West Park - West Park

Jobs list

The NZ crew (that's Phil, Matt & Tiny) very kindly agreed to stay on for a couple of days of make & mend.

The list was quite extensive, and included a certain amount of stowage and laying-up, before leaving Harlequin  on her swing mooring for a few weeks. And after 18 days of hard sailing, she was ready for a good clean!

Plumber Matt

All of this done with a will and a smile, before everyone was invited over to the Coopers' country villa for a very relaxing Sunday afternoon BBQ. OK, we admit it -  it was rather pleasant to be ashore for a change!

Monday was for domestics (Matt bought an old banger), re-fuelling and a tourist run ashore into Auckland CBD.

And finally, Tuesday saw a frenzy of last-minute jobs before departing West Park Marina to head up-river to our swing mooring: Jim & Phil aboard, with Matt & Tiny to drive up then row out to meet us at the mooring.

Electrician Phil

Such was the plan, until Phil (at the helm, as we motored up the river) piped up with,

   "Jim, this bridge says 17 m - is that the height?"

   "... and is it enough?!"

Needless to say, Jim was on deck in a flash and, no, 17 m would not be enough. Harlequin has a 20 m air draft. Bugger.

Dinghy repairs

Greenhithe bridge is big; no-one had even considered that it would not also be tall. It wasn't. After a brief double-check to measure the mast alongside the bridge (the watching Police launch wasn't impressed) we turned around and headed back to the marina. Quickly - the tide was on the drop again, and we didn't want a repeat of our previous arrival.

Needless to say, this is where Harlequin will remain for the next few weeks, until an alternative can be found...

Great Barrier - Auckland

A welcome from Luna Rossa

Up at first light again (a habit easily acquired on a cruising yacht), we were off by 0700, motoring though the tight Man of War Passage.

Heading southwest for Auckland, the wind greeting us was - you guessed it - SW/15 kts, with a nice little SW'ly chop developing. Reefing 1 + 2, it was easiest to take a long tack past Little Barrier Island to Cape Rodney, where we eventually found more sheltered water. Tacking past Kawau Island, through a racing fleet heading north, the wind then backed to S'ly 10-15 - again in the face. Ain't it always the way!

Beating up the Harbour

So it was 1730 before we passed Rangitoto light, to be met by Luna Rossa's AC72 out training - quite a welcome as we entered Auckland Harbour. The photo above shows them apparently being towed by their high-powered safety boat. They weren't. They very swiftly roasted past it, and it was apparently impossible for them to keep up!

Having sailed/raced in Auckland Harbour many times before, it's really quite familiar. Perhaps that familiarity, coupled with the strangeness of being there aboard Harlequin, meant the sail up to and beneath the Harbour Bridge really brought it home. Yes, we'd really sailed here from Hong Kong. This was the moment it sunk in, and boy, did it feel grand. An epiphany, I suppose.

The Nippon clip-on

Pride always comes before a fall, though...

We were now late for dinner at Oh Calcutta in Parnell, where all the crew would be getting back together again to celebrate the end of the voyage. Hence chancing the approach to West Park marina (always a bit dodgy) only an hour after low tide. Taking great care with the channel marks, we reached within 300 m of the marina entrance and stuck. Firmly. All we could do was await the flood - obviously with a G&T in hand.

Sundowners on the foredeck

To assist in lifting us clear, and to get some distance between the Skipper and the wise-cracks, the crew were sent to the bow. But we weren't going anywhere - not for an hour anyway.

Not alone, though: a motor-cat joined us after a few minutes, and we left them there, still firmly aground, when we finally floated free and berthed at 2030.

A very quick Italian shower, and we were off to the pub to celebrate - kindly chauffeured by the Cooper fleet of limousines.

Almost exactly a year to the day (we left Hong Kong on 19 Feb 12) - the drinks (and dinner) are on Jim!

Just short of the marina

but not alone...

In the channel - honest!

