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NZ Fiji crossing 2025 the reality of our ocean crossing

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Tess and Marty taking a quiet moment after refuelling

My recollections of our NZ Fiji crossing is a messy haze of days, moments and sensations. The latter was predominately seasickness. Amongst my haze awash with nausea there were magic moments that lifted my spirit and gave me joy when reflecting on our voyage.

Having attempted two crossings previously…

The first was our voyage from Australia to NZ. The other was an aborted voyage from NZ to Vanuatu; we had to turn back when Martin fell ill. And so, you see that I have had little experience to base my expectations on.

On our Australia / NZ crossing I was seasick for two days, though that didn’t hinder me in my responsibilities and watches that I loved. Perhaps with our first crossing, my eyes were big and my mind in awe as everything was new. One big unknown for both Marty and I was how would we feel when we could no longer see land. We found that we both loved it. I was in awe and in tune with my surroundings, with nature and had a deepness of joy of being at one with the natural universe. This joy was further deepened by undertaking the crossing with two of my favourite people, my husband and my brother-in-law.

Our crossing was gentle. Mother nature was kind to us. I had fallen in love with night sailing, the stars and the moon on the water. I recall conversing with my (experienced seaman) uncle, saying ‘I don’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved’. To which he replied, ‘Be relieved, as there will be days when you will wish mother nature would have been kinder to you.’ As they say, you plan for the worst and hope for the best.

Marty reading his book on his iPhone

I found that on this NZ Fiji crossing that I missed the clarity of our second (aborted Vanuatu) ocean trip. I can’t recall a time in the last 10 years or so where I had been clearer in my head as then. No nagging inner voices, no pressure of things to do, totally in the moment and present.  

Perhaps for the Vanuatu voyage I had a different mix of the excitement and anticipation nerves. Less concern and more eagerness. It became clear fairly quickly that I was not going to experience the seasickness of my first trip. It turned out it was Marty’s (aka hubby) turn. This trip, I did not have concerns about how I would feel being out of sight of land. I had no concerns about how our boat Saboteur would handle the seas. I trusted her completely. Despite having to turn back after 3.5 days I look back on this voyage as a challenge I stepped up to. I loved this voyage for other reasons. However, we did not achieve our dream to sail to Vanuatu.

With the above context for our NZ Fiji crossing, despite the rise and fall of the sun, the days were a haze for me. My disappointment is that I had hoped to write lyrically about a magical voyage took you the reader with me on our adventure. Finally, I write to share our tales, but I warn you they were without the rose-coloured lens of hopes and dreams, but the reality of day-to-day passage making and its challenges.

Rainbow

Meet our crew

We cleared customs late afternoon and returned to our boat. Before casting off out of the beautiful Bay of Islands Marina Opua, I poured 5 glasses of Sailor Jerry, a spiced Jamaican rum. One for each of the crew and one for the weather gods asking them to be kind to us. And so, we departed in a wave of excitement and energy. It was Skipper Marty (Hubby), First-mate Tess, Able-crew man Iain and Able-crew man Michael. As with any new crew you never really know how they are going to handle a passage and fit in. What starts well with best intentions does not always work out that way. We have heard horror stories. Fortunately, our crew were brilliant.

Meet Iain

Marty had meet Iain in Gisborne, a picturesque small town on the east coast of NZ located in Poverty Bay. The bay is a mixture of rugged coastline and sandy surf beaches that stretch further than the eye can see, divided by a large river mouth where three rivers meet and run out to sea. The area is famous for its wines, farming, timber, fruit and vegetables. For us, it’s amazing friendliness.

The town has character. It is a small harbour centre with enough of the “essential Kiwi experience to bring the large tourist ships into port.

Iain reading his book

We met Iain in Gisborne. He is/was a tuna fisherman. The meeting was not easy as he is shy, often preferring days at sea over the company of fellow man. Marty had seen his lovely yacht in the marina and was insistent on meeting this guy. Iain had recently bought his yacht and was keen to sail. A true seaman, clearly not being at sea day-in-day-out fishing was not enough for him.

Over time their friendship developed. Marty had to sail our yacht back to Auckland and needed crew (I was still returning from being overseas). So, he asked Iain to crew for him. Marty and Iain had their first passage together. What was meant to be a 3.5-day sail, due to some damage and the inability to drop the headsail in strong following winds which meant much of the trip at speeds well over the boat’s design, saw the voyage being a 2.5-day passage. Iain unphased by unexpected damage and rough weather proved to be a practical and calm person to have on board.

I first meet Iain when they arrived in Auckland. He was grinning from ear-to-ear, in his element, jumping in and being practical. Seeing things that needed to be done and just doing them, tidying up lines, asking for tools we did not have to repair netting and finding other ways to do it anyway. He helped bring down the damaged sail and take it to land.

Meet Michael

I first met Michael when working at Burnsco Chandlery, Gulf Harbour. Michael was working for Weber marine would come into work, rummage through the plumbing wall and assemble incredible structures of plumbing fittings and walk out leaving behind a masterpiece. I knew not to disassemble it as he would typically return a couple of hours later having revised the design or obtained new measurements to ensure his masterpiece fitted into the boat they were building.

Michael is also shy and over time, we became friends. Eventually, he started accepting our invitations to dinner. About six month before our passage, he asked if we were planning to do an ocean crossing. We told him of our plans and he asked, if he could make it work (schedule wise) would he be able to crew? The answer was yes.

Timing wise, it all came together, and we rounded up our crew. Marty and I extraverts and Iain and Michael quiet introverts. We considered both to be friends. Would this be the same after 8 or 9 days at sea? Only time had that answer.

Sleeping arrangements

Our sleeping arrangements were such that, I slept in our bed. I have this amazing ability to assume the crime scene position and not move. Image the outline of a dead body on the bed. Face down sleeping with arms and legs at strange angles that means I do not roll off the bed. Our bed is an island bed which means it does not have the expected lee cloths that prevent you from rolling out when the boat either leans too far or surfs down waves.

The third night I slept in the cockpit as I was not sure if I went downstairs, I would come back up again. The last two nights under passage I also slept in the cockpit. I love sleeping there enjoying the warmer weather. Especially when we are anchored up in a calm bay with a beautiful full moon. It is pure magic. Unfortunately, I missed the beauty of the moon when we had it as I was too sick. I digress…

The boys had options where to sleep. They had a choice of the front bunk, the sea berth in the salon and the bench seat at the table and finally the cockpit. Each of these have their pros and cons.

Given the easterly nature of our winds, the ideal bunk was the sea berth in the salon. The lie of the vessel with the easterlies kept you in bed. Having said that, lee clothes are recommended as Marty found out when we bounced off a wave and he was lifted out of the bunk on to the floor. Fortunately, no injuries sustained.

The front bunk complete with a lee cloth was more like a hammock as due to the angle of the vessel. It required trust in the lee cloth and the fastening mechanisms that held it in place. This became Michaels preferred spot for sleeping.

The dining table bench seat. While on the high side of the vessel the table kept you in place easily. Iain was often found here or in the sea berth.

Getting to know each other

There were four of us living in close quarters, taking it in turns to be on watch, relax and sleep we successfully navigate this micro-environment, all of us being able to find space for ourselves and each other as required.

Our collective energies were high. Marty and I happy to be finally heading off and Iain and Michael about to undertake their dream of doing an ocean crossing. Already we all were seeming to interact together well. Marty made dinner of burgers, and we all bantered away in the cockpit. Topics ranging from boat things to life stories to fishing to building tiny houses. Why tiny houses? Random, I know. Michael has been building tiny house since 2016. He loves building. He bought his first boat at 9 years old, did it up and sold it at 11years of age. His has a small building crew dedicated to his tiny house builds. I have been helping him with his on-line web content. I had thought during the passage we would be able to discuss some work. Ha, ha – not to be.

Deciding on helm watches

One of the biggest topics that needs to be sorted out before the voyage are watches. By watches, we mean how long will each person be at the helm in charge of the boat watching for traffic, trimming sails, checking instruments, keeping an eye for damage on lines etc. Even though you are in the open ocean there is surprisingly plenty to do and look out for. And there is also a lot of nothing.

Initially Marty and I were thinking 3 hour watches twice a day. Iain threw into the mix 6-hour watches. My first thoughts were no way. However, as Iain explained we have 6 hours and the rest of the day off. Everyone appeared to be willing to try it and if it did not work and we were too tired towards the end of our watch we would switch to 3-hour shifts. And so, we started our 6-hour shifts. Marty was 6pm to midnight, Iain midnight to 6am, me 6 am to midday and Michael midday to 6pm.

Putting suncover protections on our spare diesel tanks

Best intentions

At some time the first evening, I went to bed with the plan to get a good night’s sleep ready for my first shift at 6am. As the night went on, I could feel myself getting seasick. I hoped that the sensation would pass. Unfortunately, sometime during the night I woke to rush to the bathroom to throw up and returned to bed, only to doze and repeat. At about 7.30am Marty woke me, informing me that Iain had already done an extra 1.5hr because I and slept in. I apologised and told Marty I could not take the helm I was too sick. For the next 2 days the three boys covered my watches between them.

