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The one that got left behind

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As I write this, Dean is on a friend’s yacht, sailing to New Caledonia. Without me! But he can’t be having adventures without me!

They asked me to join them once they got there, but apart from lack of funds, I swore I’d never be one of “those wives” who are waiting on the other side. They have a cocktail in one hand, they have lovely clean hair, and they’ve got make-up on (even in the sweaty heat).

Not going on this adventure with Dean is my bad karma for all the whinging I’ve done about not loving sailing. It’s my penance for all the swear words I’ve screamed out to sea on a night shift. I should be thankful I’m not battling six metre waves and a black, black night.

There’s no photo to go with this blog. Because it would be of me, sitting in my six metre x three metre office, with a horrible fluro light, on my own, convincing myself that the work I’m doing has meaning and importance. I’m feeling a little sorry for myself. And a little lonely without my adventure man. Not even the thought of Coronation St on TV tonight is cheering me up.

I thought I had already decided to choose adventure. I now realise that is a life time journey and I’ve only just started.  I had the opportunity to go but I let fear stand in the way. It was such an easy decision to make. Easy is so overrated.

So I’m going to make a promise to myself: Janie, from now on, you shall always choose adventure. Always.

Our last blog from the South Pacific (really?)

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Seven months, six things lost overboard, five countries, four fish, three crew heading home, two bars of chocolate and one big adventure nearly over.

We head for home tomorrow. First stop, Norfolk Island.

Mum used to be worried that we’d get lost on the way home and end up in the Pitcairn islands. One of her hospice nurses was from there. I think our three GPS systems will work okay.

It’s a mix of emotions coming home. There’s some sadness at leaving the people we’ve got to know; some regret (did we make the most of it?); some fear about the passage home (for me); some anxiety about returning to our old lives (shouldn’t they  be different after all this?) but really, really wanting to see family and friends again; and amazement that we’ve actually done it.

I asked Dean how he was feeling about coming home: “I don’t want to go but I want to get out of this crap weather we’re having”.

He’s cleaning out the diesel leak in one of the cabins; Colin, our crew, is doing the dishes; I’m writing this last blog and trying not to ball my eyes out.

It’s been so exciting. But adventure is exhausting. I think we’ll come home for a holiday.

We’ll be back in Mana anywhere from 2nd or 3rd of November, to the 10th. It depends on where we clear into. Ideally we’ll go to Wellington then skip up to Mana, but we may need to go to Opua, wait for a weather window, then head down to Wellington. Clearing into Nelson is also a possibility.

We’ll be doing three hours on, six hours off. We’re cross three weather systems so anything could happen, but it’s looking pretty good. There are lows about Fiji and other stuff too. Everyone is saying tomorrow is the best day to go – the experts, the grib files and the obsessive weather talk from other yachties.

Thank you to everyone for your lovely posts and emails. We’ll let you know where/when we sail in so you can have hot chips, champagne, chocolate and fresh lettuce waiting for us. And Zena!

Our lovely new friends, Hamish and Steve who live in New Caledonia. Thanks to Rose for putting us in touch with eachother. They came on Pebbles for the weekend and we loved them. Especially their black lab/collie Jack! We wuv you Jack, big snuggles, smooches and ear rubs to you. Your black hair will forever be on Pebbles!

Our lovely new friends, Hamish and Steve who live in Noumea. Thanks to Rose for putting us in touch with each other. They stayed on Pebbles for the weekend and we loved them. Especially their black lab/collie Jack! We wuv you Jack, big snuggles, smooches and ear rubs to you. Your black hair will forever be on Pebbles!

 

Car park sign in one of the supermarkets in Noumea. We wanted to color one of them in pink and one black.

Car park sign in one of the supermarkets in Noumea. We wanted to color the boy in pink and the girl in black.

 

Bay Maa just north of Noumea. It's a gated community, kind of like a French beachside ghetto. Some German jumped ship a hundred years ago, swam to shore and started a new life. His descendants have their holiday homes there. They're quite cute, kind of like pretty French ghetto shacks.

Bay Maa just north of Noumea. It’s a strange gated community – some German jumped ship a hundred years ago, swam to shore and started a new life. His descendants have their holiday homes here. The bachs’ are quite cute, kind of like pretty French ghetto shacks, not that we were meant to be wondering around. The wind here was violent and gusty.

 

We found a huge shipwreck. I then touched a cute bunch of catus' and got many little prickles in my fingers. Dean had to operate.

