Dispatch 68 Qayaq is Sold

We report with deeply mixed feelings that Qayaq has been sold. We held off on mentioning anything until we were sure, but, as of now, Neil, an Auckland resident, is living aboard her. In a great episode of luck and serendipity, Qayaq’s next owner presented himself to us. Everyone hopes their boat will be sold to someone who appreciates her the way we did, and, we feel happy that Neil will be a wonderful new owner.

Here’s how it all happened. While we were in Auckland finishing up our last bits and pieces with the broker and the boat, we had a small misadventure while flushing the watermaker in that the sink drain, corroded from years of salt water exposure, broke. How apt that the last time on Qayaq should turn into a boat project, but what do you expect?

The old drain had to be removed with our friends' hacksaw (no more tools on the boat after packing!), then Betsy was dispatched to find a replacement. As she got into a friend's van on the way to the store, a man approached and asked if she had just stepped off that double-ender on the dock. When she said yes, he basically offered cash on the spot for the boat. Well, she sent him down to Richard who talked to him for a bit, and, when Betsy returned, we decided it was worth meeting with Neil the next day.

He came out to where we were staying with friends, and, over coffee, he showed us his photo album from one of his prior boats, a Westsail 32, which he had rebuilt from the hull up with his wife. It showed great skill and love for boats which we really appreciated. Now he wants to have a boat like Qayaq to live aboard, fix up and hopefully sail off with his young son. He is a boat engine mechanic and works aboard large yachts, so we know he will take tender care of our boat. His thoughtfulness at bringing the photo album was touching and he said all the right things to let us know he really understands our dilemma--boats do not do well to sit un-used as we would have to do and he knew how emotional the turnover was. So, several steps later (only 3 weeks really), he is now the owner and we are boat-less, homeless and kicking around Oz (Australia) before heading back to the US and work.

They say the best 2 days in a boat owners life are the day you buy it and the day you sell it. Well, I don't think we will agree that selling Qayaq has been a good day. We can only say, it was the right decision for the boat and we are really happy she will have a good next adventure and be taken care of. For us, one door just closed, and we know there are millions opening up if only we dare to walk through them.

From Oz, somewhere over the rainbow, cheers to you all.

Dispatch 67 New Zealand A to Zed

We are wrapping up our time in NZ with a strong measure of sadness and nostalgia. We drove from Oamaru to Auckland, 1700 km, catching a few of the highlights we had missed on the way down, but, it was a fast trip and we didn’t get to savor much. We did enjoy a couple days in Wellington, a beautiful and energetic city, did some wine tasting in Martinborough, saw the quaint art deco town of Napier where a 1931 earthquake (7.9 magnitude) wiped out the city’s buildings so they self-consciously rebuilt in the style of the era. It gave us hope for Christchurch.

Our week in Auckland was spent, again, dealing with boat issues. We were hosted by Jeff and Deirdre, friends we first met cruising in Alaska who have made their life and business in Auckland, and Richard and Suzanne, new friends we met cruising in Samoa who are from Auckland. Both did their best to feed and shelter us while we dealt with our grief at saying goodbye to both Qayaq and NZ at the same time. We were off balance to say the least.

So here, in reflection, are some of our favourite things about NZ.

A for the Albatross who rode the air currents next to the ferry on our way back north between the two islands.

B is for all the British-isms we have learned to love/hate, but that add colour to our favourites list (as well as heaps of extra, unnecessary letters like the “o” in “oesophagus”, the many “u’s” in harbour, flavour, favour, colour, etc.)

C is for all the cows that make up the fantastic meat and dairy industry of NZ. It is unnecessary to ask if your beef has been “grass fed” in NZ because there is no other kind of beef and you see them all grazing by the road every day. The taste is amazing and something we will sorely miss.

D is for the farmed deer which make for such a bizarre roadside site (also see “V”).

E is for the wonderful euphemisms we have adopted from our Kiwi friends. Like, when someone is no longer sound in their thinking, they are said to have, “Lost the plot.” And when they are old and not in such good health, my mentor would refer to them as, “Well past their “use by” date.” Difficult issues are “diabolical.” Being busy is “flat out”, hiking is “tramping”, cookies are “biscuits” and evening meal, dinner, is “tea” (not to be confused with morning tea which is second breakfast in hobbit-speak or afternoon tea which is yet another excuse not to do any work for ½ hour.)

F is for Fantails, wee little birds that fan out their tails when resting on branches that we enjoyed watching flit about in our many travels in the bush.

G is for Godwandia, the original mega landmass from which NZ separated millions of years ago (“ best thing we ever did mate”) leaving it without dangerous animals and Australia with all of those. Also Gas which was $2.18 a liter when we left which is about $8.25 a gallon in US dollars.

H is for a healthcare system in which “EVERYONE” is covered for hospital and emergencies and payments, if any, are usually within the reach of most for other care.

I is for the expression “it is too,” which in NZ is not an argument (is too/is not), but an expression of agreement, as in, “it’s really cold today,” and the response, “it is too.”

J is for jandals, their word for sandals (flip-flops) which is the universal footwear of NZ, that is next to being barefoot.

