Portents and omens

Aurora australis on 22 April 2017 - Island Park Reserve, Dunedin

So here we were, just a few short weeks away from the next chapter in our life, about to experience the start of something new and destined, we hoped, to enjoy the magic that accompanies new beginnings. And speaking of magic, with a bizarrely apt sense of timing we were treated to the most stunning display of the aurora australis (the Southern Lights) not long after Lyall's visit. We had gone down to Island Park Reserve, which was about five minutes drive from home, on the off chance that we might get some photos of the lights and were rewarded with possibly the best display we have ever witnessed. Talk about portents and omens! Shakespeare's got nothing on us!

The following day, the Captain was on a mission. The conversation with Lyall had certainly galvanised him into action.

"Now, we have to make sure that we have everything packed and put inside the boat that we need to go up to Picton" he said, "and of course we have to take down the front half of the boat shed..."

I was thinking that it would be quite good if I could get a handle on one bit of information at a time but the instructions just kept coming.

"Naturally, I'm going to have to make sure I have all the tools with me that I'm likely to need. Oh, and I'm going to have to make sure that the camper is ready to go too, so that'll need cleaned and organised. I guess you can do that..."

The Captain finally stopped to draw breath.

"Camper?" I queried. "What's the camper got to do with any of this? Would I not be better off helping you pack the boat instead of faffing about with the camper? And what's this about taking half the boat shed down?"

I got one of those looks that speak volumes - you know, the one that seeks to establish what planet you happen to be inhabiting at this particular moment in time! The Captain spent a few seconds studying me - perhaps quizzically, or maybe it was with a degree of sympathy for the obvious shortcomings in my comprehension of the situation under discussion.

"Well it's obvious isn't it?" he started. "We have to take the front half of the shed down to get the boat out..."

"Yes, I realise that," I responded, "but surely we can't do that now."

"So when do you suggest we do it? When we've moved the boat?" came the tongue-in-cheek reply which might just have been tinged with a tad of frustration.

I took a deep breath and composed myself before going on the explain that throughout the boat build so far there had been an almost obsessional focus on keeping the boat dry but now it was being suggested that we take half the shed down thus exposing a good proportion of the boat to the elements. And according to the forecast, the weather was going to be far from clement over the next few days!

"So all I'm wondering is why so soon? Should we not wait 'til closer to the time...so we know that the weather hasn't caused havoc with the move plans? And I don't know that I have the height or the strength to help you remove the frame without risking damaging the boat in the process. Those steel poles are heavy you know." I knew that I was, somewhat irrationally, close to tears at this point. I also knew I was being rather petulant but somehow I felt completely out of my depth...totally out of my comfort zone...and it wasn't a place I liked being.

How would we remove the frame of the front half of the shed without damaging the boat?

"Awww babe, what's wrong? Come here and let me give you a cuddle." The Captain had clearly noticed what I was trying so hard to hide. "I didn't mean to upset you. I just don't understand why you're so confused. It all seems so straightforward to me. Did you not realise that the boat is watertight now - it has to be for the journey."

It transpired that it had always been the Captain's intention to ask our good friend Al Perry to help take the shed down. He knew all along that we couldn't manage that bit between us. And the camper? Well, once the boat went up to Picton then he would be moving up there too and the camper would be his accommodation until he could move into the boat. It all actually made perfect sense, it's just I was missing a few of the pieces that would have completed the puzzle for me!

And so the next three weeks raced by in something of a haze. The front half of the shed was taken down with the very able help of Al. The boat was packed and the camper was sorted out and cleaned.  We continued to keep a close eye on the weather, keeping our fingers crossed that heavy rain would stay away from our route north and especially the Lewis Pass. The road was prone to slips and slips could disrupt Smoko's travel plans.

As I got into the car to drive home from work on Thursday 04 May I wondered what the next day would bring. The day for loading Smoko was all but here. I was experiencing a mixture of emotions - elation, excitement, nervous anticipation...and maybe just a hint of trepidation. So much was riding on these next few days.

I was still working hard at keeping the 'what if's' at bay when I turned into the driveway that led to the caravan. And there stood Lyall's truck, ready for an early start in the morning. I stopped dead in my tracks - partly because the truck was across my parking space but also because it was now so real - it was actually going to happen.

