Sun kissed for 31 days (part II)

12 January: Kahangaro, Cavalli Islands

South end of Kahangaro Island, Cavalli Islands

Departing from the idyllic Okahu Passage is not an easy thing, but we’ve been promised wonders in the Cavalli Island and the much praised Whangaroa harbour, so, as soon as we’re up, we hoist the sails to venture further up North, and when the Cavalli Islands are in sight, we see in Kahangaro Island, the quintessential miniature deserted island bound to satisfy our Robinson Crusoe desires. We can’t resist the sight of the tiny white sandy beach, surrounded by scenic rocks, ornamented with a few (non native) phoenix palm trees to complete the picture, and alter our course for a closer examination, even though it is not flagged as an anchorage on any of our charts. And, as it turns out, as soon as we drop anchor, I can see rocks behind us, beneath the surface that make me very uncomfortable and completely rule out my leaving Obelix to go ashore. I make the call to bugger off. Too bad for our Robinson Crusoe aspirations!

Papatara Bay, Cavalli Islands – where my heart nearly stopped

Instead we carry on to Papatara (Horsehoe) Bay, bigger, sheltered and lovely, except the sand is grey, and coarse, and there is already a zoom-zoom (my affectionate term for fizz boats) anchored there. Not the same free and adventurous feeling. Anyway, in no time Thomas is off exploring the underwater world to bring us lunch, so it won’t make much of a difference to him, and we’ve got a mission of our own: baking Kakahu Road cookies. A few batches to go through, in our tiny unevenly-temperature-regulated oven, before heading to the beach. Every now and then I pop my head out to see where Thomas’ got to. I can now see him a few hundred meters away from the boat, near a reef. All of a sudden I can see big arm movements. He waves at us frantically once. Then a second time, then nothing. I wait, but his body barely moves, I can’t see what’s going on. My brain starts wondering why he’s trying to get our attention, why he’s not clearer about his intentions, and wonder how would someone in trouble call for help from the water, what is happening that I cannot see. It has to be beneath the surface. My heart accelerates, I oscillate between panic and reason, nothing bad is happening, otherwise I would hear screams, or would I? But in doubt, I don’t want to be the wife who stayed behind, baking her cookies while her partner was in distress, getting attacked by a shark or something, alone in the water with no one else to call for help. So I resolve to rush to him, switch off the oven, jump in the dinghy with the boys, and off we go, my heart pumping faster than it ever has. When we get closer, I can see Thomas’ body lying at the surface, face down in the water, not moving, awful sight if you ask me, so I scream at the top of my lungs “THOMAS!”. His head suddenly lifts up, he seems surprised to see us. I explain to him trembling what went through my head, and he explains he’s chasing a fish hidden in the kelp, but a seagull keeps assaulting him for being too close to his nest, so he was just trying to scare it away… Pointless fright, now I need an uneventful afternoon to recover from it.

Owhatanga Bay, Whangaroa

The entrance in Whangaroa is as described on every blog, fjord-like, no more white sand and friendly beaches, instead, when turning North towards lane cove, we’re transported in a very different atmosphere, more mystic, almost hostile, with murky water, abrupt hills, covered with lush green forest and dark grey rocks erected like Easter Island statues. Indiana Jones is hiding nearby, I’m sure. We motor around before deciding to stay the night in Owhatanga Bay for its calm, peace, and prolonged sun light.

Being anchored in Owhatanga bay next to Rainbow II was a real honour, as Azur solemnly declared when I read out loud this classic old lady’s curriculum and how, with multiple races won during her 50-year tenure on the water, she was an iconic figure of New Zealand boating history.


13 January: Whangaroa marina, Whangaroa

Haiku #23

Azur’s complaining,
The rock’s too high for walking,
The view’s worth it though.


