Now, what do you think that bit does?

Sam the cat 'helping' with the boat build

And so the boat building began. Enthusiasm was brimming over - in fact Sam (the cat) was so overwhelmed by all the activity that he was forced to lie down and have a little sleep as the construction carried on around him! This apparent overwhelming desire to sleep on whatever happened to be being constructed meant great care had to be taken not to inadvertently epoxy him to any of the bits of boat that were starting to appear.

On a daily basis, sheets of marine grade plywood would disappear into the boat shed to be re-invented as - well generally I didn't have a clue what!

"How's your day been?" I'd ask when I arrived home from work.

"Great thanks," would come the reply. "How was yours?"

"Good thanks. So what have you been doing with yourself?" I know that must seem a bit like asking the bleedin' obvious but it was actually intended to elicit some sort of specific descriptor, if only to help me try to work out precisely what I was looking at. But no.

"I've been building a boat!" would come the answer. Yeah, thanks Howard, that was really helpful!

"Now what do you think that bit is?" Howard's finger would guide my gaze in the general direction of the latest strangely shaped assemblage.

So I'd study this lovingly constructed object that had been presented to me with such a sense of eager anticipation, hoping that just what it was would suddenly become blindingly obvious to me. However, after several minutes of intense study I'd invariably have to admit defeat.

"Well, I'm sure I should recognise it but I can't quite seem to work it out."



Framing up

And so this continued until one evening I arrived home and wandered into the boat shed, pondering what shape would great me this time. 'How long should I pretend to be on the verge of working out what it is before admitting I don't know?' I thought to myself. I glanced up and stopped dead in my tracks. There in front of me was something that was undeniably the hull of a boat. It was upside-down, I grant you, but that shape was unmistakable.

I walked around it, studying it from every angle and wherever it was viewed from it still looked like a boat. I was gobsmacked and extraordinarily excited. All those weird and wonderful shapes had come together into a cohesive whole. The really weird thing was that I had absolutely understood that it would happen, I just couldn't see how when all I had to look at was the individual elements.

"Hey, that's brilliant," I enthused when I finally found Howard. "Bet you're pleased with it aren't you?"

"Yup, it's quite good I suppose," came Howard's response, ever the master of the understatement.

The planking begins

Now before I continue with what's happening with our build I'll do a bit of a blokey-type explanation about the design as well as the more technical aspects of the boat, just in case anyone out there is thinking 'Why on earth isn't she telling us what they're building?' And I'll include the odd explanatory bit in brackets for those people who may need some translation of the boat-speak!

So, she is a fibreglass over plywood Multichine 36 from Roberto Barras yacht design. Her overall length will be 11.16m, her beam will be 3.82m and she will have 2.00m standing headroom. She will have two cabins (bedrooms), a large head aft (bathroom at the back), a main saloon (lounge area) plus a spacious galley (kitchen) and a navigation table (that's so we know where we're going).

Gosh, it really does look like a boat!

Work on the boat continued apace. Howard would work on it all day, stopping only for the odd cup of coffee and some lunch. I'd return home from work to find him happily sitting astride the upturned hull, carefully and lovingly crafting what would eventually become our home.

"What do you fancy for tea?" I'd question, prompting a momentary pause in his activities as he realised that he'd forgotten to take anything out of the freezer...again!

"Oooops, I'd forgotten all about tea," would come the response."What do you fancy?"

I'd wander off and throw something fairly basic together and then summons him in so we could enjoy the meal together. Suitably replete, Howard would then disappear back into the boat shed.

"I'll just tidy up a bit and put my tools away," he'd say as he wandered out of the caravan. "I'll be back in very shortly." Invariably the 'very shortly' was actually quite a long time - in fact more often than not it was running out of daylight that was the prompt to stop work.

Howard was as happy as a pig in muck, but he was becoming a very tired pig in muck! I had my concerns that he was pushing himself too hard, but he insisted he was fine.

"I just want to take advantage of the warmer weather and get as much of this done as I can," he explained.

"Well, just be careful that you don't push yourself too hard." I tried hard not to be bossy but sometimes  - OK, fairly often - I failed miserably. It was apparent though that my comments were falling on deaf ears. Men can be sooooo stubborn!!

