain, the days have been mostly sunny and warm.  Shorts and t-shirt.  No socks.  Lovely.

        So far my shoulder is holding up, though sometimes painful.  Perhaps only other Moore 24 sailors can fully appreciate from what odd positions and angles you often have to lift and shove and brace yourself on the little boats.  Sometimes this hurts.  My shoulder presently aches, though not unendurably. 

        I’ve pulled and pushed various stowage bags around, hauled the Avon dinghy onto deck and inflated it, managed to get my heavy duffle bag on board, have filled and lifted a 5 gallon jerry can of water—lifted with my right arm, and rowed ashore several times.  I am pleased that I can row without even a twinge. 

        Just after lunch I bent on the furling jib.  GANNET might soon sail.

        Opua for me is a lost Eden, not one from which I’ve been banished, but one which I can only visit, not remain.

        It is wonderful to be back. 

        But you already knew that.

Evanston: after the storm; from others; gone

        I had an email late yesterday from Mike that GANNET has survived Pam unscathed.   Mike runs Yachtcare and I have paid him a modest sum to look in on GANNET from time to time in my absence.  His email was considerate and appreciated.

        GANNET is so light that she is easy on moorings.  A greater concern was that other boats might break free and smash into her.  Experience of the sea often makes sailors fatalistic, and I do not worry much about what I can’t control.

        This morning I received the above photo taken by a man named Rob, an acquaintance of a friend, as he rowed by GANNET after the storm.  I thank him.

        The little boat looks to be much as I left her.  I’m eager to be back on board and curious to find how much water made it down below.

        The harbor does not look as muddy as I would have expected from runoff after a major storm.

———

        From Jim comes this link to an amusing video of a song, “Six Months In a Leaky Boat” by the 80s New Zealand group, Split Enz.  I thank him.

        I wonder what made him think of me?

        Here are the lyrics:

When I was a young boy, I wanted to sail around the world

That's the life for me, living on the sea

Spirit of a sailor, circumnavigates the globe

The lust of a pioneer, will acknowledge no frontier

I remember you by, thunderclap in the sky

Lightning flash, tempers flare, 'round the horn if you dare

I just spent six months in a leaky boat

Lucky just to keep afloat

Aotearoa, rugged individual

Glisten like a pearl, at the bottom of the world

The tyranny of distance, didn't stop the cavalier

So why should it stop me? I'll conquer and stay free

Ah c'mon all you lads, let's forget and forgive

There's a world to explore, tales to tell back on shore

I just spent six months in a leaky boat

Six months in a leaky boat

Ship-wrecked love can be cruel, don't be fooled by her kind

There's a wind in my sails will protect and prevail

I just spent six months in a leaky boat

Nothing to it leaky boat

        Obviously I’m not a real sailor.  I don’t dance jigs, have a beard or wear a captain’s cap.  Or want to.

———

        From Eric in still frozen Montreal comes a poem for which I thank him.

Now you are alone and the ocean waits

When your eyes will study the sky far away

Alone with yourself and sinking into yourself

When the salty mist burns your skin and fills your lungs

And when you feel all your limbs numb

Time will stop and begin your destiny

You will leave like gannets plunge into the sea

You will see the pilot of the Pinta flying like an elf

And you’ll drink Laphroaig with Slocum on Spray

On the ocean veil sailing with your new mates

———

       I expect the next entry to be written on water.