We found a huge shipwreck. I then touched a cute bunch of catus’ and got many little prickles in my fingers. Dean had to operate.

 

I can't find the photo of Dean standing with his finger up the pirate's nose.

I can’t find the photo of Dean standing here with his finger up the pirate’s nose.

 

Every rock, plant, shell, view, swim and day has been so different.

Every rock, plant, shell, view, swim and day has been so different.

 

 

Two of the gorgeous adventure family girls. We've seen them grow up over the past six months We'll miss them.

Two of the gorgeous adventure family girls. We’ve seen them grow up over the past six months We’ll miss them.

 

Watching the All Blacks quarter-final against France, in a French pub. The French people there went from raucous to very, very quiet.

Watching the All Blacks quarter-final against France, in a French pub. The French people there went from raucous to very, very quiet.

 

Bacon and eggs, French style...haricot beans with loads of garlic, cream in the scrambled eggs, and sausages with thyme onions. We have no idea how much this cost - we can't read the menu or understand the answer when we ask anyway.

Bacon and eggs, French style…haricot beans with loads of garlic, cream in the scrambled eggs, and sausages with thyme onions. We have no idea how much this cost – we can’t read the menu or understand the answer when we ask anyway. It is so interesting that most of the French people don’t speak English. We met one woman who basically screamed at us to learn French. Charming.

 

Now trick now will be to keep a sense of adventure and exploring when we get home. A new walk with doggie, learn a new language, say hello to more people, be nicer. Surely you can't go through something like that and go back to the same thing?

The trick now will be to keep a sense of adventure and exploration when we get home. A new walk with doggie, learn a new language, say hello to more people, be nicer. Surely you can’t go through something like this and go back to the same thing?

 

 

Noumea – Nickel mining protests and fresh food

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You know how I was saying that we wanted to find out more about nickel mining in New Caledonia? Well, we joined in a street demonstration! That’s me in blue. Ha, Mum would be so proud of me.

We ducked into Noumea for one night to stock up on food and beer. As we walked around town looking for the fishing tackle shop, we came across a few hundred Kanaks with placards, banners and a float with a man with a megaphone. Of course it was all in French, but it was to the good old protest rhythm of, “What do we want, la la la, when do we want it, NOW!”

We just stared at first, then waved and walked away. Then we thought, “When else in our lives will we get the chance to join in a Kanak protest?” So we set forth, with no idea what the protest was for.

We walked with them with the other handful of whiteys and got some odd and lovely smiles: The feeling was wonderful.

They were protesting at government plans to export nickel to China. The pamphlet we were handed was in French so that’s all we know. When walked for about ten minutes then had to leave. Actually, we didn’t, we could of stayed and scream and shouted and got international media attention (fantasy, fantasy) but fishing tackle and fresh veges were calling. I’m a tourist-activist only. Sigh.

Noumea-1

After eating mouldy cabbage and canned beetroot for a week, we desperately needed fresh food. Herbs, lemons, lettuce, spinach, fresh bread and cheese. Dean is in heaven with the four different cheeses we bought. And beer. He was out of beer. Actually that was the main reason for leaving the wops to head for the city.

Now we’re off to do something very special: A moonlit kayak tour and an overnight stay in a tent in the trees. This is at Blue River National Park. It’s the only expensive, touristy thing we’ve planned for and it’s been a nightmare trying to organise it without speaking French. So it could be a total disaster. Or not. My latest epiphany is that adventure is the effort you make regardless of the activity and the outcome.

 

How we miss you (and how you are here)

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Here is how we miss you:

As a dolphin jumps across the sea, then a dozen more play around our boat, slipping in and out of water around our bow, with grand speed, and we think, this is amazing, wish you were here.

As the sun is setting, there’s a few minutes of ever changing, we wonder, are you watching from where you are, dressed in stripy thermals.

When we’ve just had a little fight (or a bigger one) and we’re on our own in a corner of the boat, in or out, we think of you, right here, and what you might say.

After we’ve met a nation of people in a day, we think yes, we are Kiwis, because we are having sausages for tea, with Watties, and we bush bash to get to the top, and you.

When someone doesn’t laugh at our joke and we feel like a nit – you would laugh, and you would then make us laugh, and the air would clear.

As we get the boat ready to sail the ocean, four days this time, we tighten things, check and check, breath deep, and we store the thought of you up for the scary times, when you’ll be right there, with us, wanting us to come home.