14 January: Whangaihe, Northland

What do you do when you spot an idyllic little bay tucked away and vacant, but you still have a little way to go to your next destination? You make a mental note and say, on our way back we’ll stop there. And if you’re lucky, sometimes you return indeed, to find the same little bay vacant all the same, waiting to be checked out and declared the greatest anchorage of the holidays (until dethroned by a new one).


15 January: Opito Bay, Bay of Islands

Haiku #24

Tina for dinner,
What a treat, and an honour,
Joy, smiles, and laughter.


16 January: Paihia / Roberton Island, Bay of Islands

Roberton Island Lagoon at semi-low tide

Deep Water Cove, Bay of Islands

Who said sailing was not a sport never practiced the art of acro-cooking, consisting in preparing dinner on Obelix sailing at 7 knots, leaning on a reasonable angle, wedged in the galley, legs spread wide against the cupboards so as to secure a standing position despite the jolts, rushing to get every handful of chopped veggies to the saucepan before they fly away everywhere, with a kitchen knife taking every opportunity to slide away on the other side of the workbench. My reward for practicing my sea legs with determination, if not poise, is a delicious meal followed by a gorgeous sunset.


17 January: Deep Water Cove to Kawau, sailing by night

Wakey, wakey, rise and shine, the menu of the morning is packed! We go onshore to stretch our legs on a portion of the Cape Brett track, until the kids decide it is enough, and we wrap up our Bay Of Islands visit with one last snorkeling session.

Then we’re off for our longest navigation to date on Obelix, an estimated 20 hours to cover 90-100 nautical miles and reach Kawau Island the next day at sunrise. Unless we change our mind and carry on to Tryphena despite the South-West announced for the rest of the week, which would make our return to Auckland a tad tricky. No, Kawau it is, or we can always decide later. The first part of the trip is quite exhilarating with 2 to 3 metre high swell and decent Northerly winds, the boat goes well, above 7 knots effortlessly. Clearing the Poor Knights on the East, we discover the hidden face of the island, which presents an intriguingly large black hole, like an open mouth in the rock, says Zephyr.

By then we’re heading straight towards fog and rain. We quickly close the cockpit to protect us from the elements and after a few showers with very poor visibility, it clears again and a magnificent rainbow forms behind us. The sun is slowly going down, time to get some supper, put the kids to bed, and start night watches. Thomas gets the first one. The conditions are not what you call comfortable, so unsurprisingly the boys struggle to fall asleep. Azur asks for a bucket just in case, and while Thomas gets a couple from the lazarette, (one for us too, just in case), I invite them to come back in the cockpit for a bit. I can hear from by bunk that Thomas treats them to a bedtime story in the dark wilderness. After which they settle more easily. The next morning when I ask them, they are enchanted by this experience and the opportunity to stay up late and navigate by night. According to Azur “It was really dark, and it was fun because we didn’t know where we were going”.

When my watch comes, it’s another story. I have barely closed an eye as it was so bumpy, I’m still exhausted from the day, in a bad mood and my stomach not quite as settled as I would like it to be. The wind has changed direction advises Thomas and we’re now sailing 5-6 knots upwind, which explains the creaking of the lines I heard when he trimmed the genoa. I quickly appreciate I’m not up for a couple of hours in these conditions on my own, so we agree to reduce the sail area, replacing the genoa by the stay sail, then putting the genoa back only a it furled, to manage our speed and stabilise the boat. He goes to bed and I’m trying to find a comfortable position to listen to podcasts (from the list recommended by Maria Popova in her post “9 podcasts for a fuller life”). I start with “The Secret History of Thoughts” and have to stop after a few minutes, as I realise that the gore images that run through my head, on hearing about someone’s dark and uncontrollable thoughts of stabbing his wife, are not going to help my unstable stomach. So I switch to one podcast on creativity, with interviews of Sting, Elisabeth Gilbert and Dame Gillian Lynn. It proves very inspiring, and I love listening to their life stories while staring at Orion’s belt outside, monitoring our course on the tablet from time to time. Nonetheless, the bucket in the corner of my eye is also trying to grab my attention and finally wins the battle. Fortunately I stay relatively operational. Azur wakes up at one point to go to the loo, undisturbed by the crazy movements of the boat, but he can’t fall back to sleep because of the croaking of the autopilot, so I take back the helm for an hour or so. Being at the helm by night doesn’t have the same calming effect as during daytime, I can’t see a thing, except black all around me, and white foam crashing against the hull, which is scarily hypnotic. I find it extremely difficult to focus, and at one point I get a fright looking at a light I hadn’t seen before, thinking it is a very close vessel, when it’s just a star, quite low on the horizon. And how paradoxical that I should deploy so much energy fighting the urge to doze off when on watch, and desperately trying to get some sleep when I’m off them. Still, each time I hear the sound of Thomas getting prepared down below, I celebrate in my head the imminent arrival of my saviour!