K is for kilometer and relearning distances and the time it takes to travel between them on two lane roads with one way bridges and occasional sheep crossings—it all works because, there just aren’t that many people in NZ.

L is for the darling lambs we enjoyed last Sept/Oct who are now, sadly, being transported in huge trucks to the freezing works and their final resting place. We console ourselves by knowing that those ewes we see grazing away are, even now, pregnant with next season’s lambs!

M is for metric which the whole world uses except the US. Of course, some of the oldies I met in Oamaru still measure their weight in “stones” which, for those of you who don’t know, is around 14 pounds.

N is for the word NO pronounced “NOOOEE” by most NZ’ers , especially endearing when used by the ankle biters (which means kids, see E for “euphemisms” above. )

O is for, of course, OAMARU, our wee town of little blue penguins and limestone edifices.

P is for PENGUINS and all the varieties we have enjoyed.

Q is for Queenstown where people continue to jump from sound foundations and great heights to confront their fears. And, of course, for Qayaq, who remains in NZ and is now Kiwi owned.

R is for religion, which NZ has little of. The 2010 survey shows that fewer people in NZ claim any religious affiliation than in any other country. Good on ‘em! And let’s not forget what R really stands for which is of course for RUGBY which is, come to think of it, the official religion of NZ!

S is for the sheep that out-number the people 10 to one in NZ.

T is for “tracks”, their word for trails and “tramping”, their word for hiking. It really is a different language! And Tipping which doesn’t exist in NZ because they pay their staff a reasonable salary and let’s not forget Taxes which are high but included in the price so what you see on the pricetag is the price you pay. What a wonderful experience that is.

U is for the US which everyone seems to want to emulate for some unknown reason. Our biggest exports seem related to the spread of obesity: KFC, McDonalds and Burger King.

V is for venison made from the farmed deer. It is delicious!

W is for weather which is, truly, a law unto itself in NZ. One day in Oamaru, it was 38 degrees by 2 in the afternoon (that’s around 100 degrees F) and people were wilting. Literally in 5 minutes, the wind switched to a southwesterly and, in the space of time it took for our friends to consume their ice cream cones, it became cold enough to have to go inside—it dropped to around 22 (72 degrees F). This is normal for NZ. One never counts on the morning’s weather to continue all day, leading to the saying that the weather is “4 seasons in a day!”

X-rated? NZ suffers from none of the puritan modesty of the US. The advertisements and television programs are solidly sexual without apology (although the tele does give a parental warning before airing something that might be “offensive”). Where brothels, “escorts”, and sex ads are a part of daily life which includes having their own labour unions.

Y is for “yonks” a NZ’er term as in “I haven’t seen them in yonks” for those of us more literal types I haven’t seen them in a long time, years , ages well yonks.

Zed which is the way English speaking people pronounce the letter “Z” the world ‘round except in the US. And that illustrates what is so wonderful about travel in general. The US may think it has everything right, but, there is always so much to learn and enjoy from other countries, people and cultures.

Dispatch 66 The Wild West

5-13 March, 2011
Our last frontier on the South Island was the west coast. Like the US west, this is still a wild area and some of the settlements are, thanks to mining interests and the brief gold rush here, much like the US west. In fact, they have a shanty town preserved from the mining days. We admit, we weren’t very interested in that part of the history as it is so similar to the US.

But we were very interested in the beautiful terrain. Our route to the west coast took us purposely a little out of ourway to drive a road we had not yet been on that follows the “rail trail”, a disused railroad path, now a bike path, well used by bicyclists. It goes through central Otago, an area with a climate that is good for growing Pinot grapes and is thus full of wineries. Again, we were struck that the area is virtually treeless. Geologically in its past, apparently, it was a giant inland lake, but now it is undulating plains and hills with various low mountainranges leading up to the beginning of the Southern Alps. We stopped at a small railway museum to get the flavor of the area’s past, tried to go to a winery whose wine I had enjoyed (called Three Miners) only to findit closed, and finally pulled into Wanaka for a couplenights. Wanaka had been our base when I did my little ski adventure in the winter.

We love Wanaka. It is a stunning place, full of

young people, with an atmosphere of excited

physical activity. The morning after

we arrived we headed down the lake road past triathletes, some finishing their swim and others already on the bike leg. The day was gorgeous and clear after a heavy rain the night before left the first dusting of snow for the

season (we are headinginto fall here) on

the mountains ringing thelake. The snowwas melted by afternoon but made for a beautiful scene that morning. Half the road was unsealed, but pretty smooth gravel so we toodled along the valley

floor next to the lake and then its source river happily.

Then we came upon a pull off and a sign warning of “Ford!”

—not a car

advertisement—this was a warning that the road goes through a river without the benefit of a bridge. There was also a sign warning the next 9 km was rough road with multiple fords. Well, as we’ve mentioned before, we have

this flash car, an Audi A4, which might accelerate like the dickens but doesn’t have much road clearance, so we pulled off to

think things through. Alo

ng came an SUV

and we stopped them to ask if they knew the road conditions and the driver encouraged us that the fords

were probably OK as there really hadn’t been much run off and, if we were careful, “And your

wife gets out to find the shallow spots for you,” (?!) we should be fine.

