Speedwell of Hong Kong

Clearing in to Indonesia

Author: Shirlz

25 September 2021

I spent nearly 3 weeks anchored off Marina del Ray waiting for a decision to be made about whether I would be allowed to clear in to Indonesia. Rules were in a state of flux and confusion reigned. I was not allowed to leave the boat, but was well looked after by the marina staff who took care of my shopping and arranged for diesel to refill my tanks.

I took the opportunity to remove the sail and applied some necessary patches. Quite a few seams needed to be restitched. My faithful little hand-cranked sewing machine performed valiantly. I made some temporary repairs to the topping lifts, but they really need to be completely replaced. That will have to wait until I know what the next few days will bring. I also did a more thorough job of fixing the oil leak, first draining the old oil and really cleaning and sanding the sump around the rusty plug before applying a bigger and better patch of epoxy steel. It worked very well, although I still keep an absorbent nappy in place, just in case. I also replaced the fuel filter which was getting a bit gungy.

Eventually, I was officially notified that the only place that foreign yachts could clear in was at Batam which is about 1000nm north of Lombok, close to Singapore. I was just starting to get my mind around this when I was told by Albert from Marina del Ray that he and Fiona of Bali Marine had been able find out that it might be possible to get emergency clearance in Bali due to the repairs needed to make my rig sea-worthy again. And happily for me, they were able to arrange it.

Only snag was that I had to sail 50 miles across the Lombok Strait and anchor in Bali’s Benoa Harbour which is their main commercial harbour and has a difficult entrance through the reefs with strong tidal currents. I was instructed to arrive on Saturday for clearing in. It was a few days past full moon when the tides would be high and currents strong. Not a date that I would have chosen myself. But one doesn’t argue in a situation like this, so I set off hopefully on Friday morning with full diesel tanks. The plan was to cross from Lombok to Lembongan Island, which is a bit more than half-way across, anchor there for the night and do the last 15nm to Benoa on Saturday morning. It’s always good to have a plan.

There was no wind when I started out at 0600. Once again I found myself surrounded by a swarm of traditional Jukung outrigger boats. They all seemed to be coming across the strait, looking like water-beetles skimming along. Crab claw sails but most of them also using long-tail outboard motors. By 0800 the rush hour was over and I was heading north west, hoping not to be swept too far south by the strong current running in that direction through the Lombok Strait. It went well. The current seemed to sweep westward to get around Nusa Penida Island and carried me along, sometimes doing 6 knots towards the anchorage at the smaller neighbouring Island of Lembongan. The strait is a major shipping route with a traffic separation scheme and there was a constant stream of enormous tankers and containers ships to be avoided. The current didn’t seem to bother them too much. We were going along so rapidly, I wondered, a little uncomfortably, how it was going to be possible to get back to Gili Gede.

When we arrived at Lembongan, the anchorage was comfortable enough and almost deserted. A small white beach and rows of empty hotel villas. A sober reminder of the realities of the Covid situation. The water was beautifully clear and I had a quick cooling dip. I noticed that the hull had now acquired a sprinkling of small goose barnacles. Not surprising after the long voyage from Fiji. Another job to add to the list, at least the water is warm and it won’t be too hard to scrape them off.

After a relaxing night at anchor I was ready to start the next leg at 0630. I had a bit of trouble getting the anchor up, as it seemed to have become attached to a lump of coral. I motored gently forward and it came free easily enough. I started out motor-sailing close to shore heading well north of my destination on the other side of what was now the Badung Strait between Nusa Penida and Bali. All was going quite well until I noticed a line of breaking waves. No reefs shown on the chart. Hmm. I steered further north to avoid what must be standing waves. As the depth suddenly increased from about 30m to over 100 I was amazed to see that the Navionics app showed that we were now moving directly due south at 5 knots, despite the fact that we were pointing almost NE and motoring hard in that direction. I battled with engine at full revs to motor across the stream to get back to shallower water and out of this mad current. At last I was able to get back to the anchorage. What now? I thought I’d try to motor further north along the coast of the island before venturing out. I was able to get a little further off but was again forced to turn back, only just able to motor out of the current, getting swept a long way south again. I was starting to get a bit worried, so this time when I got back to the Lembongan I re-anchored and contacted Fiona, the agent at Bali Marine to try to get some advice about crossing the Badung Strait. She put me in touch with an experienced boat captain who advised me to first sail 1 mile south of the anchorage and then head across towards Sanur Beach which is well north of Benoa. Also to wait until slack water at noon.

I thought about having another swim while I waited for the right time to leave. As I gazed over the stern I was absolutely aghast to see an enormous snake purposefully swimming towards us. Sinuously approaching directly for the rudder. It was big. Not one of those small sea snakes with a mouth too small to bite one. This serpent had a big, wide, triangular head and a long, thick body. It was a patterned olive green colour. No camera handy to take a photo. I rushed forward to grab the boat hook and splashed around with it to scare the snake away. It disappeared, I know not where. I carefully inspected the rudder and Navik paddle but there was no sign of it. I have a strong aversion to snakes on the boat. It has happened before and I know that they are capable of getting up the stern. Oh, the horror.

No problem getting the anchor up this time although I was keeping a cautious eye out for a snake wound around the chain. I followed the advice I’d been given for crossing the strait which worked very well. We picked up a current that swept us west at 7 knots towards Sanur and once close-in I had no trouble motor-sailing south and entering Benoa Harbour. Panic over. The channel through the reef is well marked and easy to follow. My biggest concern was the busy traffic of small motor boats, jet-skis and two-seater parasails being towed close by. Drones buzzed overhead, big planes taking off and approaching the nearby airport. And this was Bali with no tourists. I hoped I’d be able to get back to peaceful Lombok.

Once through the reef, I WhatsApp’d Fiona to tell her that I’d arrived and sent the requested photo to show her exactly where I was so that she could direct me to the quarantine anchorage. This technology really works very well for me, as with my serious hearing disability the VHF radio is pretty useless. I motored over to the fishing fleet as directed and found a clear place to anchor in 11m. Fiona brought the quarantine people over and some forms had to be completed and signed. All done very smoothly with minimum hassle. My passport was taken back with them for the visa stamp. Later in the day another small boat arrived with a nurse to do the PCR test. Not strictly necessary, I would have thought, but the ‘protocols’ have to be followed. Now I just had to wait for Customs to inspect us, which was scheduled to happen the next day.

As promised, the Customs boat arrived on Sunday morning with about 5 heavily-booted officials on board. My passport was returned with the precious stamp granting me a visitors visa for 60 days, extendable. Wonderful. The customs men needed to come aboard to check my equipment. Photos were taken of the GPS, AIS, VHF, engine, my first aid box complete with band-aids and aspirin, and anything else that seemed interesting. Thankfully only two of them actually came aboard at the same time. Later, the Chief Customs man sat with me in the cockpit and explained all the rules. Just one more document to be delivered for signature and it will all be done.

The final document (vessel declaration or VD) arrived as promised and now I am free to return to Lombok. I may wait a few days for the kinder neap tides which are due midweek.

September 26th, 2021  |  Posted in Cruising, Indonesia  |  1 Comment »

Across Three Seas

Author: Shirlz

September 2021

My last few weeks in Savusavu were spent preparing for the long passage to Lombok in Indonesia. I wasn’t very keen to stay in Fiji through the cyclone season and Indonesia was the only possible destination that was still open to foreign boats. I had managed to get an eVisa for entering the country at Marina del Ray on the small island of Gili Gedi which is a port of entry. Before leaving I was very lucky to have the opportunity to get a free Covid-19 vaccination and received an official card as proof. Just a day before clearing out I received a message from the agent in Lombok to say that this had now become an additional requirement for entering the country and was also reassured that they were still ‘open’.

I made multiple trips to the local supermarkets trying to find the best provisions for my trip. My cooking arrangements are pretty rudimentary and I was expecting most of the voyage to be fairly rough, so was hoping to stock up with easily prepared meals. Unfortunately the variety of canned food in Savusavu did not extend much beyond various varieties of beans. Plenty of canned tuna and some instant noodles.

Speedwell had been given a new coat of antifouling before leaving New Zealand and when I made a thorough inspection underwater I was happy to see that the hull was still pretty clean. I used my long-handled scraper to knock off a few impertinent weeds that had found a foothold, but there was no hard growth at all. On a less happy note, I discovered that the engine had developed a rather nasty oil leak. It appeared to be dripping from the plug at the bottom of the sump which had got a bit rusty. Oh dear! The proper way to repair it would be to have the engine lifted out and a patch welded on. That wasn’t going to happen in Savusavu. I found some epoxy steel in my toolbox, cleaned up the area around the leak as best as I could and patched it up. It seemed to be OK. I also made a special trip to town to buy more epoxy steel kits, super absorbent baby nappies for catching the drips and 5l of engine oil for topping up.

