It was just after 9.30pm on Friday 31st
March when King Billy I and Honey pulled away from the club's visitor
berth. We had a fantastic send off by the Napier Sailing Club, with
several club members – everyone we had met, including the
Commodore, Vice Commodore and Club Manager – cheering and sounding
the hooter as we cast off! Then we disappeared out of the Inner
Harbour and into the black night.
Honey and I followed King Billy I as we
navigated our way out of Napier Roads and then headed south east
towards Cape Kidnappers. There was very little wind, just a light
offshore breeze blowing as we motor sailed through the night. Once we
rounded Cape Kidnappers shortly after 1am, Matt suggested that I sail
Honey on a course about 1 mile to the east of King Billy I, then I
could get some sleep while either Matt or Laurie stayed on watch –
by staying outside of them, then they would easily spot if Honey
started veering in towards the coast and could radio or call me to
wake up. Great idea! I stretched my sleeps out to 30 minute
intervals, and it was reassuring to see King Billy I's navigation
lights a little way inshore of me each time I popped my head up.
The following morning, the 1st of
April, was uneventful as we covered the miles down the east coast. It
was warm with light winds, almost perfect cruising weather. Our only
complaint was that the wind wasn't steady enough to consistently
sail, as we switched between sailing and motor sailing. King Billy I
and Honey both sailed at a similar speed, which made us well matched
for a convoy passage. King Billy I is 11.5m in length so I had
expected her to be faster than Honey at 9.6m, but her longer
waterline is compensated by the additional weight due to her steel
construction resulting in similar cruising speeds.
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| King Billy I under full sail |
We passed Cape Turnagain at around 3pm
in calm conditions, Laurie and I both commenting that we hope we
don't see the cape again too soon. The winds are known to be
changeable along this area of the coastline, with many ships having
turned about at the cape, including Endeavour hence the name. I
dropped a text to Owen and Emma on Dulcinea to see if they had
already reached the Sounds, but they had driven back to Christchurch
having got fed up with the southerlies, leaving Dulcinea in Tauranga –
no wonder I hadn't seen them!
In the late afternoon as we were part
way between Cape Turnagain and Castle Point the north west winds
suddenly picked up with gusts of over 30 knots. I hurriedly furled in
the genoa and reefed down the main. Struggling on the deck as waves
crashed over Honey, I sat with my legs straddling the bow fighting to
secure the inner forestay behind the main forestay. Once it was in
place I unstowed the storm gib and raised it on the inner forestay
and settled back down in the cockpit to enjoy a slightly faster sail.
The winds were far from constant though, and before long I switched the storm gib for the stay sail so that Honey maintained a
good 5 knots of speed.
After we had passed Castlepoint, I let
Matt and Laurie know that I was going to catch a few winks of sleep
asking that they could keep watch. From 11pm I got a good 4 hours of
sleep, stretching my naps out to 1 hour intervals, and I woke almost
fully refreshed soon after 3am. I was a little confused when I woke
between one of my naps and found the time earlier than when I had
last woken up, until I realised my phone had automatically adjusted
for the end of daylight saving! The wind had died down, and I'd
started the engine at 1.30am, on low revs to charge the battery and
keep Honey moving at 4 knots – we were not in a rush as it was
forecast for gale force winds South of Cape Palliser easing through
the day, and we planned to pass the cape in the late afternoon once
the winds had died down. By 3.30am Honey's speed had dropped to 3
knots. King Billy I was a mile inshore of Honey and was still making
good ground, and bringing the engine up to full cruising revs I
turned Honey in towards the shore off Honeycomb so we could pick up
the same wind. The wind continued to vary in strength and I steered
Honey further inshore to escape the choppy seas.
It was just before 5am when the north
west came away again, and this time with a lot more force, rising
from about 15 knots up to 40 knots in a matter of seconds. So much
for the 15 knots northerly that was forecast north of Cape Palliser!
Being overpowered I dropped the staysail, as the winds continued to
build, gusting over 50 knots. Although I was less than 5 miles off
the coast the seas were now very rough – it was all I could do to
lash down the staysail, there wasn't enough warning to get the
stormgib ready. I had been in a hurry to furl up the genoa the day
before when the north west had first hit, and it wasn't furled
tightly enough – in no time the strong winds had started working
sections of sail loose and a good part of the genoa was flapping
furiously making a terrible racket. There was nothing I could do
about it, with the winds as strong as they were and the inner
forestay secured immediately behind the furler. I made the decision
to head to Stony Bay, about 15 miles distant – John had mentioned
it as a bay that local fishermen sometimes shelter in when it's a
strong northwester. I needed to sort the genoa out before it fully
unravelled and shredded itself in the Cook Strait, and to ready Honey with the stormgib.
