Stillwater to the BOI only, Sailed  126 miles – 6 days.

Best daily run 38nms in 9 hours, average 4.2 knots

I bought Francis because she was irresistibly sweet and beautiful. A fitting boat for the fulfillment of my dream. I wanted to rescue her from the garden where she was stuck and give her a new lease of life. In some ways our union was meant to be. I was in search of a new life and so was she. Once rigged and ready I wanted to sail in her, instead of that I left her in the mud for 6 months and went sailing to Polynesia on a different boat.  It did not look like much of a rescue or a new lease of  life to her. When I eventually got back I wanted to slowly and leisurely sail her around Hauraki Gulf and get to know her. Instead Pete and I were in a hurry to get her to the Bay of Islands for the Tall Ship Regatta in January 2018. 

Before setting off for the Bay of Islands I feared the worst, bad weather and us struggling along the coast.  Suitable anchorages are spread at a distance, weather forecasts are not that accurate, strong changeable winds are a norm and with no VHF, GPS or mobile signal I felt this was one adventure too many this year. 

However once we set off on Francis’s junk rigged maiden voyage I hoped it would be a leisurely cruise up the coast with entertainment provided by the birds and dolphins. It was not exactly to be. I could have never imagined how magical it would feel to be able to nearly touch the dolphins swimming along or how enthralling it is to glide through the flock of 100s of undisturbed birds floating around their wings flapping lazily.  When a whale head surfaced only 100 meters away from us, facing us full frontal and broaching with a big head splash all I saw was its open jaws swallowing us. Irrational fear? Its head was much bigger than Francis’ bow and the whale itself was at least 3 times the size. I was feeling uneasy to say the least. Fortunately its jaws did not open but mine dropped and my breath stalled. The curvature of the spine took ages to vanish followed up by  the tail which I hoped would  wave us a farewell instead of knocking us over. Shortly afterwards, far too soon for me to recover from the shock, it surfaced 20 meters closer. I was in awe but did not want a third take of this game. It was far too much, up close and personal.  What a thrill once it was all over and the whale left us in its wake! I slept well in the calms of Omaha Cove that night feeling snug and safe. 

On her 2nd day on the open sea Francis showed us how much she was loving it.  She was as much fun to sail as we hoped her to be. Past Bream Head on our way to the BOI making 5 knots on a beam reach was exhilarating sailing!  We anchored under sail at a very atmospheric open bay south of Taiharuru Head and north of Ocean Beach. Sleeping was not easy in her cramped cabin. 

We were making slow progress in the early morning breeze absorbing the beauty of the coastline.  A school of dolphins surfaced under Francis playing with her bows, swapping sides, jumping around. In this mellow and happy mood I was holding the tiller when suddenly something felt wrong. Half a mile off Elisabeth Reef sailing in light headwind and slight seas towards Cape Bret the rudder came off, breaking the tiller as well. What a shock to see the rudder floating astern in a swell. Luckily I managed to grab and hold onto it while Pete jumped out of the cabin to rescue it. Needless to say I was worried, seeing us drifting towards the reef while Pete was hanging astern struggling to put the rudder back on. He kept his cool while I was thinking of waving for a rescue! Little did I know that he lost his rudder while sailing in China Moon off Staten Island and dived into freezing waters to fix it, not to mention that he apparently has a ‘track record’ on rudder issues. After struggling for a while he managed to provisionally fit the rudder on and we  sailed back (7 miles) to Tutukaka to fix it properly.  Tutukaka’s entry is extremely atmospheric and always exciting, let alone this time. Only a week ago while sailing in Oryx, nearly at the same spot where our rudder dropped off, we rescued a little dayboat with engine failure and towed it back to Tutukaka. Who would have thought that we will be limping in Francis into the same harbour. The split pin holding the rudder on was missing which caused it to come off its fitting.  Pete managed to sort things out by forcing the rudder back in and lashed it.  We had a spare tiller on board.  Early start tomorrow to catch up on the mileage lost. 

