To the Bay of Islands

We take off early in the morning, motoring by Port Abercrombie and Port Fitzroy, then on go the sails in a pleasant twenty knots northwestern. Soon outside Great Barrier Island the wind settles around fifteen knots, with areas of nearly calm. It's a sunny day, and we don't really mind sailing slowly by stunning Fanal and Burgess islands. I even consider stopping to have a look at the big house on the peak of Burgess, the lightkeepers' house, but the rocky bay is not too encouraging. By nightfall we approach the Poor Knights Islands. Story goes that the two islands were once inhabited by a small maori tribe. They fished and traded their wares with the mainland, until some other tribe got jealous and slaughtered them all. As we pass them the wind dies, and with the night all land seems closer. I am concerned of some current taking us toward them, but little by little we clear them alright. At 9:00PM I take the helm for my shift, just in time to see the wind rise again to a steady southwesterly breeze that get Keturah cruising along at a comfortable five knots. The night is starry, the boat swaying over the water like the girl from ipanema. I play with the sails, more and more, until the steering becomes irrelevant: I can steer her simply by proper sail trimming. A complete communion, me the boat, sails, wind, stars, fosforescence. Beautiful.
I get the best winds of the night, waking up Ben at about 1:30AM for his watch. I've been seeing Cape Brett lighthouse practically from Poor Knights Islands, the lighthouse shines bright from twenty miles away, though my moldy 1973 chart says it shines at only seventeen. Suppose they juyced it up since then. I take a short nap, about one uncomfortable and restless hour, since the idea of approaching Cape Brett is something I want to be present to.
At about 2:30AM infact I go back up on deck, the shapes of the cape and Piercy islands is now visible. Ben is in his shorts and does not wear glasses, although it's hard to miss a huge black shape on the horizon. He assures me rounding the cape is a piece of bread to him. Regardless, I stand by, not wanting to miss the passage and suspecting some wind turbulence when being too close to high land. We nearly make it to pass the cape, but two thirds into it the wind dies. I know we're close to a nearby anchorage, so, to avoid useless strain and pointless sailing, I fire up the Ford, Nick comes on deck, sails are folded away. Ben goes right in his sleeping bag, although we're approaching and there is much left to coil and starighten, apparently he's freezing. It was a cold night.
So me and Nick do the rest, anchoring at 5AM in a completely calm and boats free Oke Bay.

Later in the morning we motor to Paihia, and at last we enjoy a few days with the comforts of civilization.

Great Barrier Island

The following day Nick and Ben wake up early, eager to get going, while I'm still having the few drags out of my after-coffee cigarette. No problem, five minutes and we're ready to go. The wind veered a bit West, and will turn northerly. Still, perfect to get started, still on a broad reach all day. It is sunny again!
Mid afternoon finds us between Small and great Barrier Islands, the forecast is not so good for the couple days to come, so I fire up the computer to loook for a nice anchorage.
I find one, well tucked behind a coiuple points, just large enough to accommodate the boat. We pass by a bird rookery: a whole hill made white by the birds and their guano. We anchor in seven meters, by a small beach, in a bay that looks like out of a postcard.
The day after it's blowing hard, but we're well sheltered, and we have a good sleep. While I pour my coffee I hear Ben shouting to come up! Come up!
Of course I spring out there, always in fear of a dragging anchor or something. Instead it's a pilot whale, circling mischievously around the boat, blowing now and then. She makes a few circles then comes alongside on it's side, letting and eye clearly emerging from the water and squinting at us. And off she goes.
Beautiful. She actually winked.
We finish breakfast and decide to change scenario and motor to the main sheltered area near to 'civilization'. Outside it's blowing 50 knots, there's a big swell coming at us, but Keturah bobs gracefully up and down, without lurches or rolling. Thanks god for the sheletered cockpit, or we'd be all drenched in salt water and instead of feeling like a funride it would be like facing Cape Horn. We go through the narrow passage by , I see a red boat down in a cove that looks just like Pig Iron, the boat by Elsa and David, a lovely old couple that would always welcome me back at Pier 21 to let me vent a bit of frustration and have a glass of wine. They've lived on her boat for twenty years and have been just about everywhere.
We go by them, noticing what a sheltered spot they picked up, wave a turn around to go to Port...., see what's there as the guys are already itching to get ashore. We anchor in rocky bottom, drag a bit, so I decide to let them go and stay on Keturah. The place looks deserted anyway. They inflate the dinghy and leave in exploration for the rest of the afternoon.
Later, once they're back, we decide to change spot...port..is not so sheltered, the williwaws come down the surrounding hills like angry devils. We decide that Pig Iron's spot was very nice after all, and even if we feel a bit like intruding, we go there.
As soon as we are anchored (dragging on rocks again), they shout to come over, actually David takes the dinghy and makes sure we do and it is soon discovered why:
they decided to quit smoking and left without cigarettes, so when they saw us, knowing we'd have cigarettes, they REALLY wanted us to anchor next to them. We have a nice afternoon drinking wine while I, nervously, can't keep my eyes off Keturah in the fear that she may be dragging anytime. She's been swinging quite a bit in the wind, and the previous experience with rocks didn't reassure me one bit.
We are invited for dinner, after we move to a different anchorage, as the wind from northerly is turning west again, and there's a little bay right opposite us that will do nicely: Smokehouse.
Arrived there everything is calm again, and ashore is some fish smoking facilities, a big grill, and a wood-operated boiler with a shower and an outdoor fire-tub, a bathtub one can light a fire underneath...never seen before.
We have a lovely evening with lots of wine on Pig Iron, I fall asleep by the wonderful diesel heater that's glowing and warming the whole boat. The morning after we will leave.

