Category: Uncategorized

May 6, 2022

A bunch of boats left today from Opua, New Zealand, bound for Fiji. Most or maybe all were part of an ill-conceived rally where herd mentality is often strongest.

Here’s a screenshot from Marine Traffic showing the line of lemmings, ah, boats…

We counted 26 boats looking like they’re heading offshore in that image.

We’re not just reveling in schadenfreude here. We’ve been watching and waiting for a weather window that will get us up to New Caledonia and still don’t see one we’d consider even marginally acceptable. That’s why we were shocked and surprised by this mass exodus.

Here’s why we say “Oh hell no!” In the graph below (from PredictWind), the wind speed isn’t all that bad. It gets up to 25 knots, but that’s mostly from behind. What is of concern is that when the wind is up to 25, there is also a higher CAPE (Convective Available Potential Energy), which means a greater potential for squalls and gusts with wind speeds much higher than forecast. There is also a front that moves through this area, again indicating the probability of stronger gusts.

Below is the wind forecast table from PredictWind from a weather routing where gust in excess of 30 knots are shown.

While those gusts are a deal-breaker for us, a bigger problem that we see are very large seas with a short period as shown below.

Forecast wave height on some models is in excess of 3 meters with a period under 8 seconds. YUK!

Here are the numbers…

We think a lot of cruisers look mostly at wind and don’t pay enough attention to sea state. For us, it might be the most important factor when planning a passage. Don’t forget that on top of these swells are wind waves that in this case, will likely combine into vertical sided monster waves. They may not be boat-killers but for us, they could likely be dream-killers.

This could be a “last-straw” passage for us. That’s the kind of passage that finally makes us give up this crazy cruising stuff. One really bad passage can outweigh all that is beautiful and wonderful about cruising. We’re not ready to give up the good stuff yet.

We’ve written quite a few times about the herd mentality that seems to outweigh logic when it comes to choosing a weather window. A boat or two decide the time is right for them to make the jump (or more likely, they have people with booked plane tickets flying up to meet them and they have to be there in time).

Others that were patiently waiting for the right weather window start saying “well, if it’s good enough for John and Karen, it must be okay” and that mushrooms into 12 more boats making the same questionable decision.

This seems to be compounded when there’s a rally involved. We don’t know if the rally organizers suggested this was a good weather window or not. I do know that this rally provides weather routing and not all weather routers are created equally. In this case, herd mentality and perhaps bad advice resulted in 26 boats heading offshore at the same time, into “Oh Hell No” weather.

We wish these 26 boats luck and hope we’re wrong about the conditions they’ll face. We send these wishes while sitting comfortably in a warm, steady boat (tied up in a berth), while drinking a nice glass of Pinot Noir. -Rich

Epilogue: From what we’ve been told, it seems this passage was every bit as bad as we feared it would be. The good news is no boats were lost, but I have to wonder how many cruising dreams were sunk. –Cyndi

 

February 16 – 17, 2022

There are just some places on earth where it feels really good to be, and Oneroa is one of them.

We can feel it the minute we put our anchor down, but it’s when we beach our dinghy that we really feel its effect. Coming ashore here starts with landing on a big white beach lined with pohutukawa trees. Behind them, a shaded lane leads past the well-tended gardens of hillside homes. At this point it’s impossible not to notice that it’s warmer here, the light particularly nice, and the flowers, native trees, and that amazing beach are extraordinarily lovely. This brings up a contented sigh of the soul, a wish to linger and watch dogs play on the beach, and pondering what it might be like to live in a place like this.

After walking down the narrow road (on which we’ve never seen a car) and rinsing the sand off our feet at outdoor showers, we take the garden path that zig zags up the steep hillside to town. This is a village town, its main street area only a few blocks long. It’s a little place filled with charming little places, nooks and crannies at which to shop or enjoy drinks or a meal. Below, a few photos of the anchorage and town of Oneroa (click on any photo to enlarge).

Once in town, there’s a wealth of choices for things to do. There are walks to neighboring beaches or along rugged ocean cliffs. There are wineries, one or two within walking distance, but many more choices if one gets an electric bike, rents a car, or takes a wine tour. And of course there are all those little spots that tempt us to get a coffee, a drink, or a meal.

We’ve visited Oneroa a few times over the years, but it had been a long while since our previous visit. It was wonderful to motor our dinghy through the clear water to the white sand shore. And once again, the first sensation after landing was that warm relaxed feeling this place always gives us. But we had some trepidation about town: would it be like we remembered? We already knew the island’s famous bakery, with its incredible bread, had closed. But last night our friends served fresh bread made by the little market, and it easily lived up to the bread we so loved before, especially dipped another island specialty: olive oil. Below, a photo of our new favorite bread.

The first thing we did after getting into town was beeline to the market to snag a loaf of that bread. Thankfully there were still loaves left, but I was also relieved when the market was just as I remembered: filled with remarkable international and gourmet goodies along with beautiful fresh breads and local produce, a really unique and special place.

