Far North The next morning we headed north. As we got closer to the booming metropolis of Opua the weather grew nicer and nicer. The thick cloud cover of Auckland gave way to the "winterless north." Total population of Opua: hmm, I don't know, actually. I would guess there are more boats there than people, though. What was there was the Opua wharf and the SunSail office. Katherine had arranged a seven day charter of a 33 foot sailboat in the Bay of Islands. Never having been sailing I was a tad nervous. I mean, come on, I get seasick on the Whidbey Island ferry. The closest I'd ever really been to a sailboat was during "What about Bob" when Bill Murray is strapped to the mast screaming "Look! I'm sailing!" Tiny, er, Andrew, gave the briefing to Master Paul and First Mate Katherine while Second Mate Amy and I wandered to the store for some tasty ice cream. If you're observant you'd notice that we've got a Master, First Mate, and Second Mate. What does that make me? Cabin Boy. Cool, huh? Tiny took his time explaining where you could find the silverware, drawer of egg-cups (can't leave port without egg-cups, can you?), and where we wouldn't find the super-cool navy charts that some of the other boats had. Luckily, he told us of all their sublime features. Unluckily, we couldn't get them although Paul suggested a couple of times young Tiny swap our rather plain charts with these new-fangled charts, but Tiny just laughed it off and remembered something else about the charts we didn't have that was great. Soon (about four hours in New Zealand time) we were on the open ocean under sail. No, actually we were in the protected approach to Opua under motor. The long trip from Auckland, a shopping trip in Paihia, and our briefing with Tiny that wasn't so brief all ensured we didn't leave the dock until about 5pm. We decided we (Katherine and Paul) decided we would stay in a cove on the south side of Motuarohia Island. Picking where to stay was a tricky endeavor that included determining where the wind and swells would be coming from, where we were starting, where we were going, and where we had been before. Since the Bay of Islands is pretty small it's really mostly about the weather and, thankfully, we had Russell Radio to help us out. Russell Radio is, we think, a donation-driven radio station that operates on one of the VHF stations. We originally thought it was only for thrice-daily weather briefings, but there was occasional other traffic on it so in the end we weren't really sure what it was about. The weather was delivered by either a guy who seemed to enjoy his duties or what I imagined was his daughter who didn't really get a thrill out of the whole thing, but couldn't bring herself to telling her dad that he can take the radio in his basement and shove it. Regardless of who delivered the report, it was occasionally correct. We refrained from making any long-term plans and instead woke up each morning to look up at the sky to determine what was going to happen that day. Katherine and Paul could judge the wind by the waves and we all pretended to know what tomorrow's weather would be thanks to the "sun a night..." nonsense. So we pulled into Motuarohia Island's protected cove a few hours before sunset and I decided it was definitely time to get back on land. I jumped in our trusty dinghy which I christened "Minitaka" (our sailboat was called "Mintaka") and headed for shore. The waves from the north side of the island crashed over the reef and almost, but not quite, penetrated into the protected cove we'd anchored in. As the sun set I found a trail that headed up the hill. The trail climbed quickly through lush vegetation and huge fern trees that looked something like palm trees with immense ferns at the top. The trail concluded with a steep set of stairs ending at a platform on a cliff overlooking the north shore of the island. We had a tasty dinner cooked on the ship-board BBQ, but after going below decks (into the "hole") I started feeling a little less than stable. A bit of "star-watching" which was awfully close to "sleeping," but whatever you call it I found my equilibrium returning just in time to go to bed. And what about the sleeping arrangements on the mighty Mintaka? Katherine and Paul, being vertically-gifted, took the stern berth which gave them a bit more space to stretch out. Amy and I took the V-berth in the bow. The only downside was that Amy had a minor amount of trouble getting up onto the bed each night due to her... limited mobility. The next morning dawned cold and rainy so we decided to head for Kerikeri which was back across the Bay. There was a marina there which meant showers (never mind the stickbugs in the stalls) and the opportunity to get a bit more food. We motored away from the anchorage and into the open water. Suddenly, the engine noise ceased and the sails billowed and we were sailing! Now, yes, I'll grant you, there are plenty of sports that seem far more exciting than sailing. Surely, though, there are at least a few sports even less exciting than sailing. Cricket and croquet are definitely among them. At least I don't play cricket. I learned lots of lingo and even what some of the lines were for. Katherine