Bye bye Auckland

At last, the day comes to leave Pier 21, the last goodbye to the marina, the broker, the dock workers (who were really nice), rushing around to buy the chart from NZ to Fiji, jacklines, bits and pieces. The computer has been in the GI office all day, last emails, last weather checks. Nick sticks to the computer, somehow he needs to send some really long message, which I read as a latent form of anxiety.
The weather is nice, the wind a sout westerly, just right.
We leave Auckland in style: up go the sails, all of them right out of the marina, so instead of motoring as we've done so far, we pass by the waterfront under sail. A huge tanker takes off right as we go by it, but no worries.
Out of the main harbor, past Rangitoto we also come across the new NZ America's Cup boats returning from training. They have no engine and are being towed, the crew waves at us when we take pictures...here even the top class sailors appreciate an old ketch trimmed to perfection. Kiwis are no snobs, at least.
Perfect sailing all day, quiet, good speed, we play with the trimming all day, trying to squeeze every point of a knot out of her, and she complies beautifully, making steering superfluous for long stretches. Evening comes, and lo, we have been seeing the Maori Rocks beam for a while, the wind dies and we have dinner. The sea is oily, total calm, so instead of flapping and bobbing all night in the middle of nowhere we take shelter in Kawau island again, in the cove we know so well.
A few toasts to the good day and the beginning of the avventure and we're off to bed.

End of the ordeal?

Oh! The sweet life of the cruiser!
Sitting in a marina for almost a month, maxing out one's credit card several times, having the credit extended, and maxing that too...
Listening to a million advices on what to buy, all the meaningless gadgets so many think you Just Have to Have! (Get a suveyor, an electrician, an inspector, a lawyer, that brand new SSB, that GPS, that sea anchor at -only(!!!)- 3000$, 10000 meters of chain, line, rope). Weeks and weeks of awaiting for documents, researching suppliers and best prices, swinging that plastic card over and over for every one of the million of bits and pieces required to say "we are ready". Hand stitching the sails to save money while enduring the mercyless Auckland weather...all in the name of the dream day when Fiji will appear over the horizon, jumpers will be shed and the chain will roll over into a blue warm water.
Oh well, a crash course in boat purchasing and ownership, spiced up with nightmares, freezing weather, crew defections and self-disqualifications, anxieties of all sorts. As one guy told me yesterday: 'Sailing: the most expensive way to go anywhere on fourth class'.
But the day is coming..oh it is coming.
Currently three people aboard (Me, Nick and Ben), with a fourth that really wants to be here but somehow is failing to materialize. No matter, three is enough for the 8-12 days to Fiji. The last things are falling into pieces, and by the end of the week we should be departing for Opua in the Bay of Islands. There we'll explore the islands while waiting for the US registration to come through, and then we'll be finally departing for the dream isles. Just a few days to go and a few card swipes..."all it takes..."