The third day, I did venture into the cockpit, looking green, I am sure. Suggestions were offered as to what to try and eat. Michael gave me an ‘Up and Go’ drink. Vanilla, icy cold, nice. I cautiously sipped, liked the coolness of it and took a second sip. Instantly reaching for the bowl as my body rejected the Up and Go. I don’t know if I will ever be able to drink them again. Fortunately, I was able to keep down hydrolyte drinks.

Over day 3, 4 and 5 I was regularly saying I can’t do this again. At one point I recall saying I would do the passage back to NZ and then I am done. The boys kept joking with me, especially as I regained my capacity to retain food, if I was still done. It was a resounding yes. Although I recall similar thoughts from our trip to Tin Can Bay. An eleven hour journey is very different to our 9 day NZ Fiji crossing.

We have no water

My only other recollection of the first few days was hearing a discussion that we had no water. It was impossible that we had no water as we had filled the tanks before departure the day before. Michael, the plumbing genius, set about finding the issue. He spent about 4-5 hours lifting floorboards checking each part of our water system until he found the issue. Fortunately, it was a simple fix and water once again flowed freely through our pipes. How he did that in reasonable rough seas and not be seasick I had no idea. Cast iron stomach comes to mind.

By the time I made it upstairs, the first few days of rough weather was behind us and we were heading into a couple of calm days. While this made me feel better it was not ideal for passage making. We turned the motor on and motor-sailed until here was no longer enough wind. We dropped the sails and simply motored.

Hooked on fishing

Iain with a grin on his face, threw two fishing lines out and later that day we had a skippy tuna. He killed it and blooded it and hung it on the transom to firm up a little. He than filleted it. Iain had told us that he did not know how to cook… followed by the only thing he can cook is fish. We already knew he would not be in the galley much. Still, he cooked the tuna that night in butter and garlic. We had tuna for 4 meals straight. It was wonderful.

Michael also said he was not much of a chef. However, he frequently made lunches or tea/coffee for everyone. He was the most effective person in the galley when the Saboteur was on extreme lean. Most of the evening meals fell on Marty. I truly appreciated everyone’s contributions.

The quieter days

At some point in our quiet days, we had a drink. I had Sailor Girl Jerry with orange juice, Marty had cider, Michael had Rum and Coke and I think Iain also had a Rum and Coke. I gave a rum to the weather gods. Although I am not sure they liked my choice. We don’t run a dry boat, however most of the time we do not feel like a drink. On our first passage, the calmness allowed as to have a drink with our evening meal. We would only have one. Fortunately, we have never had to say to anyone on passage, don’t you think you have had enough.

Passage maintenance

At different times, we had to attended to items out of the cockpit. These included, securing my standup paddle board or kayak and tidy up lines that were tied off at the mast that had been slowly worked their way towards the deck. In most cases, Iain proactively set about doing this informing one of us he was stepping out of the cockpit (to keep a watch on him), clipping on and getting on with what needed to be done. His years on tuna fishing boats and experience of rough seas, is forever appreciated. As is still having my SUP onboard to enjoy.

Weather monitoring

Weather wise we managed to find our way safely through three low pressure systems. Marty, Iain and Michael consulted a lot about the weather. Iain being the tuna fisherman was checking 2 hourly weather updates, while we being the cruisers were getting twice daily updates. It was great to hear them collectively explore and discuss options. As I had missed the first three days weather discussions and the next two days were calm, I saw no real need to join these conversations.

Weather planning is part science, part art all offered up to the hands of Mother Nature. All forecasting models can only give reasonable accuracy for the first 3 days. After that, it is based on the assumptions made and probability. All of the weather forecasting models said the last two days would be rough. How rough was yet to be seen. Ranges from 15knots to 30knots with gusts of 45knots. The sea forecast was between 2.5m to 4 -5 metre swells with about 7 – 9 second intervals.

The weather predictions were correct

As we journeyed north, we could see the predictions were correct. It was going to be rough. The first 4 days of sailing our sails were reefed down. For my non-sailor friends, this means we have only released enough sail for the weather conditions. Light winds normally mean full sail. Rough winds would mean reduced sail. We have three sails and a 23m mast. So, there is a lot of fabric up there to handle if the winds change quickly. At night we always reefed down so that it is easier to handle. As a result, we lose a couple of knots in speed overnight but have more manageable amounts of fabric and reduced risk of damaging the rigging.

Once again, we were sailing with reefed sails. Why? because the winds were strong and getting stronger. The seas were big and getting bigger. The first 24 hours of this rougher weather were comfortable. Comfortable is relative. We were travelling anywhere between 7 and 17degrees angle to the boat due to the easterly winds on our beam. The ocean swells gradually shifted from the south to the east. Consequently, we were not only on an angle but rising and falling between 2.5 to 3.5 metres every 8 seconds. This was comfortable because it was consistent and gentle. Our boat rose beautifully up the swell and regularly surfed down the swell.

A rough ride

Gradually the winds raised forcing our toe rails (where the boat hull meets the deck) into the water on a more regular basis. The swell grew from rolling to a sea of white caps and to breaking waves across the beam at 4 to 5 metres. The winds were consistently higher than forecast at between 30 to 40knots with stronger gusts. At one point we briefly considered changing direction and sailing in more comfortable direction to Vanuatu.

However, our destination was Fiji and our only choice was to weather out the stronger seas. At no point did Saboteur show any sign of faltering. Nor her crew. By this stage captain Marty had made standing orders that we must have two in the cockpit at all times with safety lines attached. One person on watch and someone else who can be immediately available to assist. Both our crew were loving the voyage and this weather did nothing to dampen their experience. If anything, it fuelled it. Their conversation turned to crewing for us when we sail back from Vanuatu. For us they are more than welcome.

Amazed and a little jealous

While the seas are getting rougher, I was amazed at Marty’s continued ability to read books on his iPhone. Iain’s ability to read paperback books in the cabin and Michael’s ability to jump online and order materials for his next tiny house build and check in with his crew. Meanwhile, I am unable to do any of this.

I have never been able to read on passage. The very act of writing up the logbook at the end of shift is enough to make me nauseous again and marking our position on the chart in a moving sea when nauseous is beyond me. In some ways, I feel this keeps me more connected to nature because I do not escape into a book. That is not in any way a judgement of others, when they are off watch they can do what they want. I am at the same time jealous of their ability to do so. At times I feel robbed of reading, writing or drawing time. Past passages I have made short videos and provided updates, this passage it was beyond me.

Human connection and spirit

Back to the rough seas. We had started receiving messages from other vessels ahead and behind us. A conversation in passing, only we were between 2 to 20 nautical miles from each other. They were out of sight of us bar for the AIS technology showing each other our positions. We updated each other of the sea conditions where we were. We learnt of sail damage on one boat. However, somehow these conversations were about the human connection and spirit. We all know we were close to our destination and looking out for each other. A beautiful part of human nature that one cannot explain. When we finally felt shelter of the east coast of Fiji, we radioed through to SV Blue Horizon to share the news that there is shelter ahead. Even though they knew it they were glad to hear it.

As we were getting close to the reef passage for the final leg of our voyage, we turned into the wind to lower our sails and hoist our yellow quarantine flag. SV Moin radioed us to tell us we were turning too early and heading for a reef. They had not realised we were lowering the sails. They also informed us of the style of channel markers, how to line them up and gave us the precise bearings for our approach once in the channel. The angle was 78 degrees, just in case you wanted to know. Amongst all those pieces of information I forget to tell them we were only lowering our sails. They probably still think we are novices. Which we are in many ways.

Marty refuelling

Almost there

Michael had handed over the helm to Marty at 6, and a couple of hours later he was fatigued. It was a seriously rough watch. He went and had a power nap returning to the cockpit around 5 hours later refreshed.

Back in the cockpit we were all in good spirits. All on look out as there are reefs everywhere and we were arriving at night. We turned into the passage around 9pm and had another 17 nautical miles to go to where we could anchor for the night. .

Coming into the anchoring area it was dark. There were a couple of LPG transport ships (huge by comparison to our boat) and at night hard to make out if they were buildings on land or ships in the water. Even though our instruments told us that they were ships. There was a small mooring field, however it was too dark to see the moorings. With Marty on helm and the rest of us up front looking to for things to avoid we settled on dropping anchor and tidying up saboteur for the night.

We had made it.

We were anlchored up outside Vuda Marina and had radio through to advise we were seeking customs clearance in the morning. Iain was also fatigued and so with our crew fast asleep, Marty and I sat in the cockpit for a while. Words cannot explain the quiet satisfaction of achieving this voyage. Grateful for our amazing boat that carried us here. Grateful for the crew that made this passage, even though it was the roughest we have ever undertaken, they made everything possible. And yes, we are all still friends.

The NZ Fiji crossing voyage had taken 8.5 days, we were deeply happy. It required grit, determination and conviction. We had done it.

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In Liveaboard

Best paint job ever

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Proud of our beautiful new paint job

This post is a shout out to The Boat Builder. Loving your work.

Oct ’22 Manly , Queensland Australia

Conversation with Shannan Batey, The Boat Builder

—

Shannan (The Boat Builder) ‘I want to be there when you reconnect your anchor to Saboteur’

Me (Tess, the client) ‘Why? Are you worried that we will accidentally damage your beautiful new paint work?’