A few days later I returned home after a pretty tough day at work, relieved to be back in my little cocoon that was the caravan. It had been raining most of the day which had meant that Howard had been unable to do much on the boat because the humidity affected the epoxy's ability to 'go off' so he had a cup of tea ready and waiting for me. He studied me carefully for a moment and then said, "Looks as though you've had a bit of a tough day to me. You're looking really tired."

"You're not far wrong there," I agreed.

Whirlpools at Te Aumiti (French Pass)

"Well, I reckon you need a break so how about we take the tinnie and go up to the Marlborough Sounds for a couple of weeks." He didn't need to work on persuading me.

"That's the best idea I've heard in ages," I replied. "Reckon it will do us both good. Marlborough Sounds, here we come!"

Boats, boats...and more boats!

The Slip Inn and jetty, Havelock

So the boat shed was complete and we were now all set to move on to the actual boat construction. But before we made a start on it there was the small matter of a wee break up in the Marlborough Sounds for a family catch up along with a spot of fishing. Now the sharp-eyed amongst you will notice that, according to the panel just to the left there, Captain dreams of bigger boats. You may also notice that the boat in the photo at the top of this post doesn't look a whole lot like Orca, our little fizz boat that we introduced you to earlier in this blog - and therein lies a story!

When we were rationalising our possessions one of the things that we contemplated was selling Orca - after all we were about to build a boat, so why did we need to keep her? On the other hand, we both really enjoyed the freedom that comes with a boat, not to mention the fishing. The prospect of no boat fishing for three years was something I didn't particularly relish. However, I could understand Howard's rationale - just! So, dear reader, keep this in mind as you read on.

"I've been looking at boats on Trade Me." Howard greeted me with this announcement one evening when I returned from work.

My heart sank. "Oh, I see. Are you trying to get some idea of what we should be selling Orca for?"

Dolphin watch at Paia Point camp site, Kaikoura

Howard peered at me with an incredulous look on his face. "Whatever makes you think that? I'd not even thought about it. No, I was looking at bigger boats - preferably a tinnie with a lock-up cab."

"Now why would you be doing that?" I queried. This had come completely out of left field so I was more than a little taken aback by the revelation.

"Well, I would have thought it was obvious," Howard replied. Well no, actually, it wasn't obvious but I had no doubt he was going to enlighten me. "I suddenly thought that it seemed silly not to have a boat until the yacht is built. The problem with Orca is she's a bit small if we want to stay out on her for more than one night and I'd really love to do that. I mean, simply getting undressed and into bed is a major operation on Orca, isn't it?"

I couldn't dispute that argument. "So have you seen anything interesting?"

"Ooooh yes!" came the emphatic reply. "Let me show you."

I was ecstatic! All thoughts of tea had gone by the board as we plotted and planned. And so Dark Star came into our lives. At 6.7m, she's over a metre longer than Orca and all we could want to keep us entertained until the yacht was built - and then some!

Snow on the peaks above Kaikoura

And so back to our holiday and family catch-up. This was going to be Dark Star's first road trip with us and what better place to take her for our maiden voyage than the Marlborough Sounds. Iain and Helen were flying in to Wellington from the UK and then taking the ferry over to Picton where we would collect them before heading off for a couple of weeks around Queen Charlotte Sound and hopefully Pelorus Sound. We set off from Dunedin late morning, overnighting in the stunning surrounds of Kaikoura and then it was just a leisurely drive up to Picton in time to meet the late afternoon ferry. The ferry crossing from Wellington to Picton is described as one of the most beautiful ferry rides in the world and certainly the scenery is absolutely stunning. Picton itself is a wee jewel, nestled in amongst an almost fractal coastline. It is small and understated, and we love it.

Picton

Having successfully located Iain and Helen from amongst the myriad of ferry passengers, we headed for Waikawa and the Parklands Marina Holiday Park. Now, if you're anything like me that name Holiday Park would probably strike terror into your very soul, but believe me, this place is one out of the box. It's tranquil, clean, well organised - and allows you to use your boat to camp in!! How good is that? So whilst Iain and Helen did battle with tent construction we put our feet up and watched - obviously whilst also offering helpful hints and words of encouragement.