We could not make it to Cape Brett the following day – the headwinds and moderate seas saw us anchoring in Whangamumu Bay, ex whaling station. Exhausted from an early start and excitement from a previous day we turned in at 6pm. The weather forecast was not ideal but it was doable and we decided to go for it. By now we slept well in Francis as we got used to her cramped cabin.

At the crack of the dawn,  with hardly any light to see the shoreline we sailed off the anchor. Out of the well sheltered Whangamumu bay the wind was blowing hard SW5-6 the seas were rough. We already had two reefs and we have not started yet. I was wondering if we should turn back, I sensed trouble ahead and was apprehensive.  We pressed on because the conditions were not unusual for this area and we had to sail there some time. The anchorage we were in had no signal so we had no idea what the weather was going to be like in the next few days.  After a good fast sail to Cape Brett we lost the  wind.  By the time we reached Percy Island, just off the headland,  we were becalmed. 

Just as well that we were carried by a strong current in the right direction, away from the rocks. With light wind and very short steep seas we could not motor with the outboard as it kept lifting out of the water. There were not particularly nice seas, but probably they are not unusual for this place. Once we passed Percy Island the wind moderated. 

Increase in wind in the afternoon required the engine to make any progress at all. We sailed, motored and motor sailed. Filling a petrol tank was a feat in itself. I moved all heavy gear towards the stern and sat as much aft as possible to make the stern go further into the water to help the propeller stay in. My meagre 40kg made a difference!  At times it was blowing over 20 knots, F5, with spray blowing off the surface.  With a wind on the nose, in short waves, Francis was very slow.  She was stopped in her tracks with every sharp wave that came by, but she did not dive in, she cut them sharp. Francis was sturdy, buoyant and surprisingly dry. We only got splashed 3 or 4 times.  She could sail into the wind and hold the course but she could not make much progress in strong weather conditions. Nothing broke, engine performed excellently. Without it it would have been a very long time to get anywhere in these conditions in such a little boat.

At the end of the day we got to the Okey Bay anchorage even though it was not an enjoyable sail to say the least. To quote Pete: “This was some sail, a memorable sail, and not an enjoyable one!” even by his standards!  As for me, I was ready to hail any tour boat that passed by asking for a tow of my tiny boat that struggled for hours to make little progress in rough seas. A shocking thought crossed my mind, how nice it would be to sit in the office looking at the computer screen! It was obvious that I was not enjoying the experience nor did I appreciated the magic of wild seas, white crests, sun shining on the waves, gusts, sprays, birds…  Around us fast tour boats sped by regularly, helicopters flew above us ferrying trippers back and forth. What a different perspective they’ve got of it all I thought. 

We put Francis and ourselves through the paces. Not sure who fared better after 11 hours of hell rounding Cape Brett in Westerly force 5 – 6 on the nose. Horrible seas. Yamaha saved the day. It was good to see what Francis can take and make. She took a lot but could not make a lot. We will not be taking her to the Tasman Sea, Pete said! I was disappointed but sure that Francis sighed in relief. As for me – it wasn’t exactly a maiden voyage I envisaged. We anchored in Okey Bay and slept, dead tired and exhausted. 

The following day we entered the Bay of Island and sailed in very favourable conditions. It was sheer joy to be on her helm while sailing along in smooth water, moderate wind along one of the most beautiful sheltered waters in the world. On her wood carved name plate it is written: Francis H – BOI. We delivered her where she belongs. The circle was completed. I was elated.  

Strong gale winds blew for 3 days and it was touch and go if the Tall Ship Regatta would take place, but it did.  Francis was too small to enter and we stayed on the ‘outskirts’ of it. 