'...and there stood Lyall's truck, ready for an early start in the morning.'

The Captain appeared from the caravan, a big smile on his face.

"Well, looks like it's going to happen. The crane will be arriving at 8am tomorrow so they can get a good early start on the loading."

Ah yes, the crane. I'd forgotten we needed one of those too.

Friday dawned fine and sunny...but cold. We were up bright and early and busied ourselves doing 'stuff'...you know, those inconsequential things that really don't need to be done but that you turn to when you can't think what else to do. It wasn't long before we heard the sound of a heavy vehicle heading in our general direction

"That'll be the crane" the Captain said, "I'll go and see if he needs a hand with anything." And with that, off he strode.

Now I'd heard a lot of conversations about the crane in the course of the planning and I had a very clear picture of it in my head. Obviously it would look something like this:

I'd asked lots of questions about whether there would be enough room for the crane and wasn't exactly certain why the Captain didn't seem to share my concerns. On that Friday, as I peered out of the caravan window, imagine my surprise when this is what I saw.

Hmmm - not quite what I'd had in mind but it did explain the Captain's lack of concern. Whilst I was still pondering the crane, Lyall arrived and suddenly it was all go. I put my coat on and went outside to watch the proceedings. Lyall and the crane driver were deep in conversation, clearly working out the logistics of the move. In his right hand Lyall had a large strop whilst the crane driver was busy looking through what appeared to be a large tool box on the back of the crane.

Armed with a second strop the pair of them approached the boat. The Captain had built a cradle for the boat to sit in all those years ago when the Smoko was turned and she had sat in it ever since. And it was this cradle that was going to be used to lift the boat onto the truck. The strops were carefully tied onto the cradle. Very carefully the crane was raised just a few centimetres to check whether the boat was balanced...which on that first attempt she wasn't. She was gently lowered to the ground again and the exercise was repeated with different length strops. It was quite amazing to watch the skill and care that was on show with tiny adjustments being made to find the perfect set-up. The process was unbelievably calm - no histrionics, no dramas, just endless patience and absolute co-operation.

And then the sweet spot was found. The Captain was dispatched to the rear of the boat and was given a rope to help steady Smoko as she was raised. In one of those moments of female logic , I did wonder how the Captain - standing barely 175cms tall and weighing in at 80kgs (give or take a bit) - was going to have any influence on a 4 tonne boat but I was sure there would be a perfectly adequate explanation. And then suddenly, Smoko was airborne. It was almost imperceptible at first but then she was raised higher as they started to manoeuvre her round towards the truck.

I don't know how the guys felt at this point but I think it's fair to say my heart was in my mouth. There was also something almost balletic about whole operation. Everything that was involved was on such a large scale and yet the movements were incredibly gentle. Smoko continued on her trip towards the truck, with the Captain valiantly holding onto his rope!

Before too long she was hovering over the truck and then oh so gently she was lowered down until the cradle sat squarely on the truck's trailer.

The strops were removed before the rudder and dodger were carefully craned on board Smoko ready for the journey north. Once that was completed, the crane driver's job was over so he packed all his bits and bobs away and left. Meanwhile, Lyall and the Captain were busying themselves strapping Smoko to the trailer so she was all ready for Monday morning.

And then it was all over. Lyall packed all his belongings away and headed home. We had a celebratory coffee with our friends Allister and Claire Perry who had arrived early on in the loading process. Claire had taken on the role of chief videographer whilst Al was providing much needed moral support. By midday the Captain and I were alone. We ventured back outside, feeling at a bit of a loose end. The Captain climbed up onto the boat as it sat on the trailer.

"You looking for something?" I shouted up to him.

"Nah" came the reply. "Just thought I climb up here...well, because I could, I suppose. Doesn't it feel strange. And on Monday, she'll be gone!"

We spent the weekend relaxing. There were things that needed to be done, but nothing was urgent...and certainly nothing was needed for Monday. We both reckoned the Captain had earned some downtime.

When I left for work on Monday, the Captain and I finalised the arrangements around how I would be able to grab photos of Smoko as she made her way through Dunedin. It was very fortunate that the one way system which leads north out of the city goes right past the hospital where I worked. I'd checked with my boss that it was OK for me to disappear for ten minutes or so to take photos, so all we needed to do was work out the logistics of how I would know she was on her way.