On Saturday the 17^th July I set off early. The wind was light and I motored for a while but was soon able to catch enough of a gentle breeze to keep us quietly moving along. Lovely to be out on the water again, although I had enjoyed my relaxing time at the Copra Shed Marina. Once out of Savusavu Bay the wind picked up and we had quite a fast sail until past Suva on Viti Levu the biggest Fijian Island.

Once I had cleared the SE corner of Viti Levu I was able to turn west and it was to stay that way, give or take a few degrees, for the next 4000 miles. I let out the sheet and set up the Navik to hold us on an almost dead downwind course, steering a few degrees off as the Navik is getting on in years and tends to wander a bit. The junk rig gybes fairly harmlessly but as the sail comes across the cockpit there can sometimes be a great confusion of excess rope eager to entangle with anything in its wild path. So an unplanned gybe is best avoided.

The next few days were quite delightful. An easy following breeze had us smoothly sailing along at a comfortable 4 knots on a flattish sea. I was able to do some proper cooking using my faithful primus stove and took timely advantage of the fresh produce that I’d been able to buy at the Savusavu market, knowing that it wouldn’t last very long in the tropical heat with no refrigeration. The primus is ‘sort of’ gimballed but doesn’t have anything to stop a smaller pot from sliding off the top. I managed to rig up a makeshift arrangement using two lengths of springy curtain wire which worked perfectly.

22^nd July

Just sitting in the cockpit enjoying the perfect weather, the sky dotted with puffy little trade wind clouds. All good. But something caught my eye, oh dear, the aft end of the top batten was sticking out far too much – the lashing had come adrift. Chafed through. Well it had to be fixed, so heave-to and get the sail down, find a new piece of string and sort it out. Soon enough we were on our way again. I rewarded myself with a deliciously juicy mini watermelon, just about the last of my fresh fruit.

That night the wind went too light for the Navik to be able to hold us on course. I decided to try the electric autohelm that Annie had generously donated. It coped splendidly holding us perfectly on track doing less than 1 knot. So much better than trying to hand steer through the night and it feels good to be able to keep moving, even at a snail’s pace. A half moon made it all rather blissful. I don’t carry enough diesel to even consider using the engine at this early stage of the campaign.

24^th July

After a few days of very light wind it strengthened again and the Navik was able to take over. I had been checking the battery while using the electric autopilot and it was able to cope quite comfortably. But when I checked to see how much the new solar panel was contributing I was disappointed to see that it had died again. Obviously the repair that had been done in Savusavu was not surviving offshore conditions. I took the panel in and opened up the offending control box. Sure enough it was all corroded up again. It was impossible for me to reconnect the bypass diodes which had become a green mess of crumbly corrosion, so I removed the whole affair and simply connected plus and minus terminals to the battery input cables and blanketed everything in thick insulating layer of Sikaflex.

26^th July

Passing Vanuatu to starboard. It would have been good to be able to stop and enjoy another new place but the plague has changed all that. I’m lucky to be able to be travelling at all.

The weather has become stronger and we are reefed down to 4 panels (out of a total of 6) and bowling along at 4-5 knots. Wind direction is absolutely steady just South of East and makes a pleasant change after the variable winds experienced on the trip from New Zealand to Fiji.

28^th July

Wind much stronger. I have no anemometer but from the state of the sea and the amount making its way into the cockpit I judged it to be approaching 30 knots. Reefed down to the top panel only and we were still doing 5 knots virtually dead downwind. One of the joys of sailing in the tropics is that when the weather gets rough and every visit outside to the cockpit to trim the sails or alter the Navik setting or just to have a good look around, involves a possible soaking from an errant wave, I don’t have to first struggle into my foul weather gear but can rather just strip off (if I happen to be wearing something) and let my skin take the salt water. Very refreshing and easily towelled dry.

29^th July

A red footed booby spent the night on the stern rail leaving quite a mess to be cleaned up in the morning. These birds are fearless and determined to hold their own once they settle on board. At times, on other passages, I’ve had about 10 of them squabbling over the best roosting spot until they settle down for the night. In the morning they make an early, well-rested departure. Can’t really begrudge them the chance of a comfy night.

At sundown I celebrated passing the first 1000 mile mark with a Jack Daniels and coke premixed in a can.

30^th July

I have seen no other boats since leaving the coast of Viti Levu and have been able to get some sleep at night. Last night the wind was light and I left the electric autopilot in charge and turned in. Still going dead down wind on a flat sea doing a maximum of 2 knots. When I woke up in the morning I found to my surprise that we had gybed. I had been totally unaware. Normally the slightest alteration in the motion wakes me. It must have been a very smooth manoeuvre.

A pod of dolphins kept us company for a while and later the wind started to strengthen. I lowered one panel.

31^st July

The rough motion of the boat woke me just after midnight. A strong wind had come up. I reefed right down to just the top panel. I noticed that the lights were flickering, the GPS dying and the solar panel controller was behaving strangely. What now? Electrical connections at sea are always a bit dodgy. I started checking at the house battery connections as all the systems seemed to be affected. Sure enough, the (very) rough motion had shaken things up a bit and the heavy golf cart batteries were shifting around in their box. I found some padding to stuff around them and keep them firmly wedged in and then noticed that one of the terminal connections was loose and moving about. Hence the general flickering. Easy to fix. Things were soon back to normal.

1^st August

A slow start to the day. The wind had moderated and I left it a bit late to raise more sail. When I had sorted things out properly we made good progress doing 4 knots and perfectly on track. There was a shower of about 40 – 50 very tiny flying fish scattered about the deck. Too late to try to save any of them. It must have been an amazing sight to see them in the air.

By the evening the wind had picked up again. Seems I need to get used to moving at 4 – 5 knots rather than my customary 2-3. Not very comfortable but at least we are making good time. My visa for Indonesia is valid for 90 days from when it was issued, which means I need to get there before 10^th October. It doesn’t look as if that’s going to be a problem.

Just after sunset a big ship passed about 5 miles off. The first one I had seen so far.

3^rd August

Another flying fish – this time a really big one. I was quietly sipping a cup of chamomile tea at 0200. Suddenly a loud bang right next to me. What was that?! It turned out to be an enormous flying fish about 20cm long. Right inside, on the cabin sole. It would have make a decent meal, but he looked so surprised and so very much alive that I grabbed his slippery self and released him back into the Coral Sea. Which is really rather a good sea. Sometimes this passage reminds me of the better days of my first long single handed voyage across the South Atlantic from Port Owen to St Helena.

5^th August

The wind had picked up and we raced along at 5 – 6 knots all day under 2 panels. Great progress.

In the evening the AIS warned me of two ships on opposite headings. A little later a 3^rd appeared. All were travelling in a roughly north / south direction and so across my path. We were in an area approaching the south eastern end of Papua New Guinea, obviously a busy shipping lane. I felt quite glad to have the obligatory transmitting AIS which would hopefully give these big ships some notice of my tiny presence.

7^th August

The weather has become really nasty. Somehow the geriatric Navik is managing to hold us on course, which is rather wonderful really. It seems I have managed to fix the problems that have been such a nuisance. I haven’t had to do any running repairs this trip (touch wood). Yesterday the sky looked a real mess with mares tails and other scratchy clouds (when the skies look scratched by a hen,….) and they foretold correctly. Lets hope it’s over before we reach the Torres Strait. Right now we are getting nearer to Port Moresby, another place where I would have liked to have stopped and possibly waited for favourable conditions for transiting the Strait. Well on we go.

There are massive and often breaking seas which come up behind us. Rather heart stopping as they tower above the stern and I wonder what’s going to happen next, but Speedwell takes it calmly in her stride. Rising magnificently to the occasion. What a wonderful little ship. I do feel happy that I remembered to put a bung in the exhaust hole. One less thing to worry about.

9^th August

The AIS sounded the alarm last night for two ships almost simultaneously from opposite directions. The one from astern was 3 miles off and could be on a collision course. I hand steered and hoped that they picked up my signal. Impossible for me to do much in these conditions. And sure enough, in good time, the big ship altered course and we could relax again. Not much later there was another alarm. Obviously traffic between Australia and Port Moresby. Once the danger was over I gybed to head further offshore.

Half way – 2025 miles to go. I cracked a can of Bombay Sapphire and tonic which I’d been saving for this occasion.