Opua - Great Barrier Island

Tiny, Matt & Phil

The next few days saw the remaining team (Jim, Phil, Matt G & Tiny) kick back and enjoy a spot of cruising, as we delivered Harlequin down to Auckland where we'd arranged a swing mooring.

Departing Opua at 1000, we anchored for lunch at Urupuka Bay in the Bay of Islands. Just to get a tick in the box - we couldn't really see what all the fuss was about. It gave us the chance to put someone in the water though (Phil) to test the rudder mounts which had been making ominous noises. Confirmed slack, we tightened the top bolts, enjoyed a couple of beers in the sun and pressed on.

Wow - a hole in a rock!

Yes, 6 Weetbix!

Rounding Cape Brett and Piercy Island, with its famous 'hole in the rock', we were amazed by the number of tour craft bobbing about - some quite huge power-cats. We hope the tourists felt they'd had their money's worth, at $100 pp.

We then became a little busy as three Tuna quickly took our lures (the trusty pink squid), although one was lost off the back after 'spiking'. Tuna for dinner!

The first night was spent at Oakuru Bay in Whangaruru Harbour - a pleasant spot off a remote sandy beach. Then an early start for the 70 nm passage to Great  Barrier Island, known locally as simply "The Barrier".

Line snag

The early light airs gradually gave way to a building SW'ly, affording us a fresh reach under first reef (a bit of a tongue-twister) but also testing our rudder, with more signs of movement in the top mounting. We were glad to get into the shelter of Port Abercrombie where we dropped sail and motored into Kaiarara Bay (another tonque-twister) to anchor south side in 15 m.

F@*&ing thing!

Next morning we immediately set to fixing that top rudder mount. In removing the mounting bolts (SS tapped into alloy), two sheared - not a great start - so we decided to add three new, more substantial securing bolts, drilled and bolted through both top & bottom plates. Why this hadn't been done originally, God only knows...

On the scrounge...

The battery drill wasn't up to it, so Matt & Tiny were dispatched to beg a beefier ac-powered drill from a neighbouring boat. A few hours later: job done. Or so we hope.

Sheared bolts

Then the outboard started once and died. The plug was OK (new at Norfolk) so we emptied the fuel tank and sure enough: full of crap. Opened the carb': full of crap. Once cleaned up, we were finally 'go' for our run ashore.

With our small dinghy, and Tiny's massive bulk, we decided on two runs to shore. As Matt returned to collect the second team we heard 'holy shit' and looked up to see a massive shark leaping totally clear of the water three times in quick succession - straight at Matt! Never seen anything like it. We now call this area 'Shark Bay' and will think twice before any more swimming.

We set off at 1400 - finally - for our assault on Mount Hobson via the old Kauri Dam. After about 3,000 steps, built carefully up through the jungle by DOC, 1620 saw us at the top for amazing 360 degree views of the Hauraki Gulf and beyond - oh, and mobile comms. Bugger the stunning views, out came the phones!


By 1900 we were back at the beach. Delayed only slightly by Tiny's brief dip in the one of the streams - not a pretty sight.

View from Mt Hobson, looking West

A busy and eventful couple of days, but well worth it to visit The Barrier. A 'must-see' for anyone cruising the Gulf, I'd say...

Kauri Dam

Barrier steps

Kaiarara Bay

Censored...

Tiny at the top

Great Barrier Sunset

Arriving Opua

Ruffy-tuffy...

The last 24 hrs (motoring) went in a blur as we cleaned house, taking particular care to eat all the prohibited consumables (fish, fresh meats, vegetables, cheese, honey, etc, etc, etc) before arrival. Or consign them to the deep.

NZ is famous for their border checks for foodstuffs and 'biosecurity' so we didn't want any glitches. Or fines. All well covered in their downloadable Yacht Pack, so we thought we had it sorted.

Land ahoy!!!

A la Oz, we'd given plenty of notice to the Border Protection people but they seemed a lot less interested than their more paranoid cousins across the Tasman - barely responding to our notification, other than an auto-reply by email.