Tent pitching at Parklands Marina Holiday Park

We spent that evening planning our next couple of weeks, working out how best to maximise Iain and Helen's time in this fabulous area. The only interruption to this came whilst tea was being made when obviously all input was focused solely on the task at hand - to very good effect, if my memory serves my right!

What would you do with that? The catering committee!

Iain and Helen had decided that their first priority was to walk the Queen Charlotte track, so after a good night's rest (well, it was for us in the boat - not so sure about those poor souls in the tent), we returned to Picton to pick up supplies and to book their track pass. Now booking the pass wasn't without incident. We were going to take them to their start point by boat which seemed to be a rather tricky concept for the person who was issuing the pass to grasp. Having finally got her to the point where she could cope with that, we administered the final coup-de-grace. They were going to be walking the track the wrong way round. We were going to drop them off at Anakiwa, which is the closest point to Picton, and then we'd fish our way down to Ship Cove which was at the far end of the Sound and collect them again. Sounds logical? Well it made perfect sense to us, but not to the pass issuer!! However, we must have eventually worn her down because some considerable time later we staggered back into the sunshine, passes in hand.

Leaving Picton

The first part of departure day was spent watching Iain and Helen trying to coax a not inconsiderable quantity of spare clothing and provisions into their rucksacks. Rather sensibly, they did check whether they could actually lift their sacs once they were packed. Needless to say, some repacking was called for! The day had dawned fine but rather windy, which made for a slightly bumpy trip up to Anakiwa and some acrobatics from Iain as we attempted to come alongside the landing jetty. All I can say is it's a really good job he's over 6 foot tall - in fact after his attempts to keep the boat and landing jetty in close proximity, he may well have increased in height slightly!

Jetty at Ship Cove

We had a sunny but very windy couple of days fishing our way down the Queen Charlotte Sound to Ship Cove, whilst Iain and Helen weren't affected so much by the wind but did seem to find vast quantities of mud - some of which Iain decided to try sitting in! Once again, Iain's height proved incredibly useful grabbing the boat as we came alongside Ship Cove's jetty to collect them, especially as we didn't have a lot of depth to play with.

Just to do the tourist information bit for a moment (and for those of you who don't know), Ship Cove is reputed to have been Captain James Cook's favourite New Zealand base during his three wide-ranging voyages of exploration. In all, he returned to it on five separate occasions between his first visit in January 1770 and final departure during his last voyage in February 1777, his expeditions spending a total of 170 days at this anchorage . Cook found this place to be a 'very snug cove' which provided 'a central and secure anchorage with good wood, water and fishing where he could prepare and provision his ships and restore his crews'.

Once we were all happily ensconced on Dark Star again and were speeding across to the opposite side of the Sound to escape the wind so that Iain and Helen could have a swim (we did warn them the water would  be cold - and it was), we started to plan our escapades for the remainder of our holiday.

So where shall we go next?

Apart from general exploration of the Sounds area, sea kayaking was high on Iain and Helen's list of things to do, and to be quite honest, we had no particular wishes other than spending time with them and on the boat. So, sea kayaks were booked and another round of provisioning undertaken. At least this time they wouldn't have to try to fit everything in just one rucksack each. We were to be the support crew, making sure we were on hand in case of emergency. And boy, did they need us! We had passed them during the afternoon happily paddling away and so we carried on down the Sound to try to catch ourselves some tea. As afternoon turned into evening we motored into the cove that they had chosen for their overnight camp. We went in as close as we could.

The interpid kayakers at Ruakaka Bay

"How are you both? OK? Any problems?" we shouted.

"We've got a bit of a problem," Iain shouted back.

I immediately started to worry that one of them had damaged something, although I had to say they both looked OK.

"What's wrong?"

"We've forgotten to pack any teabags!" came the reply

"Oh no! Well what a good job we came along!"

We had a plentiful supply of said tea bags but the biggest problem was going to be getting them to Iain and Helen. We had gone in as close as we dared in the boat but that still left a fair distance between us and the shore. Howard, ever resourceful, had it sussed though. He put some tea bags in a polythene bag adding one of our fishing sinkers to give it a bit of weight and then threw the package to shore whereupon Iain, in a move that would have made the Black Caps proud, fielded it flawlessly.