10^th August

The weather seems less threatening and the sun is making an appearance. Still windy but maybe a little less. Now we are heading for Portlock Reefs and the Bligh Entrance to the Torres Strait. I wonder how Captain Bligh and his crew were feeling when they were approaching the same area in an open boat all those years ago. Some of today’s charts are still based on his soundings. I have to confess to feeling a little anxious about how I’m going to manage the tricky navigation through the Strait and stay awake for 2 days, but hopefully the bad weather has happened and things are looking up. Just before midnight we entered the start of the Strait.

11^th August

Once we were in the shallower reef filled waters the waves flattened considerably and I had no problem navigating the Great N E channel which has lights marking the important dangers. The current was in our favour and although on a SW heading, fairly hard on the wind, we made good progress. I was able to grab the odd catnap in the less tricky areas and a can of Red Bull helped to keep me alert when necessary.

12^th August

We slipped through the dreaded Prince of Wales Channel with a moderate current in our favour and Australia close on the port side. Someone up there must be looking out for me. Perfect weather, perfect tides and no aircraft buzzing me which is what I’d been told to expect. Maybe they simply didn’t register a tiny yellow junk rigged boat being cheeky enough to just sail on by.

Friday 13^th August

We made it through safely and are now in the Arafura Sea. What a relief to be in deep open water again. The weather was still fine and the living was easy.

15^th August

Of course, nothing lasts. Now the wind is gale force again with matching seas. I’m getting used to it but I worry about the hammering that my sail and rigging is having to endure. Every time I look up to check the sail I half expect to see something broken. Thank goodness for my wonderful sturdy new rigid aluminium battens.

A dark night with very little moon. At about 10 pm I saw the glow of many lights on the horizon. Must be a squid boat fleet. Well, at least they are easy to see and they are stationary. Not much to do except try to steer to avoid them. Massive seas, Gale force wind. Not ideal. No chance of sleep tonight. It was quite a nightmarish scene. We would just be safely past a group of about 10 wildly gyrating boats on these enormous seas with their blindingly bright lights, fishermen visible working at hauling in the lines, heave a sigh of relief, and we would be approaching the next set. This went on all night. I really hoped that it was not a foretaste of the rest of the voyage. At last, at about 5am it seemed we were past the last group, I could see one more boat off to starboard but it looked as though we would safely pass by. I went below to relax for a few minutes. Suddenly I was aware of very bright lights illuminating the cockpit, rushed outside to find we were almost on top of the last boat. Able to smell the exhaust and see the gesticulating fishermen. My closest shave ever. Very exciting. I had to marvel at the incredible effort that goes into producing a plate of delicious calamari for some unwitting and possibly unappreciative restaurant patron.

16^th August

Calmer weather and time to gybe. I was given a clear view of the lazy jacks which had been on the lee side of the sail and not visible. Oh no! The upper section of the lazy jacks which has a stitched and whipped loop at the end through which the lower section, supporting the reefed sail bundle and the boom passes, had slipped. I had stitched and whipped a 10cm tail for the loop and this should have been more than sufficient to hold it securely, but the tail had slipped down and now was no more than 2.5cm. Strands of whipping twine were fluttering loose. If the lazy jacks were to fail, the reefed sail would fall to the deck and into the water. One of the really bad things that can happen with a junk rig. I hove-to (again) and by clambering up on top of the dinghy was able to reach the problem. It was a rather precarious place to hang on and there wasn’t much I was able to do. At one point the lurching of the boat swung me off my feet and all I could hold on to was the suspect lazy jacks. I decided to forget about trying to fix it and instead managed to tie the end of the flag halyard to the lower section of the lazy jacks so if the loop parted there would still be something to hold things up. I also managed to lash the reefed sail bundle through the emergency reefing holes so the bulk of the sail couldn’t fall out overboard.

I checked the chart and decided to deviate slightly so that I could make a pit stop at Saumlaki in Eastern Indonesia which was only 400nm away and looked like an easy place to enter.

20^th August

The approach to Saumlaki was dotted with small islands and numerous wooden fishing huts on stilts. Strange high and pointy prowed boats passed and waved. I was really in a foreign land. Saumlaki is a port of entry and quite a big harbour. I motored past the main dock and found a place to anchor in 17m and hoisted the Q flag. Reefs extend far offshore. It was windy but the water was flat. A bit like a typical Caribbean anchorage. It was Friday afternoon and I didn’t expect to be bothered by officialdom.

When I was able to properly examine the problem I realized that the fact that I’d used a piece of Kevlar rope for the upper lazy jacks while in New Zealand was a bad mistake. The inner core of this rope is not braided but just a bundle of straight filaments and the stitching, having nothing to stop it must have slipped. Also the whipping twine virtually fell apart in my hands as I tried to tidy it up. I had used Marlow whipping twine which is supposed to be high quality. Only difference to what I’d used previously was that it was dyed light brown rather than the normal white. Anyway, what was left had slipped to a point where it was highly compressed and seemed to be very secure. I wound some self-amalgamating tape around what was left of the whipping to hold everything together and possibly protect it from further chafe. I shortened the lower sections of the lazy jacks to raise the boom back to it’s normal position. Exactly the same thing had happened on the starboard side.

While comfortably anchored I managed to fix a few other problems that had been bothering me and spent Saturday taking a bit of a break and enjoying the chance to cook a proper meal.

Now it’s less than 1000 miles to go and I shall be staying north of the chain of volcanic islands all the way to Lombok.

22^nd August

Left Saumlaki in the early morning. The wind was quite strong but the anchor came up without too much trouble. 10 miles with the wind hard on the beam until I could turn west again and run between some smaller islands. It developed into a beautiful day. A brilliant sunset and simultaneous full moon rise. There were many small fishing boats out at night but, of course, with these the AIS is no help as they barely bother with lights.

29^th August

One perfect sailing day after another. Rather wonderful after the sometimes arduous crossing of the Arafura Sea. Now we are in the Banda Sea, or Laut Banda in the local lingo. It is quite pleasant to almost always have some land in sight and often a weird and wonderfully exotic-looking boat creeping up or passing close by. The islands are all volcanic and what could be either a cloud or a plume of volcanic ash usually gives a good indication of the wind direction, which has become more southerly than we had been experiencing up to now.

Every night there are many small groups of well-lit fishing boats to be avoided so sleep has to be taken in short snatches. And the wind is no longer the steady trade but frequently dies completely or comes up in a sudden fierce squall. On windless nights with fishing boats around I have now resorted to using the engine when the wind dies. The oil leak is still a problem but is not catastrophic and the oil only occasionally needs topping up.

31st August

A tapping on the hull woke me up after a couple of hours sleep. A fishing pirogue alongside and a face peering through the porthole next to me. The wind had dropped and we were just drifting. Maybe they were thinking of salvage? I quickly dragged on my dress and said good morning! Big smiles and apologetic waving and they left me in peace.

1st September

Another windless day and 1 knot of current against us. Komodo Island, famous for it’s dragons, to port. We won’t be stopping there.

I did some tidying up and bottled half of the batch of wine that I had started in Fiji before leaving. It had to be made with raw brown sugar as refined white was unobtainable in Savusavu. It will be interesting to taste the result. The colour looks rather unusual.

We are going slowly backwards.

3^rd September

A strong gusty wind and a bouncy sea caused by a counter current. This is becoming tedious.

5^th September

0200 Woke up for a quick look around and we were nearly on top of two fishing boats. Just managed to turn away and clear the stern of the nearest one. A close shave.

When the sun came up the island of Lombok was just visible. 83 miles to go to Gili Gedi.

7^th September

After sailing along the north coast of Lombok we had to turn south into the Lombok Strait which has a reputation for having a very strong southerly current, reputed to run up to 8 knots at spring tides. This was the main reason that I had chosen to sail north of the island chain rather than try to turn against the current into the strait from a southerly approach. Close to shore the current was hardly noticeable but when I ventured further out towards the middle of the channel it was ferocious with some nasty eddies. I had to use the engine to maintain control as the wind had gone light again. There was also a lot of shipping in the main part of the channel. I hugged the shore.

As the sun came up I was amazed to see literally hundreds of small outrigger craft with crab claw sails crossing the strait. I held my course and they deftly sailed around me. Most seemed to be heading for the harbour just north of Gili Gede. Commuters? It was a wonderful panorama.

I made my way past some small islands and soon had the marina in sight. I managed to call them on the VHF and a dinghy came out and showed me where I could anchor.

Only one problem. While I was at sea and incommunicado, the country had closed its borders to foreign tourists. So now I wait in limbo. Not able to clear in and go ashore and uncertain of what might evolve. The marina staff are very helpful and have provided me with a local sim card for my phone and will happily arrange to get fuel, water and provisions. There is a chance that Indonesia might open again shortly so we wait and hope. I cracked the bottle of bubbly anyway.