Once away from Russell  we continued towards Kerikeri inlet and then sailed through the narrow pass. I asked Pete (the Navigator) since I was on the helm (the Skipperess – albeit not naked, it was too cold) if the water was deep enough for Francis, reminding him that when I went sailing with Denis on ‘Briganza’ (a beautiful Illingworth classic) there were some shallows there. Pete said : “ There is enough water and room for Queen Mary to go through, but maybe not for Francis!” We laughed.  I admire Pete not only for keeping his cool with me but also for finding a funny side to it. 

Once safely around the island we joined the rest of the fleet at the right moment just as Pete was planning to do in the Albert Channel. All JR boats were coming towards us as we were sailing across. The headwind was strong, waves too big for her liking and while she held the course the progress was slow. Giving way to Tystie we tried to tack but the strong gust hit us and we could not complete the tack. A quick reef and another attempt saw us through.  The sail displays were amazing on Thystie, Shoestring, Zebedee, Fantail and J&B. It was fun racing and trying to make ground on J&B – Francis holding her own very well.  Eventually they all left us behind with J&B keeping us company for a while.  Then Blondie crept in from astern and slowly overtook us close to the finishing line. The Committee boat blew a horn for us on a finishing line although officially we did not take part – Francis was far too small to enter. 

As we left her on anchor in Opua, surrounded by other yachts, I had the first opportunity to look at her from a distance. She looked perfectly formed miniature like a cute little toddler bobbing up and down.  The very first person that came aboard her since we brought her to the BOI became her suitor. He said – “She is so cute. If you ever want to sell her I will buy her, ask me first.” I watch him falling under her spell while admiring her in deep silence. I sensed his heart going to her in the way my did when I saw her first.  I knew Francis had seduced her new owner. 

We signed the bill of sale in her tiny cockpit, celebrating her handover with a bottle of champagne. Fair winds and smooth seas little mermaid! I wished Chris, the new owner,  to have as much fun in her as I did during our brief encounter. I cannot wait to hear about the adventures that Chris is going to have in her. 

 It was a great relief to know that she will continue her life on the waves in the ownership of the most accomplished sailor.  I was proud of her, feeling my mission of giving her a new lease of life was accomplished. 

I took a month to part with Francis, sailing her in the Bay and enjoying being on her. We sailed her to Kerikeri which was magical – downwind sailing up the very narrow river, nearly all the way to the Stone Wharf where Murray, the builder, met us and came aboard. His toddler boat was an accomplished lady now. 

At the end of November 2016, I packed my bags and cast off from my London houseboat where I’d lived for the past 30 years. Instead of having a leaving party, I sent an email to friends and business associates, despite the fact that for some, this might have been too personal. I hoped that some of them might also be inspired to seek a fulfilling life beyond the everyday grind.

Early that same year, I’d returned from Croatia to London with the firm intention of finding a job by April. To my astonishment I realised that I no longer loved London, it “didn’t do it for me” any more. It was painful to watch the constant destruction of its soul. I wanted to leave, but at the same time, the pressure of needing more money intensified. A trivial episode with some garden compost started me thinking: “Why do I need more money, why should I work? To buy things that I don’t need and can live without – like garden compost!” I made a profound and lasting decision of not wanting to work any more! Soon I received an offer I couldn’t refuse – and rejected it. It turns out that my life change was brought about by a purchase (or not) of a bag of compost. 

But what did I really want? Soon the answer came in the form of an email from Annie, asking me if I wanted to sail around the world with Alan. Although I knew little about him or his boat, nor had I planned to circumnavigate the globe, suddenly I knew that this is what I wanted to do. My life instantly took a different turn.

By chance I came across some verses that resonated within me. The first one was by poet W. B. Yeats

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

• I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, 
• And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made: 
• Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee; 
• And live alone in the bee-loud glade. 
• And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, 
• Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; 
• There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
• And evening full of the linnet’s wings. 
• I will arise and go now, for always night and day 
• I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; 
• While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
• I hear it in the deep heart’s core. 

The second was the lyrics of one of Arctic Monkeys’ songs: 

• This is how you are 
• Or have to be 
• In a decadent city 
• At the time of greed.

