Author: richwest3

February 8, 2022 (a couple of weeks ago)

Before leaving Tauranga, we’d had a discussion about where we’d go next. With Whitianga not an option, the next closest possibility would be to do some cruising around Great Mercury and Great Barrier islands. Rich was amenable to the idea, but I was not. This was yet another area that, wonderful as it is, I was just feeling done with. After our recent stop at Great Mercury Island’s Hururi Bay, I didn’t feel like going back there. I told Rich I just wanted to head straight back towards the Hauraki Gulf, with no stopping at either Great Mercury or Great Barrier.

Friends, we went to Great Mercury and Great Barrier. Our plan was actually to stop at an anchorage at the top of the Coromandel Peninsula, Port Jackson, which I’ve always wanted to do but the weather is never right. Looking at the weather forecast from Tauranga, it looked do-able. But we also decided if conditions didn’t look good, we could continue on Colville Bay a few miles further, or to Waiheke Island and arrive around midnight. Plan A, B, and C all set! (God was probably having a good laugh at this point!)

Although we set out under overcast skies, the conditions were perfect in some ways. The wind was on a broad reach, 13 to 15 knots dropping as the afternoon went on. There were visible squalls, but only with misty rain and not much wind. The one condition that was far from perfect was the sea state. Not only had the squalls made the seas rather lumpy and confused, we also had meter-high swells with a short period between them, right on our beam. It was a reminder of just how important it is to take the sea state into account when looking at the wind forecast. We knew what the numbers would be, but we were still surprised at how uncomfortable this ride was. And we had just enough of that misty rain to keep things damp and cold, adding to the misery of this trip.

As the afternoon went on and things didn’t get better, Rich was thinking this swell would probably be wrapping around and into our destination anchorage, Port Jackson. Most likely, we’d have to continue past to Colville Bay. I hoped that making the turn to go over the peninsula would make the swell more comfortable, but I now had to wonder—would we be able to stop at Great Mercury for the night and have agreeable enough weather to continue this trip tomorrow? Rich was already looking into that possibility. We’d have higher winds the next day, but they’d be from behind us and the seas would be better. We decided to make a final decision as we neared the island.

I went below for Rich’s watch and fell into a deep sleep, surprising in that conditions got pretty rough for awhile. When I woke up, things felt so much calmer. I went outside into what looked like a dream world. The sky was overcast with low clouds and scattered rainy areas, the seas were relatively calm, and we were surrounded by so many little islands. Rich told me we were now among the Mercury Islands and they were providing protection from the seas. I don’t know if it was the low-cloud weather altering the usual view, but this area looked like nothing I had seen before in my life. Rich agreed. We’ve made several trips between Great Mercury and Tauranga and didn’t remember it ever looking like this. It was bizarre, like reality had shifted. Even stranger, this looked so much like dream I had years ago, a dream so wonderful I still remember it. Maybe this was a good omen.

We now considered our options. Soon we’d be heading out of the protective effect of these islands, but we’d be turning and putting the swells behind us. Suddenly, we got smacked by a surprise big swell that snuck up on us. Decision made: we would stop for the night and give ourselves a break.

With that, I had an idea. We were looking at a week of nasty weather ahead of us, including a direct hit from the remnants of a tropical cyclone heading our way. We planned to take refuge in various anchorages in the Hauraki Gulf islands, but now it occurred to me that Port Fitzroy, a well protected harbor at Great Barrier Island, would make finding a suitable storm anchorage an easier task.

So I said to Rich, “I have an idea; maybe we should go to Great Barrier.” Rich responded by staring at me as though deciding whether to have me committed or toss me off the boat himself. After all, I’d gone from refusing to go to suggesting it as though it were my own new and interesting idea. In my defense, though, I had said no to recreational cruising there, but now I was looking at it as a storm refuge. After recovering from my sudden turnaround, Rich instantly agreed. We could now stay at Great Mercury a night or two then head to Great Barrier, a much shorter trip than going to the Haruaki Gulf.