Sure enough, they went racing off, then another Audi came racing along and splashed across the river without stalling, so off we went. We crossed 9 fords, the first of which was almost the worst and all went fine. When we arrived at our planned trailhead, we saw 30 or so cars and

vehicles who had also all braved the road, and ours was surely not the smallest or lowest car.

Our trail took us to the foot of the Rob Roy glacier. It was a stunning walk through meadows

with cows and sheep, over a suspension bridge and then up a very beautiful river gorge.

The track was very well maintained except for a couple areas of slide. At the top, we were

rewarded with a panorama of the glacier while we sat on rocks and ate lunch in the company of Keas (the parrot-like

birds that each windscreen rubber) who

were actually rather well behaved and posed for

heaps of tourist pictures. Because far from being a wilderness experience, this rugged little 10 km hike attracted quite a crowd. We ate that night at our now favorite restaurant in Wanaka, the Spice Room, with Indian food that is

truly gorgeous

(that is the adjective most often used for good food in NZ, not merely referring to its looks, but mostly to its flavor.)

The next day we drove a drop dead gorgeous road along several lakes out to the west coast and up alongside the coast and the coastal rain forest all the way to the Fox glacier. The weather on the west coast, just like our Olympic peninsula in Washington state, has such a high rainfall (around 300 inches), that it is a temperate rainforest. The weather was sunny so we enjoyed the lush greenery in sunshine.

Of the hundreds of glaciers in the Southern Alps, two of them are large enough to carry on down to near sea level: Fox and Franz Josef glaciers.

They are similar and are only a 30 minute drive from one another. We stayed at the little village at the base of Franz Josef while we enjoyed adventures at both spots. We walked up the river valley that is spawned from the foot of each glacier to get as close as the trails would allow us.

From there, we actually watched calved icebergsfloat downstream and tried to take in the size and grandeur of these rivers of ice.

We had not planned it this way, but, once we had seen these glaciers, we spontaneously decided that getting onto the glacier by helicopter would be worth the trip.

a 6 seater helicopter for a 15 minute ride up and around the Franz Josef glacier. We were deposited at the base of the “black hole”, a huge upthrusted rock face that the glacier had melted around so that it was bare of ice, about
So one morning, we went to the helicopter company, got suited up in glacier pants and rain jacket, their waterproof boots and heavy socks, and boarded midway up the glacier. There our guides helped us put on crampons and gave us ice axes and off we went to explore some of the ice formations on the glacier. The glacier is always active so we saw and/or heard rock and icefalls often while we were up there.

Our guides took us through ice caves, over to a huge

waterfall from the melting ice and through a little ice tunnel.

Our little group consisted of 2 other couples who might have had 5 or 6 cameras between the 4 of them, so much time was spent in various camera poses and less time than I would have liked was spent in actual hiking. But it was a stupendous experience from the helicopter ride to the glacier walk and I was thrilled we did it.Did I mention it was a gorgeous sunny day?

The area also offered beautiful little rainforest walks which reminded us of the cloud forest in Costa Rica, so heavy was the growth of mosses and other air plants on the trees. One night we went out after dark to have our first encounter with glow worms, little phosphorescent worms (actually fly larvae) that hang on the dirt under uprooted trees and on cave walls. They look like stars in the sky when you come across a whole wall of them—fascinating.

Despite our gorgeous weather, we managed to get to the “Reflection

Lake” just late enough in the morning to miss the panorama of mountains reflected in the lake as the mountains accumulated a cloud curtain each day by late morning. But, when we went off kayaking at the Okarito lagoon nearby, we were early enough to see the Alps

before they became enshrouded

—a stunning panorama and backdrop to the

paddle through the wetland lagoon where we also enjoyed white herons, various shorebirds and our favorite little songbirds, the bell birds.

As we signed up for our kayak, we noticed on their picnic table a very large container of in

sect repellant. In fact, when talking to the people at work about our west coast trip, the most common advice was, “bring insect repellant.” The sand flies, those pests we mentioned early on in our NZ travels, are at their worst on the west coast. But it was late enough in the year for us to mainly do our adventures with long pants and long shirts. Still, we took advantage of the offered repellant to help our bare feet stay protected and it seemed to work well. Our only really bad encounter was when we pulled off at a scenic overlook where we intended to have our lunch at the picnic table and lasted, at most, 3 minutes before we retreated to the car to eat away from the swarms.

For a break from our outdoor adventures, we stopped in Hokitika, a town best known for its jade carving artistry. Pounamu, or nephrite jade, or greenstone, is a valued stone, and sacred to the Maoris. It is found in the rivers of the west coast and on the beaches and is carved into some beautiful sculptures as well as abundant jewelery. We, naturally, found a couple pieces to our liking while we enjoyed the little town.

Our last stop on the west coast was Punakaiki where there is a very unusual limestone formation right on the coast that makes the rocks look like stacks of pancakes, so it is also referred to as “Pancake Rocks.” The information signs at this well visited tourist attraction made it clear, with their long obtuse explanations, that nobody really knows how this rock formation occurred, but it was certainly interesting.

