March 4, 1999 - New Zealand Arrival

Shift in Cruising Lifestyle...The Gang's All Here, But Where Are We All Going?

Since my arrival in Aotearoa, "the land of the long white cloud", I have been tossing and combining plans with the same reckless abandon I use with the gorgeous fruits and vegetables that are so abundant and delicious here.

New Zealand is a pivotal stop for cruisers, a place to take stock, take a break, and decide what to do next. After this challenging cruising season, many of the "Class of '98" aren't going anywhere.

What's the rush? NZ is as green, friendly, hospitable, abundant, and diverse as the travel books say. Kiwis make great ice cream. The US dollar is strong. The locals speak English fluently. America's Cup will make the entire nation a big party. My friend, Francis, hates the changeableness of the weather, which does surprise the newcomer with blasts of heat, cold, rain, sun, more rain, wind, then mild indifferent summer nothing, all in the course of one day. But I'm a sucker for this country. I want to stay.

This desire is three years old, inspired by my first landfall here aboard Beowulf with the Dashews. I arrived loving New Zealand. Plus, the 8 month cruising season wore me out. I wanted to sit still.

So I did.

That is, Hio did. She spent a month in the Bay of Islands, at anchor in Opua, a short row away from the very accommodating Opua Cruising Club, which offers showers, laundry, water, a dinghy dock, and social amenities.

Like most newly-arrived cruisers, I jumped at every opportunity to ride anywhere in a car. We made road trips, exploring nearby Keri Keri, Paihia, and Russell, and venturing to 90-mile Beach and Whangarei. We took long hikes and ate in cafes and went to movies. And we talked about what we'd do next.

Discussing plans was a way to prepare for - or circumvent -- the inevitable. Our little cruising family would ultimately be scattered. The SSB radio nets would die out, and our only hope for contact would be email or a chance meeting at an anchorage somewhere. We asked each other about plans hoping that we could follow one another a bit longer.

Most of "us" were headed to Whangarei, to do boat work and enjoy the tight cruising community that thrives in that compact town. Others chose marinas in Tutukaka, Whangaparoa, and Auckland for long-term easy-living (and boat work). One couple went down to Napier to get ready to have a baby. One skipper, after enduring a wild landfall-ride into Russell after dark on the front edge of a major storm, promised that he'd be trading in his boat for a rocking chair and a library card. Those hardy few who hadn't chewed their fingers to the bone during the stressful passage to New Zealand actually kept sailing, enjoying the excellent cruising to be found here.

As I said, I parked in Opua. Sandy left for continued surfing-backpacking adventures in Australia, so I was alone on the boat. I enjoyed having "Hio" all to myself, but I was lonely.

Opua...Projects and Possibilities As We Enter the New Year

After Sandy's departure, I adopted a fellow "single-owner" - like me, Francis Laros on "Banshee" generally travels with crew aboard the boat he owns and captains. And, like me, he works better with a partner. We quickly became inseparable, and were happy to endure the inevitable gossiping hopefulness of friends who would love to see both of us romantically involved with somebody who could share our cruising lives.

But Francis and I didn't date - we teamed up. We kept each other company as we tackled projects on our boats, and took turns assisting and advising. Francis bought a spare Westerbeke engine, and when he took it apart to cannibalize it for parts, he taught me how my engine works. I can still see the shiny oil-blackened insides of the red engine yawning over the gravel driveway alongside where "Banshee" stood on stilts, on the hard. I was captivated and thrilled by the lesson.

Francis and I also discussed our plans. We drove from Opua to Auckland with a couple that had cruised from the South Pacific to Japan and spent 2 years living there and teaching English before returning to New Zealand. Their stories inspired us both, and we inspired each other to consider singlehanding there.

What would 1999 hold for us? We celebrated the New Year in Russell - 8 friends crashed aboard Hio after a night of dancing, singing, indulging, reminiscing, and wondering.

I had a rough idea of what I'd be doing in the new year: my pearl-seeding apprenticeship in Takaroa, Tuamotus. I already had a ride to Tahiti, as crew aboard George Backhus' Moonshadow. (To read more about George and Moonshadow, click here.) But before that, in January, I'd be making the trip to Auckland, where I'd ignore Hio and join the rock and roll life as top groupie for the "Sarah and Ginger" tour. (Sarah Dashew and Ginger Leigh were bringing their fabulous harmonies to NZ for a month-long tour of festivals and clubs - to read about Sarah's music, click here.) In March, I'd get Hio ready for storage and put her up onto the hard before my parents arrived - Dad and Stepmom first, then, 5 days after their departure, Mom and Stepdad. After 6 weeks with them, in May, I'd jump aboard Moonshadow, help with final preparations, then set off for Tahiti, via the Australs. After my apprenticeship in Takaroa, I'd hitch a ride back to NZ and Hio, hide out from another hurricane season here, and set off in 2000 for-Japan? Fiji? French Polynesia and the Cooks again?

I figured that my long-term plan could be influenced by the person with whom I'd share the next leg of the journey.

I didn't realize that it would be the short-term plan that would be changed.