Shannan, ‘Absolutely’

Me, ‘Gotcha, I understand.’

—

We were all feeling very proud of the beautiful new finish on our yacht ‘Saboteur’.

Jan ’23, Coastal waters of the Bay of Plenty, North Island, New Zealand

Three months later we are 1500nm (that is nautical miles) away from Manly, Queensland, Australia, off the East Coast of the North Island of New Zealand. We were motor sailing towards Wellington staying ahead of a storm front. Our motor slowed, choked, and died. Over the next 6 hours, it happened another three times until it would not start again. The storm was catching us. The sea state was 3.5m swells with 2 metre cross swells. On every fifth swell, the cross swell was causing us to rise and slam our bow into the water creating a crest of spray across the length of the boat.

NZ Coast Guard

We need help. The Gisborne Harbour Master connected us with marine rescue, or Coast Guard as it is called in NZ. Still able to travel under sail, we sailed 6 hour to the Bay of Poverty where we turned in heading for Gisborne with the security of knowing that the Coast Guard was on standby to assist us to dock.

We anchored in the Bay of Poverty and brought our sails in. With sails secured, the Coast Guard came alongside us, and the process began of securing four lines to secure us tightly to their craft. Their craft is fully skirted with protective fenders. But even in the bay, there were still large swells throwing both craft around, causing some very heavy collisions. Finally, secured to the coast guard vessel and I raised the anchor. Marty (Martin Lloyd) was on the helm. Getting started and gaining movement was the hardest part. A rough swell saw our boats rise and fall in opposite directions at the same time causing impact damage to the teak tow-rail. Marty was stressing about the impact on our new paint work. I was more matter of fact. Let’s wait and see.

The skills of the Coast Guard in guiding our boat to safety were amazing.

A warm welcome

Coming up to the dock we saw Peter, the Harbour Master, in his all-weather jacket, rain belting down on him, waiting to catch our lines.

The pending 40 – 50 knot winds and attendant gusts that were due any moment. Consequently, we doubled up and tripled up our mooring lines.

We thanked the Coast Guard and waved them goodbye. They along with Peter said they know where we are and will catch up with us over the next day or two.

Relief

With everyone gone, I dared to look at the hull, at our new paint job. It was perfect. Absolutely no damage at all. Thank you to Shannan Batey and crew for the best paint job ever. Now to contact them about the best way to repair the tow-rail.

Thank you Shannan Batey and Kurt Eric Chu

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In Marina life

Trapped by an anchor chain and how we broke free

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Trapped by an anchor chain! This post tells the story of the trials and tribulations of preparing and securing our boat Saboteur in order to have a worry-free visit to see Martin Lloyd in the Philippines.

—

Freddie Mercury singing, ‘I want to break free’ is ringing in my head.

I was attempting to leave the Brisbane River to berth Saboteur securely at East Coast Marina in Manly while I visited Marty in the Philippines. I did not want to worry about Saboteur being left on anchor while I was away.

Let me step you back a little. I had had a restless sleep. I was overflowing with a mix of emotions. Excitement and anticipation as it was one more sleep before I would be winging my way to Marty. It had been two months. I was also a tad nervous, as it was going to be the first time I docked Saboteur myself. Normally Martin docks and I take us off the doc when we leave. It is just a habit we got into.

I was probably a tad overwhelmed as well. I had so many projects on the go and the boat looked like a bombshell had hit it. Not how I normally like it. I am a touch boat proud.

My partner in crime for the trip was Phil, a friend we meet while at Dockside Marina. He and his wife had owned a Tayana 54. They have sailed it around the world twice. I was looking forward to the trip and consider Phil a Mentor.

First things first, prior to picking him up I went through the safety checks:

  • I – Isolate (we are on anchor so it is fine)
  • F – Fuel, Aft tank full. Forward tank, 25 litres
  • W – Water
  • O – Oil
  • B – Belts
  • B – Bilge
  • L – Links
  • E – I forget… Need to look it up… Ha, ha…

I headed into North Shore Hamilton to pick Phil up at the recreational jetty. He jumped into the dinghy and we headed back.

We disembarked from the tender via the swim deck and connected it to its davits. I passed the oars and the bailer up to Phil then removed the electric motor outboard battery and placed it on the swim deck and then passed it to Phil. I had to hunt for the key to unlock the steel cable on the outboard shaft. Mental note – I should have done that earlier.

Found it… I unlocked the cable and unscrewed the clamps that secured the shaft to the transom. As I was mid-lift, Phil quietly said, ‘You really should have a safety line on that’. OMG, what was I thinking. He was dead right, and I had flashbacks of chasing my 20-litre water bottle down the river. Extra carefully, I lifted it on the swim deck and passed it up to Phil.

I then jumped back into the dinghy and connected the pully to the dinghy. Phil began to hoist the dinghy up on its davits. He informed me that the clamps were slipping a little.

Mental note: Add to the project list … replace clamps.

When it was two-thirds of the way up, the dinghy slipped out of the port davit and nosedived for the water. The river rushed into the bow of the dinghy. Next thing we heard was the sound of timber creaking and the definitive crack of when it yielded to the combined weight of the dinghy and the river current trying to pull the dinghy under.

Bloody hell. The good news is:

1. It righted itself. Woohoo! Love the Walker Bay design…

2. We had appropriately tethered the dinghy to the safety railing. Otherwise, it would have been phoning a friend to chase it down the river.

I assessed the damage to the swim board. Yep it’s broken. From my first inspection, it was too hard to work out how the damage was done. More precisely, how much work would be involved in repairing it. Secondly, we still had all the parts of the davit system. I took them off the dinghy and secured them on board (Of course, we now had to tow the dinghy, not carry it).

OK, that was a challenge we could have done without. Bah, humbug.

I started the motor and:

  • Turned on the instruments
  • Turned on the engine blower
  • Turned off the anchor light
  • Checked the anchor winch was on

We were ready. Phil headed up to the bow sprit, removed the snubber and got ready to lift the anchor chain. He did so, and every now and again the chain jumped out of the winch jockey and he had to lower it again.

Note: Another project, replace the arm pin and service the anchor winch. Great now I have two new projects….

I heard Phil say, ‘We are clear and all good.’ As he moved towards the cockpit, I put a little power on. He grabbed the boat hook and headed back to the bow. He signalled for me to stop. I did so. It was clear we were not moving forward. In actual fact, Phil said ‘We are clear and it’s not good.’

I made my way to the cockpit to see what was going on. Our anchor was clear of the water, however it was wrapped in another anchor chain. Bloody hell! We attempted to remove it without much luck. We really needed to lift the weight of our anchor to have any chance of removing the chain.

I phoned a friend. 

My neighbour Mike (Michael Hendra). He put on his life jacket and headed over in his dinghy. Phil and Mike discussed strategies. Mike positioned his dinghy under our anchor and we lowered it into his dinghy. Between twisting and rotating the anchor, with Phil on the boat hook and through Mike’s sheer strength, the anchor was freed. We attached a buoy to it so that we could avoid it next time, and maybe pull it up on our return.

With many thanks and a grateful heart, I waved good bye to Mike and shouted ‘see you in a few weeks’. We turned our attention to the voyage. We headed in the direction of the river mouth. It was a pleasant day with a slight breeze on the nose. I handed the helm over to Phil while I attended to some paperwork for my travels.

Phil seemed happy at the helm, so I sat back and enjoyed the journey. We were approaching Manly and were yet to turn into the channel when the engine coughed and spluttered and stopped. Bugger, I ran downstairs to check fuel tanks. I did not think we were that low. I had checked it after all. Luckily, we have a self-priming engine that pushes the air through on its own. And so I changed to the full aft diesel tank and we were under way again. I took the helm; my nerves were up. The weather conditions were still ‘perfect’ A very slight breeze from the South South East. It was brilliant. Remember, this was my first time docking. Phil and I spoke about which way to do it. Would we tie off bow first or stern first.

Phil suggested that we should berth bow first.

I told him that Marty and I always berth stern first, as we have the bow thruster. A bow thruster is a small propeller in the bow of the boat that assists with turning in tight circles. When docking it assists in keeping the bow of the boat against the dock. Phil informed me that they did not have a bow thruster. I got the feeling that he wanted me to dock without using the bow thruster.

We talked the approach, the speed and which way to turn the wheel. Bearing in mind that I suffer from dyslexia, and when I switch from forwards to backwards, I have been known to get confused sometimes.

The time had come. I really wanted to do this. I could have easily said to Phil ‘you take over’. But no, I held onto my nerves and I approached the finger. I could not see the finger as the sides of our boat are so high, so I ended up standing on the seat. I adjusted, a little to port and a little to starboard. It was more of a wobble zigzag, as it is easy to over-steer. The approach was now on point, I was slowing down. Was I at walking speed? … Hopefully.

Phil stepped off onto the finger to tie off the bow. As soon as he was on the finger, I turned the wheel hard to starboard and put her into reverse with a few revs. Beautiful, the stern of the boat was turning in.

I threw the stern line to Phil and he caught it. And voila – we were docked. It was not the smoothest nor the prettiest docking, and I have seen far worse. I did it, and I was chuffed.

We were docked

Phil went off to his boat to do a coat of varnish and I headed to the marina office to collect the key. We were meeting up later in the day. Phil was going to look at my generator to try and figure out why it was not working.

