Opua, Bay of Islands, New Zealand 26 Nov 2010 35.3141S 174.1186E New pictures: http://picasaweb.google.com/margoreveil/BayOfIslandsNewZealand#

In typical landfall style, I’ve neglected to keep you in the loop. We’ve been out reconnecting with cruising friends, exploring this Bay of Islands, and taking advantage of the abundant scenic paths to redevelop some thigh muscles to support these wobbly sealegs. Rumor has it that in a few weeks all of New Zealand shuts down for summer vacation, and like the French abandoning Paris in August, the Kiwis will flee Auckland and flood these coves and bays, that we now find so quaint and quiet. The one to a thousand ratio of pictures to words will be much more effective, so I’ll post some pictures for a more complete description of all we’ve been doing since we arrived. Now we have to get to work and get some stuff ordered before the shops in this country close their doors to go fishing.

Our project list is reasonable all things considered. I grow more thankful at it’s length, with each new arrival we greet in the ship chandlery. Many have projects that sound more daunting than those on our list. I’m even feeling a little sheepish about my own sense of overwhelm, at our list of what others would consider standard maintenance items. Still, after months of focusing on feeding, educating, and cleaning up after a family of four, and transporting them across the Pacific, I’m finding the project management hat a little big for my new pinhead. When did decision making get so difficult? What happened to my getting-things-done skills, the ability to break down tasks into subtasks and schedule to a deadline starting with the next actionable item. In some ways tasks that the cruising life generates are a lot like tasks generated by email, the most recent arrival gets the most attention, until an even more recent one arrives and you drop the previous one finished or not, to slay the new beast. Slowing down the ship for assessment, maintenance and repairs, requires a completely different mindset. I used to be a master at stepping back, looking at the big picture, not letting the daily tug of urgent messages derail my projects and plans. But growing boys must be fed 3 times a day, dishes done, laundry sorted, books read and…oh is that Kamaya that just arrived? … sure this afternoon is perfect for sewing lessons come on by anytime…and hey that boat is dragging anchor, no one is aboard Red Alert!…was that a Eastern Rosella on the shroud!…look, squirrel!

No we’ve not seen any squirrels yet, but this life does foster a dog’s ADD. Discipline, that’s what we need now. OK, first on the list, 14 year old tired dinghy, options: repair, build new, buy new, buy used. Task one do a total cost of ownership analysis of each option. If “buy new”, must determine material: inflatible, plastic, or aluminum. If “buy used” must define minimum requirements and hidden costs. If “repair existing” must consider life expectancy and hidden costs. If build new, can expect to meet all custom requirements, but at what cost. It’s feeling a lot like a software development shop around here. All we need is a governance committee so I don’t have to take responsibility for any repercussions from making this decision on my own. Alright crew, time for a meeting.

xoxomo

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Matauhi Bay, Bay of Islands, New Zealand 2 Nov 2010 35.2734S 174.1270E

Six and a half days underway, 7 knots average, 180-mile days, 1-2 meter seas, plenty of fresh food – all add up to a very satisfying passage. Silver Lining may be heavy, but give her the reins, and she’s fast to plow a steady path through even choppy seas. We kept pace with the catamarans the whole way and arrived at Opua Thursday night at 10 p.m. Friday morning we celebrated with champagne and Alaska smoked salmon (items we expected would be confiscated), and waited for the customs officials to tear into our ships stores. We had stacked our table and counters with any and all goods we were in doubt about, to make their job as easy as possible. Our inspector went through quickly checking country of origin and contents. He tossed a lot, but mostly sproutable beans, fresh meats, eggs and produce – as we’d expected. He looked with interest at my fly tying kit, “Hmmm, nice hackle,” an anglers eye, not his inspector’s eye. He didn’t even enter the forepeak (smart man). I guess he trusted us to have pulled out any contraband from that zone – or he figured any banned substances were not likely to leave the forepeak for our next 6 months here. I’m certainly not planning on removing anything from that zone and scattering it across this pristine landscape anytime soon. In fact, I think our best solution for dealing with that teen scene, would be to seal it off and call it a watertight bulkhead – extra flotation if we ever ram an iceberg.

A year ago, New Zealand seemed so far away, a distant dreamland, yet here we are staring out in amazement at Middle Earth. It does not feel like a different country, but like a different world. The air is chill with new and foreign fauna sounds and flora scents, the soft rolley hillsides surrounding this Bay of Islands are a patchwork of dark green forests and bright green pastures. Every house, every building looks like it was just painted or newly renovated. Yards are immaculate. Stores are filled with picture perfect produce. Median strips are full of vegetable and herb gardens. And I think that’s English they’re speaking, but I’ll admit I’m having a tough time understanding the accent. At Sunday market, we stocked up on homemade japonica jelly, kiwi chutney and banana-rhubarb jam – every jar hand labeled, and obviously collected from family or neighbors – all shapes, all sizes, some of the glass containers a bit dull from use. The locals seem very happy to see the yachts arriving, or maybe they’re just happy to see spring arriving. They’re all decked out in shorts and are quick with their friendly greetings, ever happy to help with directions or to just stop for a chat. I feel a little out of place with my fleece cap, fleece jeans, wool socks and turtleneck, but my skin is acclimated to tropical temperatures, and there’s no way I’ll shed these new layers just yet. Overall, you’d think it was heaven on earth, but we did get a quick reality check when our dinghy gas tank was stolen while we were dining with friends. Just something to keep us on our toes; this may be Middle Earth, but the Goblins and Orks are never far away, and who knows where Gandalf is when you need him. I sure wish I had one of those swords that glows when they’re near. Instead, we bought 18’ of stainless cable and a lock, we’re now in search of some elves to sing an anti-cablecutter song to enhance the alloy. A little invincibility would be just the ticket.

What’s next? We’re not exactly sure. There is so much to see and do here, we ought to have a plan. Some friends and family have made noises about visiting. We also have lots of boat projects that we’ll need to tackle (If you took your house and sailed it over 10,000 miles for 10 months straight, far from any Home Depots, I’m sure you too, would have a longer than usual maintenance list). And as we approach our one year anniversary since departure, we’ll need to step back, look at our budget, look at the charts of islands we hope to get to next year, look at our wish lists of gear we’d like to buy/replace, evaluate our school’s performance, and draft up next year’s blueprints. Interesting, my friends and former colleagues back at UCLA are probably all working on their annual reports now too.

Happy Planning! xoxomo

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