Opua to Auckland...Reunion of the Original Hio Avae Team...Sarah's Back!

I spent most of my time in Opua cleaning Hio - when I wasn't helping Francis with Banshee or otherwise procrastinating with trips into nearby Paihia to hit the cybercafe and ice cream shop. I wanted Hio to be - well, as perfect as she could be - for her former captain's arrival.

Sarah Dashew was coming "home"! Home to Hio, the boat we bought, rebuilt, and sailed to Mexico together (with so much help - for which I will be forever grateful).

So, Hio had to look good. Clutter cleared, engine sparkly from a diesel-and-detergent bath, stainless polished, decks scrubbed, hull polished free of coffee-colored sea stains, walls and ceilings scrubbed free of mold, papers organized. Plus, "Hio" had to be ready to make the trip from the Bay of Islands to Auckland. Sarah and her singing partner, Ginger, were to make the trip with me. We'd day-trip, stopping into whatever emerald bays took our fancy for sunset meals and overnight rests.

	Ginger, Sarah, George from Moonshadow, and Kristin.

Although Hio was ready when Sarah and Ginger arrived, the weather did not cooperate, and my once-captain and willing-to-try-anything novice "crew" were so turned off by two days of beating into 25 knots of wind and 6-foot seas, under drizzly gray skies, that they jumped ship in Whangaruru, just south of Cape Brett, the southern headland "boundary" for the Bay of Islands.

Unfortunately, I couldn't join their hitchhiking adventure back to Auckland. Hio is my baby, my responsibility, and I am captain. I had to continue the journey alone. Fortunately, continuing alone meant not having to worry about my friends' discomfort! So while the reaching into easterlies and the spitting rain and the gray skies continued for the next two days, as I made my way from Whangaruru to Whangarei, and on to Kawau Island, I had a wonderful time. I was rising to the occasion, learning once again what I'm capable of achieving on this boat, and appreciating how far I've come.

So I felt rewarded when, on the last day of my voyage, from Kawau Island to Auckland, the northerlies finally filled in. The sky cleared to a scrubbed china blue, the seas flattened, and Hio hissed along with other pleasure-boaters enjoying the perfect conditions. America True, the leading US America's Cup challenger, toyed with me as I crossed the future race course between the Whangaparoa Peninsula and Rangitoto Island; they tacked a circle around me, then left me behind like the dolphins do when Hio is not cruising fast enough.

I cranked the music loud, danced on deck, and conjured images of me driving successfully into my slip at Bayswater Marina. I may have made my way safely from Mexico to Auckland, New Zealand, but that didn't mean I knew how to dock without using my neighbors as bumpers.

Auckland...Little Hio and Captain in the Big City of Sails

Sailing into Auckland was an overindulgent feast for my sailing senses. When they call Auckland "The City of Sails," it's no joke. I've never been so close to so many boats. I kept The Sailing Doctor open to the "Rules of the Road" section, and referred to it constantly, as boats of all sizes converged around me.

As if I didn't have enough to think about.

I was nervous about bringing Hio into her slip at Bayswater Marina, and I didn't try to hide it. I contacted the Marina on VHF and requested an escort. "I'm going to need all the help I can get to get her in there - I don't have much experience in tight quarters!" They laughed and told me, in true Kiwi fashion: "She'll be right."

I scrambled on deck, pulling sails down, trying to look good for - and not collide with -- my audience. The huge black-hulled teaching schooner, "The Spirit of New Zealand," was pulling in sail nearby, with what looked like 10 kids on each possible job. I pretended that they were checking me out and thinking: Wow, she's doing it all herself - Looking good! I hoped they didn't notice that I stumbled over the jib sheet on my way back to the cockpit.

Docking at Bayswater could have been uneventful, IF my escort's outboard hadn't choked at the last moment. All I needed was an extra push. But he couldn't give it when I needed, so I had to pull back at the last moment. The wind was blowing me crosswise onto the fingers of the dock, and as I throttled hard into reverse, my chunky 60-pound Bruce anchor took a big bite out of each of the 5 pilings between me and the open area between the piers.

Somehow - I have no memory of how it happened - Hio ended up backed into her slip, tied off with the Marina's heavy docklines, in time for us to be welcomed by Sarah and Ginger. The girls congratulated me on my safe solo arrival, and whisked me straight off to the flash Parnell apartment that George from Moonshadow has transformed into a "Home for Wayward Sailors." Hot showers, a double bed, and lots of live music were in my very near future.

When I walked away from Hio, I pledged never to leave my slip. I didn't want to face having to get back in again.

I kept my promise, and spent the next six weeks playing groupie/manager/CD-pusher/backup singer with the "Ginger and Sarah" show as the girls toured New Zealand.

Between the girls' gigs, I managed to stir up an old flame that ignited in Ua Pou, with a man I met too briefly there; Eric and his all-Maori team had been paddling in an inter-island outrigger canoe race that ended at that Marquesan island.

And I changed my plans.

Hopefully, Takaroa will wait for its American pearl-seeding apprentice. I'm going to Wellington.