We could smell Great Mercury as we approached it, a wonderful smell of a New Zealand forest and dried grass. It was so calm as we got in the lee of the island I was able to make dinner as we headed in (we’d barely eaten today in the rough conditions), having it ready for us after we dropped our anchor.

As we got in sight of our favorite anchorage, Parapara Bay, we were surprised and delighted to see it was completely empty! It seems the weather forecast had sent people home. We had a squall pass over us as we anchored, a final blast of wet misty rain, before heading below, getting out of our foul weather gear, and relaxing while enjoying our chili-and-rice dinner and an episode of Broadchurch (our current TV show).

We could later hear the wind gusts outside, but the bay remained calm. Later when I stepped out into the cockpit I was met with an impressive chorus of chirping crickets! I love this sound but don’t often hear it in New Zealand, so what a nice surprise, especially since it was actually louder than the wind.

After a sound sleep, we woke the next morning and checked weather. It turned out we could spend another day here, then have good weather to get to Great Barrier in time to find a place in which to ride out the coming cyclone remnants.

This was good news because I was able to sit outside off and on during the day. The clouds were low, but the day got lighter as it went on. Oh my goodness I had forgotten how beautiful this bay is! When we talked about coming here, I’d said “No” to the idea of a busy anchorage or worse, a make-do bay, and the mild depression that comes after losing the sense of wonder for a place. But these issues weren’t a problem now! In spite of, or maybe even because of, the cloudy skies, combined with the isolation of having this to ourselves, this bay felt enchanted.

We were surrounded by golden grassy hills, thick batches of pohutukawa trees, and low cliffs that dipped down to a white sand beach at the head of the bay. The bay itself felt so peaceful, and well protected from wind that we could sometimes hear but could hardly feel. What we could hear was birdsong and the buzzing of cicadas during the day, and at night, those crickets! The water around us was calm and had as many sea birds as I’ve seen an any given place. Gannets in particular were a standout, diving into the water around our boat to catch fish, then preening themselves before taking off for another round. (Below, a few photos from this cloudy but lovely day; click on any photo to enlarge.)

What stood out overall here was a feeling of peace and beauty. Did I say I didn’t want to come back here? Now I felt like I could stay here forever. Tomorrow, alas, we’d be moving on. –Cyndi

January 24 – February 8, 2022

Rich was already up when I woke up, looking at the computer. Since he hadn’t gotten me up yet, I suspected our weather window to sail south to Napier must not look great. This turned out to be the case, but it also wasn’t out of the question. So, coffee in hand, we weighed our options with the weather. The bottom line was that it was a do-able trip, but it wouldn’t be comfortable. We were willing to live with the 24-knot gusts from behind us; it was the short-period swells on our beam that gave us hesitation. Also, this would be squally weather which meant, at times, the conditions could be rougher than advertised.

If we had been more determined to get south, we would have gone for it. We had a spot waiting for us at the Napier Marina; so if we could endure some discomfort for a couple of days, we could soon be sitting in sunny Napier, ready to take the next weather window to the South Island. But we weren’t that determined. In fact a few days at the Whitianga Marina nearby sounded like the more appealing idea. There turned out to be a problem, though: Rich called the marina only to find out they were booked solid for at least another week.

Now what? Sit here at Great Mercury for another week, at least? This didn’t hold much appeal. There are several anchorages on this side of the Coromandel Peninsula, but the problem was they weren’t good for this week’s easterly winds.

Rich said, “I have a terrible idea,” and I knew what he was about to suggest: Tauranga. The thing is, I have developed an aversion to Tauranga over the past couple of years. Yes, we’ve stayed there several times over the years and enjoyed it. But since the last time we had our boat there, a few things have changed.

First of all, we were simply just tired of Tauranga. It’s that feeling where something was once a part of your life, but when it’s over, it’s over, something you don’t want to circle back to. Second, between endless street construction and a growing population, the traffic just seems to get worse every time we visit there, and a drive to any given place is often a source of frustration and annoyance. Third, we no longer really mesh with the vibe of the area and increasingly feel out of place there, noticeable even when making a simple overnight visit by car.