Tags: Coral Sea
September 13th, 2021  |  Posted in Cruising, Indonesia  |  4 Comments »

Savusavu

Author: Shirlz

June 2021

I had to spend a few extra days in the quarantine anchorage thanks to the failure of my AIS transponder. It was a welcome opportunity to just relax and try to start drying out my soaked bedding and practically everything else on the boat. The marina organised a prepaid sim card for my phone and I was able to catch up with the rest of the world again and let people know that I’d arrived. It was a rather barren site as it is where a new marina is presently under construction. The only wildlife I was able to spot was a flock of myna birds and, more interestingly, an enormous colony of flying foxes roosting in a nearby tree.

After some negotiations by the agent, the navy agreed to accept my saved Navionics track as proof that I had made no stops along the way. I still wonder where they thought I might have found a likely place to stop between New Zealand and Fiji.

The next day I was given a PCR test and when it showed I was just fine, we were escorted to the customs dock at the marina. Clearing with Customs, Immigration and Bio Security was very conveniently done around a table on the terrace of the Copra Shed Marina and I moved onto a mooring a little way off. Now I was free to go ashore and have a look at the town.

It was good to be able to go for a walk again. The sun was out and I strolled along the waterfront where there is a path that trails behind the market. Palm trees and hibiscus and colourful plants. People relaxing at little tables. I was happy to be back in the tropics.

A week of heavy rain followed which filled the water tanks and every available container. It also periodically filled the dinghy and I was able to properly wash out the salt from all my wet stuff. Getting things dry was another matter.

About half-way here on the passage from New Zealand, the new solar panel that I’d installed stopped working. I brought it below and tried to find the problem. My multimeter showed that it was only delivering an open voltage of 10V. Absolutely no use for charging a 12V battery. I was able to prise off the control box which was mounted on the upper surface of the panel and found that one of the two connectors inside had completely corroded through. The panel had obviously got wet, both from rain and salt water, but surely it should have been able to stand that. On closer inspection it was obvious that the control box had not been properly sealed off. Rather annoying. I wasn’t sure if it was repairable, but took it along to a little electrical shop tucked into an alley off the main road. To my great relief, ‘Ozzie’ was able to get it working again for a very reasonable price. I did the job of making it waterproof myself, using a very generous slathering of Sikaflex.

Stuck on board again the next day due to torrential rain, I decided to try to figure out the problem with the AIS. It has 4 little led status lights and when I switched it on, and waited, and waited, it seemed to be telling me that it was unable to locate the GPS satellites. This was rather puzzling, as when I first installed it, anchored near Russell, it found its position quite easily. Must have just been a good day for satellites. I had positioned it on a bulkhead next to the chart table and slightly behind the VHF radio. Maybe the radio was blocking it. I unscrewed it and moved it about 15cm inboard, where it now has a clear view of the sky through the companionway hatch, and it’s found the satellites and is transmitting. How ridiculous I feel. My heart really isn’t in all this superfluous electronic gadgetry.

The rain stopped at last and we had some truly magnificent days. I am happy just to stay where I am at the moment as diving is not for me these days and coping with anchoring amongst coral heads is also not a favourite activity. So I enjoy the comfort of a mooring and hot showers ashore. I was a little disappointed to find out that the hot springs baths that I’d been told about where no longer working.

Shopping is interesting, with many small shops along the one, main street selling a wonderful variety of stuff. The grocery stores stock all the essentials. It was a pleasant surprise to find some of the same brands I’d become used to in Tonga. Basic crackers instead of a confusing array of overpriced, designer-flavoured and textured savoury biscuits. The open market has a good selection of seasonal local produce, again much cheaper than the slick supermarkets.

Of course, due to the Covid scare, everyone must wear a mask when shopping and either stay connected with a tracking app on your phone or sign in at every shop you enter. Hands must also be sanitized over and over. The only area where things fall down a bit is in keeping the required 2m social distance. Shops are tiny and crowded. The bus station is packed as are the buses. I had been hoping to take one of the open buses to Labasa, just to enjoy the ride and see some of the local scenery, but I’m having second thoughts.

There was a stunning sunset this evening. After a shower I sat in the cockpit and enjoyed the wonderful feeling of ease, sipping a can of pre-mixed Bombay Sapphire and tonic, watching life go on around me. At home in my wrinkled skin.

June 9th, 2021  |  Posted in Cruising, Fiji  |  3 Comments »

Sailing the Blue Lane to Fiji

Author: Shirlz

May 2021

While I was moored in Kerikeri I spoke to the skipper of a New Zealand boat who had sailed to Fiji and back last year using the newly created ‘Blue Lane’ scheme to allow yachts to safely visit the islands. I had been under the impression that once there, you had to remain tied up in a marina. Apparently not. I was not really looking forward to another cold winter and did some investigating. What had to be done was to submit to a Covid-19 test and if it was negative, leave within 72 hours of the sample being taken. It was also necessary to have an AIS transponder active for the entire voyage to prove that no stops were made along the way. An agent was essential to coordinate the negotiations.

I decided to go for it and had Speedwell hauled out at the boatyard in Opua for a fresh coat of antifouling. I was able to buy an AIS transponder and antenna splitter while I was there. I also installed a new solar panel and controller to power the additional electronics.

I moved back to the anchorage near Russell and made an appointment for the test at the local medical centre. The sample would have to be sent to an approved pathology lab in Auckland, the results returned to the medical centre and then to me so that I could forward it to my agent in Fiji, who would pass it on to the officials that end and get their approval for my trip. Only then would I be able to clear with customs in Opua. All within 72 hours. Of course, advance warning of departure had to be given to New Zealand customs and an appointment made with an officer to travel from Whangarei to Opua on the planned day, dependant on receiving permission to travel to Fiji from that end. Oh boy. Of course, the weather, which is normally the most important factor when planning to start a voyage became irrelevant.

Well, amazingly enough, it all came together and on the morning of 30^th April (a Friday) I left the Bay of Islands with 2 hours to go before the time limit was up.

Friday, 30^th April, 2021

I woke early to get everything ready for departure before 9am which is when my 72 hours would expire. A final notification to NZ Customs that I was now actually under way and another to the agent in Fiji giving my ETA. As it had taken 19 days for the passage from Tonga to Opua I used the same time frame for this trip. I think that the agent was more used to dealing with superyachts who could do the trip in under a week and he seemed a little incredulous.

I dropped the mooring I had conveniently ‘borrowed’ and we were off at last. I raised the full sail but had to use the engine as there was no wind. I had to admit to a nostalgic pang as I passed the anchorage near Russell, but the wind was picking up a little and at last I could kill the noisy engine. It was a perfect day for starting a passage, a gentle F3 SW wind and a calm sea. I had the full sail up and the new battens looked very sound and confidence-inspiring. I hooked up the Navik and it coped magnificently. A small group of little blue penguins watched our approach and prudently dived and disappeared as we got closer.

At sunset we were still within internet range of the coast and I was able to get a last weather forecast. I downloaded the PassageWeather charts for the next few days and they seemed fairly reassuring. Some stronger winds were forecast but I was hoping that the worst would have passed by the time I expected to arrive in Fiji.

I slept in 20 minute snatches as there is quite a bit of big ship traffic near the coast. The AIS warned me of 3 which came within my 5 mile range. As usual, I actually spotted them before the warning went off.

Saturday, 1^st May,2021

Before dawn, I was rudely awoken by an unexpected gybe. Oh dear, the Navik windvane was flopping about at an ineffective angle and seemed to have become disconnected. I hauled the sail in and hove-to. The weather was still beautifully calm and the moon was up. I had to unbolt the vane section and bring it in-board to repair it. The problem had happened before and was easy enough to fix. Soon we were on our way again.

For the next few days things were pretty steady and we were able to make good some easting which I was happy about as the stronger winds that were forecast were all from the east. Daily runs ranged around about 70 nm which I was quite content with, confirming my normal passage planning speed of 3 knots.

Wednesday, 5^th May, 2021

The weather turned nasty today as predicted by the forecast. Speedwell has no wind instruments but judging by the state of the water and the performance of the Navik, and the quantity of seawater arriving in the cockpit I judged it to be 25-30 knots. I blessed the junk rig, put in three reefs to maintain our comfort level, and we plugged doggedly on, now hard on the wind but still able to lay the course. Things could be worse. Instant noodles for dinner tonight.

