So what have you been doing today?

The lights of Dunedin

And so we took our leave from Picton and headed south. It was dark by the time we reached Dunedin but the journey back was spectacularly uneventful with no sign of the threatened storm force winds for which I was immensely grateful. In fact the weather had been so benign that we actually managed the entire journey in one go - a far cry from the insanely slow trips which had been the norm on previous occasions.

Our return to reality came complete with the realisation that we only had about five weeks before we were due to fly out to the UK.

"OK, so over the next couple of weeks I'm just going to have to spend as much time as possible working on the boat so that I can make sure all the glassing is done before we leave," Howard announced. "That way it will have the couple of weeks we're away to cure properly."

"Are you absolutely certain those guys will be able to get the glassing done in four days?" I queried. I hated to sound pessimistic but somehow it seemed so improbable but then again, what did I know.

"Well that's what they said," Howard pointed out. Did he sound just a wee tad uncertain too? I suspected he might! So over the next couple of weeks Howard's days seemed to consist of planing, sanding, more sanding, yet more sanding, applying fairing compound, sanding, more sanding...it was as if it was never going to finish.

Applying the fairing compound before doing yet more sanding!

Then one day I came home from work and asked my usual 'So what have you been doing today?' question and was blown away to hear Howard say:

"I've finished! It's all done and I'm ready for the glassing to start."

Now this I had to see. I raced into the shed. The boat was looking great.

"So when can those guys come?" I asked

"Hopefully in a day or so. With a bit of luck we should be able to start earlier than I'd planned."

"Hey, that's great." It was good to see Howard looking so happy especially after he had been working so hard.

A couple of days later all the gear for the glassing started to arrive. The huge drum of epoxy was even wrapped in our electric blanket so that it didn't get too cold - ah bless (and yes, I know, what about poor old me?)! And then the day dawned when everything was ready to start. When I left for work in the morning the excitement was almost palpable.

"Just think," I said, "by the time I come home tonight she'll have her first layer of glass complete!"

"I know. It's going to be so good getting this done before we go." Howard was beaming at the thought.

So I waited for what I thought would be a reasonable amount of time and then phoned Howard to find out how things were going. I didn't have to be psychic to work out that things were not going well - in fact they were going very badly! I decided it would be politic not to ask too many questions at this point in time so muttered something about hoping things got better as the day went on. I got a cursory 'Hmmm' in reply which didn't exactly sound imbued with optimism!

Four days plus a considerable amount of angst and grumpiness later there was one complete layer of glassing on the boat. So only another four to go - woohoo (note to reader: that was an ironic 'woohoo')! No chance then that it would be done before we left for the UK. That was a huge disappointment. Howard, needless to say, was gutted.

One layer of glassing done - only four to go!

And setting aside the disappointment of the glassing not being completed before we left for the UK, it was also beginning to look as though having these guys in to do it for us was not going to make economic sense. They'd made a good job of what they'd done so far but the cost of continuing at that application rate would be prohibitive. On the other hand, not having them do it would slow everything down. It reminded me a bit of those maths problems we used to have to do at junior school - you know the sort: 'If it takes three men four days to do one layer of glassing, how long will it take one man to do five?' Answers on a postcard please!

All-in-all I believed it was probably a good job that our UK trip was coming up.

"It'll give us space and time to think." I tried to make this statement sound quite philosophical but I'm not sure Howard was convinced.

"It doesn't alter the fact that it's really going to delay things." Howard was despondent. "And if the drum of epoxy is still not going to be warm enough even with the electric blanket wrapped around it and the shed is too cold to use the epoxy in spite of the diesel heater being on, what on earth am I going to do all winter?"

Now he had a point there. I felt I needed to keep being upbeat though.

"Remember that the winters in New Zealand are fairly short so by the time we're back from the UK we should only have a few weeks before the weather starts to warm up." Howard looked at me - I could see he was unconvinced. I decided to try a different tack.

