Position: 30 degrees, 40 minutes south; 179 degrees, 19 minutes east

Those old enough to remember the comic strip; “Peanuts” will recall that when Charlie Brown went out ice skating in the winter, his mother would make him wear so many layers he couldn’t move. Inevitably he’d just tip over on the ice and lay there unable to right himself, trapped by all his layers.

Well that’s how we feel leaving New Zealand’s winter and heading north to the promise of warm tropical waters. Well, it hasn’t warmed much yet so we’re still wearing almost all the layers we have in order to keep warm at night when on watch.

Right now I’m sitting in the cockpit on “dawn patrol” and like Charlie Brown I’m afraid to move lest I tip over. Sea boots with wool socks, pants, bib overalls (heavy Gore-Tex with Cordura), a thermal long sleeve undershirt with zip neck, heavy pile parka with zip neck, Gore-Tex foul weather jacket (with a collar that goes over my head and contains the hood), a heavy pile neck gaiter, wool watchcap and all topped by my PFD (inflatable life-jacket), with built in harness and a six foot long tether that I hook in while working outside the cockpit. Ann wears the equivalent plus she’s been adding long johns. (The scary part is other than our socks, we haven’t changed since leaving New Zealand as these layers are the ONLY cold weather layers we have. Let’s hope for warmer weather soon. Very soon.)

Now, let’s see, did I miss anything? Oh yeah, don’t forget the lightweight wool glove liners I have on (my heavy Gore-Tex gloves are under the dodger but not yet needed) and a headlamp.

Whew! Just getting up to make a cup of tea expends about 500 calories trying to move with all that stuff on. Fortunately it’s a bit warmer during the day, but we’re both looking forward to the part of the trip where we switch to shorts, tee-shirts and flip flops.

My other issue of the moment is a big, fat lip from whacking myself in the face with the winch handle! I was up at the mast putting in a double reef, as the wind had jumped up. This requires (among other steps) winching the reef line tight to stretch the bottom of the sail. Well, the piece of stinking excrement West Marine winch handle didn’t lock as it should and as I pulled with all my might on the winch, it slipped out and whacked me good. I could easily have broken a tooth or worse, so I grudgingly consider a swollen and abraded lip “lucky”.

By the way, on another subject – for anyone who might actually be plotting our course and wondering; “what the hell are they thinking” as you look at our course take a look at the GRIB files as well. We’re going quite a bit east of the rhumb line for two reasons. One – the winds where we are at present only allow us to go that direction (or on the other tack, maybe head for New Caledonia) and Two – southeast trades winds are forecast to fill in in a day or two and we don’t want to be too far to the west when they kick in or we have a very hard time getting to Fiji. Our hope is in a day or so we make a (approx.) 30 degree left turn, catch the trades and ride blissfully downwind all the way. At least that’s the plan. Mother Nature usually throws a curve so keep a watch to see if it works!

Position: 32 degrees, 20 minutes south; 177 degrees, 42 minutes east

We did 120 miles in the past 24 hours with just the jib up. But, the wind has changed. It’s coming around to the west and we need the mainsail to keep our northerly(ish) heading so put up the main with two reefs and the stays’l. We’ve been alternating between furling the jib and just leaving the double reefed main and stays’l. We’re maintaining speed above 6 knots.

Last night was grey. Just dark and grey. No stars, no moon, nothing but shades of grey. In fact the lack of visual cues made my hearing all the more acute and it got me thinking about all the sounds of Charisma at sea as a type of symphony.

So, here are my thoughts on the “Tayana Variations On A South Pacific Theme” by Charisma.

First off, I think Debussy or Grieg would have been good composers for this symphony because each is exceptional at evoking the lyrical beauty and magic that is present here. However, the emotion goes deeper. If Gustav Mahler had ever come this way he would be the one who could capture the essence of what we’re doing and feeling. Depth, mystery and beauty.

Mahler would have understood the enormity of the ocean, invisible below the surface reflections yet teeming with life just under the surface that occasionally and quite suddenly explodes out into the daylight. And he would have played with the feelings of the infinite reach of the stars and sky – tonight hidden behind the clouds – but there waiting nonetheless to burst forth and delight.

Charisma’s symphony at night is a cacophony of sounds in the greyness of a cloudy night. Some, familiar and comforting. Others, new and disturbing.

The first movement is set at 15 knots of wind. Strings, mostly cellos move to the fore. Pianissimo as Charisma slides through the waves, a constant ebb and flow against the hull as we crest a wave, then coast down, water rushing past and then slice into the one in front, water gurgling around the hull as Charisma gathers herself for the uphill climb and then yet another slide down the next one.

While the strings describe the motion, percussion in the background drives the constant beat of the journey (in ¾ time) with a syncopated rhythm as counterpoint to the lyrical rise and fall of the strings. Tick, Tick, Tick – Tick, Tick, Tick – Clang…Clang.

Suddenly a cymbal crashes out of nowhere, reverberating violently in your ears. A rogue wave, 90 degrees out of phase just crashed against the hull, slamming the boat sideways, water bursting into the air and then falling back on itself sizzling like bacon on a hot griddle.

In the background you can hear the timpani announce a gust of wind, swirling across the water, reaching the deck then searching out voids and finding every opening with a dull relentless hum.

Just a little off the beat, we can hear a few comical notes from an oboe. Ahh, the cockpit drains burbling little giggles as the water passing under the hull tickles Charisma’s toes.