and Paul took turns sailing and tried to get me and Amy to hold the wheel, but it was a bit too much pressure for our first day. I thought we were going really fast, but it turns out our boat is officially classified as a "pig." Kitty, however, prefers the term "dead pig in a vat of molasses on a cold winter day" which, apparently, describes the boat's characteristics. Perhaps the only boat that was worse than our 33 foot Hunter is a MacGregor which quickly became a Mahoney as in "your mama drives a Mahoney!" (I've been led to believe it's funny if you're a sailor. Go figure.) We pulled up to the visitor's dock and hung out while Paul went looking for the office to see if we could get a night's use of a slip. I broke out my fishing gear and flipped it around until I hooked something that fought for a few moments, but then spit the hook. Shortly thereafter I hooked a jellyfish which was just gross. After moving the boat to our slip Paul and I headed to a little spit of land across from the marina where he got his first taste of casting a fly. I had hoped to get him fishing before he and Katherine left in July, but the opportunity never presented itself so this would be all the practice he would have before we were scheduled for three days of guided fishing in the central North Island near Lake Taupo. Soon after we returned to the boat the rain began crashing down and we decided it wasn't so bad to be in a marina and not in an unprotected cove. We trudged up the steep hill to the Kerikeri Cruising Club to watch the end of their weekly race and catch a taxi into Kerikeri itself. Unfortunately, there were no cabs available. The bartender called the woman who ran the bus, but she couldn't give us a ride either. However, her daughter would take us "downtown" and back for a mere $20NZ. Not too shabby, huh? We shopped in Kerikeri amid a minor power outage and ate a decent dinner at the Cruising Club before retiring to the boat for the night. Our third day on the water began with a slow crawl out of the Kerikeri harbor, past a couple of tourist boats harassing a pod of dolphins, and then we were again under sail. With all the lines set and a 15 knot wind I was given the wheel with the instructions "just play with it." Yeah, right. Actually, it turns out it's not too terribly difficult and consists mostly of watching the "tails" that are attached to the jib. (Don't ask what happens if the jib's not up.) We got up to a whopping 6.9 knots under my command while headed to Paradise Cove on Urapukapuka Island. No, I didn't make that up. Heck, we even beat the pants off another sailboat on the same track, but that may have been because they didn't really know we were racing. Eat our dust! When we got to Urapukapuka Amy, Katherine, and I went ashore to wander around. We found a track that climbed up, then down, then back up again. It looked like it went all around the island, but our time was limited so we retreated for an early night. (Early for us, about 9:30pm, but those wacky Ellis were used to sleeping by 8:30 so it was quite late for them.) The day ended an hour or so after we went to bed when Paul sprinted up on deck as a pod of dolphins swam right across our stern. Of course, by the time we got on deck we could only just hear them on the other end of the cove. The next morning, after breakfast Paul and I went back to the walking track and climbed to the highest point we could. We found that it did indeed appear to go all around the island. There were a number of prehistory sites so we passed storage pits and a stronghold and dramatic, plunging cliffs full of white water where the waves crashed endlessly against the rocks. Perhaps best of all was returning to ready-made sandwiches. We headed out to the open water for a bit of sailing and a I even tried fishing a bit using split-shot Paul managed to finangle out of some guy in Kerikeri, but to no avail. We pulled into Oke Harbor which may have been one of the most beautiful places we stayed. High hills spilled down to within a few meters (it's mostly metric down there after all) of the water where the rock finally won out. Large caves sucked water in to subterranean labrynths where the sleestacks no doubt roamed looking for human flesh. Needless to say, all but Paul stayed far from their frightening claws and he only came close enough to stare into the dark depths of the caves. The picture was completed by a white sand beach where a trail up the spine of the peninsula began. Once settled Amy and I mounted the engine on Minitaka and took her out for a spin. (The dinghy, not Amy.) We motored up and down the coast, but found the waves a tad too heavy for Minitaka to handle gracefully so we retreated to the beach for a walk on the sand before heading back to the boat. All night large swells would roll in from the Bay and knock us about. Then they'd hit the rock wall behind us, reflect, and bash us again. Amazingly, I didn't feel poorly or wake all night, though the rest of the crew had a few issues. When we finally did wake we decided it'd be a great day to head out to Cape Brett to look at the majestic "Hole in the Rock." We began with the intention of sailing our way out, but with Katherine