When he returned, we discovered that I had accidentally switched of the generator emergency kill switch. Ha, ha… I must have done it when I was checking the oil. He also noticed the fuel filter needed to be changed and the fuel housing cleaned out. Another first coming up for me to do this. It will be the subject of another post. For now, I was happy that I had docked for the first time, and that there was nothing wrong with the generator.

And now to go see my baby in Manila…

Originally published on Facebook on 10/09/22.

#sailingsaboteur #boatmaintenance #whatareyouwaitingfor #liveyourlife #getoutdoors #wearsunscreen

Saboteur with the dinghy
Broken swim board
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Digging the sailing life…

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Colmslie Reach Beach when calm. My happy place.

Digging the sailing life… not… I am just not feeling it. Am I over all that the sailing life entails? Is it too hard?

I’m sure as hell not in love with our wind generator as I try to sleep at night.

The last few weeks have tested me. Hanging in on top of the flu (Marty Martin Lloyd) Dentist (Marty) flu (me), Dentist (me) Hernia Op (Marty) Covid (me) Covid (Marty)…

Enough… I shout.

I phoned my bro Michael Brook and asked him to drop off a RAT test. We talked briefly and I described my symptoms. He told me it sounded like his recent symptoms. We met at the jetty and he gave me 4 RAT tests, a bag of apples, a bunch of bananas and a pot of home made Chicken soup.

OMG legend.

It was strange not to get out of the dinghy and given him a hug. It was air kisses from afar. He handed over the greatly appreciated goods with the words, ‘Buckle up sis, you are in for a ride’.

The first few days were a fog of aches and pains of which I have but a hazy memory. Aches and pains shifted to nausea … wind against tide. Got to hate that. Trust me. The winds pick up.

My anchor alarm went off, about 7pm…

I headed to the cockpit to see the stern of the boat was close to touching the anchoring buoy. The wind had us on full stretch and I am not sure how much more stretch we had in the anchor chain. I need to move the boat. Barhumbug. Cold and nauseous, I donned my waterproof jacket and life vest, turned the engine on and told myself to belt up…

I phoned my neighbour Michael Hendra to let him know what I was doing. He was going to keep an eye out for me. It wasn’t like I could ask him aboard to help with COVID and all. Plus I had done this before on my own at night. I headed to the front of the boat to see what the anchor chain was doing. Not sure why, as I already knew that I was being pushed back. Three points of contact … whoa … I need to throw up! I leaned overboard, holding on and threw up.

Damn, I did not see that coming.

I got to the bow to remove the snubber. (The snubber is a short length of non-stretchy rope hooked to the anchor chain and to two strong points on the front of the boat. It’s function is to take the load off the anchor winch and stop the chain rattling). I love our snubber… normally. Removing the snubber required leaning forward. I was hoping I didn’t throw up again. Snubber removed.

I headed back to the cockpit. I had Freddie Mercury in my head… ‘Don’t stop me now, I am having a good time.’ Really… Now I am hot. The cool breeze was lovely on my face and my legs. I realise that I was no longer cold. Perhaps I have a fever.

I put the boat into gear to nudge forward, getting ready to lift the anchor. You had to be kidding me. I needed to go to the toilet. Anchor chain raising could wait. I headed below. On the way back up, I went via the galley and grabbed two gastro stop tablets. Still, Freddie was in my head.

Back in the cockpit… I lifted the anchor chain from the cockpit. I nudged forward. There were 20 knot winds. The boat was being pushed from behind by the current, but the wind was playing to its own tune. I went to drop the anchor.

No sooner did I slow the engine, the current and the wind started working against each other and put the boat into a spin. It was crazy.

I continued to lower the anchor, with no idea how I was going to make sure the anchor had set. The usual practice is to allow the boat to drift back in the current and add a touch of reverse to ensure that the anchor grabs. You can normally see the chain pull tight before resuming a curve to the river bottom.

I did not like the position I was in and decided to try again, hoping the wind would drop a little. I phoned my neighbour Mike, to tell him that I was going to try again.

Take two, and I had about as much success as take one. Seriously not digging the sailing life.

Another quick call to Mike to let him know I was going to try again. He said I should try and come in a little closer to shore. I wasn’t game, as if I got into another spin, I didn’t want to hit another boat coming out of a spin.

I decided to go for a little river cruise.

Not really, just a bigger circuit and more speed in the straight when dropping my anchor. Hoping to… I wasn’t sure what. As I rounded the anchor buoy, the wind dropped to 5 knots. You beauty! By the time I got to the position where I wished to drop anchor, it was back up to 20 knots. I dropped the anchor. At best guessing how much chain I had out. Normally, I can only tell how much if I am at the bow and there is decent light. However not this dark miserable windy evening.

I sat and waited. And waited. I could not set the anchor alarm with any accuracy. However, I could put GPS pins down on my Navionics map and so I did just that. And another pin, and another and another.

Gradually, I was feeling more comfortable. The pins told me that I was not moving, at least for now. Somewhere during the past 30 or so minutes, I threw up and visited the toilet again. I was very grateful to have Mike nearby. Someone I could call if need be and always willing to lend a hand.

Gradually, the boat turned with the current and wind, which were more or less in alignment. 

I got a message from Marty, ‘Did you manage to fall asleep?’ A quick call. I told him what had been happening how tired I was, how cold and miserable I was and that I was missing my baby. He said, ‘I wish I could be there to help you’. I really wished more than ever that he was, too.

I decided to go to bed and catch the next 4 hours sleep while wind and tide were in alignment. Weather wise, the next day was a better day. I slept most of the day. Thursday, I dragged my bones out of bed and got a Covid CPR test. Before heading back to the boat, I sat on the beach in the sun for a little bit. It was lovely. I got a message from the test centre saying they are testing for other viruses as well. Great… Time will tell.

I got back to the boat to find Maritime Safety Queensland pulling up.

They waited while I tied off.

They asked me if I knew that Saboteur was in the passage. I said I did, explained why and that during the night I had had two attempts to move. They asked me if I was still on my own. ‘Yes’, I replied, I was. And was I up to/able to move the boat again? ‘Sure, why not. After all I am really digging the sailing life…’ Ha, ha. Actually, it was a such a pleasure to do it again when it was calm. It still took me three goes to get a position I was happy with. About two hours later, a massive ship was docked at the terminal for about 6 hours and left again. Saboteur was safely within the anchorage, and I was once again tucked up in bed.

I tell you of this adventure not for your praise. More so for my friends who worry about me being on the boat on my own. This is for you, to let you know that I can do it, when I have to. I don’t always want to.

As my close friends know I can be too independent at times. It is both a strength and a weakness.

Missing Marty and wishing he was with me I shed a tear or two and secretly the wind generator would die as I had totally forgotten how to turn it off. I asked Marty the next day. It was so simple. One button.

At the time I wrote this post the boat was seriously not my favourite spot. Perhaps, it will be again tomorrow, or next week, or when a few of my half-started projects are finished, or when I am over being sick, or when Marty is back and we are together again. Or a combination of the above. Who knows. Time will tell.

What I do know is when I returned home from work on Wednesday, I had the biggest grin on my face. Thursday, Mike’s music rolled across the water to greet me like a warm hug and Friday evening, I simply sat in the cockpit and enjoyed the sunset and a couple of phone calls with friends. I still love Saboteur even if she is a little hard work. I am digging the sailing life.

To borrow words from my friend Tom Stodulka, Life is a dance.

This post was originally published on Facebook on August 08, 2022.

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Doctors, dentists, and other stressful things

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Quote Oh my god it is a real phobia

Marty’s misadventures with doctors dentists and other stressful things.

My keyboard has been firmly closed for the last 5 weeks or so. Mostly, but not entirely because of the unexpected adventures of Marty mayhem with numerous medical specialists and other officials.

Best laid plans and all… Marty (Martin Lloyd) was planning to visit his daughters and our granddaughters in NZ for two weeks prior to flying to the Philippines via Sydney.

We were Gold Coast based at the time. I had planned for us to stay at a nice hotel and go to Bamboo Basket at Portside Brisbane the night before he was to fly out.

About 5 days before said scheduled departure date, Marty came down with the flu.

He was still too sick to visit the doctor to get his travel COVID clearance certificate the day before his planned departure. Collectively we rescheduled his doctor’s appointment, his flights and cancelled the hotel booking. It was a combination of me finding the respective phone numbers and dialling, Marty croaking ‘I have no voice’ with limited vocal capacity, handing the phone over to me to make the required changes.

By Thursday evening, I had a tickle in my throat. I woke up Friday feeling fine, and with that a sense of relief. Meanwhile Marty spent all day asleep. This was a good thing, as I had things to do and I am not that good at sympathy, especially when it comes to man flu. This is a little unfair, as Marty has always been brilliant when I have been sick, especially when I was knocked out with the flu for a crazy 6 weeks a couple of years ago.

Friday evening, Marty was clearly making a good recovery and started complaining of a toothache, and I was rapidly coming down with the flu. Remember, I am not good at the sympathy thing. I said something along the lines of, ‘We will see what it is like in the morning’.

I gave him a neat whiskey. One for me, one for him. Perhaps there was another one for me and for him.

