Wednesday, November 29, 2006

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.

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