My husband is a pretty handy guy to have around. He can fix pretty much anything (except Brenden’s iPad, but the Apple geniuses couldn’t fix that either). He’s creative and meticulous, meaning if one of the boys has a school project or science experiment that needs to be improvised because we never have all the right materials on board, he’s the man for the job. And he’s often recognized as one of the people you’d most like to be around in the event of a zombie apocalypse. He’s all that and more, but today, I would like to give tribute to my husband, the hunter.
Provisioning isn’t easy for a family of four. And we’ve been in locations where the meat selection was, well to be blunt, unidentifiable. If we had to rely solely on store purchases for our protein intake there would have been times we would have lived on ground beef, hot dogs, and bone-in, skin-on chicken pieces parts. And it’s not like Tim augments with just the quality of food we would have been used to at home. No, now we eat like kings. Grouper, parrot fish, dorado (mahi mahi), clams, lobsters, scallops, yellowtail, yellowfin tuna, red snapper, dog tooth tuna, more lobsters, more scallops, OK, you get the idea. We have been known to stuff ourselves silly with, for example, sashimi or lobster tails, which would be totally unthinkable if purchasing at a store or restaurant. When a friend recently checked-in on Facebook from a sushi restaurant, my response was, “Was it caught today? No? No thanks.” I’m not sure how we’ll ever go back; we are so spoiled.
Tim will spend hours in the water each day and tolerate back compressing upwind dinghy rides to find the best spear fishing spots. It’s not always easy. He’s gone night diving and reef walking for lobsters and more than once he’s had to fight with a shark for his catch. Usually, the shark wins, but recently he brought back an almaco jack with a huge bite out of it, so the shark may have got a little snack that day, but we still had a huge meal. And the challenge has just been ratcheted up a notch since we arrived in New Zealand, where the water is, well, let’s just say we clearly aren’t in the tropics anymore. Tim has risen to this cold water challenge by donning two wetsuits, wearing a hood, and taking a thermos of hot water with him to pre-fill his wetsuit before splashing down. I am so glad he has, because I had forgotten how good yellowtail sashimi is. The other night we made spicy hamachi rolls, and they were sickeningly good. Brenden ate four, and to put that in perspective, the rest of us ate just one. They were huge.
When Tim gets back from hunting, he then does a meticulous job cleaning his catch, that is, unless he can bribe one of the boys with skittles or chocolate to do it for him. Recently, we’ve been having a lot of scallops, and he has perfected his cleaning technique to be able to process 2 scallops per minute. Yes, I timed him. Sometimes his work doesn’t even end there, because he is a master fish barbequer and cooks the best grilled dorado ever and he’s also perfected the technique of beer battered grouper, using just the right amount of oil for fluffy batter that doesn’t fall off or get soggy.
Our travels have taken us to many interesting places, and there are so many cultural and environmental highlights. But one of the main highlights HAS to be the tremendous amount of amazing seafood we get to consume in gluttonous quantities. And for that I thank my husband, the hunter.
Back at home when I was a busy working mom, I rarely watched movies. It just seemed that when I racked and stacked everything I needed to do and everything I wanted to do, movies would fall off my priority list. I really do love watching a good movie, but the problem is that so many movies aren’t good. And I just couldn’t see wasting time on that.
Then I quit my job and went cruising and now I have all kinds of free time to watch all the movies I want, right? If one turns out to be a dud, no big deal, I’ve got plenty of time for another, right? Well, that doesn’t seem to be the way it’s turned out.
I’m not complaining. It’s a choice. It’s always a choice how we prioritize our time. I’m just saying that I was somewhat surprised to find that my time out here is every bit as valuable to me as my time was when I was a busy working mom, and I still seem to have things I need to do and things I want to do that cause movies to fall off my priority list. Life is simpler in that a lot of extra stuff is cut out, which makes it easier and more enjoyable, in a way, but it also makes it busier in another way. I make bread and yogurt, I teach my kids, I study weather, I write, and I cook (almost) every single day. Those are things I never did at home. Whenever the guys sit down to watch a movie, the voice it my head still rattles off the 15 things I should probably be doing instead of that.
