Wellington – Napier April 30 to May 2.
After a week of studying the weather, consulting sailing friends and searching for a suitable weather window we finally settled on what appeared to be an excellent forecast – strong northerlies dropping to 20 knots and then changing to a 30 knot southerly. If we left at midnight we’d get the dying northerly and pick up the southerly at Cape Palliser. It had been blowing very hard all day. Nobody in their right mind would think of sailing in those conditions but the forecast held so off we went. What we’d not taken notice of was the sea state, “very rough seas” and all up the Wairarapa coast that’s what we had. Swells from all direction and a short, steep sea making the boat as uncomfortable as I’d ever experienced her. Across Palliser Bay the wind increased, as it does, to 30 – 35 k and we put a double reef in and shortened the genoa. Simon had trouble with the autohelm so he hand-steered much of his watch. I got wretchedly sea sick early on and remained that way until Sunday morning. It felt much longer than that. Janet followed suit once we’d rounded the corner. And it was cold, very cold. Janet suffered most and would be found on watch wrapped in all the clothes she could get on plus a duvet which threatened to get wet.
The boat seemed to need a lot of attention up to Cape Palliser. Janet didn’t think that she could cope with the conditions so Simon and I took turns up to the corner. Simon’s hand held GPS refused to work which frustrated him, the autohelm began going into stand-by mode, the quarter berth porthole which opens into the cockpit fell out and the house alternator wasn’t working. All these faults made it feel like the boat was not reliable, the conditions were more testing than we’d expected, we had large dollops of water hurled into the cockpit threatening the replaced but loose porthole and Simon and I were getting exhausted. These were new and very testing conditions for Simon who rose to the occasion magnificently. He took charge of navigating as he could see that any attempt at this task just aggravated my already rather dramatic sickness. I’m not a quiet vomitter. I give full cry to the agony of having the very bottom of my stomach wrenched up my throat. It sounds like I’m being tortured and I can assure you, it feels like that too. But to Simon it must have sounded like his skipper was not long for this world. He became concerned, more vigilant and took more responsibility, often popping up on deck while off watch. Both Janet and I independently began trying to recollect what it was about ocean sailing that so appealed. I started making other plans. Perhaps we’d sell Navire after Tonga and buy a canal boat in Europe where there are no rough seas and you’re never far from a mechanic or marine electrician. Simon began considering how he could persuade us to put into Napier where he could desert. Janet began thinking about heaving to which seemed preferable to heaving over.
On the upside the nights were beautiful with a full moon and clear sky. But they were cold. Janet began taking her watch and I got my first decent sleep which was heaven. The autohelm improved when I used a different socket but still went into standby mode occasionally when the boat would fall off the wind until the headsail backed which, for you landlubbers, means the wind coming onto the opposite side – not ideal for sailing. Several times neither Janet nor I noticed this significant change – dozing on watch and trying to keep our stomachs down – but Simon, lying in his bunk where he should have been sleeping, would leap on deck to sort us out.
Big seas and 30-40k wind lasted right up to Napier where it began slowly to ease. Sunday morning I felt like I was beginning to come right. Simon secured the wayward porthole. Things were improving.
However, Simon made up his mind to get off at Napier. He was exhausted and, considering his busy orchestra schedule for which he needed to be well collected, rested and calm, he reluctantly decided to cut his journey short so into Napier we went.