Meanwhile, we spent the night at a treehouse-like hotel room in the rainforest and enjoyed the sound of kiwis after dark. It was a wonderful, peaceful place, our first night without a television, and, wouldn’t you know it, the night of the huge Japanese earthquake. So, when we went to check out, we learned all about the earthquake and the tsunami. We seem to have a knack for belated awareness of large world disasters as it was a full day after 9/11 before we learned of that disaster, oblivious as we were on our sailboat heading home from Alaska. No matter.

The rest of our trip home took us through Arthur’s pass,

the highest pass in NZ and a beautiful place in the mountains, and down onto the Canterbury plains through lovely farmland. We took some short hikes in the Peel Forest to see some of the largest trees in NZ, smaller by far than the North Island Kauris, but impressive nonetheless. The most impressive thing was the guy, Peel, who had the foresight in the late 1800’s when the area was being rapidly de-forested for house timber, to buy land and preserve it from logging so these majestic trees could survive. Well done!

Once home in Oamaru, our attention is now focussed on our upcoming departure and return to the US by way of Australia. There is much to do to close up our lives here, not the least of which includes the sale of our car and boat.

Dispatch 65 Qayaq for Sale

14 March 2011
We have put Qayaq up for sale here in Auckland, New Zealand. After a wrenching and difficult decision-making process, we have decided to sell her. So, if you have ever dreamed of cruising, here is your chance to take a boat that is ready to go and sail her back up to the Pacific Islands, or just cruise New Zealand in comfort. Please contact Richard@qayaq.net for more information.

Dispatch 64 Big Christchurch Earthquake

22 February 2011
I was sitting in the hospital nurse station when my head nurse suddenly cried, “Shivers, that’s an earthquake!” (She objects to any swearing so “sugar” and “shivers” are as bad as her language gets.) The ground rolled for about a minute, several of the nurses complained they were feeling motion sick. Yours truly didn’t—hah, maybe I did get my sea legs after all. I said, “God, I wonder if that’s Christchurch again,” and flipped the computer to the internet to get the latest news. The TV was on in the nursing home section of the hospital and we all migrated there as the news started to pour in. Yes, it was Christchurch again, but this time, the damage was extensive.

Last earthquake happened on Saturday morning at 4:36 AM and our beds shook here that time too. There was damage in Christchurch but nobody was killed. The earthquake was deeper and 30 km from the city. This time the earthquake was shallow and only 10 km from the city and they think the volcanic rock near where it started reflected even more wave power into the city. This time it happened during lunch hour on a weekday. The city was full of people working and visiting—out on the streets, in the historic sites, in their offices.

As the story unfolded, the news reporters walked the newly shaken streets just filming the destruction, the piles of rubble, the buildings fallen over, the people fleeing in shock, sometimes streaming blood. As always, the very first coverage couldn’t begin to convey the scope of the disaster, but that became clearer as the hours went on. It was hard to watch the coverage and not want to go up and help. I volunteered to go, but the authorities did not call for more doctors—as it turned out, there were hundreds of doctors in town for medical conferences and they had a whole Australian field hospital flown in.

This is a small country and the people I work with in Oamaru have many family and friend connections to Christchurch which is only 3 hours drive away. Everyone has been touched by this quake in a very personal way. Many have gone to retrieve their elderly parents, or nieces/nephews who will attend school here while their parents see if they can salvage their lives there. Our nurses describe going up to ChCh with their gumboots so that they can wade through the liquefaction into their family’s homes to help them.

So, instead, we are here picking up the pieces of people’s lives. Refugees from Christchurch, those who can’t stand it anymore, are streaming south. They’ve had over a thousand aftershocks since the first earthquake in September, and, now, this big one, a new earthquake with the promise of another year of aftershocks. People are shaken, literally. We are only 3 hours drive from there. Our motels are full and people are housing others in their homes. Our stores are empty of bread which is being sent up to Christchurch, and, as it turns out, was packaged there, so there isn’t any quickly available to replenish our supplies. We’ve almost run out of petrol with the streams of people coming through and supplies being diverted to ChCh.

One night this week 50 nursing home patients from ChCh were bussed down our way as their home was condemned. They are being divvied up to various homes on the way down, 4 of them landed in our hospital at 4 in the morning when the bus driver suddenly exceeded his daily hours and couldn't go all the way to Dunedin where they were meant to go. I came in to the hospital in the morning and went in to visit them. They were put in one of our hospital rooms all together (a room with usually 3 beds and another one was brought in.) They were from 80-92 years old, lying in bed with their luggage around them (all their live’s belongings no doubt), like an elder slumber party. They were very sweet, sad, accepting of their lot--it was poignant in the extreme. Later that day when we managed to organize another bus to take them the rest of the way to their new home, they trundled out with their luggage moving to somewhere with no family or friends.

Another Oamaru resident is a woman with Cystic Fibrosis who goes to ChCh hospital every 3 months for antibiotics and just became known to us last November when she came down to finish the course at our hospital. She happened to be in hospital this week and, with the other patients, was evacuated from ChCh hospital. She grabbed her portable oxygen and her cell phone, left the hospital and refused to go back in, requesting to be transferred a week early to our hospital. Her husband brought her down. Ironically for her, the cell phone was very important to grab because she is on the list for a lung transplant and a disaster like this might give her a good chance at a donor.