We were actually arriving on the exact date we'd given about 6 weeks earlier - go figure - and confirmed by our shore team the day before, but  we had to make a round of radio and telephone calls as we approached, to coordinate our arrival at the customs clearance berth of Opua Marina at 0900, start-work for the CIQ officers.

I see a long white cloud...

And they didn't have our completed (and very detailed) Advance Notice and Inward Report forms, so we had to fill them all out again from scratch. An hour-long process in itself. Mumble, grumble...

First to arrive was a very polite & efficient chap from MPI (formerly MAF) who checked on the recency of our anti-foul (3 weeks), the condition of our woodwork for possible pests, and of course foodstuffs and other stores. No problem - we had that sorted, or so we thought. Having received all assurances, he began his below-decks inspection at the 'beer-fridge' immediately at the foot of the companionway, and found - yep, a stack of vacuum-packed salami and sliced cheese! Who checked that fridge!!!?

Not to worry, it all went in his de-contam bag (he was all suited up in de-contam gear as well) and on he went with his search. I think he'd seen worse in his time...

Hoist the Q-pennant!

Then came two ladies from Customs, who explained the Temporary Import formalities for the yacht (up to 1 year), interrupted by the 2-man dog team, who had us all off the boat and formally lined up on the dock for 20 mins while 2 dogs (one each for drugs & explosives, apparently) went very convincingly over the boat from top to bottom. Even up on the boom for a good sniff!

And finally a chap from Immigration who completed the passport & visa process, revealing - yes, you've guessed it - irregularities with student work visa applications from a couple of our 'continental' crew.

Phil's speech

Finally, all sorted (probably 2 hrs the lot) we were declared fit & legal, and allowed to move to a regular berth. But not before the rum came out to celebrate! It's tradition!

Oh, and for Phil to mark the occasion with an arrival speech, a sort of prize-giving, where he gave us back all our own gear! For example: coffee vacu-mugs, now carefully inscribed with various witticisms from the crossing.

Farewell Matt!

Matt C was jumping ship immediately, off on a hitchhiking adventure; John & Yann were leaving later to drive south, but all agreed to get together for a celebratory curry in Auckland the following week to properly mark the end of the voyage.

That's both the 1 year / 10,000 nm (?) voyage from Hong Kong, and the 2 week / 1,500 nm Tassie crossing from Brisbane - now there's something worth celebrating!

Leaving Norfolk Island

Moody Norfolk

A slow start, with some make & mend, ready for the final sprint to the finish: 500 nm from Norfolk Island to Opua, our arrival port for CIQ in New Zealand. That's 500 nm straight line, of course - probably well over 600 nm in the forecast strong E'ly and associated lumpy seas.

First some sail repair, though, as our trusty UK Sails Tapedrive Genoa had again developed tears. After a re-cut by Barry Hayes' team back in Hong Hong last August (while Harlequin was in Cairns), where they removed the roach entirely to extend its life as a basic cruising sail, we've covered about 2,000 nm in 6 months of Tropical sailing. And that's with a 5-year old sail!

This 155% Tapedrive still holds an excellent shape, especially when reefed (which is why we still use it as our primary headsail), and after 5 years of racing and cruising, owes us very little.

Just needing a few patches of sticky-back Dacron here and there, where the Mylar is delaminating. We'll hopefully get another summer and 2,000 nm out of her yet!

NI to NZ

Anchor a-weigh at 1030 on Fri, 8 Feb. Again with difficulty, with that blasted windlass acting up again - always when you have max scope out. Then double-reefed main and triple-reefed Genoa for the 25-30 Kt E'ly as we cleared Philip Island. Course about 165 degs (45 apparent), making 7.5 kts to the south for lighter conditions. Wet work!




And so it went for over 36 hours, as we fell back into routine, hardening up gradually to 35 apparent as the winds dropped to 100/17 kts. A gradual header, leading to our first tack at 0130 on Sun, 11 Feb.