Going sailing

I move on the boat, the first two days are spent cleaning and reorganizing, from bow to stern. I forget to eat lunch, can't be bothered really with all the things I must think of. Once everything is taken care of Joe and Nick move in, while Mia arrives a few days later. I try to give everyone's something to do. No matter, the weekend comes and we've prepared to have a first inaugural sail staying out just the weekend. We exit the marina and motor out of the harbor area, as I don't yet know the boat well enough to sail on a weekend in such crowded waters. We exit Waitemata harbor and up go the sails, an absolute first, under my command. Before going out I briefed the whole crew on what does what, but as always, practice is the only key to learn the workings of a boat, and I end up having to instruct every move, or relinquish the helm to Nick and take care of things myself.
Slowly we round Rangitoto Island, our initial destination of Great Barrier Island is soon abandoned, as the wind is right on the nose. The day goes by pleasantly, with a few tacks until we round Motutapu and anchor in Station Bay. It's a happy dinner (again, a first), we hang out in the cockpit, sheltered by the island and by the awning which makes the cockpit so cozy. Tomorrow is another day.

Sept. 30th
We leave Motutapu at 11:30 am (why does the crew always sleep late?), trying again for Great Barrier Island, but once again it'd be a long boring struggle getting around Coromandel and then on to GBI. So we sail around for a while, practicing some tacks, while I decide where we should go for the night. I make my mind for Kawau, Bostaquet Bay, some 18 NM from our departure point.
Magically, we're still upwind (the joys of sailing!), but about seven hours later we get there just as the night approaches. Many other boats are anchored there, but we manage to tuck in pretty well, sheltered by the cliffy island. We have our own candlelit little party (as usual, I am a freak when coming to energy and water conservation) and go to sleep.
Return the day after is finally downwind. Mia gives Keturah her first (and I wish last) unespected jibe while Joe insistently just can't put the bow between two islands...there's a bit of weather helm yes..but...
I takes us only four hours getting back to Rangitoto. The NW wind built up quite a swell at the harbor entrance, and the wind is peaking at 30 KN, so we have a bit of commotion getting the bow in the waves and dousing the main, continuing on Jib only. Mia is shocked at the swell, which is just barely annoying as it is short, which though gives us some "surfing" which makes steering all the more fun.
As soon as we enter the harbor, rain starts to pour, and I am left the last bit with rain and wind slashing my eyelids and freezing down my neck. This is our first mooring in the marina, so everyone (surely mostly concerned about their own boats rather than wanting to help out) is on the dock with lines, hooks and whatnot. No sweat, I try to moor stern first, but the boat just won't reverse at all, so I slowly turn her around and go in bow first...without a scream, without a scratch.
Richard and Charlotte fom D'urville (spared from some imagined ugly scratch on her starboard topside) then break out in an applause at the perfectly executed entrance.
All lines secured, I, drenched, sit down in the cockpit and light a cigarette, my first exit on Keturah.

Moving in

On sea trial day Nick, my first crew ever shows up, and we both get to give Keturah a try.
The boat is swift in the water, steady and easy to handle, and soon enough we have a good command of her. Nick has no sailing experience apart from a brief spell on a tallship, but his four years in the coastguard and a passion for surfing and weather forecasting makes him a natural aboard.
The boat is taken, and in a few days we'll be moving on her.
A few trepidant days while the money comes in and I can take possession of the boat, and then at last after much painful awaiting all goes through and I can move on.
A couple days are spent working to clean the boat and making her to my liking, shifting gear around, checking batteries and other details I couldn't get into while the owners were still living aboard.
The night I move in, I buy a bottle of NZ sparkling wine, and me, Richard and Charlotte from D'Urville toast to Neptune, to the boat and me, and have a pleasant evening in the sheltered cockpit...for once it isn't raining!

Men's Delight

The day before I simply have no energy left to make my way into Gordon's and Carol's boat, so I just spend the day firing the 800 circa emails required to keep everything running: back home, the crew, the other countless people that keep on writing to me from everywhere asking about the now or what about in a year?
Sure the hardest thing to make clear is how difficult it is to have even a sketchy plan when sailing...one could find paradise and wish to stay, or find hell and decide to move on ASAP, not including sea and weather factors!
However, it's all in good nature, and to some extent it is easier to say tentatively where I'll be next year rather than in three months...
So, having seen already most of the obvious things, today I decide to tackle what for most is the main point of interest of any boat, a yachtman's pride: the Engine Room.
At first I get around looking at plumbing and sea caulks, valves, tanks. Then we open it up to take a look at the 150HP Ford monster propelling these mere twentytwo tons of concrete and steel.
The panels are removed. The engine is fire red, also spotless, no loose wiring, lots of cable ties everywhere, two good lights there, all new and greaseless. A bit of belt dust on the alternator pulleys but not much else. See through water separator, brand new filters, access all around and a fairly clean bilge too.
What to say? Shall we try it out? Tomorrow at 8:30am? OK!