Later, in the ER, I met a woman who had 3 fingers partially amputated when she had her hand on top of her desk as she hid under it and debris fell on the hand. Ordinarily trauma like this would be a big deal—3 fingers on one’s dominant hand—but in this case, it was minor. At least she was alive. Everything has changed perspective in the wake of this disaster.

Like other disasters we’ve skirted, this one seems a bit surreal. Here we are, cozy and safe, while just three hours away, people are living without sewage or water or electricity. I spoke with the specialist who works with our CF patient in ChCh and she said they are being asked to conserve water in the hospital (they do have running water but are not allowed to drink it) and are told to flush toilets as little as possible. The floor she’s working on is being kept open but the 2 floors below were evacuated—but they’re told the building is safe. Can you imagine? It really is like a war zone up there. And the true scope of the impact is yet to be seen.

Dispatch 63 Great Barrier Island

1-12 December, 2010

Finally, in December, I took a real holiday—two weeks off work! It was a luxury well deserved after 7 months straight. Richard preceded me to Auckland by a few days to get the green patina off the boat (a typical consequence of a wet winter without attention) and get the systems up and running, or at least identify those that aren’t working, as was the case with our refrigerator on the boat. Buoyed by my excitement of being sprung from work, I was undaunted by holiday aboard without a refrigerator—heck, our first 7 years on the boat we never had a fridge! He also was telling me all kinds of stories about going out and about town in shorts and t-shirt. Right, like I could believe that after months of Oamaru!

Well, upon arrival to Auckland, I discovered that, in fact, there is summer in New Zealand. Much like travel from Seattle to San Francisco (a comparable latitude change), the climate is really different and we were WARM! Ironically, upon our first arrival to NZ, all we felt was cold after years in the tropics. Now after one winter in Oamaru, Auckland seemed balmy—funny how the body adapts. We wined and dined with friends and enjoyed the big city for a couple days, then took Qayaq out to Great Barrier Island, about 50 miles from Auckland and a real treasure!

Great Barrier Island (so named by our hero Captain Cook) is a large and mountainous island with many, many beautiful inlets and coves. The Department of Conservation has built beautiful and well-maintained trails all over the central island and we enjoyed many of these as well as the lush greenery and the absolutely stunning coastal scenery. The island is complete with its own hot springs, which we visited as well. We didn’t take a dip in the pools, though, once we saw the signs at the head of the trail which mentioned “DANGER - Amoebic Meningitis; which can be fatal” A brief note from the MOH,NZ (Ministry of Health, New Zealand), put it all into perspective that we thought prudent to observe, “Amoebic meningitis is a very serious illness that almost always ends in death”. As the mode of acquisition is via the nasal passage, you are warned not to put your head under water. Now since we have been in NZ we have never heard or seen so much as a danger notice on any of our tramps so this one got our attention and we opted to stay dry and amoeba free. You have to wonder who the first lucky (???) diagnosis was. We ended up renting a car so we could really appreciate all the scenery of the place. The roads are partly sealed, (NZ speak for paved) and partly gravel, and about 1 to 1 ¾ car widths wide. SO travel around some of the sharp curves meeting large gravel trucks and the locals driving at break neck speed was exciting and there were NO danger signs regarding the road width or conditions but the hot springs rates a warning, hence our reluctance for a dip. An additional bonus was the start of the trip; we had a gorgeous sail out to the island complete with a dolphin visit. On the way we stopped off at another island and “summited” Rangitoto, an extinct volcano visible from Auckland (a very well marked trail of 3 hours walk). We think this is the volcano that erupts and destroys Auckland in the “must miss” movie by the name “Volcano”. Mmmm, altogether a delicious holiday.

As, usual, we focused on the local wildlife. There is an endangered duck on Great Barrier Island called the Pateke, a little brown teal (“endearing” as the brochure describes it). There are only a 1000 pair left in the world it is estimated, and all are on Great Barrier Island. Well, we got a close look at a pair which was a thrill until we realized that, just like Mallards, they were swimming around our boat begging! Awww. There’s also a parrot-like bird called a “Kaka” which, just like the parrots in Costa Rica, went squawking its way across the sky each evening flapping its fool wings for all it was worth. Each evening we would enjoy the show of the Gannet’s fishing. We loved to watch as they dive for their fish. They sound like a big kid doing a cannonball in a pool—they hit the water with such force, coming up shaking their heads, and, if successful, take multiple sips to help their meal go down. If not successful they are off again for another attempt. But it is odd to be in such a wilderness and not see mammals. In fact, the lack of snakes in this country was highlighted by a story in the local museum which told of a snake that was found on shore after a shipwreck and it was hypothesized that the ship must have acquired the snake in Panama.

Once again, we ponder how it happened that eons ago NZ separated from Godwondia, the combined continent that included Australia and how all the dangerous things (other than NZ drivers) ended up on Australia (salt water crocs, box jellyfish, man-eating sharks, all manner of poisonous snakes and spiders, etc.) and not one in NZ. As the naturalist on our cruise said in reference to the split from Australia hundreds of thousands of years ago, “Best thing we ever did, ey mate?”