18 January: Bon Accord, Kawau Island

The sun rises without me witnessing it the next morning and taking my last watch when it is already daytime comes as a relief. The strong breeze is building up again. We’re almost there. I attempt a tack on my own to enter Kawau Bay but it wakes Thomas who comes to the rescue. We finally reach Schoolhouse Bay around 10 am, and although poorly sheltered, we stay there for a nap, and a dinghy mission to the pub (think togs and rain jacket, knowing we’re going to get drenched with the waves crashing on our small inflatable) to get a lunch and take a professional video call.

18-20 January: Burgess Bay, Kawau Island

On hearing about our arrival on Kawau, our Calypsoian friends invite us to meet them in their newly found paradise, and Kawau’s best kept secret: Burgess Bay. We stay there three nights, finally taking some time off sailing to relax, explore the beach, take shelter from the occasional shower under rocky caves, miss the visiting dolphins while taking a nap, meet seasoned sailors and listen to their stories, surf, see a shark fin while being towed by Dan’s dinghy trying to surf, promptly request to be helped out of the water, have a blind taste of three types of fish caught by Dan and Thomas on a spearfishing mission (rock cod, butterfish and snapper). And on the last morning, be the only boat left in the bay. Yoga on deck, skinny dip, pancakes, sails up, weighing anchor with bare hands. Our Robinson’s dream at last.


21 January: Mullet Bay, Motutapu

Calypso have left early, concerned the wind would drop, whereas this is not on our radar, we’ve taken the morning easy, and on the contrary the wind seems to rise way beyond forecast. And indeed, when we look at the now casting, after a rushed lunch in sub-optimal anchorage off Tiritiri Matangi (Fisherman’s Bay), it reads 37 knots peak. It feels adventurous, yet comfortable. Azur is sleeping, Zephyr is wedged in my favorite spot just above the companion way. I’m at the helm while Thomas is having a rest, the music is pumping with my singalong playlist in shuffle, and I can barely believe my ears when it plays, out of 96 songs, these three one right after the other: “Wind of change”, “Wonderful life” (which first line goes “Here I go, out to sea again”), and “Le vent” (“The Wind”). Serendipity, I like the sound of you!

When we arrive in Mullet Bay, a little cove which doesn’t leave room for many boats, we try to sneak in and anchor between the beach and the other two or three boats already there, but switching the engine off leaves us unconvinced. The wind whirls down the hill, we don’t feel sheltered enough, and we look at the rocks on our left with skepticism. Azur then pops his head out to assess the situation, he asks “Mum, is it high tide or low tide?” I advise the water is nearly fully in, so he carries on “Mmmh, these rocks might be an issue when we’re at low tide”. And we can only agree with his wise words so we leave once again. heading to Waiheke, Let’s slowly reconnect with civilisation we both agree.