Right now it’s about 0300. In a couple hours, we’ll get to the second movement. A piano playfully foreshadows sunrise. Then if the clouds part a bit and make way for morning light – the horns. First a lone trumpet as the sun searches for a hold on the new day. Then as it pushes aside the grey of night, the bright triumphant chorus of horns pushes the quiet strings aside and proclaims a new day full of promise. Warmer, brighter, because we’ve moving north – leaving winter behind and seeing hints of the tropics ahead.

Position: 34 degrees, 19 minutes south; 176 degrees, 12 degrees east

We’re solidly in day two. We did 112 miles yesterday using only the jib. We’re taking it easy getting into the rhythm and have not even set the mainsail yet. No need since the wind is cooperating although we could have done an extra 20 miles or so if we had added the main, but with a lot more boat handling effort. It’s been blowing between 12 and 20 and we’ve been averaging 5 knots more or less. I’m guessing tomorrow will be mainsail set day. The wind is already clocking and we’ve gone from dead downwind to a reach (with the wind coming across the port side). Tomorrow looks to clock some more and lighten a bit, so we’ll need the main to keep course and speed. But in the meantime it’s been a pleasure to not do anything. We set the wind vane and jib when we left the coast and have pretty much not touched anything.

One distraction is the radio nets. They can be tedious but also fun. We’ve caught up with a few friends and yesterday did an interesting relay. Our friends on Astarte who went north to the Marshalls for the cyclone season are coming back south and heading for Vanuatu. On yesterday’s net they were 60 miles out from their destination and about 1200 miles or more from our location. The net control was in Hawaii. He couldn’t hear them but we could so we had a chance to chat with Astarte and do the relay between them at 1400 miles and Hawaii which is 3600 miles away. Shortwave radio is interesting stuff.

It’s been chilly – we’re wearing all our clothes, hats and gloves, but today was a nice sunny day. We’re hoping for stars tonight since the moon is about gone and without the stars there’s absolutely nothing to see.

Had a brief dolphin escort today around 1530 and an albatross sighting earlier in the day but other than that it’s been pretty basic. Rolling like crazy, bumps bruises, reading books, eating the last of the leftover first night stew, searching for those annoying noises that can keep you awake, but all in all it is nice to be back on a voyage. There’s something the just feels good about being out here just doing this. Maybe I’ll figure it out in the days to come and be able to tell you.

Position: 35 degrees, 26 minutes south; 175 degrees, 01 minutes east

We left Marsden Point at 1230 today just behind a little front that brought rain and a nice southerly wind to push us northbound on our 1200 mile journey back to Fiji.

We hate to leave New Zealand as it’s such a lovely place where we’ve made many new friends, but it’s easier knowing we’ll be back in November. In the mea time there’s so much to look forward to for the next five or so months back in the tropics.

As always, leaving the coast means dodging big ships and true to form we have just been passed by two very large cargo ships. One going north and one south. The southbound one was aiming right at us and I called them on the VHF and got an “English-challenged” mate. I was having a tough time communicating that we were at their 12 o’clock and did they see us, so finally turned on the engine – “just in case” and turned on our masthead strobe-light to aid in identification. I don’t think they saw us on radar, but they did see the strobe and passed a mile behind us which at sea when you’re talking about a large container ship, is very close.

It also means we’re back to living on a platform that’s rolling 30 degrees to each side over about three seconds. Hang on is all I can say. Some of them (the rolls) are easy and you can anticipate them, but others sneak up on you and if you’re not braced – look out!

Anyway, we’re doing about 5-6 knots with just the jib up in about 18 knots of wind and maybe five foot seas. It’s supposed to lighten tomorrow and we’ll probably put up the main but it’s nice to start a trip like this by easing back in and not having the main to worry about as the wind goes up and down is nice.

So that’s it for now, stay tuned for the next ten or so days and remember; your comments on the blog are our evening entertainment ; -) so keep ’em coming.

We are in Marsden Cove Marina waiting for the next window to Fiji. Our To-do list has about 22 items on it now. The most crucial being the need to top off the fuel, the water and notify Fiji that we are coming. Still it would be nice to finish the others if time permits. And as we wait for the next window, time may permit.
My biggest issue with waiting for weather windows in Marsden is that across the river and Urquharts Bay is Mt. Manai calling to me. It is a beautiful set of pinnacles that the Maoris used to bury their chief on. Marsden has little to offer in the way of hiking…and in the distance is Mt. Manaia…taunting me.
Well today we conquered it!

On top of Mt Manaia

We helped Bright Angel depart, hit the Farmer’s Market currently held in the canvas tent in the marina (score!) and then jumped in the rental car that was ours for an extra day because the office is closed on Sunday and took off.
There are 1198 steps up to the peak of Mt. Manai. I counted them by pocketing a pebble every one hundred steps. Every step was worth it…even when we had to come back down them. And the day was perfect; the view was stunning. We actually think we saw Bright Angel about 15 miles offshore.

The local version of stairway to heaven.

The hike up was as beautiful as the views. Huge Kauri trees and this venerable old guy.

The views were tremendous, partly because you were standing right on the edge of a sheer wall that dropped hundreds of feet straight down.

You can see why the Maori found this to be a spiritual place with it's soaring views as this one out over the ocean.

And in this view you can see Urquharts Bay in the upper right where we hiked later after coming down from Mt Manaia.

And because we were on that side of the river, we decided to do a second hike from Urquharts Bay to Busby Head, the peak at the entrance to the river leading to Whangarei, and back via Smuggler’s Cove. The weather was perfect and the views were worth every step.

The hike from Urquharts Bay to Smugglers Cove.

Smugglers Cove.

And of course we earned our double scoop ice cream cones near McLeod’s Bay.

A really fun day. Tomorrow should be a lot more productive as we aim for a late week departure for Fiji.

And yes…we will load pictures tomorrow…too exhausted tonight!