But last night I caved and now I have movie regret. We watched “All is Lost,” with Robert Redford as a single-handed sailor who (presumably) survives some pretty severe issues at sea. Oh my god, what a piece of crap! Even my youngest son, Brenden, at one point tentatively said, “This movie isn’t that good.” Spot on, Brenden! The only good part of the movie was the very first scene, where he wakes up and finds that his boat is full of water due to hitting a floating container. This is real. Although very rare, this has happened. And his reaction, initially dazed but then 100% action, seemed real too. For about 2 seconds I was sucked into his plight with him, living it with him. But after that, I was lost. You’re going to leave your boat and walk out onto the container without somehow lashing yourself to the boat? Really!? The sea anchor deploys and works to pull the container off of your boat but then you can easily just pull it in by hand? Really!? It’s been a while since I’ve “walked out of a movie” but this one I just couldn’t stay connected with. That’s why above I say he “(presumably) survives” because I don’t know if he did or not, and I don’t care. I watched probably an hour of the movie, and I can never get that hour back.
We are socked in by a low pressure system that’s bringing strong winds and a lot of rain. Perhaps that’s why I caved and watched a movie. A rainy day just screams popcorn and a movie right? Well, next time, to me, it will scream, bake some bread or read a book.
For a year and a half, we’ve been hot and sweaty. Sometimes crazy hot like when we were in Bahia Concepcion last year for July 4th and the heat was debilitating and we spent pretty much a full day in the water in the shade under Exodus. Sometimes only mildly hot, but always hot. And humid. I stopped using lotion and hair conditioner. Exodus was designated a “shirts optional” evening hangout (don’t get excited, that mostly just applied to the guys.) I can recall school days when the boys and I would move back and forth from the salon to the cockpit trying to find the coolest spot, and then we’d tell each other, “Stop sitting so close to me!” In the Marquesas, I used to wake up at 5am in order to do yoga before the sun rose above the cliffs. OK, you get the idea. But now we are in New Zealand, and Brrrr… we are just not used to this.
1) Comforters that we haven’t seen since shortly after leaving Marina del Rey are now back on the beds. 2) I wear my uggs and a ski hat in the mornings and evenings. And sometimes a scarf. 3) Rum doesn’t need ice. 4) If I need to thaw something for dinner it needs to come out of the freezer first thing. I can’t wait until 5pm and have it thawed by 6. 5) We can buy ice cream at the store and have it back on Exodus before it is a soupy mess 6) Shower bag showers need to be taken by about 2pm if you want hot water. And you definitely want hot water. 7) I need lotion every 5 minutes and chapstick every 10. 8) The bilges are finally good wine cellars 9) Our power consumption has plummeted since the fridge and freezer don’t have to work so hard. Seriously, our batteries are loving it, and we didn’t even plug into shore power in the marina. 10) I still don’t have to shave my legs because I don’t wear shorts.
Some of these are positives, some negatives, and so far I am still loving change. It was sunny today; I even took off my sweatshirt during my run. So, it’s warming up and summer is still progressing, but I still don’t think I’ll ever want to get in the water. Except for the hot springs.
We’ve been here over a week, yet I’ve seen very little. I was thinking that when people vacation, sometimes they only have a week, maybe two, and I’ve already used up a good amount of that time. I guess because we are planning to be here for so long (5-6 months) and also the fact that we aren’t really vacationing so much as moving our life here for a little while, we are a little slow to get out there and see the country. We’ve barely left the marina area, and when we have it’s been to take care of mundane everyday life things like grocery shopping, opening a bank account, and buying a car. We haven’t even gone wine tasting, for crying out loud.
I’m still marveling over being here and still overwhelmed with how life is going to be different for awhile. We aren’t really cruising anymore. We’re just living on a boat. Did I mention we bought a car?
Instead of soaking in the things that make New Zealand special and a tourist destination, I’m getting excited about a coin operated reasonably priced self-serve laundromat where all the machines work and a grocery store that has easily identified meat and a bulk food section rivaling Whole Foods. And yesterday we went into the town of Kerikeri and shopped at a store that could have been “The Container Store” and another the could have been “Home Depot.” I had to resist the urge to stock up on specialty kitchen gadgets like a clip you put on your pot to hold the spoon, so you don’t set it on the counter and get it messy. I guess because I haven’t seen stuff like that for so long, my first reaction was, “I…must…buy!”
Eventually, we will see more of New Zealand, both on the water and on land. But for now, if you ask me how New Zealand is, I’ll likely reply something about how good the internet is and that the apples are to die for.