Next, we went to check on the status of our favorite little Italian restaurant, Fenice. It was still here and looked just the same, even having the same menu. We ordered our favorite pizza with baby onions, a pasta dish, and glasses of local wine to enjoy. It was still the same! I was so happy!

I read recently that for the human brain, things are never as good as they are the first time you experience them. I have to disagree. Things may lack the smack of novelty, but that feeling of, “Here it is–that flavor, that feeling, that amazing scenery,” is pretty powerful. In fact, I think you can appreciate some things even more when you can focus on what you’re anticipating and not be distracted by the newness of everything else around it.

After lunch, we went to the market to get more goodies, including some of the great black truffle olive oil our friends served the previous evening (made by the Kiwi Artisan Co). We then made our way back to our boat looking forward to Waiheke wine, bread and olive oil for dinner. Sadly, this would be our final dinner of this trip. Northerly winds were forecast to arrive the next afternoon; so we’d need to leave Oneroa. We decided to take advantage of that wind direction and head back to Auckland.

We did have a few hours our final morning to take one more trip back to town. From there, we decided to walk over an anchorage our friends had gone to, Owhanake Bay. It’s where some of the boaters go when the wind goes north and they have to vacate Oneroa. It’s not far, but it faces west enough to be protected from northerly winds. We’ve never been there, but our friends liked it so we decided to take a closer look.

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We got to town then did the 20-minute walk through a lovely neighborhood to the bay. When we arrived we found a large expanse of green lawn, a pebbly beach, and calm water. Wow, what a fantastic place to bring a dog! Aside from that, it’s not the prettiest anchorage on Waiheke, but it’s nice and there’s a multitude of trails that go by here; making it a terrific place for hikers.

After a stop for fish tacos at a new place called Frenchie’s and a final trip to the market, it was time to say good-bye to Oneroa, very likely for the final time. As the wind started to switch, we pulled our anchor and headed towards Auckland. –Cyndi

April 28, 2022

I’ve had a problem tooth for a while now and the dentist I visited in Auckland didn’t get to the root of the problem. (See what I did there?) We ran into some cruiser friends when we were in Opua and Cyndi remembered that Devon is a dentist. I asked him for advice and he told us that he has a full dental clinic on his boat. I scheduled a visit.

This was a very different dentist’s office visit.

Two appointments and three replaced fillings later, I’m good as new. I’m wondering if they’ll be willing to sail to Indonesia for my next appointment?! -Rich

April 27, 2022

First, I’d like to answer a question from an American friend perplexed by something I said in my post about our lives in Russell. I mentioned the divide here over politics and the handling of Covid. To Americans, New Zealand seems like a peaceful place led by a well-respected prime minister, Jacinda Ardern; so what could they possibly be divided about, warm vs cold beer? Surely they can’t have Trump fans there!

Well, they can and they do. So does Australia, Europe, South Africa, Southeast Asia, and I suspect Trumpism has probably infested many countries around the world. It seems he has unofficially become a global symbol for far-right libertarian “don’t you dare make me  wear a mask!” and conservative “don’t you dare make me wear a mask and don’t you wear one, either!” types everywhere.

I have done a lot of pondering over Trump’s appeal in foreign countries even before Covid—why should any of their citizens be concerned about who’s leading America? Well, for the same reason Americans are so divided: it’s not so much about actual changes in the average American’s day-to-day life with a conservative vs a liberal government (because life is pretty much stays the same for most people no matter who’s president). It’s about what Trump represents, and that’s where all the kerfuffle begins.

At some point I’ll delve into my thoughts on that; but for now I would advise that there is no magical, peaceful, kerfuffle-free kingdom. I’ve noticed  other cruising bloggers/vloggers barely mention Covid, but it’s not because it isn’t an issue. It’s the opposite: it’s too big of an issue and the safest bet is generally to stay quiet on the matter, at least publicly. As we’re about to head off to some new places, I think I will share our thoughts at a more settled time.

Now that I’ve addressed that, the other thing I want to mention is I’m going back a couple months, to mid-February, and pick up where I left off in my posts about  our Big Trip.

(Quick Recap: After having pulled the plug on the trip in Tauranga and turning back, we’d just spent a night anchored in Oneroa Bay, on Waiheke Island in the Hauraki Gulf). Below, a map showing Oneroa. –Cyndi

April 26, 2022

We spent six days in Opua Marina while the wind blew from a direction that is unprotected in Russell. We left yesterday, and kind of got lost on our way back to Russell.

As I was about to turn towards our mooring, the commander and chief suggested we continue for five more miles to a place that was recommended to us and that we’ve never been to before. (Suggestion: A command from on-high which dare not be ignored. Merriam-Webster dictionary)

Below are some pictures of where we anchored at Moturoa Island…

Here’s where’s what…

-Rich