ICE ON DECK!
July 13, 2007
by Michel & Jane DeRidder

The southern latitude winter has finally arrived. Not long after the shortest day, we had ice on deck one morning and didn't dare venture out until the sun had been out for an hour or more. (An unsuspecting Michel took a tumble last winter, slipping and falling on his haunch on a winch.) We were pleased that we'd had the good sense to leave the heater on for the night. Further south they had a corker of a cold snap - the air blasted up from Antarctic regions from an unheard-of 938 millibar low. Queenstown was at a standstill. Tourists who had come to enjoy the official opening of the ski season could not get over the fact that the supermarkets had run out of milk and bread, among other things, all because of a little ice and snow.

Boat baking.

Up here in Northland, the citrus fruit is being harvested, kiwi fruit and persimmons all but finished. Now tamarillos are coming on. It's a good life for us on the boat, but in their largely unheated, poorly insulated homes, it cannot be all that great for some people ashore. It is only recently that insulation has been insisted upon by the powers that be for new homes. Mind you, they are tough people hereabouts, some of the kids going to school on frosty days barefoot and wearing shorts. No wonder Kiwis tend to do well in sporting events. A bunch of tough blokes. As Michel says, "In Canada, climate is something that happens outside". We keep our heater on full time when the weather gets cold. True wimps, we are not in the league of Dashews and others, roaming among glaciers on purpose, nor hardy souls choosing challenging high latitude snow and ice infested cruising grounds as do so many of our more intrepid buddies in Arctic and Antarctic regions.

For cruisers with no means of heating their boat, hanging around 35 degrees South in the Bay of Islands, New Zealand, for too long can be a shock for those with tropics-thinned blood, although as soon as the sun rises, things warm up surprisingly quickly. Most of the yachts heading for the islands to escape the winter have left by now, taking off in flocks, riding the coat tails of each of the southerly blasts that alternate with northerly periods, yo-yo like. It makes for a chilly blustery start to the trip, but it can be a quick way to get to warmer temperatures. We hunker down in our cozy carapace when the going gets tough. Our heater usually has a stew or soup simmering, beans or lentils pressuring or a loaf of bread baking. I have a pressure cooker full of soup bones and veggies on the heater as I write, and a length of crisp baguette to go with it. Once again, we turned down the opportunity to house sit for friends while they flew off to the northern hemisphere summer. We prefer our cozy boat. The winter rain when it comes is a blessing for those of us who can collect it easily. We use the port side of the deck for boarding, a dam on the starboard side for collecting. There are many advantages to rain. Books waiting to be read, sweaters to wash. Meanwhile, I'm getting accustomed to wearing distance specs, my first in all these years other than hobby reading glasses which I have not needed for some time. I see the world in a new light. I'd not realized how much my sight had deteriorated. Seems it is the beginnings of cataracts, not yet ready for laser zapping. Their time will come.

Thrust bearing support.

On our list of things to be done there are always a variety of RD Jobs - Rainy Day Jobs - large and small. For instance, using tweezers and a vacuum, Michel operated on a reluctant mouse slowed down by a crust of dust. He once again serviced the bottom of the outboard metal gas tank, using first rust converter, followed by a bead of Sikaflex. Then more challenging, by juggling parts, he made two alternators from three, one burned out, another with worn bearings but a good coil, and the third a present from a friend who had an oldie in his store of 'too good to throw out' treasures. This means that we once again have a spare for use when required, plus one on the engine, one on the prop shaft, and one on Chief, the petrol generator. A few days later he did a challenging universal joint cross replacement. The old one refused to come off. He needed a sledge hammer and the vice to persuade it to do so. The new one didn't want to go on and required time and vocal encouragement. Michel reckons he is past all the contortions required in limited spaces, but he keeps on keeping on and eventually wins. One day he even managed to again revive the motor of our 12 volt vacuum cleaner. Last time a new bushing had to be machined to replace the very worn top one. Loose bearings caused the fan to rub on its housing, slowing and wearing it. This time a support bracket was needed to hold the lower bushing in place. I was so impressed with his ingenuity I took pictures of the gizzmo he built out of aluminum, wood, a hose clamp and magic to hold the wee motor's thrust bearing. I marvel at his fearless dexterity and produce cakes, scones, roasts, and various treats to keep his spirits up.

Winter oysters

We take advantage of frequent breaks in the weather to head out into the bay to see friends, some of whom are heading off for the islands. While out and about we like to gather pipis and oysters, at their best this time of year. When we were out in the bay not long ago I cracked a rib or two throwing oyster shells overboard. I had made the mistake of kneeling in the cockpit rather than going out on deck, as it was chilly and drizzling. My rib cage got squished on the cockpit coaming when leaning across it, causing momentary sharp pain and now discomfort - a nuisance, not a disaster.

Other lovely days, we choose to jump into our camper and go for picnics. Not long ago during a glorious spell of fine weather we drove up to Kaitaia to see where sailing friends had swallowed the anchor and made an attractive, comfortable, warm home with strategic application of insulation, talent, boat design ideas and a good measure of elbow grease and sweat. Inspiring...