On departing Mullet Bay, Thomas announces we’ve lost our dinghy. I immediately feel guilty imagining a knot not tied properly, but nope, the line is still there very much attached to Obelix, however there is nothing on the other end except the stainless steel buckle usually attached to the dinghy. A quick call to the Coastguard provides hope, as we’re told a dinghy corresponding to our description has just been found by the maritime police. We then ring the police, and get through their call centre, who know nothing, and after a lengthy phone conversation and the feeling nothing will ever come out of it, we call back the coastguards who pass our number to the maritime police, who send us an email, we look at the pictures of our supposed dinghy, it’s loading, suspense, suspense… That’s not it, not even close, not even warranting us pretending it is ours. We definitely lost our dinghy somewhere between Kawau and Rakino (in a video shot before passing the Rakino channel, I can see the dinghy is already missing), probably drifting towards Great Barrier by now.

21-23 January: Oneroa, Waiheke

Where have the three nights we stayed on Waiheke gone, I still wonder. We spend them slowing down even more, reducing to a bare minimum the number of daily activities, as if to retain the passing of time which inevitably draws our holidays to an end. A couple of picnics and dinner with friends. A visit to the library. A movie, Back to the future III, the last of the trilogy and it’s Sunday morning, time to go.


24 January: Back to Bayswater Marina

After 31 days away, being back at the marina at exactly two to two on Sunday, ready to jump in the car to get up the road to Julian’s birthday at 2pm, that’s what I call a meticulous timing.

Now we’re grounded for the next foreseeable future. A diesel leak that worsened throughout the summer got Thomas busy watching countless YouTube videos in an attempt to fix it. But when everything was back together, the engine wouldn’t start and the mechanics who paid us a visit last Saturday advised it wasn’t worth spending more time, effort and money on repairing an engine that didn’t compress well anyway. After nearly 45 years, it looks like our Perkins 4108 did its time and needs to be replaced… With the new lockdown just announced, what a timing!

Magic moments in Kawau

Initially, our ambitious plans for the Labour week-end was to go to Great Barrier Island… Thomas had even taken his Friday off to give us four full days of adventures. However, our religiously watching the weather situation the week leading up to our mini-holidays, did nothing to slow down the wind, which was still howling loudly on Friday, to the great delight of the Coastal Classic sailors.

As for us, we took it easy, relaxed at Takapuna swimming pool (hammam, sauna and spa), had a rest, and Thomas took the children to the Bayswater Halloween trail after school while I was preparing the boat for an early start on Saturday. We would head towards Kawau Island, under more reasonable conditions, and meet our friends on Cirrus. Nothing to be disappointed about with the turn of events, as we had quite a few magic moments all through the week-end that completely made up for the plan downgrade…

Magic moment #1 – Guests for breakfast
As we passed Northhead, I saw a couple of kayaks who were getting scaringly close to Obelix. I was at the helm and altered my course to ensure we were not going to crush them, but they followed, got closer, and settled right behind us! I could in fact clearly hear them casually converse. They were delighted to surf in our furrow and enjoy a record speed with little effort. As we were having breakfast in the cockpit, it almost felt like we ought to offer them a cup of tea! We had a bit of a chat while they enjoyed the ride, until our course not longer suited them. Unless they decided it was time for them to really start exercising…

Obelix’ pilot-kayaks

Magic moment #2 – Team New Zealand foiling show
Soon after, we noticed a tall and slim silhouette on the water, and recognised Team New Zealand’s sci-fi looking boat. As we didn’t want to miss the show about to happen, Azur took the binoculars to carefully monitor their progress. It wasn’t long until they got started and actually zoomed very close to us, flying above the water, one foil up, one foil down at great speed, followed by their escort of power boats. Being in the front row like that and, above all, hearing the sound of speed was exhilarating, so of course I screamed with excitement. Well, apparently, this was too painful for Zephyr’s ears and he retreated inside missing most of the action…

Magic moment #3 – Zephyr saving the planet
We arrived in Kawau at noon, less than 5 hours after leaving Bayswater and were greeted by Gaspar, Rocio & crew on their dinghy, off to explore the island. As for us, we took it slow, or tried to. After anchoring next to Cirrus, and fixing us a laid back pique-nique aboard, Thomas went for a nap, and the boys, who had slept most of the way, were full of energy and harassed me to launch the dinghy to rescue what they thought was a plastic plate floating around. Zephyr, chief of operations, took us there and back. It turned out to be a biodegradable paper plate but still, I could read pride in Zephyr’s eco-wise eyes, who had set his mind on a mission and had accomplished it without failing, rowing courageously against tide and wind to retrieve rubbish from the sea.