Because the vehicle and load were so big, Smoko was going to require a pilot vehicle for the entire journey. And also because of her size, the journey could not begin until 9am. We decided the easiest thing was for the Captain to phone me as soon as the truck left the property. That would give me enough time to get from work to a suitable place nearby for taking photos. It all sounded eminently sensible.

It seemed an awfully long wait for that phone call. I arrived at work at my usual time (around 7.30am) and initially found it easy to busy myself. But as the time approached 9am I was on tenterhooks, waiting for my phone to ring. I checked my phone with alarming regularity - after all I didn't want to miss the drive-by. Nine o'clock came and went, then five past - no call. Ten past nine - still no call. Had the Captain forgotten he was supposed to be phoning me? No - he wouldn't do that. Quarter past nine - still nothing. I started wondering how long I should wait before phoning the Captain...Twenty past nine - still nothing. I decided to start walking outside - I needed to do something! And then it was half past nine. 'Right' I thought 'I'm going to phone'. But just as I reached into my pocket for my phone, the Captain's number showed up on the screen.

"OK - they're on their way," said the Captain. "We had one or two problems getting out of the driveway - had to take the gatepost out and remove some branches from the trees but all good now. They should be with you in about ten minutes I reckon. Off you go."

And with that he hung up. I walked a few hundred metres up the road, trying work out where I would get the best view. I got to what I hoped would be the perfect spot, then stopped and waited. I watched and watched for what seemed an interminably long time...and then I saw her.

The pilot vehicle was travelling behind the truck to stop cars going up the outside lane of the one way system. There was something quite surreal watching Smoko heading towards me that morning. What I was watching represented six years of our life. She seemed to go past me in next to no time. She disappeared along the road and round a corner and was lost from my view.

As I stared down the road after her, a multitude of emotions were coursing though my body. I felt elated and proud...but also sad and more than a little scared. Life was going to be quite different from now on. It was going to be a time of change - and some of those changes were going to be more profound, more challenging than I would ever have anticipated on that late autumn morning. But a person far wiser than I once said 'If nothing ever changed there'd be no butterflies.' That, for me, puts the whole thing into perspective. Bring on the butterflies!

The best laid plans...

“Who’s that?”

The Captain posed the question as we arrived home from shopping and saw a silver-coloured car parked outside the caravan, but was addressed to no-one in particular. Now I did realise that the question was, broadly speaking, a rhetorical one but I felt strangely compelled to respond.

“I’ve no idea!” was my far from erudite and slightly pointless reply. However, those words had barely left my lips before I heard,

“Reckon it’s Lyall. Do you think it’s Lyall?”

Frankly, I had no idea whether it was Lyall but this time resisted the urge to respond. I watched the Captain stride off towards said car. I could hear the murmur of voices coming from the general direction of the vehicle so presumed that yes, it was Lyall. I busied myself with unloading the shopping. I was sure all would become clear in the fullness of time.

The ‘Lyall’ in question was Lyall Nash, owner of LP Nash Contracting, and, we hoped, the person who would be getting Smoko from Dunedin in the far south east of South Island New Zealand to Picton which is right at the north-eastern tip of the South Island. In our original plans this represented a fairly straightforward proposition – or at least as straightforward as things can be when it comes to moving a four tonne, 36-foot boat the length of South Island New Zealand on a truck. True, at around 700kms it was a fair distance, but the main state highway on the South Island, the SH1, meandered up the east coast and essentially connected Dunedin and Picton.

Where the mountains meet the sea - the Kaikoura Range

But just after midnight on 14 November 2016 all that changed. A magnitude 7.8 earthquake hit 60kms south of the east coast town of Kaikoura. At a depth of 15kms, ruptures occurred along multiple fault lines in the area with the largest amount of the energy being released north of the epicentre. It generated the strongest ground acceleration ever recorded in New Zealand and caused widespread damage throughout the South Island districts of Hurunui, Marlborough and Kaikōura, closing both the SH1 and the Main North Line railway between Picton and Christchurch. Amazingly, there were only two deaths as a result of the quake.

With close to a million cubic metres of rock and material falling onto the coastal transport corridor, Kaikoura and the surrounding rural communities were isolated - all roads and the rail network in and out of the area were damaged and closed by the slips.