 

 

Fiji landscapes-1Fiji landscapes-4Fiji landscapes-2Fiji landscapes-5Fiji landscapes-7Fiji landscapes-9

 

Leaving New Zealand (and getting closer to the postcard)

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Leaving Opua (4 of 5)

Pebbles’ bottom is very low in the ground, now that we have all our cans and fuel on board. We’re very proud that we’re looking like an offshore boat now, with all the safety gear, solar panels and clever dingy hanger.

Good morning, good morning and welcome to the Cruisers Net on VHF Channel 77. Welcome new boats and farewell to those departing us today. First up, community news… the next local yoga class is at the Opua Community Centre starts at 9am – there’s no fee, koha accepted. And are there any requests for rides Paihia today? It’s the popular farmers market in Paihia so come back on channel eight if you need a ride. Now, we’ve had a request for jerry cans to be taken to Vanuatu and also a box of clothes to a family in Fiji. If there’s anyone who can help out there, please come back on eight. Plus, we had a request for where to get malaria kits, so any info on that would be appreciated. Now, over to you – let us know what you need, what you want and what’s going on. Oh, and the dinghy that just went past F pier two minutes ago, you’re going way too fast mate, way too fast. Over to you.

This whanau of sailors connect over the airways every day. They keep in contact on other channels while at sea too, either by email or VHF for those in 25-30 nautical miles at sea (to convert to kilometres, double it and take a bit off).

Opua Marina. They're quite strict here - not as lovely as Mana!

Opua Marina. They’re quite strict here – not as lovely as Mana!

We’re all so different but have this incredible thing in common. No one really asks what job you do. Blokes tend to talk ship, the gals talk about life. When I say that I hate a lot of actual sailing, I either get a laugh of relief and an instant connection, or a bit of a silence.

I met this man a couple of nights ago who is part of another boat’s crew, headed to Tonga. He says this trip has been on his bucket-list and can’t believe he’s about to do it. Even though he started a new job just a couple of weeks ago, he told his boss that if he didn’t approve his leave for the trip, he’d resign.

We’re going with a group called the Island Cruising Association (ICA). There are 25 boats in the rally. Dean and I are the youngest by 15-20 years, apart from three or four other couples. For many others it’s either part of a sailing way of life, or a retiring, bucket-list kind of thing.

We are nearly officially called ‘cruisers’. I’ve heard cruising describe as boat maintenance in exotic places. I’m ignoring everything else I’ve heard that is not cute and chirpy. This includes stories of storms, breakages, seasickness….STOP!

We leave tomorrow!!!! Our boat shopping is over. Now we’re boiling eggs for our snack box, putting the anchor winch back together and getting the inside of the boat ready for an offshore passage. This includes ‘hot beds’ – all the cabins are emptied so when you come off a shift you just take the one available. If the engine is going then the bunk room is wonderful. Night shifts – oh god. They’re hideous, like having jetlag then flying back before you’ve recovered.

Our crew is nearly complete. Ian arrived yesterday and Glenn arrives this afternoon. Glenn did the overnight bus trip from Wellington so he’ll be starting with nightshift jetlag already!

It’ll take about five days to get to Minerva Reef, if all goes well. Minerva Reef is actually two reefs where, at low tide, you can walk on them. In the middle of nowhere, with panoramic views of blue, we’ll be walking on water. It’ll be postcard-perfect.

Then it’s just a couple of days to get to the Ha’api group of islands in Tonga. The weather is looking good. We may have to motor for a day or so and then we’re expecting south-easterlies on the side. Once we go, we’re committed. Eeek.

Thank you to those who have supported us. Please do email us any time at pebbles@myiridium.net (text only). The longer we are away, the more we love hearing from you – anything from important things to dumb and lovely stuff.

We are so friggin’ excited! I asked Dean how he is feeling this morning and he said, “I just want to do it.”

Happy adventures everyone. Our next blog will be from the Ha’api Beach Resort in Tonga. In about ten days we’re going to be on a tropical island, just like the postcards! Woop, woop.

Fair winds and calm seas from Janie and Dean.

Leaving Opua (5 of 5)

Zena!

 

Zena the duck (how rehoming your dog is hard)

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Meet Zena the duck.