All this added up to a big NO to visiting Tauranga. I have announced this is the cruise as one of “Things I Said I Will Never Do Again.” We now planned to do some of them; yet I wasn’t ready to go as far as staying in Tauranga. Before Rich could even finish his suggestion, I announced, “We are NOT going to Tauranga! No way, no how!”

Friends, we went to Tauranga. After refusing to go, I weighed our options. Tauranga does have a few people and places we like, although not enough to overcome my reservations about visiting the area. But now there was the Omicron element, and at this point it looked like the city of Nelson would be one of the outbreak centers. We had planned to haul out and paint our bottom there, but the fact is that our favorite boat yard in New Zealand, the Bridge Marina Travelift, happens to be in Tauranga. We could make good use of this down-time by hauling our boat there, which would mean we’d have no need to go to Nelson.

In fact, I got the idea that maybe we could now go down the east side of the South Island instead of the west. It would be easier to get weather windows to travel, and we could visit some favoirte places. We both liked that idea a lot; so I agreed to buck it up and go to Tauranga. The weather looked good for making the passage today, and we could get in in before nightfall. So we called our old favorite marina, the Bridge Marina, and they had room and assigned us a slip.

As we made our way to Tauranga the conditions were overcast, but other than that they were so good that this seemed to be fate, like the Universe was saying, “This is where you guys are supposed to be going now.” With 12 knots of wind aft of the beam, pleasant seas, and a current helping us along, the trip only took 10 hours, which was pretty remarkable. We had planned to anchor overnight but we made it to the Bridge Marina at slack tide, which mean we could go right into our slip. Below, a map of our approximate route.

And a couple of photos as we arrived and headed into the harbor . . .

As we approached we spotted our friend, Sean, waiting to take our lines—what a nice surprise! He’d spotted us coming in and invited us up to the bar when we finished tying up. Nice! This would be our intro to the marina’s new restaurant, Salinity, that had taken over our old hangout, Phil’s. We hadn’t heard good things about Salinity, but it seemed they had since become less hoity-toity and more friendly to the people in the marina. We went up and found that to be the case, and as a result we ended up hanging out there a few times over the course of our stay. And so, this era got off to a pretty good start.

The next day, we got a date to haul out our boat the following week and rented a car. So we’d be here at least a week, but we had stuff we wanted to get done in the meantime, including putting some Cetol on our deck railing (very similar to doing varnish). And it was a relief to see the any weather possibilities for getting south continually disippated, which meant we weren’t missing out on any great weather windows by deciding to haul out here.

And so began a period of emotional ups and downs. Our ups generally included friends and food. Of course we went to visit some favorite eateries and found, with the exception of one, they hadn’t changed and we still very much enjoyed them. We also had a couple of wonderful dinners with friends, including an American-style bbq dinner at the home of one friend and a dinner at Salinity with some others. (The Salinity dinner turned out to be one of those fun nights where you look up and notice the restaurant staff is putting stuff away and wonder why, only to realize you’ve been there until closing time.) We also got an overdue checkup with our eye doctor and got a couple of coats of Cetol on our deck railing. The haulout went really well and amazingly we were finished and back in the water within 24 hours.

In spite of these pluses, we weren’t feeling what I’d call happiness to be here overall. We tried to keep focused on the positive, but there was an ever-present undercurrent of negativity pulling us down, especially after we finished our haulout and there were still no weather windows in sight. New Zealand was in the midst of a weather pattern that was bringing lows from both the tropical north and the blustery south over its islands. We were starting to feel trapped and, increasingly anxious, we expanded our possibilities to include going anywhere else but here, but for the time being there was no way to go either north our south.

Interestingly, friends of ours who were a couple of days ahead of us made it to Napier as we were arriving in Tauranga and then managed to get to the South Island before we’d even hauled out. Were we envious? No, and maybe this was the first sign that we were losing heart to make this trip. One of the main reasons was the sense of time passing as summer seemed to be flying by.