I went to bed with a packet of tissues and a small waste bin. Not happy.

Saturday morning the flu had a firm grip on me and Marty was feeling much better flu wise. Unfortunately, this was replaced by an increased toothache. In case you didn’t already know, Marty has a full-on phobia of dentists, as well as needles. Unfortunately, this tends to require that he be fully knocked out for pretty much all dental procedures. We tried to get hold of his dentist; they were closed. I couldn’t believe I did not have his mobile number. We spent 2 hours trying to find a dentist on the Gold Coast that could practice with anaesthetic. No such luck.

I phoned my dentist, who had seen Marty on a previous weekend emergency.

Cooparoo Family Dentist agreed to see him and to fit him in to their Saturday morning schedule. I was too sick to go, and Marty promised me he could go on his own; after all, they were not going to do anything aside from just make an assessment.

When it came time to leave, he couldn’t find his motorbike keys…

Talk about the subconscious sabotaging the dentist visit. An emergency phone call was made to a friend (Karin Engel). ‘Can you take him?’ I asked. To make the appointment on time, it would have required her to leave immediately to pick him up. She couldn’t come straight away, but could come in an hour and suggested I ask the dentist to reschedule if possible. I did and they did. Just as I was about to fall back into bed, Marty lowered his trousers to reveal a 6 x 3 cm lump in his groin with the words, ‘What do you think this is?’ I nearly had a heart attack. I grabbed the camera and took a photo. I fell back into bed and Marty hopped in the dinghy, took an Uber to Karin’s place and she drove him to Brisbane.

It transpired that he had this lump for a few days, but was more concerned about the toothache. He was lucky to get to the dentist… Meanwhile, the lump had been burnt on my retina, and I wanted to throttle him.

I sent the photo to a friend who is a doctor with the apology of, ‘I’m so sorry to send this to you after hours. I am super worried.’ He replied, ‘No problems, looks like a hernia, get Marty to see his local GP about it’. With that I fell back asleep.

My sleep was broken by a phone call from Karin who had successfully delivered Marty to the dentist. Her call opened up with,

‘OMG, it is a real phobia.’

Yes, it is.

I was so grateful that she could deliver him and return him. Also, I was so very grateful my dentist who saw him on the weekend and had referrals made for him, together with the promise to phone the specialist first thing Monday to ensure he sees the specialist for a consult and then a procedure before his departure in 5 days. Amazing, truly amazing.

Meanwhile, the flu kept me in bed.

Before we knew it, the consult day had arrived. He very bravely took himself to the specialist. I was impressed.

The following day he was scheduled for his procedure. He had to get there by himself on the train. Again, this was big. Huge. He usually struggled to put his foot over the dentist door. Furthermore, because he was going to be knocked out, he needed a responsible adult to meet him and take him home.

Once again, I phoned a friend. This time it was Bill (Bill Fuller) who took on the role of responsible adult.

From my sickbed, I had booked in car parking in the City, adjacent to the dentist, for Bill.

Marty had about 5 hours post recovery before he had to see his GP for his Travel COVID clearance certificate.

Bill kindly picked him up in Brisbane CBD and drove him to Stafford for his GP consult, feed him lunch and hung out with him while the effects of the anaesthetics wore off.

From there, Bill tag teamed with Rob Brown to take him back to his place after his GP appointment. Rob works near the airport. Somewhere in the days before, I had suggested Marty stay with Rob overnight and go straight to the airport. I was still curled up in bed with the flu.

He sensibly did this.

We got through the week with the amazing help of three wonderful friends. Marty boarded the plane for NZ, and I went back to sleep. He had a wonderful time playing with his daughters and their families. The videos calls and photos with the grandchildren made my heart sing. He looked so happy.

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When common sense failed me

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My very heavy 20l water containers.

Common sense completely failed me Tuesday just gone. The beautiful twilight and new moon was the setting for a domino-like cascade of events.

I was enjoying the twilight and the sound of water passing me by as I pottered home from work in my dinghy. I decided that I would fill up our three spare 20 litre water bottles.

The main challenge with being on anchor is topping up our water supplies.

3 x 20l water containers
3 x 20 litre water containers

Note – we carry about 600 litres of water in our water tanks and have the three 20 litre containers for back up runs.

To top up the water tanks we have a few choices:

Take a marina berth for a night or two:
– Top up the fuel at a fuel dock and top up the water at the same time
Go to a public jetty that has:
– enough clearance for our boat keel and the ability to tie off
– potable water

It was a beautiful twilight and topping up the water containers seemed like a good idea.

The fresh water pump was starting to work hard telling me that it does not have much water left to pump.

Arriving home, I tied off in my usual manner after tying the painter line (the rope on the bow of the dinghy) on the cleat, and looped up the remaining line, hanging it off the stanchions. As usual, Zac was there to great me. We said hello to each other as I grabbed the water containers, the hose and the rubbish bag, jumped in the dinghy and headed off for the jetty.

I slowly approached the shore side of the jetty giving the eager fishermen a chance to pull their nets in.

I tied off, jumped out of the dinghy and asked a few of the fisherman how they were going as I headed up the ramp to dispose of the rubbish in the nearby bin.

On my way back down the ramp, I stopped and spoke to the couple who were fishing near the potable water tap. I informed them that I needed to fill some water containers. No worries, he said with his lovely accent and a grin.

I jumped back in the dinghy and headed around to the other side, taking a wide berth to avoid nets and lines. I pulled up. Eager hands tied me off and I was asked to pass up the hose. This I did, and was then asked for the male fitting.

Damn, common sense failed me. I did not check the hose when I grabbed it and I had left the tap fitting on the boat.

With the hose, we could fill the containers with out lifting them in and out of the dinghy.

No worries, my new friend said and he asked me to pass up the water containers.

This I did and he started to fill them for me. The first one he filled to its full 20 litres. I jumped out of the dinghy and asked him to fill only to 15 litres as 20 litres is too heavy for me. He said, ‘I fill, you tip out if it is too much’. I tipped out about 5 litres from the first container. The other two he filled to about 18 litres.

He lowered them to me in the dinghy and with lots of thank you smiles and waves, I headed back to Saboteur. I tied off in my usual way.

Now I don’t know what happened to my common sense. In what universe was I in that I thought that I could lift an 18 litre container of water to shoulder height is beyond me.

And transfer it on the deck, in a moving boat where any transfer of weight moves the location of the dinghy.

What could possibly go wrong? You are about to find out.

For whatever reason I gave it a try. The thought crossed my mind that perhaps I should tie the container off. It remained a thought. I got the container on the edge of the toe rail and the dinghy started to move backwards. The more I pushed forward, the more the dinghy moved backwards.

The inevitable happened: commons sense hit home with a dramatic splash as the water container feel into the river. I watched, waiting to see it sink. It bopped along. It appeared to have enough air in it to keep it on the water surface. Awesome.

I untied the paynter line and went in pursuit of the water container. Only, once again common sense failed me and I forgot to grab….

…. the loops of line hanging off the stanchion.

Dinghy paynter up close.
Dinghy paynter for afar

This, I discovered, made the dingy jerk backwards, still constrained. I turned the tiller, well I had no choice, and said line was now pushing hard on the post holding my safety navigation light up.

And with a snap it broke off and a flashing light began drifting away just under the water surface.

I got back to the boat and removed the looped painter line and turned to look for my water container. It was a new moon and by now quite dark. Fortunately, the flashing light was showing me the direction of the current. And beyond the flashing light, I saw my water container.

Relief… I personally would have hated to run into it, or to be responsible for any damage to someone else’s boat if I did not retrieve it.

I caught up to my bopping navigation light. I slowed my outboard and put my left arm elbow deep in the water to grab the light. Light recovered. I was pleased. My next task was to grab the water container. I caught up to it and tied it off. Finally, common sense prevailed. I turned back to Saboteur, with the water bottle still in the water, on a short line.

This time I tied off at the swim board, which is about 30 cms above the water line.

Saboteur's swim board. A much more sensible height to be working from

I got out of the dinghy and grabbed a line to tie off the first water container. I lifted it easily to the swim board. And again, up to the deck. I poured it straight into the water tank and put the water container away repeating the process with each water container.

I moved the dinghy back to the side of the boat and tied her up once more. The evening adventure was over. I know Marty (Martin Lloyd) is going to laugh. He always ties off the containers and uses the halyard to haul the containers up from the dinghy.

I sat down and took off my life jacket to give Zac the cuddle he was insisting on. I smiled at myself. This was the first time I had done the water containers on my own.

Another lesson learnt.

The irony is that I had purchased a small ‘kickarse pump in a box’ (yes, that is what it is called!) so that I never have to lift a full water container again. I got the 12 volt fitting installed in the cockpit a couple of weeks ago. I am just waiting for the Anderson switch to the 12 volt connector.

Life is an adventure.

Originally posted on Facebook on July 7, ’22

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A tad too far

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Our position on the chart

Yesterday’s adventure, Saboteur went a tad too far.

Midday, I received a message that it went like this.

‘Hi, this is Jeremy, from Maritime Safety Queensland. Tess can you please call me back. It is fairly urgent’.

Already my mind had reached the conclusion that the boat had dragged. The two outcomes could have been either we had hit another boat or we had drifted into the main shipping channel. Nether option is desirable.