With no way of picking up a weather forecast one tries to get clues from the state of the sky. According to the rules compiled by Admiral Fitzroy (Darwin’s captain on the HMS Beagle), ‘A bright yellow sky at sunset presages wind; a pale yellow sky, wet’.

The sunset tonight was an ominous lemony yellow.

Thursday, 6^th May, 2021

Another day of awful weather. Grey skies, big seas, strong winds, wet boat. But we are holding our own, painfully jogging along to windward (with a flat junk sail!), actually the sail is doing remarkably well and we are still averaging a healthy 50+ nm a day. With constant seas over the deck there is a lot of water in the bilge. I use the little electric pump to keep it under control. Unfortunately the regular extreme heeling to port causes water to slosh up the inside of the boat and has thoroughly soaked the foam mattress of my bunk. A nasty squelshiness that I must endure. There’s no way to dry it out, so I’ll just have to put up with it for the rest of the trip.

Proper cooking on the primus has become just too much of a challenge, but using the small fully gimballed gas stove I can at least make tea or coffee, or boil water for those noodles.

It’s a bit dark and gloomy down below, so whenever possible I don full foul-weather gear and wedge myself safely in a corner of the cockpit, hoping to spot a whale, a dolphin, a bird, anything really. So far no cetaceans, but there have been some beautiful petrels. With the help of Peter Harrison’s wonderful book on Seabirds (thanks again Annie!) I was able to identify two Kermadec petrels, a Westland Black and a Whiteheaded. I would love to try to get photos but I don’t have a waterproof camera and can’t risk using my phone.

Friday, 7^th May, 2021

The heavy weather continues. The AIS is flashing a red error light every now and then. I hope it is still working.

Sitting in the cockpit I watch the birds which seem to have befriended us. There are two Westland petrels which return every afternoon. They circle the boat and swoop down to pick up whatever appears in our wake, then make a low, slow pass up the starboard side of the boat, flying to windward, almost stationary as they work hard against the wind, barely 10m away. A wonderful opportunity to really look at them. No binoculars required.

The sun was occasionally breaking through the clouds and two skittering and fluttering white-bellied storm petrels were making the most of the tiny sea creatures disturbed by our wake. They were a joy to watch, but how hard they have to work to feed themselves.

Baked beans (cold) for supper.

Saturday, 8^th May 2021

Chocolate biscuit with my coffee this morning as it’s my birthday (73).

I think I’ll keep the bubbly till I get safely in to Savusavu.

A passage from the book I’m reading seemed rather apt, the last sentence particularly:

This sunset for instance, how lavishly it was laid on, the clouds, the light on the sea, that heartbreaking, blue-green distance, laid on, all of it, as if to console some lost, suffering wayfarer. I have never really got used to being on this earth. John Banville – The Book of Evidence

Sunday, 9^th May 2021

And still the weather continues. Just 3 panels up, periodic swampings by breaking waves, but laying the course and making steady progress. 60 nm per day.

Passed the half way mark this evening – 580 nm to go.

Ready-to-eat curry for dinner, I don’t think I’ll try that again.

Tuesday, 11^th May 2021

More strong winds and massive seas. Big waves break over us and water gushes through around the sides of the sliding hatch, drenching me as I lie in my bunk.

The Navik was wobbling about again and I have used a length of string to secure it as things were a bit too rough for dismantling it as I did before.

I’ve been filling in crosswords as a break from reading.

The wind eased off a bit this afternoon and the sun came out. I was able to raise a 4^th panel and the sunset this evening was a promising pink. Dare we hope?

Wednesday, 12^th May 2021

At about 4am I was awoken by a gybe. As dreaded, the Navik had come completely adrift again. It was a moonless night and I decided to wait till daybreak before attempting repairs. I disconnected it from the tiller and allowed Speedwell to steer herself. Only an occasional nudge from me was required. Conditions were easy, with a calm sea, F4 wind just ahead of the beam and the stars out in force. I steered by keeping the southern cross astern. It was much better to be out in the starry night than struggling to sleep in my clammy bunk.

As soon as it was light I got the windvane dismantled and did the necessary repairs. This time I used some contact adhesive on the offending bits and secured it again with string. It’s becoming a familiar routine. Getting it re-connected to the paddle at sea can be a challenge, even hove-to, as we were, but it slipped back easily into position and I tightened the securing screws with relief. We were on our way again.

Saturday, 15^th May 2021

A slight change in the motion of the boat had me climbing out of my bunk at about 0200. The wind had dropped a bit and we were falling off course. I tried to raise another panel as we had been creeping along with 3 reefs in. Oh dear, the halyard seemed to be jammed and it was impossible to see what might be causing it in the pitch dark night. I decided to go back to bed and wait until morning.

After my first cup of coffee, I hove-to and tried to sort out the problem. The halyard was totally jammed. Impossible to raise or lower the sail. The culprit was my ragged NZ courtesy flag which I had neglected to lower when I left the Bay of Islands and later the bad weather kept me off the foredeck. Now it had become partly detached and had wrapped itself around the halyard, effectively making a secure slip knot which tightened under tension in either direction. Something had to be done. I tried jiggling it about with the boathook, but it was a long way up the mast and my position was precarious. I had a little think.. OK, loosen the flag halyard and try to carefully reverse the winding, Easier imagined than done, but we got there in the end. Another lesson painfully learnt: never go to sea with a flapping courtesy flag in the rigging.

At noon today, Matuka Island was just visible in the haze, 23nm to the NE.

For the first time, the wind blew warm and tropical.

Sunday, 16^th May 2021

We are getting closer. Passed Moala island to starboard at dawn.

Two red-footed boobies came to inspect us,

At noon we had just 100 nm to go.

The afternoon was spent constantly raising and lowering one or two panels as one squall after another hit us. Lots of rain.

A wonderful red sky in the evening was this sailor’s delight. I toasted it with my last can of beer.

Monday, 17^th May 2021

A beautiful sailing day. I had a shower in the cockpit enjoying the wonderful tropical warmth.

I was able to do a bit of cleaning and tidying up in the battlefield below. We are not going to get in before dark today (those squalls yesterday really slowed us down) but there are still plenty of days before we could be forced to arrive during the weekend with overtime fees payable. I mixed up a sweetcorn and smoked salmon salad for lunch which was delicious.

There have been very few birds over the last couple of days, but two masked boobies flew past – an adult with a juvenile in it’s wake.

At about 11pm I hove-to 10 miles off the coast to wait for dawn.

Tuesday, 18^th May 2021

In the morning I sailed the last few miles into Savusavu Bay. I wasn’t sure where I was supposed to wait for the Navy to escort me in to the quarantine anchorage and tried calling them on the VHF. No response. I carried on sailing. Another lovely day. Once around the point, the water was flat and a useful breeze kept us moving. It felt good to be back in the tropics. Green hillsides, small houses scattered about on the steep slopes. One or two yachts anchored off tiny white beaches.

Eventually someone picked up my radio calls and a motor boat with 3 be-masked and be-gloved officials came out to meet me. I was news to them, although I had expected my agent in Denarau to have forwarded my info. I had to repeat all the advance notice of arrival information verbally. Then another longish wait, motoring now to stay in place. At last they were back and led the way to the quarantine anchorage.

Tags: Blue Lane, Fiji
May 22nd, 2021  |  Posted in Cruising, Fiji, South Pacific  |  1 Comment »

Back to the Bay of Islands

Author: Shirlz

January/February, 2021

I was reluctant to leave Great Barrier Island as I had really enjoyed being there. The magnificent scenery and unspoilt countryside. The remoteness. One of the few places I could imagine living out my dotage.

But time was passing and I had to be on my way. No news yet re the extension of my visa, so uncertainty reigns.

My reason for leaving Great Barrier was really to be in Whangarei for the launch of Annie Hill’s new boat FanShi. She has spent 5 years building it and it is a stunning achievement. Junk-rigged of course, so there would be a faithful contingent of ‘junkies’ there to watch the splash. The weather was kind, the boat floated on her waterlines and Annie popped the required bottle of fizz to consecrate the vessel, in great style.

Later there was a celebratory gathering on Le Canard Bleu, Paul Thompson’s more spacious boat. Next day 5 junks took off down-river in slow formation, the wind being extremely light. I followed later after fixing a problem with Speedwell’s engine, and joined them in Parua Bay for a few days, before starting up the coast to the Bay of Islands.

I made a short stop at Tutukaka and this time went ashore to do the walk to the lighthouse, which was quite spectacular and busy with weekend hikers. I was able to get some pictures of the entrance which can be quite thrilling to negotiate under sail. Now the water was calm and it was hard to imagine the crashing waves on either side that I’d experienced on my first visit.