resting below decks and the rest of us not exactly sure how to make the boat go we kicked up the motor and off we went. The "Hole in the Rock" was quite spectacular. Basically a huge hunk of rock sticking off the peninsula that makes up Cape Brett. The big deal is that there's a hole through the middle that is big enough to drive a boat through, though not quite tall enough to get a sailboat through. Tiny did mention that although we ought not take the Mintaka through the Hole lest we break the mast off. We could take the dinghy through the Hole, though, but we all agreed that'd be absolute madness for all the rough water in the passage. Instead, we circumnavigated the island and its partner in crime, Dog Rock. (Yes, it really does look like a dog sort of lying down.) We tried to sail about in the Bay again, but without wind we headed back to Opua where we had secured a slip at the marina and warned Tiny we were coming back to get a few things fixed. We left our boat in Sunsail's hands and headed for Paihia for more shopping and dinner and a hair-raising cab ride back to the wharf. Night came quickly and we had a peaceful evening. Morning was consumed by laundry and showers. When we finally did leave, about noon, we tried sailing our way back to Oke Harbor, but found the wind lacking. Instead we motored all the way back which Paul described as driving across Washington on I-90 at 30 mph. Not too terribly interesting. Of course, there are no pods of dolphins that rub against your car in Ritzville. Needless to say, we did come across a pod of dolphins and they played with us for quite a way as we motored through their feeding ground north of Motorua Island. Six or seven swam with us including at least one mother-child pair. To make matters all that much better there were no tourist boats in sight. We rolled into Oke and it was just the same as we left it. We had thought of a hike before dinner, but since there was a solid 10 miles of trails between here and Cape Brett we decided to wait until the morning. Instead, we concentrated on finding a spot where we wouldn't be buffeted by the incessant waves reflecting off the rocks. Our "adventure" activity for the evening was playing hearts until the wee hours. Amy informed everyone of my penchant to shoot the moon so they were always on the watch for it. I did it once, but had a great number of failures resulting in a monumental score. The next morning was startlingly early (10am) and began with a discussion of our night's moorage. Settled, Katherine, Paul, and I headed to the beach for a hike up the peninsula. Amy decided to protect the boat from pirates. Once on shore we switched to real shoes (I've not been able to wear my Tevas since they tore my feet to shreds on Urapukapuka) and headed straight up the trail. One of the things I've discovered about New Zealanders is that they don't understand the concept of switchbacks. The trail climbed straight up a hill that taxed us all. From Oke to Cape Brett was 20km, but we made it only about six kilometers and 1,000 vertical feet before we had to head back. Unfortunately, our alarms went off just after we had descended a steep hill so in order to get back up we decided to tell stories including the entire Fellowship of the Ring story to prepare Kitty for Two Towers we planned to see when we got to Taupo. Back on board the boat we were tired and hot, but Amy had prepared for us and soon we were in the lap of luxury once more and headed for Motorua Island. The wind was blowing heavily and we got to 7.4 knots with two reefs in. (Don't worry, I didn't know what that meant either.) The boat was difficult to control with this much wind, so we gave in to the temptation of diesel and cut down past Urapukapuka toward a very crowded cove. We passed it up (as well as a 4km track) in favor of our first night's moorage on the south side of Motuarohia Island. Christmas Eve was a travel day and a mighty one at that. We were poised to get the boat from the island to the wharf, taxi to Whangarei airport, pick up our rental car, drive past Auckland, past Taupo, to Tongariro National Park and the Grand Chateau. All was well as we arrived at the airport only to find our car was actually at the Budget office in downtown Whangarei. (Don't forget "wha" is pronounced "fa" so this is really "fawn-ga-ray." Keep this in mind as you read on.) We drove back into the town to the rental agency and started signing papers. Turns out the car they gave us had been transferred down from Kerikeri. I know you're having trouble with names like Opua, Motorua, Motuarohia, Urapukapuka, and Whangarei, but you're not crazy, you have heard of Kerikeri before. It's in the Bay of Islands. It turns out our car rental was arranged by one of our fishing guides you'll meet later and if we'd really thought it all through we could have had the car delivered to us in Opua. Argh. Still, we were off. The trip was a lot faster than on the bus. We quickly passed through Auckland and continued south at a furious clip. Many, many hours later we rolled into the Grand Chateau in the pitch dark. We found our rooms and crashed into bed just before midnight. After midnight we woke in Tongariro National Park.