The running options here in Opua, New Zealand are endless. There are roads and trails going in all directions, and we are currently docked at a marina, so the only effort I need to make to go for a run is to step off the boat. No paddle boarding to a beach with my shoes draped around my neck. No dropping the dinghy and getting one of the boys to give me a ride ashore. Just a large step, almost a leap at times, from Exodus to the dock.
My first adventure took me north from one end of the marina to the other, and I kept going until I noticed a small trail that continued along the water. I had no idea where it would lead or if it would turn into an uphill hike, but I went for it anyway. It turned out to be a pleasant, mostly flat, run along the water. It was a very narrow trail, though, so I had to slow down or move off to the side to get around other walkers, but they were few and far between. Mostly it was a quiet run, and even though I had taken my iPhone with me to listen to the gazillion new podcasts I’ve downloaded since we have internet, I mostly kept it off. I enjoyed the quiet and the lapping of the water against the shore. When it was about time for me to turn around, I came across a smaller trail leading up with a sign that said, “lookout 5 min.” Five minutes was pretty accurate, but it was pretty steep, so I didn’t exactly run to the top. It wasn’t the best view, since there was a lot of obstruction by trees, but had I not gone up I would have wondered about it all the way back home.
For my second adventure I headed south from the marina. There is a bike trail on top of an old railway line, and it is the perfect track on which to do a long run. I was creaky and tired, and I could tell from the beginning that the run would be a slog. We were up late the night before playing card games with friends, and I was a little stiff and sore from the first run after taking so much time off. But it was a beautiful route, and the remnants of the railway are pretty obvious. You can see the rails under the dirt and gravel in many places, and there are many old and rundown wooden signs left in place, intentional for effect, I’m sure. The most obvious, and the most charming, was a short, narrow stone tunnel through one of the hillsides. As I approached, I thought, “how cool, I get to run through a train tunnel,” and as I got closer, I was relieved to see that it was short enough that the light from the other end seemed to pick up before this side gave out, so I would never be totally in the dark. However, as I got closer still, I began to feel scared. Seriously, scared. Irrationally, scared. I talked myself into going through, I mean, there was no way I was going to end my run here and turn around. Without too much thought my pace quickened. Then, when I got about a third of the way through, I saw a dark cutout on the wall on one side of the tunnel, and that floored me. I sprinted the rest of the way with the fury of someone running for their life. When I got to the other side, I laughed at myself for being so silly, but I also learned something. I learned that I wasn’t as creaky and tired and sore as I thought I was. That was just a mental roadblock I was allowing myself to have, but fear in a dark tunnel kicked that roadblock over. The rest of the run was a good one, including the second sprint through the tunnel on the way back.
We are still getting the lay of the land here. There’s not much in Opua besides a marina and boat related vendors and contractors, but there are some nice towns nearby, and we are intending to buy a car, so we’ll be able to do much more exploring soon.
I’ve been silent for a while, because, well, I haven’t been running in a while. Tonga is over a thousand miles behind us, and we are quietly at anchor in beautiful, warm, and sunny Opua, New Zealand. Scratch that. It’s definitely beautiful, but at least today it’s certainly not warm and sunny. It’s gray and cold and drizzly, and you might think I’m missing the tropics right about now, but surprisingly I’m not. During the (mostly benign) ocean passage, I watched the air temperature slowly tick down, and instead of mourning the loss of the warm weather we’ve grown so accustomed to, I found myself excited for the change. And as we neared land, I didn’t have my usual tenseness over arriving somewhere new. There was a sense of calm, and this may sound a bit corny, but it felt like we were going home. This feeling must have been coming from very subtle observations, almost subconscious on my part. I’m thinking at that point it must have been mostly weather related and the fact I was wearing clothes that I would wear at home. Comfortable clothes, like my favorite Lucy sweatpants and my Uggs. As we got even closer and entered the Bay of Islands, the smell of the land was even familiar. Brenden said it smelled like Papa and Nana’s house. Tim said it smelled like the shrubs at Twenty-Nine Palms. We arrived in Opua and tied up to the Q-dock just before midnight, and when I woke in the morning and surveyed our surroundings while sitting in the cockpit drinking my coffee, I felt like we could be sitting somewhere in Central or Northern California (it is too green to be compared to Southern California) and the nippiness of the morning air reminded me of mornings drinking my coffee in the cockpit while we were still in Marina del Rey.