The next day I sailed further up the coast to the wonderfully sheltered Whangaruru Harbour where Annie had holed up so that she could make some necessary adjustments to the set of FanShi’s sail in the calm water to be found there. It was my first visit and it was a chance to get the kayak inflated and to a bit of exploring. The water was on the murky side, but I paddled happily around the mangroves. A flock of fairy terns were making spectacular dives on their unfortunate prey despite the less than clear water. Three days later I was ready to leave and a convenient southerly wind gave me a speedy ride as far as Cape Brett at which point I had to turn into the wind to approach the Bay of Islands and struggled for 5 hours to beat in for the last 10 miles. I made it to the nearest convenient sheltered anchorage just before sunset, thanks to an hour of motor sailing. Hard on the wind in a rough sea is not Speedwell’s best point of sail. It was still blowing strongly, but tucked snugly into the passage between Moturua and Motukiekie islands it was reasonably sheltered for the night. Next morning it poured with rain and I was quite happy to stay exactly where I was and watched as more hardy souls ventured out into the nasty, blustery weather.

Soon enough the sun came out again and the next day I had a delightful sail across the bay to the Te Puna inlet. It was a Sunday and a swarm of Moths were racing around the buoys at breathtaking speeds, virtually airborne on their ‘stilts’. I plodded stolidly on, trusting that they were capable of avoiding me. It reminded me very vividly of the International Moth Regatta I’d attended with Dale in Bermuda a few years ago.

There was an ideal place to anchor near a small beach in a spot called Patunui Bay. The water was invitingly clear and I had a quick swim to freshen up. Now I had a chance to contact Karin and Richard who I had met in 2009 when we were moored at San Isidro, near Buenos Aires. They had sailed from New Zealand on their gaff-rigged boat Isis, taking the southerly route and through the Beagle Channel. Now, after many adventures, they are land-based and settled near to the Kerikeri Basin.

I waited for a rising tide and picked my way carefully up the winding channel to Kerikeri. As I neared the basin, I spotted Richard and Karin rowing towards where their current boat, Escapology, is moored, tucked in to a bend in the river. They helped me tie up Speedwell alongside their boat and whisked me away for a quick tour of their very wonderful riverside property. The next day Richard helped me move across the river and tie up between two posts. An absolutely perfect spot with a great view of the historic Stone Store and easy access ashore via a floating dinghy dock complete with fresh water tap. It doesn’t get much better.

March 6th, 2021  |  Posted in Cruising, New Zealand  |  No Comments »

Exploring the Hauraki Gulf

Author: Shirlz

November, 2020

My stay at Smokehouse Bay was cut short when the weekend crowds arrived and I scuttled off to find a quiet spot in Wairahi Bay just a short mile away. It is a fairly narrow and steep-sided fiord-like bay which reminded me of some of the beautiful caletas in Tierra del Fuego (with better weather).

 

 

I stayed for a few days putting a new coat of varnish on Speedwell’s tiller, and then moved on down the coast of Great Barrier Island to Whangaparapara. As I was sailing along, a big white area on the rocky shore turned out to be a densely packed breeding ground for gannets. Many birds were flying overhead and diving on unsuspecting prey to take back to their hungry brood.

 

 

The wind was coming from the SW and I found good shelter near the entrance to Whangaparapara in Graveyard Bay. I had thought of hiking up to the hot springs but it meant a long row across the bay and the wind was really picking up. True to its name, there is a small graveyard ashore, and as darkness fell a faint light glimmered eerily from one of the graves. I reassured myself that someone must have planted one of those solar-powered garden lights there. Next day the wind turned more southerly and it was a grey drizzly day so I stayed put and settled down with a good book.

 

 

Once again I needed to do some shopping so as soon as the weather cleared I sailed on to Tryphena where I had been told there was a grocery shop. It was a lovely little sail into a fairly open and shallow bay. I needed to anchor quite a long way off the beach at Mulberry Cove. I had become used to always being able to get internet access on my phone, but here it was very patchy. I rowed ashore and hauled my dinghy up the sandy beach, very grateful that it was sand and not mud. A local dog-walker gave me directions to the shop in the next little bay which led me along an interesting footpath following the coastline with beautiful sea views round every corner, then across the next beach to a good shop and an Irish Pub. Internet too. I restocked with as much as I could carry and headed happily back to Speedwell.

 

 

Soon it was time to move on again, and with a favourable forecast I sailed across the gap to the Coromandel Peninsula lured on by the romantic sound of the name. My new battens looking very smart and shiny. Passing Cape Colville the water was quite turbulent but we made steady, if rather uncomfortable progress and then a fast dead downwind run along the string of large rocks and small islands leading to the entrance to Coromandel Harbour. The wind was now just E of North and I wanted to get in to Te Kouma Harbour a little further on. But then the sky darkened and we were struck with a drenching cloudburst reducing forward visibility to less than the boat length. I hastily hauled in the sail, which by now was reefed right down, and hove-to to let the squall pass. I was suddenly surprised by a noisy dive boat which had motored close up wanting to know if I was OK. I gave them an emphatic thumbs up and they roared off into the gloom. It was thoughtful of them to stop by. Soon enough the rain eased off and I was able to see where the gap in the rocks leading to Te Kouma was. Off we sailed again and after a gentle gybe were able to make the right-angled turn into the harbour and beautiful Squadron Bay.

 

 

I spent a few days just relaxing and enjoying the exquisite surroundings and an easy stroll ashore up a grassy hill which gave a good view of Whanganui Island and Coromandel Harbour. Once again I waited out a weekend until most other boats had left and then moved around to a sheltered little cove on the SE coast of Whanganui. I was able to pick up a weather forecast here and it seemed like a good idea to move across to Rotoroa Island just off Waiheki which would be a fine place to shelter from the NE gale warning. Another fast downwind sail and exciting passage through a narrow gap into the shelter of Southwest Bay on Rotoroa. A sprinkling of other small boats had also decided to take refuge there and I later discovered we were four single-handers, 3 women and 1 male. Average age over 70. We all weathered the gale successfully.

 

 

When the wind eventually dropped I moved Speedwell a little closer to the beach and joined Helen from one of the other boats for a good walk ashore. The island is a nature reserve and a lot of work is being done to replant trees and restore the vegetation. Once again magnificent views of the maze of craggy islands and deep inlets all around. The distinctive Sky Tower marked the city of Auckland a mere 10 or so nm to the west.

On Saturday the ferry arrived bringing people to watch the release of a young kiwi. The island provides a safe predator-free refuge for the chicks at a stage when they are very vulnerable. Their survival rate in the wild being about 5%. By keeping them protected until they are more able to fend for themselves they have something like a 60% chance of making it when returned to their natural surroundings. I was thrilled to be able to watch as a young bird was removed from its protective crate and gently cradled in the arms of its keeper who then carried it around for everyone to get a good look and take photos. No touching, of course. It was quite passive and sleepy as they are nocturnal creatures. It was a wonderful and unexpected experience.

 

 

I had hoped to spend a bit longer exploring Rotoroa but now the wind was shifting more to the west and the anchorage was very open in that direction. The other boats, being more familiar with the area suggested a move across to Omaru Bay on the east coast of Waiheki Island. It seemed like a good idea and I had a slow sail to windward to join them. By now I was running out of stuff again, my main problem being my last dwindling bar of chocolate. There is a good supermarket on the island which can be easily reached by bus from Rocky Bay on the south coast, so on I sailed to yet another beautiful spot. Unfortunately the wind was now turning more SW which made Rocky Bay a less than ideal anchorage and I did not feel that I could leave Speedwell unattended to go on a shopping expedition. We spent one night there and then sailed on heading in a clockwise direction around the island to Oneroa on the north coast. Although the wind had dropped by now, there was an uncomfortable NE swell rolling in. There were no other boats there but a Strong Wind, possible SW Gale Warning was in force and I decided to hang in there.

 

 

In the morning more boats started to arrive and the bay was soon quite crowded with others seeking shelter from the SW wind. And it did blow. I spent the day on board. The shopping would have to wait another day. Fortunately Helen had given me a bag containing a selection of survival rations (including chocolate) before she left and I had plenty of my very successful home brewed wine to keep my spirits up in the evening.

 

 

When the weather finally cleared it was beautiful and I had a chance to explore the village and walk all the way across the island to the ferry dock at Matiatia. There is a choice of paths and naturally I took the less-travelled high track which proved to be very interesting as there has been a big effort at replanting trees in the area. The original kauri and other timber trees had been plundered for ship and general construction leaving the land bare. There is a lot of new growth and here and there a neat little sign has been planted next to a tree giving its name and description. I had been quite frustrated up to now trying to identify the local trees which were mostly all strange to me so this was a very welcome addition.