"...and make sure you don't forget to bring that sinker back with you tomorrow!" he shouted.

With the warm glow of satisfaction that comes from having saved the day, we waved goodnight and motored over to a sheltered cove to eat our gurnard and settle down for the night.

Te Rawa

The holiday was rapidly coming to an end. After the sea kayaking trip we spent much of our time doing touristy things interspersed with bouts of reprovisioning but we had one last trip planned. We wanted to motor up Pelorus Sound to Wilson Bay. In common with quite a lot of the Marlborough Sounds, this particular bay is only accessible by boat and because it was slightly more remote, we were waiting for a reasonable weather window. The whole of the holiday had been plagued by strong winds - they would certainly have made it impossible to venture out in the boat had we been around home, but in the more sheltered environment of the Sounds, we could be a little bolder.

We pulled in to Havelock on a warm, sunny but fairly windy morning, had a cup of coffee before putting the boat on the water and heading off. As we progressed along Pelorus Sound, the wind increased quite markedly but we eventually made it to Wilson Bay after a fairly splashy ride. That evening it started to rain. It rained and rained all the following day, all the while blowing an absolute gale. Now this wasn't quite what we'd expected from a forecast that had promised fine, settled weather. We ate, drank, talked, read, drank, ate, read, ate...there's only so much you can do in weather like that and we'd done it all! So our experience of Wilson Bay was a very wet one, but not wet in the way we'd anticipated.

Picton Marina

And then it was over. Sadly, Iain and Helen had to return to the UK and we returned to Dunedin. But for us our return to Dunedin heralded the next exciting chapter in our saga. Let the boat building begin!

Carpe diem (aka seize the day)

And so the boat shed build began. Now, it doesn't take an Einstein to work out that this was going to have to be a sizeable structure - not only in terms of length but also in height - if a 36 foot boat was to be constructed inside it. As we were putting it together ourselves, I couldn't help thinking this would present something of a challenge especially in light of my previously discussed design faults. So I raised the question with Howard.

"Hey, you know these frames actually stand over four metres high?"

"Uh, uh."

"Well, how are we going to bolt them together - and don't you dare say 'with bolts'? And assuming we actually manage to bolt together said frames, how on earth are we going to get the cover over them?"

The boat shed frames

Now, you know when you ask what is to you an eminently sensible question, but the person you ask obviously thinks it's a fairly purile one and you get 'that' look? You know the 'Oh, for heaven's sake, can't you work something as simple as that out' look? Well, that's what I got, followed by "just don't you go worrying about that. I've got it all worked out!"

To say I wasn't altogether convinced by this unseemly display of confidence would be something of an understatement. And was I right to be unconvinced? Well actually, no! With the aid of Sunni and Stu, the ute and some step ladders, the frames were up and bolted together in next to no time. Now all that remained was to put the cover on. 'Simple,' you're thinking. Well hold on just one minute because it's not that simple. Perhaps I should explain a couple of things at this juncture.

Half built

The boat shed was 18.5m long by 8m wide by 4.2m high which you will agree is a fairly substantial size. The cover comes in two pieces each of which is just over 9m long (obviously plus 8m wide and 4.2m high) and is made from a very heavy coated polymer fabric, so if we were to avoid the risk of prematurely sailing off down the harbour without our boat we needed a day with little or no wind. We waited ... and waited ... and waited ... and waited. We'd check the weather forecast which would be cautiously optimistic and we'd think 'maybe tomorrow' but tomorrow would dawn and the wind would be blowing.

And then it happened! We woke up one Saturday morning and noticed that it seemed ominously quiet - no creaks or groans from the awning, no scraping of branches on the old shed roof, jsut absolute calm. This was what we'd been waiting for. There was no wind! We really had to seize this opportunity so we had a hurried breakfast and raced outside rounding up the troops (aka Sunni and Stu) as we went. And then several hours and a bit of titivation later we finally had a completed boat shed. As we gazed admiringly at what we had achieved we contemplated the fact that we had actually reached the point when we could begin to build our boat. But first of all we were off to the Marlborough Sounds again. Gosh, it's a tough life!!

Complete and ready to use

Design faults!