Then, the clearing in process began, and wow, were we quickly reminded that we were back in a first world country. I LOVED Tonga, and I loved the people of Tonga, so I don’t make this statement with any sort of negative judgment or a sense of superiority, I simply say it matter of factly. Because the difference was stark. The process was efficient, thorough, and professional. They arrived promptly. No one asked us for anything. They brought us forms to fill out and then came back (they didn’t sit there and stare at us while we filled them out). They processed nine boats in about 2 hours. I was stunned.
There are other obvious similarities between New Zealand and home, like the language of course, that contribute to my comfort level. But I don’t mean to imply that everything is the same, that would be unfair to New Zealand. It’s a unique place, with it’s own history and culture. They call French Fries “Chips” after all.
I’ve been looking forward to running here, but for now I still wait. When the rain stops the wind is supposed to pick up and blow hard for a few days. But we’ll be here the entire cyclone season, so I’ll have plenty of opportunities to run comfortably in my leggings and long sleeved technical shirts. And I’m sure eventually I’ll be sick of home and be ready for more adventures in less familiar places again.
The following is the series of daily emails I sent to family and friends during our passage to New Zealand, and more than anything I could think to write about now, this pretty much captures the experience.
Day 1 617 miles to go to Opua, New Zealand 77.9 deg F in the salon at ~8am
Well, this is the passage that has been looming out there for us all season, and so far, so good. We left Minerva Reef yesterday afternoon around 3pm, just after the wind started picking up. It’s been fast and bumpy ever since, with the worst conditions coming about 4-9 am this morning with winds 20-25 kts, close hauled. It’s supposed to taper off over the next couple days and then we will likely have to motor for a while, so although this is uncomfortable, we are enjoying watching the miles tick off.
So far, it’s fish 1, Exodus 0. Something big hit the reel yesterday and Tim fought it for a while. Normally slowing the boat down to 2-3 kts is sufficient, but this time we pretty much had to stop it by hoving to, but then the fish got away without us even getting to see what it was. But at least we didn’t lose the lure.
We crossed 180 deg longitude early this morning, and although it’s not as big a milestone as crossing the equator, we are still celebrating with a pizza dinner. I had the sauce and dough already prepared and in the freezer, which made pulling it all together in these conditions much easier.
We are traveling within VHF range of 3 single handers, so we feel far from alone out here, with all the radio chatter among them.
Don’t forget you can track us on the inReach, if you feel like it. The link is on our facebook page.
Day 2 476 nmi to go to Opua, New Zealand 77.0 deg F in the salon at ~8am
It’s been a calmer day today, with winds primarily in the 10-15 kt range, and right now we are cruising along with 11 kts just forward of the beam. We can move about the boat much more easily, and we even did some schoolwork today. The SSB net we’ve been listening to and using as our primary source for validating (or not) our own weather analysis ended their season yesterday. Yeah, didn’t see that one coming. I guess we are pretty late travelers to New Zealand, indeed. So, I spent some time today figuring out how to receive weather faxes from New Zealand Met, so that in addition to having the grib files, we have some meteorologist’s analysis of where the fronts are, which is important for our arrival to New Zealand. It was actually much easier than when I messed around with the US weather faxes from Pt. Reyes and Honolulu before we left Mexico, so that was a relief. I think I mentioned in a previous email that the boys are doing night watches now, and that is working out really well so far. So, even though I’m my usual lazy lump on passage, I’m not nearly as exhausted as I usually am.
Day 3 357 nmi to go to Opua, New Zealand 69.0 deg F in the salon at ~8am
Brrrr…. it’s getting chilly. I wore Uggs last night on watch, and I’ve been wearing sweats all day today. The humidity is also dropping, and I’ve been reaching for the lotion and chapstick pretty frequently. The wind really dropped off today, and we’ve been motor sailing most of the day. It’s pretty much as expected, so we can’t complain. Also today, I came out of my passage lazy lethargy funk, and it’s been a great day. I enjoyed my morning watch as I tried to put off starting the engine while the wind was shifting from S to E and from 5 kts to 15 kts. Up-down, Up-down, back-forth, back-forth. I just sat at the helm and continuously corrected our heading so the sails would stay full and we’d keep moving forward. I didn’t nap in the afternoon, but rather worked on the next Gresham Family Exodus video production for Ha’apai and Tongatapu, and Tim’s also made a great video called, “Brenden versus Fish.” Pretty cool. So, we’re in the second phase of the passage where we motor for a while, and keep fretting about the third phase and what weather we will see as we approach New Zealand. At this point we are hoping for a late Wed/early Thurs arrival.