 

 

Over the weekend more and more boats arrived in this really lovely bay which is also conveniently close to the crowded marinas of Auckland. The weather was perfect and people were making the most of it. A swarm of little Optimist sailors were being put through their paces in the middle of the bay, the gentle wind barely enough to keep them moving. I decided to move around to Hooks Bay on the eastern coast of Waiheki to be ready for a jump back to Great Barrier when the weather was right. I motored carefully through the packed anchorage and once clear of the Optimists had a lovely gentle sail around the coast. As I was leaving the bay I spotted Oryx motoring in in the distance. The first time I had seen her at sea.

 

 

Hooks Bay was almost empty of boats and I found a good place to drop the anchor in 5m. I was a little disappointed when I rowed ashore the next morning to find that the Stony Batter trail had been closed since March due to Covid-19. Maybe someone had forgotten to take down the sign as all other trails appear to be open. I had a pleasant stroll along the beach and watched some dotterels, a caspian tern, red-billed gulls and some paradise shelducks pottering about at the mouth of a small stream that spilled out onto the beach.

 

On Tuesday there was a good wind for the sail back to Great Barrier Island where I hoped to find a place where I would be able to stop for a few days without having to be constantly aware of the ever-changing wind direction and forced to keep moving. All rather different to places like the Caribbean where you can depend on a pretty steady NE trade-wind for weeks on end.
I made an early start as the entrance to Port Fitzroy was 40nm away and had to be entered in daylight. A slightly slow start in SW F2-3 but by 9am we were moving nicely at 4 knots in something a bit stronger. Really, really great. As we approached the coast the wind strengthened and veered more to the west and I found myself once again on a dead downwind run into a narrow rocky inlet. Not really my favourite activity. I reefed down to 4 panels and struggled to see just where the opening was. Not easy to spot. Luckily I had a waypoint for the entrance but needed to actually see it. Of course once in the sheltered approach between a series of small islands our speed dropped right off and the wind direction became a bit confused. I prudently started the engine and with the sail sheeted tightly in, motored through the Man of War passage in a sedately safe fashion.

One reason for returning to Great Barrier was the lure of the fresh water and laundry facilities at Smokehouse Bay. Although it was only a Tuesday the anchorage was totally crammed with boats. I decided to sail on by and made my way to Wairahi Bay a little further on which was almost empty and where I’d spent a few days on my previous visit.

 

 

A short while later Bob and Kate on Sylph VI motored over to join me. They had recently relaunched after spending many months on the hard in Whangarei doing a very extensive refit. The boat was looking immaculate and it was great to see them again. On Friday Kate and I rowed across to a little jetty across the bay which gave access to Barrier Gold where Sven has an ingenious and enormous still for extracting the precious volatile oils from Manuka and Kanuka leaves. It was noisy and I couldn’t really hear what he was saying but he gave us a detailed lecture on the process and I was happy to be able to buy a small jar of Original Kanuka Balm which is good for an enormous variety of uses.

But Bob was keen to keep moving and after a farewell dinner on Speedwell I watched them sail away on Saturday morning heading for points south.

 

I still haven’t got my laundry done, but it looks as though the crowds are thinning out at Smokehouse so maybe it will be washday on Monday.

November 22nd, 2020  |  Posted in Cruising, Great Barrier Island, Hauraki Gulf, New Zealand  |  1 Comment »

Great Barrier Island

Author: Shirlz

23^rd October 2020

I left the comfortable anchorage in the Hatea River where I had spent nearly 3 months since relaunching. I had hoped to leave sooner but got caught up in the complexities of applying for a visa extension. If it is granted I will be able to stay in New Zealand until June next year by which time it might be possible to continue voyaging. Uncertainty reigns.

 

My first stop was all of 2.5 nm from where I started, at a convenient anchorage on the north coast of Limestone Island. It was a Sunday and the area was busy with local boats. Not much movement as most were just drifting with sails up, waiting for some wind. It came eventually and the little flotilla moved off in a cloud of pointy white sails.

 

The tide was falling and the coastal path that circles the small island was soon sufficiently exposed to allow an exploratory ramble. I rowed ashore and followed the coastline. The island is a sanctuary for Kiwi fledglings but I saw no evidence of them. Not much chance really, as they are nocturnal creatures. Variegated Oystercatchers were gathered en masse on an old jetty making a lot of raucous noise. I’d never seen so many together in one place before. It was quite an uneven rocky shore and I had to watch where I put my feet. Steep limestone cliffs showed where the abandoned quarry had been.

 

I was able to get a good look at the anchorage on the opposite shore to where I had stopped with Speedwell. It would give better protection in a northerly wind and was a bit more remote from the activity around the club at Onerahi. But two other boats were already anchored there and I was happy to stay where I was. The path led through the ruins of the old limestone factory and a small flock of woolly sheep observed me ruminatively from the shade of an enormous tree. Oystercatchers continued their piercing cries. The next day I dutifully took the higher path which was quite interesting and gave magnificent views of the river.

 

An easterly wind was forecast for the next few days, so I decided to head down to The Nook in Parua Bay to wait for the right weather for the next leg of my trip. I was able to sail the short distance with the ebbing tide helping me along and found a perfect spot to shelter from the coming wind. The Nook is a popular spot for boats in transit up or down the river providing a well-sheltered place to wait for a favourable tide. I needed a good wind to help me on the way to Great Barrier Island about 45 miles to the SE. Unfortunately the wind seemed determined to blow strongly from that very direction and, not being in any sort of hurry I was content to just wait.

 

After a few days of unrelenting south easterly winds my supplies were starting to run low and I moved around to the inner bay where I thought I might be able to get ashore and do some shopping. I rowed as far as possible towards the shallow eastern end of the bay. It was low tide and the mud flats extended a long way. I soon had to abandon the dinghy, tied to the root of a tree at a rocky spot on the southern shore, and then walked the rest of the way. It was a very muddy experience. Luckily I happened upon a convenient fresh water hose on an open lawn area. Not sure if I was trespassing or if this was a public park, I very gratefully rinsed the mud off my shoes, feet and legs up to the knees and headed along an interesting path to the village of Parua where there is a small supermarket. By the time I got back to the dinghy the wind had picked up from the east and I had an exciting and very fast downwind row back to Speedwell, taking great care not to get blown past my little yellow boat.

 

I still had about 7 miles to sail to Whangarei Heads and the open sea, so as soon as the weather improved I moved down to Urquharts Bay where I would be well placed to start the trip to Great Barrier. Nancy and Tim were there on their boat, ‘Larus’ and picked me up to go for a walk ashore. Another very good trail with a mixture of great sea views and rolling green hills dotted with black cattle busily converting grass to beef.

At last the weather seemed possible for heading out and I left early the next morning. Of course, now the wind was just too light and I was forced to motor sail most of the way to get in before dark. But the sun was out and the batteries got a good charge. Although it wasn’t able to do much with the lack of wind, the sail looked very good with its straight and shiny new battens. At about six I dropped anchor in Nagle Cove and realized that I was in a totally different sort of place to busy Whangarei.

 

Next day, after a leisurely breakfast I hauled up 4 panels and had a delightful downwind sail to Kaiarara Bay where I anchored near to the start of a trail that goes up to Mount Hobson, the highest point on the island. This must be one of the most beautiful trails around. A well maintained path with raised causeways in places to protect the nesting areas of local birds. Whenever a stream needed to be crossed there was either a wooden bridge or an exciting suspension bridge. No need to scramble all the way down, boulder hop or wade across and then scramble all the way back up. Luxury hiking indeed. I had been warned that reaching the top involved many, many steps and this was no exaggeration. But they were much appreciated, as I don’t think I would have made it to the top without their help. The view from the summit was spectacular.

 

At low tide I became aware of the extensive mud flats at the head of the bay. I was closer than I had realized when dropping the anchor but it was well dug in and the weather was mild. I had a wonderful view of the birds foraging for food in the shallows. At one point I saw a pair of brown teal, three white faced herons, numerous oyster catchers, two caspian terns, a pied shag, some gannets, a sprinkling of bright kingfishers and the usual seagulls. There must have been plenty of life in that mud to have kept them all interested.

 

 

I needed a day of rest to recover from all that exertion and then moved on to Smokehouse Bay where I am now. The big attraction here is a fresh water supply and a wonderful bush laundromat complete with mangles. I really needed to get some washing done and it was fun using the old mangles. There is also a proper bath and a boiler where you can light a fire and heat the water. Maybe tomorrow..