Magic moment #4 – Unexpected morning visit
The kids then left me alone and I took a well deserved rest lying in the cockpit (Thomas was still sleeping) until our Cirrus friends came back from their expedition. We had apero on their boat and dinner on ours. But a speedy one as they wanted to watch the rugby semi-final at the only pub on the island, as did all the other boaties who by then had filled the bay which looked like a floating village. I stayed behind to look after the kids and realised after all the grown-ups had left that I wouldn’t have a clue what to do, was anything to go wrong with the boat!!! Fortunately it was a quiet evening and by the time Thomas got dropped off by Cirrus crew, I was falling asleep in our berth in front of Rita & Chico. In the morning the sun was shining, I knew I ought to take a dip in the water before breakfast, but the fresh breeze was deterring me to jump in, when I saw Cormack and Sacha – Thomas’ workmate and his girlfriend, who I had met at their last work function, approaching on their dinghy. I then dived before they could reach our boat, not to show off (or maybe a bit), but mainly because I craved the alive feeling it provides and knew too well I would have lost the momentum after their visit. So they came onboard while I was still dripping, and even though we knew Obelix wouldn’t compare to the super yachts they’re both used to, we were proud to give them the tour of our new floating-mobile-home.

Obelix in Kawau
Zephyr & Azur on “magic” log

Magic moment #5 – Gaspar’s voice on Channel 6
After our own exploration of Kawau by foot and lunch break at the Governor’s garden under the hoot of peacocks, all the while observing Cirrus heading off North with their bright yellow spinnaker, around 4pm we set off ourselves and resolved to find them. Started a very laid back circumnavigation of the island under a barely noticeable breeze which allowed me to refine my landmarks identification skills. Approaching the northern bay where we were expecting our friends, everyone got a bit discouraged as we couldn’t spot any sailboat. But the sailing was pleasant enough, so we decided to carry on and go all the way to Burgess Bay, further South, to anchor for the night. We were nearly there when we heard a familiar voice on the radio. The VHF is not like a phone, you don’t know if or when someone will try to communicate with you, so in doubt I had ours on channel 6 (the one we had decided we’d use), but it had been silent until then and we had completely forgotten about it. So what a surprise to hear Gaspar telling us they were heading towards Burgess Bay too and would be there soon. Hallelujah, we would be reunited with our friends for the evening!

Cirrus appearing behind dragon rock, from Burgess Bay

Magic moment #6 – Dolphins party in Burgess Bay
We anchored just before sunset, in a very cute little bay with only one other sailboat and two pods of motor boats, just in time for another swim under the sun. I just went in and out in a blink, and started making dinner while the boys all set off for the beach on their different embarkations. Stand-up paddle board for Thomas, surf board for Azur and dinghy for Zephyr. And when I came back up on deck, I could hear strange heavy breathing as if someone with asthma was snorkeling nearby, I looked and then saw grey fins coming in and out of the water in cadence next to the boat. I immediately yelled “DOLPHINS!!!” to draw my mens’ attention, and the family fleet quickly came over paddling and rowing to look out for them as they they kept disappearing under the water and reappearing somewhere else. Zephyr took me on the dinghy and stopped rowing as they swam towards us and underneath the boat, letting us admire their grey and white graceful bodies. Definitely the highlight of the day, especially when, later on, when Cirrus had finally arrived, they started jumping around, and doing their trademark back flips. The camera battery was down so I didn’t capture the moment but Azur wonderfully illustrated it.

Spot the dolphins!
Five dolphins by Azur
Kawau Island chart + Obelix course

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