Harris Bay, Kawau Island. Our resident ducks. One is called Zena. Actually every animal I see is called Zena, after our beautiful golden lab, Zena, who we have temporarily rehomed to the Coffee family. The seagull on our dinghy at Rangitoto Island was called Zena. The takahe bubby on Tiritiri Matenga was called Zena. The wasp who tried to sting me this morning was not. We know Zena is happy with her new family but it’s still hard. Woofie woof.

zena

We did it! Now, how to brush your teeth in a storm…

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IMG_1351Yip, we left. Unbelievable. Two years in the planning so all quite surreal. There was a moment when I was hugging my niece Mia when I thought, mmm, maybe I could just sneak off now…

Thank you to those family and friends who hooted and waved us off (Alison, the balloons lasted to Cape Palliser!)

The first  day was lovely…calm seas, dolphins, Aratiki ferry, cups of tea. From 3pm it turned to *hit. Gale force winds and choppy seas, all through the night.  Not all bad though – the ferry rang us to tell us he was passing on our starboard. How about that.

The eyelet in our jib ripped so we are now without a headsail. We’re motoring and using our storm jib.  Dean’s not impressed.

This afternoon it calmed down and we were able to do things like brush our teeth. Imagine been in your own person earthquake in a crate – that what it’s like trying to brush your teeth while underway. God, I looked in the mirror – bad mistake.

But we’re all well and happy – a bit tired.

A couple of weeks ago a woman said to me that for her, sailing is either terrifying or boring. Yep.

Better go – I’m on shift soon. We’re doing four hour shifts overnight, with cross overs.  No time to spell check. We’re just off Cape Turnagain. Didn’t make much progress today. Not in miles anyway.

Sailing is not scary, sailing is not scary, sailing is not scary. IT’S ALL LIES.

xox

PS. Penny, you may have converted Dean to fruit cake.

What a boat looks like when preparing for offshore

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IMG_1253I’ve just watched the entire series of The Batchelor in just five minutes. How? I watched it online and skipped to the end. I didn’t cry. The last time I watched The Batchelor, I invested eight or nine weeks in the programme, and cried with Cinderella joy at the end.

We’ve spent two years investing in this trip to the Pacific Islands. The ending will be all the sweeter, surely, for all the agony and joys of getting there that we’ve been through.

This photo is what our boat looks like at the moment. Sooooo much going on.

There is just two and a half weeks until we leave Mana, for Auckland, then Opua, then Tonga, Fiji, Vanuatu…and back to NZ via Norfolk Island. The only thing I know about Norfolk Island is that you have to give way to cows.

We’ve got 72 things ticked off our to do list. Here’s a sample:

Fixed radar that Dean blew up; bought label maker; got spare blow up bits for lifejacket; applied for 0 interest, no repayment (ever) credit card; put letters on our dinghy, BamBam (our boat is called Pebbles); fit solar panels on new arch; disposed of old emergency location beacon (the supplier sends the lithium battery to the Army to blow up); bought Green Bags to keep veges fresh (yes I am going to be one of those sailors’ wives); sell one car – depending on debt, sell other one; bought lashing lines (???); bought powdered egg; waterproofed bimini; glue top of pantry down.

Only 3,575,880,399 to go.

Sigh.

 

Follow me as I sail from New Zealand to the Pacific Islands!

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IMG_00042 May is the day. We set sail from Opua, Bay of Islands, New Zealand, to Tonga. First, we leave Mana Marina where we’ve been living for two years, on 1 April. Yes, it’s April Fools Day, but we’re not one for superstition (I’m tapping my head and touching wood as I say that).

In fact, we’ve just changed the name of our boat from Pebble Rebel to Pebbles. I did try to get a virgin to pee in the bilge – as our dog peed on the marina lawn I tried to shove a cup under her pee, but all I got was a dribble on the side of the cup. So my Facebook post to The Ledger of the Sea is going to have to be enough.

We’re in manic preparation mode for our trip mode.  The Category 1 inspector from Yachting NZ is coming in two hours. Wish us luck.

I’ll be posting as I go. You can also read previous writing from my Boat People column in KapiMana News, and other magazines and newspapers. You can also follow our journey via GPS to see where we are at any time. I’ll put that link up soon.

And you can wish us ‘fair winds and calm seas’ at any time, by leaving a comment.

I suppose there’s always a first time to do things. I’m good at firsts. It’s the seconds I struggle with!

Thanks for joining us. It’s the community around us that has kept us going at times. Sign up to the RSS feed to receive my updates, or follow us via email (on the right).

Arohanui.

Janie