Day 4 260 nmi to go to Opua, New Zealand 73.7 deg F in the salon at ~8am
The wind has picked up today, which you’d think would be good, but unfortunately, it’s just a little too on the nose, so we are still motor sailing. We are giving up some of our westing, but the wind’s supposed to die again, and then we can motor more on the rhumb line. If you are watching our inReach track at all, it may even look like we did a bit of uturn today, and that’s just because we have to go where the wind tells us.
We are all getting excited to get to New Zealand. Brenden keeps asking if it’s going to be like the U.S., and he keeps talking about going shopping, in fact, back in Ha’apai he started making his shopping list. Here’s his list, word for word:
1. Hero-factory lego 2. Lots of yummy chocolate 3. A fish book like Jack’s 4. Thicker wetsuit 5. My own wetsuit top 6. New mechanical pencils 7. More chocolate 8. Skittles 9. New iPad case 10. A double-banded spear gun 11. Bagels with cream cheese 12. Cheetos 13. A big bag of tortilla chips with salsa, yum!
Tim has spent the day mostly reading about New Zealand. He asked me if I’ve read anything, and I told him I’ve read everything I need to in order to navigate safely to the Q dock, after that I have no idea.
Day 5 155 nmi to go to Opua, New Zealand (I forgot to log the air temp this morning, just know that it’s brrr… Tim wears a scarf.)
We sailed today. Like, actual sailing with no engines or anything. We got a bit of a wind shift to the west for a while, but now it’s back to SSW, so we are motor sailing again, which admittedly is better than pure motoring into a direct headwind. It’s funny, cruisers usually mock each other for motoring, you know, because we ARE sailboats after all, not motorboats. But this is the sort of passage where there seems to be a free pass. I have heard David, the gulf harbor radio weather guy, give the lecture more than once, that on this passage if you aren’t making your target pace, he can’t encourage you enough to fire up the engine and burn the diesel. The wind is supposed to shift back west, and then we should be able to sail the rest of the way, but we’ll see. We have plenty of diesel, and we aren’t afraid to use it. We had BBQ chicken for dinner tonight, because we need to finish all the meat we have in the freezer before we get there, or they will take it. Fresh veggies and dried beans too. And honey. And lots of other things too, but we’ll see how it really goes when we get there. We eat so much fish you’d think the boys have forgotten how to eat chicken. They were both covered in BBQ sauce. Sadly, I did not get a photo. It’s looking like a probable nighttime arrival tomorrow night (night of 11/26 or wee hours of the morning 11/27, on THIS side of the dateline). We have a report from a previous vessel who arrived at night, and it’s definitely doable, but we’ll leave it for a game time decision depending on the conditions, visibility, how daring we are feeling, and our desperation level.
Day 6 44 nmi to go to Opua, New Zealand
We’ve had a great sail today, and we are currently zipping along on a beam reach at 8 kts of boat speed. We will definitely arrive tonight, probably sometime before midnight. I’ve been restless today, because I’m excited to get there. I’ve been trying to use my extra energy to tidy up, since we’ll be having New Zealand officials on the boat in the morning, but Exodus is determined to foil me by throwing me into tables and walls and such. It’s much nicer to just sit at the helm and watch the miles tick off. The boys are playing minecraft and they’re building a huge world together, so I keep hearing planning and giggling. I’ve been lax with school on this passage, so I’ll have to tighten the screws when we get there, because Brenden is so close to being done. Tim’s trimming sails and now we’re up to 8.5 knots. He REALLY wants to get there. The motion is really hard on his back. Or maybe the wind picked up a bit. Either way, we’ve definitely sped up. I’ll make a facebook post when we are safely tied to the Q dock tonight, and then I’ll send out my final passage email some time tomorrow.