This major event disrupted the lives of many. Homes were damaged and businesses were closed. Farms were left with damaged land and no access to markets for their goods. Communities were devastated by the loss of trade from passing traffic and tourists.

Kaikoura north wharf after the quake

Kaikoura is about 156kms south of Picton so with that area of the SH1 now out of action we needed an alternative. But that wasn’t as easy as it sounds. South Island New Zealand is dominated by the Southern Alps, a mountain range that runs approximately 500kms north east to south west essentially extending along the length of the Island. The name ‘Southern Alps’ generally refers to the entire range, although separate names are given to many of the smaller ranges that form part of it. With the SH1 out of action the Kaikoura Range, the Spenser Mountains and the St Arnaud Range essentially barred any direct route for us between the south and Picton. Our only alternative would be to use what became known post-quake as the State Highway Corridor between Christchurch and Picton via the Lewis Pass.

The Lewis Pass is the northernmost of the three main passes over the Southern Alps and at 864m, it is the second highest of those passes. It winds its way through extensive areas of native beech forest and whilst it makes an awesome journey for sightseeing it was not designed for low-loaders with 36-foot boats on board! But following the quake this became the main route for all freight between the Picton and the south of South Island. And this was the route that Lyall would have to take...assuming he agreed to take the job on.

...and whilst it makes an awesome sightseeing journey it was not designed for low-loaders...

I think it's fair to say that the prospect of that journey was not exactly filling Lyall with joy.  We had had several discussions with him before his current visit and I suspect, deep down, he hoped that perhaps we could wait until the road was open again before moving Smoko. And of course, that was an option. The Captain and I had definitely contemplated that idea. But the timeframe for the re-opening was being put at December 2017 at the earliest and here we were in early April. Could we really countenance waiting for another eight months before moving Smoko? And what if we decided to wait and then the road didn't open in December? I'd said I didn't want to spend yet another winter in the caravan...And so the reasons for not waiting mounted. Logic dictated we had to go.

The sound of a car driving off brought me back from the mildly catatonic state that, for me, generally accompanies putting grocery shopping away. A few seconds later, the Captain appeared in the caravan. I tried to scrutinise his demeanour for any hints as to the outcome of his conversation with Lyall but in the end abandoned subtlety in favour of the direct approach.

"Well?" The Captain looked at me somewhat quizzically as if uncertain why I would be asking him a question.

"Well what?" he queried.

I attempted to stifle the sense of irritation I was feeling at this point.

"I'm assuming that was Lyall...?"

By now the Captain was engrossed in writing things down and generally busying himself with 'stuff'. Several seconds passed with no reply. I was about to ask the question again when he said,

"Errmmm, sorry! What? Did you say something? I was just writing things down whilst I remembered...what did you say?"

Exasperated, I took a breath ready to revisit my original question but before I managed to say anything the Captain continued,

"That was Lyall. He's had a good look at the boat..."

The Captain stopped again and wrote something else down. I couldn't help myself.

"And...? Blimey, you're so frustrating! Are you not able to multitask?" The Captain looked really wounded by my apparent sudden bout of unreasonableness.

"Of course I can't multitask" he replied, "I'm a bloke! Anyway, enough of that. The boat's heading up to Picton on 08 May. That's just about three weeks from now. Lyall will load it up the previous Friday so it's ready for an early start on the Monday. Pilot vehicle's all organised. Now all we need to do is to make sure everything is ready to go. Oh yes, and make sure Geoff is ready for Smoko's arrival in Waikawa...and hope the weather behaves so there are no issues with the roads. So what did you want to know?"

I was stunned into silence by the news - sort of relieved, excited and nervous all at the same time - so I simply smiled and shook my head to indicate I had nothing more to ask.

"Oh - and don't forget to book that Friday off as a holiday" he added. "We need someone to take photos of the move. And I'll ask Claire to do a video."

I wanted to say I didn't really want to be there - like I hadn't been there when the boat was turned - but how could I do that to the Captain. However, I didn't need to say anything because by that time he was busy scribbling away again and as we've already established, multitasking isn't exactly the Captain's forte!

So there we have it. We have a date. Things were finally moving. Let the fun begin.

Anticrepuscular rays - Tunnel Beach, Dunedin