December 18, 1998

I DID IT!

Now what?

That's how I'm feeling, two-plus weeks after my arrival. Proud, satisfied, overwhelmed, at-a-loss, and a bit drained. I've been away from Hio for about two weeks - three days after we made landfall, Sandy and I joined Bucephalus to help Ian sail her down to Auckland. Our leg from Russell to an anchorage outside of Whangarei was a beautiful downwind sail - she is so stately running downwind wing-and-wing, like a queen. Whangarei to Great Barrier (Fitzroy Bay) to Auckland was more motor, less sail. It was wonderful to get behind that big wheel and remember my first sailing lessons aboard Deerfoot II.

I've come a long way, Baby.

Our passage was mostly uneventful. Except for permanently losing the folding prop, temporarily losing the starter motor for the engine, and getting hammered by a confusing front, we had a very high-anxiety, low-wind trip. Dang this passage can psyche a body out.

As I wrote to Sarah, we tried to leave Tonga with our latest cruising family, chasing a Bob McDavitt weather window, and as soon as we got outside the pass in the reef (Nuku'alofa), we heard this terrible crunching rattling sound. A now-familiar slippery cutlass bearing sound. (It first slid out of position in Vava'u, after Sandy came aboard. I'm still suspicious that he had a bad-luck tiki with him.) We rock-paper-scissored to see who would go overboard to check it out; Sandy lost. He slid overboard quietly so as not to disturb the sharks during feeding time (5:30ish pm), dove down, and came back moments later (shark-feeding time rush) to report that the blades had fallen off the folding prop. No prop. So we floundered around a while, took down the sail we had just put up, sat indecisive and sought advice from our shrinking-on-the-horizon family -- and finally got a tow in by panga, from a wonderful guy whom we had met in Vava'u, and who happened to be working for a nearby resort.

It took me a while to locate the spare fixed prop, which I thought was under Sarah's/Sandy's bunk, then maybe under the nav seat, until I remembered it was buried in the bottom of the lazarette (of course). The problem was, the locking crown nut was cracked through and useless. Why we would keep a cracked nut as a spare, I don't know. Long story short, we waited a day for one that our tow-in friend Sandy had found at Moorings in Vava'u -- turned out, it was the wrong size (because I had measured the inner diameter to the top of the thread, rather than the bottom). Luckily, he scrounged up a bolt that would do, and sawed crown indentations into it so that we could lock it with a cotter pin. My Sandy did all the work, because we had limited air in our scuba tanks, and because he's better and quicker at put-together-kinda-work, with me playing underwater- and cockpit-nurse. And off we were, two days late and luckily so - had we continued along with "the family", we would most likely have been in the thick of an 80-knot packing, 10-meter-sea lifting storm that took down two boats and one person (a thirtyish inexperienced woman who had just two months ago been swept off her feet and onto the sea by the singlehanding captain), all friendly acquaintances. We got hit by a front that same day -- 45-50 knot gusts and lightning blasts under big jib and reefed main -- that psyched us out and had us learning the hard way all day, until, just at sunset, the storm broke and left me squawking gospel and gasping at the roundest double rainbow I've ever seen. I wouldn't put more on you than you can bear, so if it's there, it means, you-oo-oo-oo can bea-ear it.

Otherwise, the passage was mostly flat calm with potsticker jellyfish and light breezes stirring 7-Up seas. Our main concern was: do we have enough diesel? What is our capacity, anyway? I think it lies somewhere between Sarah's estimate and the surveyor's. I'll tell you our funny math story another time - trying to find the volume of the back tank's cube.

We were thrilled to have enough wind to sail into the Bay of Islands -- almost all the way up to the Customs dock, where I made my best landing to date. The fact that visibility was deterioriating and it was pissing down cold rain didn't dampen our dancing enthusiasm - we had made it, we were home (Sandy is also from the Pacific NW - Vancouver, BC), and we had been spared the usual NZ-passage hammering.

Hio and I made it. Now what? Who knows. I'm still keen to go back to Takaroa to learn to seed pearls, and may even be sailing back to Tahiti, come May. I've thrown my hat into George Backhus' ring to be considered as crew. We'll see how it all comes together. I also want a new galley, and Hio wants a paint job. Lots to think about and do.

For one thing, I want to take time to relish the fulfillment of my dream. And to thank all the people that helped me get here. You all rock. Thank you, infinitely.

Much love and happy holidays,

Kristin