The End Departure from North Minerva Reef: 20 November 14:45 Arrival at Opua, New Zealand: 26 November 23:45 Days at sea: 6 days 9 hours
Max wind: Low to mid 20s for about 5 hours up in the trade winds near Minerva and then again for about 1 hour as we neared the Bay of Islands.
Engine hour summary: 2.75 days with only one engine (motor sailing or motoring with no wind), 11 hrs with both engines (motoring into a headwind)
We could not have dialed up more perfect conditions for our last day and arrival. Like I wrote yesterday, we had a great sail our final day, with the winds peaking right around where we would normally reef the sails, but since we knew it would be very short lived, we allowed ourselves to just zip along. Then as we neared the bay at sunset the wind had died to a comfortable 10 kts or so and we were able to easily get the sails down. Then as we neared the channel down to the marina the wind completely died. I mean zero wind. So, we easily found the dock and tied up without any drama. One of the single handers we met in Tongatapu who was just ahead of us radioed to check on us at about 10pm, and he gave us some info about the dock (very low, put the fenders basically in the water) and told us he’d be there to catch our dock lines. Seriously, this guy had just completed the same passage by himself and was probably exhausted, but he wouldn’t think of not offering to help. I told him how much we appreciated it, but that all four of us were up, so we should be able to handle it, and he should get some much-deserved rest. I think I’ve made this point before, but we are definitely NOT a shorthanded crew. Alex and Brenden do their part, and as a result it’s much easier on me and Tim.
As we were approaching the land, we noticed the water turned a pretty gross green color. We are so spoiled by the pristine blue water we’ve grown accustomed to. I bet this is what the water looks like off of California, we just never noticed it before.
We were greeted by a group of air breathers as we entered the bay. It was so quiet that as one of them came up for air right near the port side of the boat, he actually startled me. I thought they were sea lions by the sound, but Tim said they were dolphins because he got a look at them, and he didn’t think there were sea lions here.
There are a ton of boats here. Right now, there are 5 boats on the Q dock with us. Two were here when we got here, one arrived last night after us, and one of our friend boats from Tongatapu just arrived this morning. The anchorage and mooring field are absolutely packed, and we are looking forward to seeking out friends after we get through the clearing in process.
It’s cold and crisp here this morning. I’m wearing Uggs and a ski cap, and my coffee isn’t nearly hot enough. The smell of the land is different here, but I can’t quite describe it. Tim said it just smells like shrubs, but I like to think it’s something more pleasant than that.
Happy Thanksgiving tomorrow to everyone. Wish we could be home with family this time of year, but I’m hopeful for the internet here, and maybe we can do some skyping.
It is difficult to write about Minerva Reef, because no matter what words I choose, I can never adequately describe this place.
I had started to wonder if maybe I was becoming numb to the amazingly beautiful places we get to visit, but if so, this place really shook me back to my senses. Many times I found myself just sitting in the cockpit and soaking it all in, totally undistracted. It is basically just a ring of coral out here in the middle of the ocean. From a distance you can see that it is there by the waves crashing against the reef. This sort of place was definitely a navigation hazard prior to GPS as it would be virtually invisible at night with nothing to give off a radar signature, unless the surf was really big, I suppose. But since we have GPS and accurate charts and waypoints from cruisers who came before us, we entered the pass into the reef and plopped our anchor down just inside.
North Minerva Reef: Just a ring of coral in the middle of the ocean
We were fortunate enough to be here during very sunny and calm weather, so we felt better about burning all the diesel to get there. The water inside the lagoon is shallow, and it’s like sitting on a giant swimming pool with the most beautiful turquoise water you’ve ever seen. Our first day there we were all entertained by a huge tiger shark that made it’s rounds visiting all the boats as they cleaned their fish, and I didn’t see this, but I heard that occasionally he would get really riled up and start ramming the dinghies. The squeals from all the kids as he was doing this must have been audible from quite a ways away.
The most beautiful turquoise water
Our first night, two of the kid boats went out lobstering on the reefs, and again, the squeals were quite entertaining. Tim and Jack didn’t go that first night, I don’t know, I guess they were tired from the really tough passage we had. Anyway, they collected 75, I’m not kidding, 75 lobsters! They shared them with the whole anchorage and then had a lobster and cocktails party yesterday evening to celebrate Julie’s birthday on Nirvana. It was a lot of fun.
