Our last sight of Aotearoa was our New Zealand flag waving towards Cape Brett. After two years of intense planning and many YouTube videos of storms at sea, we were finally living the dream (or nightmare, as it first turned out to be).

My partner, Dean, and I, sailed from Mana to Opua in the Bay of Islands with our two crew, Ian and Glenn. The journey we were about to go on was huge for them too. We left Opua and sailed towards the unknown.

The first two days out of New Zealand was dead calm and stunning. I secretly hoped we’d motor all the way in calm seas. No such luck.

The sea started to slop and chop and the wind came up. It was coming from the North and was due to swing around to the East so we could sail on a reach. It never came. We bashed and crashed into the waves. I have 27 bruises to prove how hard it is to move around a boat in rough weather.

I was seasick pretty much the whole time. This meant I couldn’t eat so I got quite weak. I had to force myself to drink and nibble on a sesame cracker or a slice of orange. Of course I forgot about taking electrolytes (Rambo Medic is cursing at me). Sailing is great for weight loss! Dean had  a few icky moments if he was checking out the motor or was head-first into a bilge, but not too bad. Glenn was all good, as was Ian.

Glenn rode the waves like a demon. I had the steering on auto-pilot during my shifts. Steering in rough weather is my next fear to conquer – controlling how the boat comes off a wave. I’m too terrified to try it right now in case I get the boat side on and we ‘knocked-down’.

Night shifts kicked in and it wasn’t long before we were all sleep deprived. We did two hours on and six hours off. But the six hours off weren’t sleeping, just resting. It was too rocky and noisy and hot. I won’t tell you how many showers we didn’t have in the whole eight days.

Our NZ flag scared the hell out of me during nightshifts. It flicked shadows across the cockpit like madly pointing fingers: “Go there, go there, you’re going the wrong way”, it seemed to scream.

Your senses are all twisted with the low light. It’s so freaky not knowing what you’re sailing into. Every 10-15 minutes I’d stand up on the stern seat and take a good look at any lights. Even getting up there felt life-risking sometimes. But the stakes were high.

Some magic moments: When the moon disappears and the sun hasn’t come up yet – it’s other-worldly; seeing flying fish every day; finding something little to appreciate, like someone filling your water bottle; following how the light hits the waves until you start seeing dancing horses; and the realisation that we were really doing this.

The last three days sail to the Ha’api group of islands in Tonga was lovely. The wind was right and the sea went from angry sloppy to gently rolly.

Seeing the first white sand, palm tree lined, aqua water island was so wonderful. All is now forgiven. This momentous journey of extreme experience has been worth it (although I’m considering flying back in November!)

We made it! Paradise starts now.