Then there was Omicron, which thankfully got off to a sluggish start in New Zealand, but there were little outbreaks everywhere, including here in Tauranga. It was clear it would eventually be widespread so trying to avoid it would be increasingly futile. Omicron changed another situation in that it now put Australia back on our possibility list. We figured cases will be coming down in Australia while they were rising in New Zealand; so remaining here would no longer be as advantageous as it has been.

We decided that neither one of us really felt like doing the Big trip anymore. That decision made, we found a brief weather window to move north. We thought hey, maybe we could get a spot in the Whitianga Marina now. No such luck, though. So, we decided to head back to the Haruaki Gulf and do a bit more cruising there. We decided to tell people, “Did we say Auckland Island? We meant Auckland’s islands!”

Thankfully the window held up and on February 8 we were relieved to say good-bye to Tauranga. Below, a photo gallery that sums up our two weeks there (click on any photo to enlarge).–Cyndi

Now to backtrack slightly, here’s Cyndi’s post about the second day of our Big Trip . . .

January 23, 2022

When Rich woke me up from a sound sleep and handed me a cup of coffee; I knew that meant our weather window still looked good, and we would need to leave soon. First, though, I really needed that coffee! While he ran around preparing the boat, I sipped my Starbucks brew, trying to get up to speed. By the time I was up and ready, Rich already had the anchor nearly up. I went out and hosed off one very muddy anchor before bringing it the rest of the way up and and securing it. We were good to go.

We headed out and around the west side of Waiheke Island, then motor-sailed towards the top of the Coromandel Peninsula. Below, a map showing yesterday’s leg (in green) and today’s (in blue).

The wind, like the previous day, was ahead of the beam, but it was very light and we had the benefit of a helpful current bringing up our speed. The day was warm and sunny and it was looking to be a pleasant trip.

As soon as I was able, I went below and took a nap, then Rich did the same while I took watch. I had some trepidation as we approached the top of the peninsula as the wind picked up to about 10 knots and would be against us. While the current was helpful, when wind goes against the current it can make for choppy conditions.

I was also eyeing an impressive mackerel sky and mares’ tails (clouds strewn across the sky like scales on a fish combined with streaked clouds that look like horse tails). This is often a sign of unsettled weather in the forecast. We had a front due in a day or so, but we planned to be holed up somewhere by the time it arrived. Below, a video I took with my new toy, a selfie stick which shows how impressive the sky was overhead.

Thankfully, the wind soon died down again, and conditions going across the top of the peninsula were pretty nice. Below, a few photos (click to enlarge any photo).

And a video . . .

After rounding the top of the peninsula, we angled down for the final 20-mile leg to Great Mercury Island. We’d lost internet service earlier in the day, but as we got further south, the internet popped back and we saw the news: the Prime Minister had just held a press conference to let New Zealand know the event we’ve been dreading had happened: Omicron had gotten loose in the community, both in Auckland (where we’d come from) and in Nelson (where we planned to haul out and paint the bottom of our boat).

With New Zealand’s high vaccination rates keeping Delta cases remarkably low, life has been very normal here. Omicron would change things and would (and will probably continue to) affect our decisions. For the moment, we just pondered the news and hoped maybe they could manage to snuff it out, although since this outbreak involved a large wedding, airline flights between Auckland and Nelson, big restaurant parties and Auckland sightseeing for the extended family involved, it didn’t look good.

For now, our concern was getting to Great Mercury Island and getting into one of three possible anchorages for the night. We had a favorite but thought we might try one we hadn’t been to: Huruhi Harbour. It was well protected in case we decided to stay here for the weather front, and it would be something new and different.

As we approached, we could see our favorite anchorage was packed. It wasn’t surprising as it’s very pretty with a lovely beach. There’s another anchorage nearby that also has a nice beach, but it feels more open and less cozy and appealing. The anchorage we chose happens to be in a long, narrow bay in front of the home belonging to the family who owns the island. The head of the bay gets very shallow, and there are some moorings in the anchorage; so it isn’t as roomy as it looks at first glance. But we were pleasantly surprised that, although there were a few boats here, there was room for us.

