WINTER BOATING DOWN UNDER
August 29, 2007
by Michel & Jane DeRidder

An outing in the Bay of Islands is always a delight, in the winter months particularly - for then anchorages are often deserted, the seafood at its best. We do not have the daily summer sea breezes to whip up a sometimes too-brisk sea. However, this has been a wet and blustery winter, with a few good blows, and one full-scale destructive storm, interspersed with a succession of glorious sunny days. We gentled around, revisiting places like Crowles Bay, the Black Rocks, Matuawhi Bay, Orokawa, Dicks Bay, Waipiro Bay, Omakiwi, Parekura Bay, Pipi Bay, choice dictated by weather.

Sheltered in Crowles Bay

The Black Rocks

Lunch stop

Pipi Bay to ourselves

Manowaora Bay seen from Orokawa Bay. (No snow on these hills in winter.)

Often we awoke to utter calm. We chose to drift about from anchorage to anchorage, popping in to see friends ashore, visiting some of our favourite haunts, going for strolls, stocking up on pipis and oysters. I just wish that we were better at catching fish!

Clams for the digging

Pipi feed

Gathering oysters

Oyster feed

Round and about the Bay of Islands live gifted people leading their lives in unusual places. One such couple is Bill and Claudie Sellers, he a gifted scrimshander, watercolorist, engraver and print maker, she a glass artist and picture framer. Their base is a most remarkable edifice, built like a Norwegian kirk they had seen and fallen in love with when they made their circumnavigation a few years back in their engineless yacht Nimbus. Even their boat shed is a work of art. Visiting them is always a mind blowing experience.

Going ashore in Dicks Bay

Inside the Sellers' kirk

A game we have been playing on this particular trip is learning the possibilities and amazing capacities of our new-to-us camera. The pleasure it gives us is constant, for we never dreamed of anything so tiny, magical and easy. We have been snapping sunrises, rainbows, sunsets, whatever takes our fancy.

One of the most vivid memories of this particular outing was seeing the full moon rise astern, just as Venus, at its brightest, set beyond our bow. Taken aback with the beauty of this simultaneous happening, we did not think to photograph it except in our memories, where it remains indelibly recorded. We are thankful to be able to continue this way of life with such enjoyment as the years scroll by, and so glad not to have been enticed ashore by well-meaning friends who offered us their houses for the winter months. We keep warm and comfortable and interested, constantly entertained by changing scenery - and weather. When the weather gets challenging, we seek a sheltered anchorage, hunker down to read, write, sort photos, answer emails, listen to music. The heater keeps the boat warm and cosy. One blustery, rainy morning, we breakfasted on crepes with butter, sugar and Mount Gay rum for syrup, as has been our regular practice for over fifty years.

Flipping over pancakes

Mount Gay Rum on crepes for a rainy day breakfast

Reading emails

A small blue flame in the heater keeps Magic Dragon warm

Rather than head for 'civilization' - which is to say, Russell, Paihia or Opua - if we run out of bread or anything else, we usually make do with whatever we have on hand. For instance, if we need bread, we make a loaf, or rolls, or scones. Sometimes we splurge and bake a cake. We take along soup and stew makings, lots of fruit, veges and parsley, supplies of lentils and beans and nuts. We eat very well when we are out and about.

Pipi chowder

Pea soup and boat-made bread

Poached eggs on spinach

However, eventually we decided it was time to return to our river pilings. We disturbed a few rocks on the bottom with a keel on the way in by straying from the channel, the clang of steel on rock a wake-up shock to our far-too-relaxed systems. Perhaps we were loath to return to home base to do the necessary chores that must be done whether you live ashore, or afloat as we do - things like getting another swag of books and magazines from the library, getting a haircut, doing washing at the laundromat, filling our petrol cans and LPG bottles. Also we have a few 'bridging' interests, to enable us to better make the transition to life ashore when we do indeed swallow the anchor - such as the monthly book club and art group which I try never to miss. I like to chat in French over coffee with yet another group. Michel welcomes the chance to ride his new bicycle to strengthen his legs, now that walking long distances is no longer an option for him.

As we arrived in the river at our pilings, picked up our lines and secured Magic Dragon, what should we see but two white swans approaching. We grabbed the camera and took a series of photos to mark the event as they glided by. Never before have we seen white swans in these parts. The last time we had them this close to us was in the Fal River in Falmouth, Cornwall in 1968. Apparently there are small numbers of breeding birds in a very few places in New Zealand, brought in many years ago for 'decorative' purposes. We wonder whether these two visitors have extended their range or whether they are escapees from a nearby lake, out to explore the hinterland. What a lovely welcome to our home base!