The Inspection

The morning after I head to Keturah for a first look around. The owners are stil living on her, so it is not too comfortable to poke around. However, I manage to take one first good look at the interiors, storage lockers, heads and galley, electricals.
Just as it showed in the pictures everything is neat and tidy, and not just the interior, but also all the wiring and pipes are neatly organized and spotless. The electrical system is quite simple and most cables run in accessible places. Flares expired in 1989, but it was in account that most of that stuff would have to go or be serviced. The two EPIRB buoys are also pretty old, but it doesn't mean they won't work, and I'll get a third brand new one just to make sure.
The rigging is good, a few missing cotter pins, but it's all good, can't really complain of any integrity flaw.
I am tired and although I should be mercilessly ripping through it all, I can't help feeling like I'm intruding into the private life of two old folks, and so I go back on D'urville to rest a while. Too tired to do anything else, off to sleep.

Getting there

I get a taste of NZ beer, accompanied by fried squid. We chat a while, then the conversation dies and it's time to get back to the marina. On MV D'urville where I'll be staying they're very curious about some italian guy that came all the way from Italy to get a boat here, so, offered with copious glasses of red wine which I can't resist, I stay some more, chatting away the evening. Richard and Charlotte are instant friends, might of the boating life wich brings us all together!

We spend a wonderful evening chatting away, until I, because of the wine and jet-lag just have to sleep.

The day after it rains, so I start making a first survey of the boat's interiors and systems...everything is reallly tidy, clean, not a scratch. Everything is really accessible and organized, there's a lovely engine powered freezer and a nice fridge working with 12V and propane. The head looks like a real bathroom (nearly), though everything is cluttered with boxes filled to capacity with the owner's belongings.
So IU take it easy for a couple days, walking around town, Quuen's street, Ponsonby road, checking shops out for what I'll eventually need.
A couple days go by with more checks on the engine, hydraulics etc. and it all lokks good. Very well done, mostly brand new. The engine is a mirror, not a drop of grease or oil staining it.
On the 11th we'll have a haul out and go out for a sea trial, that's going to be the decisive day.

Auckland at last

Two months of preparation back in Italy for this trip and suddently September is here, the ticket is bought and there's no more excuse: the time has come.
Last few dinners with friends and family, gorging on our local fishes, mushroom season is on with the first rains, so I get lots of those too, since for quite a while (possibly years) I won't be tasting them again. The usual trip to Fiumicino Airport in Rome, accompanied by my father Ugo, which is nearly in tears when leaving me. Back when he was 35, he and my mother nursed a similar dream, but life decided it wouldn't be so. Now he is 86, and unlikely he'll ever be able to sail with me ever again like we did so many times a few years back when I picked up sailing again. So I am a little bit his reincarnation, his dream coming true, as well as mine.
Usual intercontinental drudgery, the flight in Bangkok is rescheduled for the evening, so that in the end I will have gone trough over 48 hours between airport waiting and flights. I try to warn the broker of the delay, but the time difference makes it unlikely he'll get the message.
Back in Bangkok airport I was desperate to be online, but, unwilling to shell out the 250 Bhat per hour requested (it cost on average 7 Bhat x hour) I give up at first. Then I peek at someone's his laptop and he's got connection. So I whip out my brand new Dell and check out what's in the air. Thing I discover is that the Business resting areas, plecluded to ordinary mortals, provide Wi-Fi but it's unprotected, and so I log in with the Thai airline wireless.
I manage to send all my messages out and then switch off, as the connection is crap. Some more boredom, and next time I sit by the JAL Business area, and of course the signal is much stronger...I get playing bassdrive.com, and aside from the stares some even do a dance move or two. Pretty funny. Thanks JAL!
I finally land in Auckland, to be carried right away to the searching area, where my luggage is taken apart (with my bags nearly exploding already), and get asked over and over why I'm there, when I bought my ticket, when I booked it, how I paid for it, and why I was there and who I was staying with and another meaningless hundred questions. I keep a poker face for the whole time, though I could have killed someone right there...besides they even ended up letting me keep a knife my uncle gave as a good luck gift...go ahead and murder anybody, but don't let us find you smoking a joint or that'll be big trouble!!!
Anyway, Ian is at the airport in his Harley Davidson jacket as planned, so off we go to Westhaven marina to get me settled in my temporary abode and to have a quick look at Keturah. I will be hosted by a lovely couple living aboard their classic motor yacht, while Keturah is just across from us in the next pontoon. I unload my bags, take a quick look around my future home and then we go for a bite to eat at a local brewery.