Sunday saw us shaking out the reefs, swapping oilies for suntan lotion (always a rewarding part of a crossing) and setting the fishing lines. Again a day of rest, so a couple of beers allowed. Also a clock change that night, from 0315 to 0515 NZ time. A thrilling moment, strangely - implying "we're almost there"!

As if the wind gods overheard the small celebration, the breeze immediately dropped to a zephyr. Engine on (we needed some charging anyway - ain't that always the excuse?) and we could now point straight at North Cape.
Passing the Three Kings Islands at about midday on Mon, 11 Feb we landed the first Tuna. Heaved to in order to land the monster (at least Phil played it as such), the baking sun became too much for the crew.

Three Kings tuna

Man overboard!

Not for long though, as someone (who shall remain nameless) decided to - how shall we put this - squeeze one off from the boarding ladder, and everyone else was back on board in a trice!

    A very refreshing swim though. If brief...

Later that same day...

By 1700 we were anchored back at Cascade Bay, now decidedly more exposed and with the long swell regularly breaking over the pier.

Matt to the rescue...

Matt & Yann immediately paddled ashore to meet the shore team with the repaired outboard - a new spark plug and she ran first time.

Then, with a sterling effort from Matt, picking his way to the pier and back between the breakers, the last bodies and stores were shuttled aboard.

Phil was last to be collected, having parked the hire-car by the pier for retrieval by the company later. He must have been concerned he was going to be left behind (even though 'freshly' outfitted from the island's OpShop) and would not release the fish & chips til the last run.

We were all glad to see him back aboard of course. But possibly more so the fish & chips, which were wolfed down just as soon as we'd once again weighed anchor and popped the Genoa to ran very quickly back to the shelter of Anson Bay.

Again, to anchor there in the dark at 1930. A bad habit that we really must try and shake...

Fish supper

A long day, but colourful war stories from the previous 24 eventful hours were swapped 'til late.

Norfolk Island Day 2

Anson Bay beach

Yep, that was one rocky night.

Rocky, as in rock-and-rolly that is. Not the other rocky - the anchor was reassuringly solid all night, despite the constant pitch & roll of the swell.

Speaking of swell, daylight brought a clearer view of the beach at the head of Anson Bay, and it was obviously going to be a bit of a bitch landing there with the dinghy. To say nothing of getting off again. Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing gained...

Mt Bates looking SE

 First Mate John had woken with a knackered knee (alcohol obviously hadn't cushioned the impact of a twisting fall into the dinghy from Cascade pier), so he wasn't going to play. And Yann was pretending to be asleep. That left Tiny & Jim to make this particular viking raid.

All went swimmingly at first (you know where this is heading), successfully timing the breakers for the final run into the beach, until the last one caught the dinghy very convincingly from above. Not behind or below, but above! The shore party were already there to help gather up the remains, while two bedraggled vikings scrambled ashore to dry off.

Norfolk pastures

After a couple of hours, and copious application of WD40, it was clear the outboard wasn't going to start again, so only two options remained:  paddle out through the breakers, or portage everything up the cliff behind the beach. Including the dinghy, outboard, repaired windlass, and all the provisions. Everyone seemed to prefer the former option.

Matt was elected to lead the charge, being a serious paddler back home in Oz. Jim felt like another swim, so volunteered to come along for a laugh. Or several laughs, actually, as it took 5 or 6 attempts to get past the breakers. Each time being beaten back, rolled, spun, submerged, and generally rinse-cycled. If there was anyone watching from the top of those cliffs they would have been on their knees, laughing so hard. We were.

Happy days...

The sun was shining, we were having fun in a perverse sort of way, and finally, just before we felt we really should call it a day, Neptune decided to give us a break. Maybe he had an appointment elsewhere. Anyway, we made it back out to Harlequin, quickly fitted the windlass (the dry bag had worked, amazingly), and weighed anchor for Cascade Bay.

The shore party were now to cart the outboard & provisions back up the cliff to the waiting hire-car, have the outboard fixed in town, then meet us back at Cascade Bay. With some fish & chips. By now, we had worked up one hell of an appetite!