I phoned Jeremy back. The call went like this.

Me: ‘Hi Jeremy, Tess here. You left me a message.’

Jeremy: ‘Hi Tess, thanks for phoning me back. I am trying to get hold of Martin Lloyd; however he is not answering. Your name is linked to his. Do you know him?’

Me: ‘Yes, I do. He is my husband. He is currently overseas.’

Jeremy: ‘That explains why he did not answer the phone. We were worried because your boat is in the main shipping channel. It appears to have drifted. When Martin did not answer we were worried that he was not well as the dinghy is tethered to the boat.’

Me: ‘That’s because I paddled my kayak to work. Left the dinghy behind.’

Jeremy: ‘You work nearby?’

Me: ‘Yes, I am working for a shipwright and currently working on a boat at Rivergate.’

Jeremy: ‘We need you to move your yacht out of the main shipping channel.’

I am guessing Saboteur was more than just a tad too far.

Me: ‘I can understand that. How urgent is this. Do you want me to move it now, or can I move it around four-ish?’

Jeremy: ‘I will check, just one second. (pause) There are no large vessels going down the channel for the rest of the day. You can move it this afternoon.’

Me: ‘That’s great, I have to paddle back to the boat. I will move it around four-ish.’

I immediately jumped on the link Daniel Cooke had sent me off a bigger anchor for sale on Gumtree. A quick email followed asking ‘Is it still available?’ The reply was prompt, ‘Yes it is’. I phoned the number. Ironically, it was someone we had meet at Boat Works Marina. They have two cats aboard and like us are preparing for a big sail. Great, new anchor sorted…

Now to inform my boss. I had to solve another problem and then move our boat. I informed my boss of that Saboteur was a tad too far in the shipping channel. Along with the fact that I believe we had lost reverse gear on the weekend (post Martin leaving). I was a little concerned that I may not have forward gear as well. Well, you never know. He rightly said, before I lift the anchor, I should check that I have forward gear. Sound advice.

I went to the mechanic’s ‘Lex Baddiley Marine Engineering‘. I found Paul (the boss) working on the boat next to us. Their company was also doing the work on the prawning trawler that I am working on. I explained to Paul the situation with reverse gear. If said it is one of two things. Most likely an adjustment needs to be made and it should be OK. He said that he will organise one of his guys to come to the boat with me at lunch time today. Another problem sorted. One more to resolve before I leave to move the yacht.

I headed to the marina office to explain my predicament and that I needed to move to move the yacht, plus I had some gear issues. One of the mechanics was coming with me to the boat (in the dinghy). I had approval to tie off my kayak of at Rivergate Marina but, I did not have approval for my dinghy. They said that it would be OK. They also commented that they had seen Saboteur in the middle of the channel.

I said thank you and headed off to my kayak, and paddled back to Saboteur, grateful for the current being in my favour. With current, the paddle is 15 minutes. Against the current, the paddle is 45 minutes.

It was a swift trip back. I said hi to Zac, and we had a few cuddles. It turned on the engine, wind instruments, autopilot and the engine blower. The engine blower extracts engine fumes. I checked the position of the anchor. The chain was forward off the bow of the boat. I came back to the helm, and the instruments were all working. I took a deep breath and checked that we have forward gear. Woohoo!!! Happy dance! I put the engine back into neutral. I went and checked the position of the anchor chain. It was vertical, confirming the boat had moved forward. I put the engine back into gear, and started lifting the anchor chain. All good.

I headed off to our old anchor point across the river, lined up the position, slowed the engine and put it in neutral. I locked the direction of the wheel and went forward to the bow to drop the anchor. As the anchor lowered I counted the 5 meter chain markers and set the anchor position on the anchor watch app. This app tells me if we move. Actually the alarm is a car horn. All that remained was to see if the anchor had taken. We had a swift current which pushed the back boat nicely. The chain went taut as it took the tension, and the anchor bit in. Again, very happy.

I was feeling relaxed and calm.

Everything I could do was done.

Time for a cuppa.

I was sitting on the deck and our old neighbour Mike came over in his dinghy on the way home from work. He had a big grin on his face. He was happy to see us. We talked for about 15 minutes or so, me sitting on the side of the boat and he in his dinghy. He was keen to go to his boat and play with his dog.

There was heaps to catch up on. Most importantly his boat did not move during the floods. He told me the sad story of two boats that were nearby, and how their owners had died in the floods and their boats had sunk. One guy was on land and decided that he wanted to remove his possessions from his boat. Sadly, it cost him his life. The other guy, decided to take a leak over the side of his boat. While doing so, his boat was hit by something and he fell overboard and drowned. It is a stark reminder that we have to respect the environment we are in.

I was so happy to see Mike and know that he was OK. He has kindly said if I need any help, just call.

And so, I went to work today in the dinghy. At lunch time, Phil came back to the boat with me and worked on the gear issues. The gears move so smoothly now. It is a dream. Now undo two years of forcing the gear stick into reverse. I took Phil back to the marina in time for both of us to pack up and head home.

I am grateful for many things. Mostly for the quality of people around me. Paul, Phil’s boss and who’s staff are all flat out for giving me Phil for a couple of hours to sort my reverse gear issue. Jeremy for phoning to tell me the boat was dancing along the main shipping channel. Mike, my neighbour who offered to help me with anything. Shannan, my boss for being totally understanding about having to disappear and always there to help out.

I love this industry and working with a great crew. I love how the people around me look out for and help each other.

Missing you baby. Martin Lloyd, you are missing out on so much fun. 🙂

Originally posted on Facebook on April 28, ’22

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A life less hectic

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Russell_Island_aerial_photo

Got to love a life less hectic, an extra long weekend and heading for the bay for Easter.

Late Thursday morning we departed the Coomera River around 11am, refuelled at Sanctuary Cove, as doing so, congratulated ourselves as diesel was 20 cents a litre cheaper than Gold Coast City Marina. As we came into the fuel dock the wind picked up to 20 knots, of course it did. Tess and Martin Lloyd team ‘TandM’ docked perfectly again congratulating ourselves. Why not..? We were provisioned for the long weekend. All that remained was refuelling. Diesel for Saboteur, unleaded petrol for the donk on the dinghy and water for us.

We reversed out of the fuel dock with plenty of room behind and each side of us. This gave us the wonderful opportunity to let the boat, current and wind decide which way it wanted to turn. Once natures energy revealed her hand Marty adjusted the wheel, completed the turn, put Saboteur into forward gear and continued down the river to the main passage.

We turn north into the main passage. For once, the wind was coming from the south and was favourable for a sail. It has been our experience when we want to go anywhere (slight exaggeration) the wind has not assisted us (The south end of Moreton Bay is full of narrow passages avoiding shallows and sand traps, so sailing room is not easily found).

I head below to secure loose items, something we should have done before departing. Meanwhile Marty single handily set up the staysail to make use of a following breeze, and we motor sailed up the main passage. Later he brought in the sail between a narrow point in the passage as we were on low tide and we did not want gusts of wind pushing us on to sand banks.

We enjoyed the combination of motor sailing and navigating the challenges of Morten Bay on low tide. Both just grateful to be out and travelling again.

With a deep sense of happiness we dropped anchor in one of our favourite spots.

We were back at Russell Island. Our plans were to spend two days there and then two days heading back to the Brisbane River. We need to be there as I am working on a boat at River Gate Marina for a couple of weeks.

It had been cool and windy and we were grateful to be back in a sheltered spot. I was feeling the cold, winter is coming. (Ha, ha it was below 30 and above 20 degrees Celsius). We had a nip of cognac to assist our bodies to warm up, followed by dinner and watched music concerts on You Tube until our eyelids became too heavy and we went to bed.

About 4.30 am Zac woke me to come and sit in the cockpit with him.

He was really excited and insistent. I got up and went with him to the cockpit. There were a school of fish having fun near the boat. He wanted me to sit with him and watch. Perhaps he wanted me to throw a line in which I briefly considered. I was happy to sit in the moment with Zac sitting next to me contently purring away. I had plugged in my iPhone to charge overnight but forgot to turn on the power, so what would have been a lovely chilltime video remained just Zac and my moment. As I describe it to Marty in the morning, it was a Winnie the Pooh moment in my mind.

Good Friday was peaceful. Marty baked me a gluten free hot cross bun inspired loaf.

We had steaming slices of homemade bun with lashes of melted butter and strawberry jam.

It was so good. Marty read, I sewed (still working on the cushions and winch covers). Did some hand sewing as well and played ‘Patience’ the card game. It was such a lovely lazy day.

With the passing of the day, our normally quiet anchorage started to become crowded. It was a great spot for protection from the Southerly winds. Rarely is there more than one or two other boats here. By evening time, I counted 24. That’s OK. I am happy to share.

The boat next to us was True Blue V. The last few days they had been anchored about the same distance from us in the Coomera River. Craig and Leanne invited us over for a coffee. We learnt they bought their boat in California and had sailed it home. They are my kind of sailors. They had a loose plan and would turn up at a place and if they liked it, they would stay. This is how they ended up spending a year in Mexico and several years sailing around Fiji.

We were on our way to Lindsay Hick.