Our last night, we headed to an anchorage that afforded easy exit from Great Barrier heading back to Auckland. Part of the reason for the choice was that our engine was acting up and overheating very quickly so we needed to be able to get out into the wind as soon as possible to sail home, and, we needed to sail virtually all the way to our marina because the engine would only get us from the marina entrance to our berth without overheating. All of that was OK with us—we’ve done it before, the weather report called for a favorable wind (enough, not too much, and supposedly from a good direction).

As we pulled into the bay we planned to stay in, we could see two pods of dolphins in separate areas of the bay. There was one other sailboat so we motored in past it looking for shallower water. No sooner had we passed that sailboat than the dolphins came rushing over to our boat. This was not a social visit—we could tell they were unhappy with our intrusion on the inner bay. They “ganged up” on the port side of the boat and literally swam against it as if to turn it away. Well, we got the message immediately and turned back, and, as soon as we were behind the other boat, they swam off—mission accomplished. We dropped anchor behind the other boat and watched them for a couple more hours. We wondered if one was sick or was giving birth, or what, exactly was going on, but we couldn’t sort it out. There were some young ones but none that looked small enough to be newborn. But their behavior couldn’t have been clearer.

The next morning, off we went, full of optimism about our sail back. It was a sunny day and a gorgeous sail. We saw whales at one point—always a bonus. It was a 50 mile jaunt and we were undaunted by the initial headwind because the weather gurus were clear about the wind shift about to happen any minute (early morning). Well, as morning became afternoon and we were still beating into 15 knots and growing seas and tacking back and forth and adding miles to our voyage, we suddenly realized that the weather wasn’t going to change. Sure enough, the revisionist history weather report shifted around 3 PM to call for SW winds all day (after they had been predicting SE then NE shift in the morning). We were traveling, you guessed it, SW. Then around 7 PM we really started to wonder what we would do as we were still 30 miles or more from our marina and dark happens around 9 PM. We started looking for an anchorage and found one we could get to in a couple hours, but, as the sun was setting, the wind started to drop and we suddenly realized that if there was no wind the next day, we’d be stuck where we were with no engine.

It was a gorgeous night, the wind dropped to light breezes, the stars started to emerge and we looked at each other and decided to keep going. After all, we’ve traveled many a night by sail! And a magical night it was—the wind was just enough to keep us going, we were traveling down the coast now with no seas and Auckland skyline lit up the horizon and provided us a cityscape as we got closer. The only dicey part was the shipping channel which we sailed through slowly just outside the shipping markers and watched as huge freighters chugged by at close quarters. We could only imagine what they were thinking about us! The wind continued to drop until, in the wee hours (4-5AM), there was barely a breeze and we ghosted through Auckland harbor, thankful for a favorable current (at times our only forward momentum) and the virtual lack of traffic at that time of day. The last 5 miles took us more than 2 hours, our 50 mile trip had morphed into 82 with all the tacking, but after sunrise, we were at our marina, fired up the engine, and arrived at our berth, safe and sound on a very still morning. We were pleased to have made the right decision to keep going as there was no wind that day until mid-afternoon, happy to be in our berth and crawled into bed for a nap before putting everything away. You see, even the most mundane of outings can turn into big adventure when sailing!

Dispatch 62 Victorian Heritage Festival

17-21 November 2010

Every year in November, Oamaru relives its Victorian heyday and puts on a several day festival in celebration. The festival features a variety of activities including tours of the special limestone buildings and other Victorian era features of the town, little readings and presentations in a Victorian style, an afternoon band concert at which one is expected to don Victorian garb, a ball at which the women must be in costume and men in tuxedos or uniforms of the Victorian era, plays, a parade, pennyfarthing bicycle racing and, finally, a street fair with all manner of crafts and food for sale as well as demonstrations, street performances, etc. We had been eagerly anticipating this one great event for which Oamaru is well-known.

On one of the evenings we attended a one act play and soiree called “Sheeps Ahoy”. It was an amateur, amusing bit of theater. The one act play featured 3 women dressed as sheep discussing the best way to promote their wool—they came up with the idea of crocheted wool sails for the America’s Cup boat. The only problem, in the end, was that they should have knitted rather than crocheted because the wind went right through the sails. Cute. The second half was literally a Victorian style soiree with about 8 people doing various parlour entertainments—reading aloud, playing the piano and singing. It was quaint and entertaining.

Richard was more able to enjoy the weekday activities and captured the amazing dresses that the women put on. People take this festival very seriously. On the weekend we saw the parade and went to the street fair which ended a bit early when the skies opened up into a torrential downpour, but otherwise was very enjoyable. Walking the streets of the historic district, seeing even the children in Victorian garb, one could almost imagine what the town was like at its pinnacle. Small towns can be so wonderful at times like this.

See the link to see more pictures than the above samples. http://gallery.me.com/richardspore1

Dispatch 61 Fjordland

October, 2010

Fjordland is a magical part of New Zealand! In

fact, the general magic of the South Island is we can go from Iowa type farmland to Vancouver Island type coastal ruggedness, to Rockies type mountain terrain, to Olympic peninsula type rainforest to Alaska type fjordland all within a few hours drive. And, no bears, no spiders, no snakes, no raccoons, no kidding. If you look close, you can find penguins and how scary are they?