"Maybe you'll just have to have a rest for a few weeks until spring arrives," I continued. "Remember you're always telling me that your hobby is sleeping? Well, here's your perfect excuse!" Howard scowled and looked at me over the top of his glasses. Oops, maybe I'd judged this all wrong and really hosed him off with my slightly flippant comments. Suddenly the corners of his mouth twitched and then turned into a huge grin.

 

"I guess you're right," he said.

"What do you mean 'you guess I'm right'?" I countered. "I thought you knew that I'm always right!"

"Whatever!" We both burst into fits of laughter. It was all going to be just fine.

Sails, sheets and shiny bits!

Okiwi Bay

And so the journey back to Waikawa began. As we drove along we chatted about our plans not only for the next couple of days but also for our continuing boat build. The views along Croisilles French Pass Road were absolutely stunning and seemed to send our imaginations and enthusiasm to an even higher plane. We dropped down into Okiwi Bay but instead of driving straight through, the truck ground to a halt outside the camp ground. I was confused.

"Were you thinking of staying here overnight?" I asked, trying not to sound too disparaging in case this was indeed the Captain's intention.

"Eee, no lass," came the reply in a very dodgy imitation of a Lancashire accent. "I saw a sign for ice creams. Do you think I might deserve an ice cream?" The question came in a plaintiff little voice from the general direction of the Captain.

"Ooh, I'm not so sure about that," I countered. "Oh, go on then - I reckon we both deserve one!"

"Great. Here's some money. I'll look after the truck whilst you go and get them."

Now how does that always seem to happen? How does Howard get to stay put whilst I'm dispatched on the mission? I suppose I'm just lucky that way or something! Anyway, he passed me his wallet (that could have been a very dangerous move) and settled down to wait for my return.

Queen Charlotte Sound

We were soon on the road again, en route for Waikawa and the glorious Queen Charlotte Sound area. The conversation was free-flowing and tinged with excitement. There was just so much to think about. Once we returned home from this trip we would have a little over six weeks before we were due to go over to the UK to visit family and Howard's mind was racing through what he would be able to get done before we left.

 

When we had originally decided to build the boat we had reluctantly accepted the fact that winter would call a halt to construction work because the night time temperatures would be too low and the humidity too high for the epoxy to cure properly. We'd contemplated using some form of heating in the boat shed but all the heating options we had researched looked as though they would actually increase the humidity so would be self-defeating.

 

Not long before we came away though Howard had made a breakthrough and found out drying and curing would be possible with a diesel heater, so it appeared he could now be in the happy position of being able to carry on with the build more-or-less whatever the weather. His planning was going into overdrive as he realised there was an outside chance that he could get the hull fibre-glassed before we went to the UK. And that would put us months ahead of schedule - how exciting would that be?

Working on the hull

"So you see, when I get home I need to get the planing and sanding done and then she can be glassed," Howard explained to me.

"How long should it take you to do that then?" I asked. Let's face it, I didn't have the foggiest idea - after all, I'm just the cabin boy!

"Ooh, that's a bit hard to say, but I'd like to think I'd have finished all that by early May which should leave a couple of weeks before we go to the UK for the glassing."

"And will that be enough time to finish the glassing?"

The Captain thought for a few moments and then said, "Well, those guys who I've asked about doing it reckoned four or five days, so I suppose they know what they're talking about. I will try to get it ready to do as soon as I can, though, just so we have a bit of extra time up our sleeves."

In the meantime, we had the end of our holiday to deal with. Dark Star wouldn't be going out again because the forecast was now very insistent that there would be be gale or even storm force winds within a couple of days. Being out on the water in a tinnie in 40 knot winds certainly didn't float my boat (if you pardon the pun!) and neither did towing a 6.7m boat the 690kms from Picton back to Dunedin in that kind of wind. We had decided to try to get home before the worst of the winds set in, so that left us with only the one full day and we had lots to fit into that day.