Marty would be making us DimSim soup for lunch. We learnt that Craig and Leanne knew Lindsey, so we invited them to join us for lunch. Like typical sailors they went with the flow and said yes. We all piled into our 10ft dinghy and headed to shore. It was approximately a 20-minute motor. Lindsey was waiting for us at the boat ramp and he and Marty hauled our dinghy out of the water on to the ready trailer. We laughed and hugged. Big hugs of good friends accompanied with exclamations that we could see Lindsey’s face. He had trimmed his beard off. We piled into his Pajero and headed off to his place.

Lindsey’s house is quirky, unique and I love it.

He is a house builder and a ship wright and built it himself. We walked around the yard stopping to smell fruit, flowers, herbs and admire how much the garden had grown in the last few months. The new shed, retaining walls and other projects were amazing. We then headed inside, again admiring the progress, the house is close to finished. Marty set up in the galley and started making lunch. We all talked, laughed, ate and shared stories for hours.

Eventually we had to leave. Lindsey ladened us with home grown produce. We said our goodbyes accompanied with more hugs and good wishes. Reluctantly we left. It was the turning of the tide and slack water which means we would have less resistance from the current. This was of great importance to us with four adults in our small dinghy (2.5 hp donk) and heading into strong southerly winds.

There were a few takeaways from the day…

… sailing tips, destination tips, learnings and many more. Of great interest to me, Craig had almost finished doing up all the brightwork on True Blue. Brightwork is the yachting term for the timber interior. It was stunning. It was as good as new. They told us it had become damaged and neglected after 20 years since built and 6 years of their living aboard.

Craig did it himself. I asked a million questions and hopefully have taken on board his advice as I intend to do the floors on Saboteur while Marty is away in the Philippines. I hope it comes up as well as True Blue’s floors.

Saturday evening was quiet. Dinner was bits and pieces, predominantly cheese and biscuits. We took time to rough out our travels for the next two days checking tides, winds, time frames and checking once again. We were clear, we were leaving at 9am to make the most of high tide.

I took us off the anchor at Russell Island. I need the practice.

As we headed back past Millionaires Row, Marty’s phone rang. A friend, Daniel Cooke was camping on Straddie, saw us pass by and he was waving from the shoreline. We waved back and continued on our way enjoying a relaxing passage up to South of Macleay Island we dropped anchor mid-afternoon. We both had a nap. I finished installing a cat flap on the companion way. Zac can now come and go inside or out as much as he wants. I am sure he will still wake me to come and sit with him to watch the fish.

We had a lazy dinner of bangers and mash and an early night. I lifted anchored at Macleay and turned the boat to head north. As we turned the corner a dugong popped up, rolled over as if to wave us goodbye. We were on a familiar route.

Our thoughts turned to other things. We had plans for when we drop anchor near the Gateway Bridge starting with a trip to shore, a cuppa with Bill, collecting our mail of him before he delivers Marty to the train station, so he can go back to the Gold Coast and pick up his motorbike.

We are gradually learning to embrace a life less hectic. A lazy two day voyage by yacht is a 1 hour ride by motor bike.

It is truly a life less hectic.

Originally published on Facebook on April 18, ’22

Russell Island is a favourite location. I often write when I am under her spell. Check out my peak hour post from Lindsey’s place.

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My search for happiness

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1957 Century Corondo Chamberlain

My search for happiness in a world of uncertainty.

Being stuck in a holding pattern, waiting for borders to open and an appropriate weather window to present itself so that we can commence our voyage to NZ, has been frustrating.

We (Martin Lloyd and I) were both ready for a change, or so we thought. However, not only is our journey a physical journey of exploring the world by yacht, it has also been a mental challenge.

We were stuck in our lives.

Even though moving on to Saboteur our routines had changed considerably, we easily fell into new habits fed by our self-image and our expectations of what our life would be like.

I am not talking about wearing designer deck shoes, and matching outfits (which personally I hate) and cocktails at sunset, although the latter is very nice thank you very much. I am talking about the practical; the very practical things along the lines of what are we doing for money. For me, what was I going to do when I stepped away from my locally based clients? These questions become more complex when we add the questions of what gives us meaning, and what makes us happy? My search for happiness began. It was imperative as we both needed to make this journey work.

Like many people I struggled in 2021.

I struggled finding my way through the now well established COVID era. Even though Queensland hardly saw lock down its impacts saw my clients hesitated to commit to work. I pushed on. Despite appearances everything was stressful. I could not let go of that feeling. I was becoming obsessive. Trying to do everything. I had no off switch. I looked in the mirror and I could not recognise myself. My jaw was clamped. I had started grinding my teeth, something I have never done previously. I had promised Marty, I would see the doc.

My doctor gave me an extensive questionnaire to work through to assess stress, anxiety and depression. My stress levels were off the radar.

I started on medication. I thought I would be last person on the planet to go on medication. It gradually started taking the edge off things. Little by little I could feel the stress’s hold on me loosening. It was going to be a journey. I still had to have income.

My head was stuck in my consulting world. Eventually, I came up with a new delivery model. A blended training model that combined two weeks of on-line lessons in a private Facebook group, a couple of Q&A sessions, and hot-seats, finishing the training with individual coaching sessions. I started delivering my ‘Lost for Words Basecamp’, for those moments when words fail you.

Finally, I had a model I loved and my clients loved. It will work for us as we go sailing, and is now my focus. My friend Litsa Barberoglou suggested that the ‘Lost for Words Basecamp’ should be the only thing I focus on, plus any coaching / consulting work which comes from that. She said it should be my thing, and she is right. I was so alive during the basecamp. I love watching my online clients transition from being lost for words to finding their voice and seeing the transformation in their lives. Personally, I was still obsessive. I could not switch off. Still not relaxing. Still worried about income and what the future looks like. My search for happiness continued.

In my wandering and researching state I became distracted by a training course on how to a make a heavy duty waterproof bag. It was a chance to use my hands and switch off my head. I signed up, shot the details to a girlfriend who also signed up. We arrived on the first day and as we walked into the lab, I was grinning from ear to ear. I said to Zoe Black, this is like going back to university for me. My undergrad was in Industrial design, and each year we had our own common room and lab where we would work on our projects. Perhaps, I appreciated a dedicated workspace even more now that we live on our yacht. So just maybe there was a little happy dance because of a sense of space.

It was like I was transported back to my student days, plus hanging out with one of my favourite people.

The first lesson, we did training on the sewing machine, setting tensions, stitch size, thread and practiced sewing thick material. I bent a needle. Something I have never done before. I bought home the vinyl I was practising on and it now sits under Zac’s water bowl. We also cut out our pattern. I wish I had bought it home as sadly, the lab flooded the next day. The lesson renewed my energy to get back in finishing my cockpit cushions (redesigned them as well) and started on the winch covers.

I still had the worry about income.

Marty came home one day and told me a company he has been helping out were struggling. They were 6 weeks behind in orders, and not packing boxes fast enough. He said he would ask if I could help them for a couple of days. And so I went in and helped them, wait for it, to assemble and pack Licence plate holders. Yeh, that’s right. The amazing thing was it was relaxing, I could switch off and as I was assembling them and stacking them, I would make crosses that I was calling kisses, and I was sending these kisses across the universe to those who needed them. So many of my close friends are struggling at the moment. I was surprisingly happy in my switched off zone sending love across the universe.

Meanwhile, we moved the boat to the Gold Coast to get some work done and I continued the couple of days a week. It was with great satisfaction we caught up on the back log. I had told the owner that they needed to be recruiting. It was the circuit break that I needed to switch my head off for a while. I was still happy to help out for a little longer, I was not intending to stay.

I was now running my third basecamp and loving it and managing to queeze the on-line sessions before heading into work.

The weather window for the trip to NZ is still not looking promising.

I needed to do something else. But what?

I recall our favourite shipwright, Shannan Batey of The Boat Builder, saying he had more work than what he could handle, and was turning work away. I have long admired his workmanship and how he is teaching his apprentices. So, I took a deep breath and phoned him up, and casually asked if he needed a hand. Even as I was speaking casually, I was surprised of how aware I was of really wanting this. For some of you this may seem a little odd. Perhaps you may not know I spent my first 10 working years on the tools. I am a jeweller by trade. Many of these skills are transferrable. He asked me a few questions, in particular what type of work do I want to do.

I said I don’t care, anything including the dirty work.

He told me he would start me grinding anti-foul off the bottom of a medium size steel hull thingy with 2 x 250hp outboards on the back. Talk about a baptism of fire. This is a very dirty job. Anti-foul is a poisonous substance that is painted on the underside of boats to prevent barnacles and growth from calling your boat their home. I was guessing the next job I was to do would be to replace the anti-foul which is even more disgusting. I didn’t care. They are skills that are useful to me.

That was a Friday, and I was to start the next Thursday as I was doing a mediation on Monday and assembling number plates holders on Tuesday and Wednesday. I had a silly grin on my face in anticipation all week.

When I arrived, the shipwright was not there and Kurt (the lead and a damn fine tradesman) gave me my task.

I was taken to a gorgeous 1957 Century Coronado Chamberlain.

A classic wooden boat designed for water sport and skiing. It has seriously gorgeous retro styling. It was the era of Elvis Presley and 1957 Number 1 with ‘All Shook Up’. Think the Thunderbirds (the TV show and the car (refer photo)) and the classic lines of the Chev’s and the Cadillacs from the era. The boat was complete with the chrome trim flares. She was beautiful.