We went out snorkeling and spearfishing as a family, and as soon as Brenden was in the water, he shot a really nice-looking fish. Tim was so excited, he was yelling, in that proud/excited dad way, for me to throw him the go-pro, “just throw it!” Turns out it was a big eye trevally, not so tasty, so after Brenden cleaned it and we realized what it was, he fed it to the shark. I didn’t see this one, but Brenden keeps talking about it, the one that got away. Apparently, he shot a huge Almaco Jack, but it was stronger than him, and it took his spear. I think he probably dreamed about that fish at night. (Spoiler alert: He talked about that fish all summer long in New Zealand, and he WILL redeem himself when we stop again at Minerva Reef on our way back north.)
Brenden’s big eye trevally
The snorkeling was pretty amazing. The colors of the coral, mostly hard coral, rivaled anything we’d seen so far, but there were so many more fish. And not just the tiny reef fish, it was like back in the Sea of Cortez where the huge parrot fish and groupers aren’t afraid of you and they just swim right up to you. The only downside is that it was cold. Air and water temp are just a couple degrees cooler here than in Tonga. Alex and Tim and a successful lobstering night our second night and came home with 12 lobsters. Even more importantly, by setting a good example they were able to influence the rest of the fleet to not take the females with eggs. Tim said he shared his philosophy with a couple guys, and they must have talked to others, because by the time they were getting ready to head back in the dinghies, everyone was throwing the females back. I am very happy and proud about this, because it is so important for the health of the population.
We were so grateful for the couple of days we had at Minerva with such settled weather and also to be there with a group of friends that was clearly becoming closer knit. This group of boats that we were with in Tongatapu and now Minerva were really great, and for the first time in a while I was feeling like we’ve really forged some lifelong friendships. Slowly the boats started trickling out over the course of a couple days with Exodus somewhere near the middle of the pack.
Many boats leave Tonga on their way to New Zealand with uncertainty whether they will stop in Minerva or not, because if they have a good window to keep going to New Zealand, they don’t want to miss it. Well, it was a little different for us, and we knew we would be stopping in Minerva regardless of what the window looked like to keep going. It was a destination for us, and we were hoping for lots of tasty fish and lobsters.
The morning of departure it was raining, but the forecast still looked good to get to Minerva, even if the winds would be light. I was up before everyone else to bake biscuits so we would all have something to munch on as we navigated out of the channel. About half the fleet at Big Mama’s was leaving that same morning, some had left the previous night, and some were going to wait a few more days. Leaving when we did was going to mean motoring the last bit to get there, but our strategy was to try to get there while we would still have a couple days of light winds for the diving and spear fishing. The distance was 260 miles, and we hadn’t been on a passage like that in some time, and I was not really looking forward to it.
Here’s a quick summary of the passage:
First 18 hours – fast and furious. Winds 15-22 kts close hauled, boat speed 7-8 kts. We didn’t reef the sails going into the night like we usually do because 1) The weather wasn’t squally and 2) The wind was supposed to die.
Next 12 hours – slow and determined. As expected, the winds died in the night, but mostly we were able to sail, with just a couple dead spots where we ran an engine, also to charge batteries. The seas calmed down and the boat was much more comfortable.
After that – engine up. We finally engined up when we were going only about 1/2 knot. I told Tim there would be mutiny if we actually started to go backwards (we had a 1.5 kt current against us). This was the only time in our journey that I’d seen the open ocean so calm and glassy.
The boys stood night watches for the first time on this passage… Brenden 8-10pm and Alex 10pm-midnight with Tim sleeping in the salon. This made a HUGE difference for me. When we arrived in Minerva I wasn’t as dead tired as I usually am after a multi-night passage.
Yi and Johnny taught us the game of Resistance when they were visiting us in Vava’u, and we really started having fun with it with Iguana during our time in Ha’apai. However, it was here, during our idle time at Big Mama’s, that we really upped our game. This is when Jack hatched a plan for a “Season of Resistance.” We would keep stats over time and at some point in the future, a Resistance champion would be named. Of course, keeping stats wouldn’t be sufficient without an ultra-complicated spreadsheet that sliced the data 57,000 ways, developed and maintained by Tim. So, the season began. And during our time in New Zealand, we would have some absolutely epic games and we would recruit new players and get them hooked. You’ll just have to wait for a future installment to find out who the champion was (hint: it wasn’t Jack!)
Gresham Family Exodus 