By now, the clouds’ scales and tails appearance had developed into soupy white swirls, sometimes overcast but the sun would break through sending sparkles across the water and highlighting the golden grass on the hills around us. Rich flew the drone, and I sat and enjoyed some wine. The air was warm and the scenery, golden grassy hills dotted with trees, was pleasant.

Rich took a look at the weather. I had fully expected a front to come in tonight so was surprised it had tracked west and, shockingly, we had a possible weather window if we left, like, now to make the 3-day trip to Napier. Sigh. What is it about this island and the need for sudden departures? I asked Rich if conditions would be as good if we left tomorrow, and he said maybe even a little better. Good, then we could stay a night.

Sitting there I suddenly felt overcome with exhaustion. Apparently I still hadn’t caught up on my sleep, but maybe the excitement of being back out cruising, a long day on the water, and the stress of continuing to deal with obstacles such as weather and Covid caught up with me. As it turned out we both needed another afternoon nap.

We spent an uneventful night at anchor, watching TV, not really bothering to look outside as it was overcast. Neither of us was fully confident about the weather window, but if we didn’t head south, we be sitting here for a week. I had always wanted to bring Legacy to a marina on the Coromandel’s east side called Whitianga, only a short trip from Great Mercury. Maybe tomorrow would be the day. –Cyndi

February 9, 2022 – real-time

“You were here just two weeks ago and heading south! What happened? Why are you back at our Island?!”

Good question sheeple, and I hope you don’t mind having us in your bay again.

To answer your question(s), we got to Tauranga before the weather turned bad, took advantage of our time there to get Legacy’s bottom painted, and then couldn’t see any weather in the near future to get further south. Rather than sitting at the marina for another 10 days or three months, we headed north.

Yesterday’s ride was miserable with rain and very, very lumpy seas. We took shelter here at Great Mercury Island with our sheep friends (nice photo Cyndi) and tomorrow we’ll probably head to Great Barrier Island. Oh well, such is cruising!

We always tell ourselves that we are willing to wait, and wait, and wait until we get good weather to make the passages as pleasant as possible. Pleasant passages might not be coming this season for a trip south. To add to this, there isn’t that much of a carrot to offset the stick of long, hard passages We’ve already been as far south as Stewart Island. It’s beautiful but we have a little been-there-got-the-t-shirt mentality about it.  I think the carrot we need next will look a lot like warm, clear, tropical water. We’ll see. -Rich

 

February 6, 2022 – a near real-time post.

We took advantage of our weather-mandated stop in Tauranga to haul out at our favorite NZ boatyard for a bottom job.

We also needed new anodes. This was a bit of a problem in that we had no prop anodes left on board. We’ve been using an anode made from a metal called Maddox since we’ve first came to NZ. We usually order them from Australia but shipping is sporadic lately. Solution: Make them!

First I printed a plastic plug in the shape I wanted…

Next, off to one of the local foundries to have it sand cast from the metal from a larger, melted Maddox anode that is readily available here.

The casting cost $80 NZ (his minimum charge) and he made us six anodes. I printed six plugs so he could pour them all in one go. There are small, round Maddox anodes available (as pictured in the link above), but I think that I saved about 50% of the cost of these anodes by making my own and more importantly, was able to get them when I needed them.

Next, drill and tap. I thought this was going to be hard with gummy soft metal, but it was actually really easy.

And the finished product…

I don’t know if melting the metal will have any significant effect on its anodic properties. Only time will tell. I’ll keep a close eye on it for a while.

We also put a big Maddox anode on the hull…

The reason the prop needs its own anode is that it’s a feathering prop and the end floats in grease and doesn’t have a good electrical connection to the prop shaft which is bonded through a shaft brush.

We got two years out of the last set of anodes. Maddox has been amazing! -Rich

Update: August 15, 2023

Here’s the new cast maddox anode after a year and a half in the water. There’s still much more than half of the material left. I’m sure two years would have been no problem.