"Right!"

Howard had that tone in his voice that usually meant I was about to be subjected to some hard work. Now whilst I'm not averse to a bit of hard physical graft - within reason, that is - I'm not too good when it comes to having to do it in the cold. Yes, I know I'm a wuss, but that's just how it is (I actually have a theory that I was somehow misplaced at birth and really should have been born in the tropics). Anyway, back to my sense of impending hard work in the cold.

Gordon and his mini-digger (that's not a small Australian!)

"Uh huh?" I tried to sound as enthused as I could on a sunny but cold day in the middle of September (for those of you reading this in the Northern Hemisphere, that's only just out of winter down here).

"Well, now that Gordon's dug the trenches for the boat shed and I've managed to assemble a few of the frames, maybe we should see if we can bolt the first few together. It would be good to take advantage of the nice weather. What do you reckon?"

What I actually reckoned was that I would quite like to stay right where I was - in the caravan with the heater on - but I reckoned it might seem a little churlish to vocalise that. I could sense that Howard was full of enthusiasm and raring to go.

"Yeah, that's a great idea," I heard myself saying. "It looks lovely out there." Where on earth did that come from? Had I lost my marbles? Oh well, looked like I was committed.

Scrambling in the Pyrenees

Now over the years Howard and I have carried out quite a few projects together as well as a good selection of pastimes and in that time I have discovered that I definitely have a couple of serious design faults. "What could they be?" I hear you cry (or maybe you didn't, but I'm going to tell you anyway!). Well firstly, I always seem to be at least six inches - that's 15cms for you young things - too short. Too short for what? Well, rock climbing and scrambling, for starters.

Ice climbing in Crinkle Ghyll, Cumbria

They called for a combination of wild contortions and some giant leaps of faith if I was ever going to reach those hand holds that were always j--u--s--t out of reach. Ice climbing should have been less problematic, but no, the decent ice that I needed for my ice axes to sink securely into was always that little bit farther away than I could comfortably reach, resulting in moves that seemed designed to radically increase the distance between the top half and the bottom half of my body. Even canoeing found me wanting in the height stakes as I needed a step stool simply to load the canoe onto the car!

 

 

When it comes to renovations or building projects I fare little better and what's more, this is where my second design fault surfaces. A typical scenario would go something like this. Howard identifies my role in the upcoming piece of work, ensuring that I realise that it is going to be really, really simple.

"Now we're going to put this sheet of Gib on the ceiling so all I need you to do is to help me lift it up and then hold that end steady whilst I screw it on. OK?"

Having confirmed that the instructions are wonderfully clear I then move into my predetermined position, ready and willing to carry out my task. We pick the piece of Gib board up, Howard making it seem as though he is picking a feather up whilst I strain to simply get it off the ground. I finally manage to get it above my head then extend my arms up towards the ceiling as far as they will go.

"I can't quite reach. Is there anything else I can stand on?" The answer to this is quite succinct.

 "Nope."

So I stand on tiptoes with my arms practically dislocating themselves and just manage to make contact with the ceiling. I fight to hold the Gib steady. Howard prepares to drive the first screw home but just as he does so, the screwdriver makes a bid for freedom. So there we are, holding one end of the Gib each needing to somehow retrieve an errant screwdriver (and yes, I know we could have put the Gib back down again, but that would have been far too sensible an option). Once the expletives subside, a little voice drifts into my ear.

"Could you pass me that other screwdriver please? It's over there, just to your right."

Just how I am going to reach said screwdriver with only the normal complement of appendages is a trifle unclear. "Urrmm, not quite sure how I'm going manage that," I venture.

"Why?" comes the reply. "It's not that difficult - it's right by where you're standing!"

"Yes, I can see that but you see I only have two hands and they're both fully occupied with holding a rather heavy sheet of Gib up against the ceiling."

"Can't you just hold it up with one hand and reach down with the other?"

"Urrmm - no. My arms aren't long enough to do that."

So there you have it - the perils of being too short and only having two hands. I had a funny feeling this was also going to be something of an issue with assembling the boat shed but, as good old Geoffrey Chaucer said, 'nothing ventured, nothing gained,' so I put on some warm clothes and wandered outside.

The embryonic boat shed