I took a Friday and Monday off work and we set off to take a cruise on Doubtful Sound in Fjordland, SW New Zealand. This area is just beautiful with mountains that fall straight into the water, still with some snow at the peaks. Everything is green because it rains a lot there, but, miraculously, not while we were there. We just nailed the weather. And, we were also privileged to get half price on the cruise because we live here! Bonus! Doubtful Sound is so named because James Cook, that intrepid explorer who conveniently has charted nearly all the

waters we have sailed in, took one look into the place and “doubted” that they would find good anchorage. We assume he remembered his experience at Desolation Sound, another drop dead gorgeous place he named so negatively because, for him and his crew, tall mountains and narrow waterways spell disaster. Desolation Sound trapped them for days—no wind and wild currents, usually in the wrong direction! So, the wiser for that experience, he didn’t venture into Doubtful Sound where he would have found trouble with the wind, but no currents to plague him.

We were on a purpose built tank of a ship with symbolic sails, but really comfortable little cabins and an awesome galley that produced food of both quality and quantity. Mmmm. With about 60 passengers aboard, we went out into the Sound, spotted dolphins, Blue and Fjordland Crested penguins, Fur Seals and albatross, (Mollymawk). We enjoyed Kiwi calls in the night on a still anchorage deep in one of the fjords and kayaked to one of the islands to see waterfalls up close and provide the sand flies with their dinner before we had ours. The weather was so calm,

the reflections in the water were perfect mirrors of the mountains above. Nearly every cliff face sported multiple waterfalls from recent rains even though we had gorgeous clear weather. Did I mention high quantity food? There was a dinner and breakfast buffet and we took good advantage of those. The trip

was also enriched by a naturalist who was both informative and funny. It was a fantastic experience!

After that overnight cruise, we took advantage of being on the West Coast and drove a stunning road up to Milford Sound on another beautiful sunny day. On the way there, we finally encountered Keas, the native parrot like bird of New Zealand. We have been trying to see them because they are interesting and pesky. They like to eat the rubber out from around the windshield and the wipers. We kept our eye on them every minute when they landed on top of our car. The road traveled through some of the most glorious mountain scenery we have ever seen and was well worth the side trip.

Remember we talked about farmed deer? As we drove the countryside, we noticed a guy driving a herd of big animals ahead of his truck in his paddock. He then proceeded to put gates across the road to stop traffic and create a lane to herd his animals to the other side. We looked closely at the animals as they passed (we got out to watch and take pictures) and thought they looked mighty familiar and not really deer-like. We talked to the farmer and, sure enough, the animals are Roosevelt Elk, exactly like those that run wild in the Olympic National Park in Washington State. The farmer raises them for their antlers which fetch a huge pricetag from places like Korea and are, after all, a renewable resource. He also farms some Elk for meat. He explained to us that the group in yonder paddock were soon to go on their “OE” (overseas experience) in little boxes.

On our detour home, we headed to the southern-most point of the South Island, Slope Point, latitude 46 degrees, 37’ 26”S. We came from Seattle at Latitude 48, so we’ll have to go down to Stewart Island, or beyond, to get equally south.

The south part of the south island is famous for its constant high winds. The trees reflect that environment, although, once again, we were lucky in the weather and enjoyed a walk around the rocky coast near Bluff in still conditions.

And here’s how small NZ is. In Bluff, we stayed at a small hotel. Unbeknownst to us, the couple running it are both ambulance crew which became apparent when I asked where the hospital was in the next town (a place where I had been offered a job so wanted to check it out). They wondered if they could do anything to help (thinking, of course, I needed medical attention). Well, I told them who I was and where I work, and we started comparing names of the people they know who work in Oamaru and used to work in Bluff, etc. It turns out they had trained one of our hospital porters who also happens to be an ambulance crew member. It’s not that strange, really, remember, only 4.8 million people in the whole country.

Dispatch 60 Shake, Rattle and Roll and Lamb Season

4 - 30 September 2010

I was on call in the hospital when the earthquake happened. It was quite long and intense here, 180 miles from Christchurch, but we haven't felt the aftershocks. There have been a record number of heart attacks in the hospitals near here and some people credit the earthquake. I could do without the extra business—it’s been really busy. Our town clock stopped at the exact time of the quake which seemed sort of momentous, and, because it was a Friday night, it didn't get reset until Monday. Friends of ours own a house that was right near the epicenter and they had extensive damage. It’s been really sad and people have been quite traumatized by the frequent and fairly strong aftershocks.

During my on-call stretch, we walked out to see the yellow eyed penguins again on a late sunny afternoon day. I cajoled Richard into bringing his camera. We got there a little late and most of the little guys had already come up the beach, but one of them was hanging out waiting for its mate right near the viewing platform (but behind some bushes.) We could barely see it but it was squawking periodically. Its mate then made an appearance which made for some good pictures, and then, miracle, the penguins both walked within 3 feet of the viewing platform. They are amazing. I was so glad Richard had his camera for that moment!! He was pretty excited too. He’s also

captured some of the local spotted shags (their word for cormorants).