Picton

It started, as days in Picton always seem to, with a trip to one of the local cafes for a coffee (or, in my case, a tea). And then the really exciting stuff began. First stop was KJL Sail. Owned and operated by Kent Luxton, we were fortunate enough to meet with the man himself and soon Howard and Kent were deep in conversation. Now, for someone who was still trying to get their head around tacks, clews, luffs, leeches and roaches (I'd mastered head and foot!) as well as the fact that a sheet isn't necessarily something you put on your bed, to say I was completely out of my depth was something of an understatement! So I simply sat back and tried to look very knowledgeable, nodding occasionally in an effort to indicate that I was still following the finer points of the discussion. Howard, on the other hand, was in his element. The dialogue was free-flowing and wide-ranging, sail plans were carefully scrutinised and critiqued and the relative merits of kevlar and dacron bandied about. I was seriously in need of another cup of tea!

With all the information that he needed for the time being safely tucked away in Howard's brain we took our leave of Kent and headed for Waikawa (via The Jolly Roger cafe!). And you can't possibly go to Waikawa without wandering round the marina.



Wandering the pontoons at Waikawa Marina

As we were strolling amongst the boats dreaming of the time when we would be living on our boat, it suddenly struck me that it was almost exactly a year since we had be shown around the Catalina 36 that had in so many ways been the catalyst to changing our lives.

 

"Hey, let's see if we can find 'Water Music' again - you know, just for old times' sake," I shouted to Howard, who by now was some distance ahead of me.

 

"You're a funny old thing," came the reply as Howard sauntered back to join me. "We won't be able to go aboard her you know."

 

"I know, but I'd quite like to see her again." Howard gave me one of those long suffering looks that I've learnt to know and love but he humoured me anyway.

 

We wandered up and down all the pontoons on the east side of the marina and then repeated the exercise on the west side but all to no avail. She wasn't there. Oh well, maybe next time... 

 

Waikawa Marina

OK, so back to the job at hand. We had actually come to Waikawa to visit Waikawa Marine and Rigging so we left the pontoons and made our way there. As we meandered up the slight incline towards the shop I was steeling myself for being completely out of my depth for the second time in one day. If I thought I was struggling to get my head around luffs and leeches, when it came to knowing my pushpit from my pulpit or my bobstay from my baggywrinkle - well you might as well have been speaking to me in Swahili! Looked like I'd have to resort to trying to look intelligent again.

 

Now, if I thought Howard was in his element in KJL Sail that was nothing in comparison to his reaction as he walked round Waikawa Marine and Rigging. His eyes lit up as he spotted shelf after shelf of shiny (and to me, indeterminate) goodies. He was just like a kid in a candy store. Geoff Robinson - the owner of this gem of an emporium - introduced himself to us and Howard began to tell him our boat-building story to date.

 

"It's a Brazilian design Geoff, called a Multichine 36. I have the boat plans with me on my laptop if that's any help," Howard explained.

 

"Aha, now that's good to know." Geoff sounded enthusiastic. "Tell you what, come with me!"

 

He whisked us off into the workshop, chairs were assembled and tea/coffee made. Meanwhile Howard logged onto his laptop and opened up the plans. The conversation ebbed and flowed as proposals were put forward, suggestions outlined and debated, samples critiqued and examined. I was exhausted just watching and listening.

 

As the end of the working day approached we prepared to take our leave, our heads stuffed full of exciting concepts.

 

Sunset over Waikawa Bay

"Hey, why don't you both stay and join us for a barbeque?" asked Geoff. "We have some yachties coming over to join us who would be really good for you to meet. There's a Canadian couple who also built their own yacht as well as some Brits who bought theirs and then decided to sail around the world. What d'ya reckon?"

 

And so our holiday came to an end, with our minds in a whirl. We were ready for anything the next few months could throw at us. Or were we...?