Honey inched slowly towards Stony Bay at about 3 knots, under motor
and with the main fully reefed. The wind was driving the waves in
sheets that were mostly passing right over Honey, although I was hit
by a few stinging waves. Meanwhile King Billy I had hove to – this
wasn't an option for me with no headsail raised – and Matt was
sorting out an engine problem. It was just before midday when Honey
and I reached Stony Bay, dropping the anchor about 50m offshore from
the rocks. It was still windy in Stony Bay, but only about 35 knots
and being so close to shore there were no waves. Shortly after I
arrived the Westpac helicopter flew into the bay circling around
Honey before landing, and a group of divers in a fishing boat came
over to check if I was ok. I was keen for some assistance with the
genoa, and two of the divers jumped in the water and swam over to
Honey while I dropped the ladder over the side – it was too windy
for the boat to come alongside. With three of us we managed to work
the genoa off the furler and rewind it up nice and tightly, making
short work of what would have possibly taken hours by myself. The
divers had rescued a kayaker who was blown offshore that morning, and
advised that they had heard that the winds were now starting to ease
at Cape Palliser. (I later found out that the Westpac helicopter was
there as a diver from a different group had been washed out to sea
and sadly drowned).
I readied Honey for the last push to
Wellington, knowing that we were very limited in the time that we
could stay in Stony Bay. The forecast was for a change to southerly
of 25 knots over night, and then rising to 40 knots the following day
as Cyclone Debbie approached. I was really relieved when I saw King
Billy I approaching Stony Bay, having sorted a temporary fix for the
engine, and also dropping anchor to regather themselves before facing
Cook Strait. We agreed that our plan was to make to Cape Palliser and
fast, before the southerly hit, as we didn't want to revert to our
back-up plan. The forecast with gale southerlies would have driven us
back up the coast, past Cape Turnagain, but we wouldn't have made it
to Napier before gale northerlies would push us south, followed by
gale south easterlies, storm northwesterlies and gale south
westerlies!! Our back up plan was to head as far out to sea as
possible and 'hove to' to weather out the tail end of the cyclone,
not something we wanted to contemplate.
We up anchored and headed out of Stony
Bay, both Honey and King Billy I with fully reefed main and storm gib
– we weren't prepared to take any chances! With a hot northwest
blowing off the land we made good time, but started our engines at
the sight of ominous dark clouds rapidly approaching from the south.
Watching the clouds approach as we neared Cape Palliser lighthouse I
wondered if we were going to make it in time – I urged Honey on
“Come On Honey!” then turning to see the sillouette behind me “Come
on King Billy!”
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| The approach to Cape Palliser |
Honey and I were 4 miles due south of
Cape Palliser when the southerly front hit just before 7pm, and King
Billy I was about a mile behind. The winds were about 25 knots and
coming almost from due west. We motor sailed south into the weather
to put some distance between us and Cape Palliser, tacking back
towards Wellington after about 1.5 hours once there was a good 8
miles separation from the land, and by 10pm we were happy that we had
well and truly rounded Cape Palliser. I turned off Honey's engine as the winds veered to come from the south,
pleased that we wouldn't need to resort to our undesired back up
plan. The rain that had come with the southerly front had fully set
in, and it was a cold and miserable final stretch to Wellington
Harbour. We had passed through the entrance of the harbour when the
Aratere that was approaching from behind called me up to confirm our
intentions prior to passing to port. I was pleased the ferry captain
was keeping a look-out for yachts, and assume he must have heard our
chatter on the VHF as he called up 'Sailing Vessel Honey'. Rounding
Point Halswell, King Billy I followed Honey as we headed into Lambton
Harbour with plans to tie up outside Royal Port Nicholson Yacht Club.
Matt and Laurie had never sailed into Wellington, but Honey and I had
been here on her delivery south soon after I bought her, so I was
confident I knew where to go. But with the driving rain, glare of the
city lights and a lack of navigation lights within Lambton Harbour, I
was flummoxed on where to head, made all the more difficult by an
appartment block that appeared in the middle of the harbour! Unable
to confidently maneuvre into the yacht club basin, we headed around
to Chaffers Marina and slipped quietly into two vacant marina berths
to wait out the rest of the night.
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