The timber needed restoring, along with some of the paint work.

And so, I have spent the next three days working on this gorgeous boat. Thursday I was on my own with Kurt checking in on me. Friday, I had Jo the apprentice with me and Saturday morning I was on my own. I have been so, so happy. I have the skills however not the knowledge of the industry. Being shown what is required and provided with instruction on materials etc. and then being left to work on it has been magic. The shipwright when he turned up on Friday looked at my work, pointed out a few things I missed and said, he can see I will be doing their detail work. I have loved this work.

I have felt my grandfather with me. He was a chippy and a builder and died when I was 17. He taught me to use a saw, to sharpen chisels and how to drink whiskey neat.

I have had some funny moments.

I was using a disc sander to cut back the stern deck. This is gorgeous timber panels with contrasting colours. It was water damaged and bowed. I needed to sand it back in four places to remove the bow and restore the original curve. I was in the boat with the sander, face mask on and sanding away with the 80 grit. Every now and again, I took my finger off the trigger to stop it, so I could observe my work, check the line, the curve and the shape. On about the third or fourth time, it would not turn off. I shouted out to Shannan the shipwright with my mask on.

Me: ‘Turn off the power.’

Shannan: ‘I can’t hear you.’

Me: ‘Turn off the power.’

Shannan: ‘I can’t hear you.’

I am holding the spinning grinder, I raised it and shouted ‘POWER’.

Shannan disconnects the power cord.

He showed me the button I was holding down that keeps it going, while I was also trying to turn it off. Ha, ha. This happened a few times.

The first day I went in to work, I was nervous.

Will I be too slow, will I be too detailed? These fears are less of a concern now. I was also excited.

On Friday over a beer, I asked Shannon if he minded if I kept a logbook of what I do and if he would sign it off for me, as I might be able to pick up work at different marinas. He was more than happy to. He also suggested I go for recognised prior learning, and go for my Shipwright Certificate. Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t.

He is already talking about detailing work on another boats. He also talked about letting me loose on a prawn trawler that has been converted to a home. She is based in the Brisbane river, right next to our old anchor spot. I could either take the dinghy or kayak to work.

Four weeks in and I am feeling incredibly happy and personally satisfied.

I have a balance between using my head and my hands. This has been a struggle all my life. I have a plan for the next few months and the consistency in the cash flow is welcome. For the first time in about 18 months, I truly feel the stress passing me by, and my energy connecting with the universe. I am incredibly happy.

While I wrote most of this post at the end of the first week on being on the tools, I have hesitated to post it. Will I fall out of love of being on the tools or my basecamp model or coaching work? Will the balance continue to make me happy? Time has that answer. We have made some decisions that have helped me focus.

Our goal now is to work until September and then go sailing for the following 6 months. We will work on repeating this pattern. I will continue my basecamps and coaching while sailing. Finding this path and balance feels similar to starting my jewellery apprenticeship (all those years ago) and my first day of university when I started studying Industrial Design. (Again, all the years ago). There is an excitement in me, a joy and the love of life is flowing back.

My new right of passage.

Originally published on Facebook on April 10, ’22

A note on the photos.

The photo feature photo is another boat that has been restored and will give you an idea of what this boat will look like when it is finished.

Various photos of progression of the timber restoration on a hand built time ski boat.

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Life is an adventure

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You_are_in_for_an_adventure_message

I would love to be putting up a chill time video. Unfortunately, not. life is an adventure. The weather conditions are making it prohibitive. Instead, you are about to get an update on our overnight adventure.

Card_with_flower_image

On our wedding anniversary and all. In my sleep-deprived state, I smile once again at the words that my brother-in-law wrote in the wedding card that he and Barbie gave us. He said, ‘To Tess: You have taste and a taste for adventure.’

So here we are, on another adventure. Martin came home from work soaking wet. He rode his bike from Capalaba to Coomera in horrendous rain. He parked the bike, walked about 30 meters to the dinghy and had to bail the water out before heading to the boat.

Mental note. A small built in hand pump required for the dinghy.

He arrived on the boat, soaking! He peeled of his leather jacket which was super heavy, soddened with rainwater. His waterproof trousers (the ones that you wear over your trousers (sexy – not)) were clinging. Yes, they are truly waterproof, however they appear to have suction capped themselves to his jeans. They peeled off inside out. We laughed. Happy anniversary baby.

During the day I had sent him a message to pick up some bubbles as we are out. The message went via a work colleague as Martin’s phone had taken a swim in the salt water in the bottom of the dinghy when we were riding the wake of a passing cruiser. The message to pick up the bubbles did not make it to him. No problems. He had a hot shower while I prepared a ‘Saboteur Sling’ in lieu of champagne. A ‘Saboteur Sling’ is based on the Raffles Hotel ‘Singapore Sling’, using whichever ingredients we have from the Singapore Sling. This time we had no Gin. No problems.

I made us a special dinner, peeled green bay prawns (for what felt like forever) while Martin familiarised himself with the unfolding local weather situation. Prawns peeled, capsicum and carrot finely sliced, three cloves of garlic chopped up. Rice noodles soaking. I pan fried the garlic and the prawns in Sesame Oil and tossed in some chili flakes followed by the noodles, soy sauce, and fish sauce. Added bean sprouts, capsicum and carrot a few more quick tosses in the wok and I served up with a dash of lemon and alpha sprouts on top.

We sat down to our wedding anniversary dinner and our Saboteur Sling, served in our gorgeous crystal champagne flutes and started talking about the strategy for the evening. Not your typical wedding anniversary conversation. We were going to have to do watches. With the plan in place, we settle in to watch an episode of ‘Star Trek’. Navionics beside me to keep an eye on our position and bopping up into the cockpit like ‘Dicky Knee’ (A puppet from the TV show Hey, Hey, It’s Saturday’).

Martin was on watch, while I try to catch some zzz’s only to be woken soon after by Martin, informing me that we were rapidly drifting. I get up, wet weather jacket on and I headed up to cockpit. The buoy that was normally behind us was now in front of us. In sheeting rain, I headed to the bow to raise the anchor. We were drifting backwards towards a small, wooded island.

The visibility was next to nothing.

I raised the anchor. It clears the water line. I heard a grind; the anchor winch jammed. It is jammed by fishing line wrapped around tree branches. Yes, lucky us. I took over the helm and Martin grabbed my fishing knife. Meanwhile, with poor visibility I steered Saboteur between a small sailboat and our neighbouring catamaran named, ‘By Crickey’. Well, it was certainly a By Crickey moment. We were doing approximately 1 knot into the current and the Southerly winds. Meanwhile Martin was cutting away at the fishing line that was firmly caught up in our anchor winch. He cleared the winch. I turned the yacht to travel with the running water and the wind behind us.

We went from travelling 1 knot to 8.5 knots.

That was serious fast for our yacht. Don’t forget she weighs in around 20 tonnes. I lowered the motor speed. Our speed over ground (well, speed over water) did not change. We were moving at the speed of the current. Not ideal as this meant we had limited steering control over our yacht. While we were in the centre of a relatively straight passage it was fine. Corners would be a different story as our twenty tonnes will heavily influence how fast we would take a corner, or not. We don’t have to worry about that now.

We needed to drop anchor. But where?

Martin took the helm. He dropped the anchor from the cockpit midway in the passage. We swung swiftly and pulled up hard. Brilliant, we were confident the anchor had taken. We were midstream. Smack bang in the middle of the channel. We were also midships to a row of navigation lights at one of the boat ramps. This is really useful as it gives us a reference point to check if the lights don’t line up we have moved. Our strategy is to check the lights line up every 15 mins or so (Dicky Knee style popping up into the cockpit) and watching Navionics.

We both stayed up for a while. We played a game of Bananagrams and then watched an episode of ‘Cowboy Bebop’.

Martin was getting tired and went to bed for about 2 hours. I watched the remaining episodes of Cowboy Bebop keeping an eye on our position on Navionics and popping my head up into the cockpit every 15 mins or so.

Martin woke about 1pm, and we talked for a bit. It is a bit of sleep deprived haze. I think we had a cup of tea before I headed to bed close to two pm, waking around 4ish. I rose and asked Martin if he wanted to go to bed. He offered me an extra couple of hours sleep. I went back to bed and woke up around 6ish.

Kettle on, Martin updated me on the weather conditions, and I learnt Marty had already bailed the dinghy out. The water level was up to the dinghy seats. That is a lot of bailing. When he is up next, we will need to bail it again and hoist it back on the boat. He headed to bed and I took over the watch. I was going to sew, however I grabbed my laptop and decided to pen this update for you. I am constantly checking our position.

At around 8am this morning it was high tide. This means the current was meant to slow and turn. However, with so much water coming down and running out of the river the current is not turning anytime soon. The shores have mild flooding. The ducks are out and about and loving it.

Marty and I will tag team this morning, while we both catch up on sleep. I will probably finish my cushions today. This afternoon we will probably be awake together until about 10pm. If the weather continues we will do another night of split shifts.

Loving our adventure baby. Happy anniversary.

Originally published on Facebook on March 29, ’22.

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