October 24th, 2020  |  Posted in Cruising, Great Barrier Island, New Zealand  |  1 Comment »

Hatea River, Whangarei

Author: Shirlz

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Friday, 17th July 2020

It’s raining and dark clouds cover the sun. Speedwell is back in the water, anchored in the Hatea River a little way down from the boatyard.

 

 

After nearly four months on the hard, connected to shore power, I suddenly find myself dependent on solar panels to keep the ship’s batteries charged. I have one approximately 40 watt panel mounted above the stern which does the job happily on long sunny days, but at this time of the year in New Zealand, the days are short and not very sunny. To complicate matters, the boat swings with the tidal current and/or the wind which means that unless I keep a careful watch and manually adjust the angle of the panel to the sun it is often directed away from the energy-giving rays.

Annie and the informal JRA once more to the rescue. A stack of old panels resides in Annie’s boatshed and I was invited to take my pick. I couldn’t imagine where to mount either of the large, rigid ones but there were also two promising-looking flexible panels. After testing with a multimeter we found one that had an open circuit voltage of over 17V. Great! I hooked it up in parrallel to my existing one and voila! Of course, this is not a perfect world and now that I am seriously in need of the extra amps I have discovered that as the two panels are of very different efficiency, there is a need for bypass diodes in the circuit. Fortunately my little charge controller gives a clear indication of whether or not current is actually flowing in the direction of the battery and as soon as this stops, I jump up and disconnect the big flexible panel which is the culprit that is dragging down the voltage. Like magic the controller is happy again. My energy needs are very low so I’m content to put up with this less than ideal arrangement. Having the extra input when conditions allow, makes a big difference to the hours that I can indulge in using my laptop. I just have to be careful not to become mesmerised as I gaze bemusedly at the flashing led that indicates the charging status of the system. If all else fails, I can always resort to the brutal solution of running the engine to revitalize things.

 

 

The anchorage is very well protected from all wind directions and the muddy bottom provides good holding. A fact I was very grateful for two nights ago when a cold front passed through bringing heavy rain and gale force winds. It struck after dark, as these things do, and interrupted my dinner preparations. After being warned of other boats dragging, I hastily struggled into full foul-weather gear and ventured on deck to pay out another 20m of chain. The wind raged on but as there is no fetch in the river the water was relatively calm. I was able to finish my dinner (a rather good kumara, onion and garlic frittata) but spent a restless night keeping anchor watch. By morning enough rain had fallen to refill all my water tanks.

About a week before relaunching, while Speedwell was still cradled ashore a tornado swept through the boatyard creating some shocking devastation. I was very lucky and Speedwell was not directly in it’s path and was only a little roughly shaken but other boats were lifted or blown over with a lot of chaotic damage.

 

 

Annie was incredibly fortunate that her boat shed was spared. Another shed a few feet away was demolished. Annie describes it all very well in her blog.

My last few weeks in the boatyard were spent refurbishing the dinghy. It had been getting more and more difficult for me to lift it out of the water and stow it on deck. Either the dinghy was getting heavier or geriatric decrepitude was taking it’s toll. Not much I could do about the personal aging problem so I decided to try to lighten the dinghy by stripping off the multiple layers of paint that had accumulated over nearly 20 years. It was a messy job.

 

 

I carefully collected all the old paint scrapings in a bag and it weighed in at over 3kg by the time I was finished. Some had to be added back with a new coat of epoxy and paint, but the difference is very noticeable and I feel quite encouraged about my remaining lifting ability.

By the time launch-day arrived I had managed to tick off most of the items on my job list. A major achievement was being able to lower the mast, repaint it and check all the masthead fittings. We had been through some rough times and it was reassuring to see that all seemed well. I replaced the lazy jacks with new dyneema line which I covered with water hose to protect both lines and sail from chafe. I patched and restitched most of the sail and one fine day, Marcus arrived to help to raise the mast and settle it back in the tabernacle.

 

 

Now it was my job to reassemble the sail. I had smartened up the boom and yard with new paint and fendering and it was a pleasure to insert the shiny new aluminium battens. This was all done in the boat shed lean-to and then Annie and Gordon helped by transporting the sail bundle on the roof rack of Annie’s car to a convenient spot next to Speedwell from where I was able to winch it aboard and complete the rerigging exercise.

 

 

The launch proceeded smoothly with only one delay caused by an airlock in the new cooling water intake hose that I’d installed in the engine. David who was directing the proceedings, very ably fixed the problem and showed we what to do if it should ever happen again. Once floating, there was space for Speedwell to be warped around in the channel so that we could chug out to the river without having to manage an awkward reversing procedure. Many thanks to the Norsand Team!

July 17th, 2020  |  Posted in Cruising, New Zealand  |  3 Comments »

Life Locked Down on the Hard

Author: Shirlz

29th April 2020

Yesterday New Zealand relaxed into a level 3 lockdown and the boatyard has come alive once more. After 5 weeks of ghostly quiet, with the birds becoming bolder and bolder, the gates have been unchained and the workers are back on the job, albeit keeping the mandatory 2m social distance. Not always easy.

Speedwell is secured in a cradle at the edge of the slipway which gives me a good view of the water and the boats being hauled out or relaunched. There had been no movement during the level 4 stage of our lockdown, but now the slipway is open again and I have something to watch while I sit in the cockpit having a coffee break.

 

 

It has been a fairly productive month. I find it much easier to get things done in the cooler weather without being plagued by my glasses fogging up and sweat running into my eyes as I battle to reach into unreachable spaces with a screwdriver or spanner.

The first job was to sand down the underwater part of the hull to get rid of all the flaky old antifouling paint. I had invested in a battery powered orbital sander and a bargain-priced vacuum cleaner which could be attached to it so that no noxious, toxic dust could make it’s way into the atmosphere. The system worked well but the vacuum cleaner wasn’t quite up to the heavy industrial-type demand. It needed some coaxing to keep it going till the job was done, after which it quietly expired.

 

 

The mast had been lowered with help from Julie just before the gates closed which has meant that I’ve been able to properly repair the chafed patches caused by the parrels rubbing against the corners. When I set up the rigging this time I’m going to try using webbing at the mast which might help to prevent this happening again. It might also overcome the problem of the parrels jamming up on themselves as the sail is raised. We shall see.

Annie has been a wonderful help, generously giving me access to her impressive collection of tools. We share a ‘bubble’ so are allowed to visit each other and many a convivial evening has been spent discussing world affairs over the odd glass of rum. Sometimes, for a treat, we sit in the exquisite interior of her almost-finished boat, Fanshi, two crazy old bats sipping bubbly from crystal glasses.

 

 

I spent about a week repairing and patching my hard-working sail using her heavy-duty sewing machine. All the webbing loops for attaching the sail to the battens were looking very thread bare and have been replaced. Now all looks good for the next 10,000 nm providing, of course, that we will ever be allowed to freely roam the seas again. The day before the lockdown began I was able to take delivery of five lengths of 50mm o.d. aluminium tubing to be made into a new set of battens for the sail. The old ones were 35mm and I have been told by those who should know, that there will be no need to reinforce the new ones with glass and epoxy. It certainly makes things easier.

 

 

The weather has been turning wintry with some cold, wet and windy days. Time for inside jobs. The electrical wiring on Speedwell had become a bit of a rats nest over the years with rather too many unidentifiable loose ends and dodgy connections. It seemed like a good time to tackle the problem. Annie to the rescue again with the loan of her professional-grade wire crimper for replacing the connectors, along with a kind donation of heat shrink insulation from one of the other boatyard inmates, making the job relatively easy. Some nightmarish bits of almost chafed-through wire were discovered and replaced, redundant wires removed, all corroded connectors renewed and every single wire labelled. I felt quite proud. I’m even thinking about drawing up a wiring diagram.

 

 

The engine came next. I thought that all it really needed was a bit of a clean-up. Maybe a wipe down with an oily rag, as I’ve been told one should do on a regular basis. I set to with a will. Hmm.. there seemed to be quite a lot of water in the bilge. Surely I had dried it all out just the other day? Oh, dear. The culprit was a steady drip coming from the raw water intake pump allowing all the old water still in the system to find it’s way into the bilge. So, the pump was removed, not without difficulty, and to my great relief I was put in touch with an engineer who has done a great job of repairing it. How different to the agonisingly difficult time I had trying to get the same thing done in Annapolis a few years ago.

 

 

In these quite extraordinary times, I count myself very lucky to have landed up in one of the safest places I could hope for.

May 2nd, 2020  |  Posted in Cruising, New Zealand  |  5 Comments »