Living in NZ seems like what living in the US must have been in the 50's. At least in our little town, nobody locks house or car, everyone knows each other, kids have kids (meaning they start young: 18,19,20 if not younger) and that's the way it is and everything is family/kid oriented. So all the nurses I work with, most of whom are in their 50's, are grandparents. As you might imagine, I'm a bit of an oddity with neither kids nor grandkids, but we've found other things to talk about.

But here's the thing about NZ. Kiwis don't whine. They push themselves hard and they don't really want to hear it if you are tired/overworked/whatever. I've just finished 12 days in a row of work because I was on call last Friday night and on second call Sat and Sun so I came to the hospital and saw patients both days and then all this past week. It was a long haul and I got good and sick of it by the end which everyone noticed by Thurs. when I was being a little bit naughty and grumpy. But the staff seemed a little bewildered—what’s my problem? Suck it up.

Here's another story to illustrate. I went skiing the other weekend at a place called Treble Cone—a place where the ski teams used to go to train because it’s pretty challenging (well, and summer up there is winter down here so you can ski year round that way). I hooked up with some locals for the afternoon which was a good thing because, in the morning, I had nearly found myself skiing over some cliffs because I didn’t know the terrain and was just skiing wherever I felt like it. They were telling me about a particularly bad condition day when they saw this guy coming down the run under the chairlift and it looked like total ice even from the chair. The guy was struggling mightily and stopped at one point, stood looking at the slope and then, in frustration, looked up at the chairlift and said sort of funny exasperatedly: "This snow is crap!" My acquaintances told me they yelled back, "It looks like crap from here (meaning, what the hell were you thinking taking that run anyway?). Do want us to call your mum?" Ha, ha, meaning, suck it up buddy.

Treble Cone is just outside the town of Wanaka which, like Queenstown, is a resort town built on a very large lake surrounded by mountains. It is much less built up than Queenstown and the scenery is simply gorgeous. It too is a town filled with "adrenaline" adventures such as paragliding, sky diving, and, I think, bungy jumping, none of which we did while there.

Another Kiwi vocabulary lesson. Ski areas are called “ski fields”. That fits because there are exactly zero trees on the ski slopes, none, which makes for some pretty difficult navigation when it fogs up—there’s nothing to show you where the trail is (as opposed to where the cliffs are). On the other hand, it’s weird because “fields” as we know them, aren’t called fields, they’re called “paddocks” or “reserves.” I always thought a paddock was a fenced in area. Well, come to think of it, all their fields are fenced because they mostly hold sheep though there are those with the odd deer herd thrown in.

So it's spring and it seems every sheep has lambs, one or

two each. There are lambs in every paddock frolicking around and nursing. It is cute in the

extreme. If NZ has 48 million sheep normally, it must have 70 million at the moment during lambing season. Of course, many of these go on to become edible so the population doesn't keep rising. There's a meat processing place in Oamaru, one of the biggest employers. It is called the "Freezing Works" (a meat freezing place), which beats the real description which is a slaughterhouse. I can't even imagine working there but I've met many of the patients who do and it sounds just too awful. When we walked back from the penguin place, there was an orphan lamb in one of

the yards that we had seen the woman of the house bottle feed when we were walking out. It saw us and started bleating and came to the fence so we went over and petted it. It kept trying to nurse on Richard's finger and we almost went to the house to tell them to come out and feed it again, but I decided that it wasn't our business. Later I learned from one of the nurses who used to farm sheep that lambs are always hungry and will nurse as much as they can and that this little guy would probably be fine--he was just being greedy. I guess they get orphaned a lot because the sheep will be busy having their second lamb and the first will wander away and then the mum loses its scent and rejects it. (They don't sound like such smart animals...) So the orphans often end up as pets and bottle fed. The cows are having calves too, but it's rare to see them together--it looks to me like the calves are removed from the mums really early and they're often in a paddock together (the calves). Let's not think too hard about the meaning of that observation. Almost makes you want to be a vegetarian, huh? But, having said that, first of all, ALL the cows here are grass fed so the beef is unbelievably delicious. Also there are no signs in the grocery stores proclaiming “free range – grass fed” anything, isn’t grass what cows are suppose to eat. We shop at the local butcher shop 4 blocks away where someone you saw in the field a couple of weeks ago is getting ready to become your next package of mince. And second, Kiwis are just not all that sentimental about the animals--it's a luxury of city life that you can just not think about how your meat comes to the table.

Speaking of soft hearted, we had our big chance to join the “Kiwi club” and nail our first possum who darted across the road as we drove to the ski mountain one night. We both had the mixed reactions of “Yay, now we’re real Kiwis” and, “Aw, I hope he’s all right, he was kind of cute.” Bah, soft Americans!! New Zealand is getting ready to spend $4 million on new traps going after the cute little things. Here are the headlines: “Funding to trial new killer traps announced”.

Also a little known tidbit regarding New Zealand to impress your friends with:

“DOC spends more than $20m a year controlling possums and ground-based pests like rats and stoats”.

There was a spot on the news about the efforts of an Australian animal control team attempting to get a possum out of a tree in a rural town in Australia when it stumbled(?) into town. Well the last glimpse before returning to the news was a rather large animal control person chasing this possum down the street. The possum was much faster. The NZ news announcer was just chuckling away as she said they could have done it much easier if they had just shot the thing out of the tree. Save time, money – where is the compassion?