I arranged to meet Alan, who was temporarily working in England, to firm up a plan: we would cruise in New Zealand for three to four months and if everything was OK on board, we would leave for Borneo and sail round the world. I could hardly wait for this to happen. I immediately started getting rid of most of my possessions. The most difficult was to part with 100 pairs of my shoes, many of which held precious memories: if I could give them to charity, I’d be free to leave. In some ways it was symbolic: my life on Terra Firma was over and for a new life at sea I wouldn’t need high heeled shoes! Disposing of things was cathartic and represented closing a chapter in my life and beginning a new life where there would be no room for many possessions. I moved on mentally and emotionally, feeling even physically much lighter. I was very happy to be left with only 130 kilograms of personal luggage (including a bicycle) which was transported to Croatia, to my parents’ home. 

Ready to go and elated, I sent Alan a message and received an unexpected and brief answer: “Sorry, but I have to cancel everything.” What a shock! I was without money, work or suitable shoes and clothes. I had a one-way ticket to New Zealand and no entry visa. I felt desperate, wondering what to do, what exactly had happened and why. My dream was over. 

A friend, seeing me so upset, suggested that I go back to work for a year. I angrily rejected the idea. I had made a difficult, life-changing decision, expending huge amounts of energy at all levels in order to make it happen. It seemed impossible that I could do all this again. I resolutely decided that I’d neither change nor question my decision, and would go to New Zealand, in spite of everything. 

After this episode with Alan which shattered my dreams, I now devised my own Manifesto: “To deepen my own sense of existence by creating new friendships – I want to buy my own boat, convert it to junk rig, learn to sail, inspire other people to do it, write about it, and then sail on it, wherever the sea takes me.” 

This was a long-held desire, which surfaced effortlessly in one breath that morning. I read it in wonder, immediately embracing it and determined to achieve it. 

I emailed Annie and Alan asking for help. They both responded, contacting the NZ junkie community and within hours, five people had come back to me, willing to help with accommodation and/or sailing. I couldn’t believe what was going on. After two days on a roller coaster, I suddenly found myself in an even better position than before!

Excited about this development I now wanted to spend more time in New Zealand with these generous and hospitable people. I applied for an extended-stay visa, which I received very quickly. I was now on the moon, and realised I’d have plenty of time to fulfil the goals in my “Manifesto”. I tasked Annie to search for a boat for me and a few days later there was another fatal email with a link for the boat. She wrote: “You did ask!”

In disbelief I looked at the pictures of a tiny, sweet and gorgeous sailboat. I called the owner in NZ who had built her with his father, some 40 years ago. He’d owned her and been caring about her ever since. I told him I wanted to buy her and that he must keep her for me until I arrived. She was an irresistible beauty. A new adventure had started! 

Soon I left London, my heart filled with happiness when I thought of the life I had spent there and the wonderful friends I was leaving behind, but I was also excited about the new life waiting for me in the southern hemisphere and in enchanting NZ. 

When I arrived, I’d no fixed plans and was open to any opportunity. At first I stayed in the small, quiet village of Stillwater in the suburbs of Auckland, with my wonderful host and new friend Roger. Without him life would certainly have been much different and more difficult. His always present help was incredible: he is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. He drove me to many beautiful places and I jokingly called myself “Miss Daisy” based on the film of that name. My little white room, which I named The Chapel, reflected not only the purity of the place where I lived  but the process of purifying body and soul that I was experiencing. It was a completely new life, so different from London and I enjoyed it. The decision to pack everything and start from scratch began to bear fruit. New adventures arrived quickly and frequently. To celebrate my arrival, Roger had organised a welcome party. To my surprise more than 20 JRA members and friends turned up. I struggled to find anything suitable to wear in my mainly sailing gear wardrobe, but managed to buy a colourful outfit and a new pair of shoes – old habits die hard! It was wonderful to be able to talk and laugh with so many new friends. I even drank a glass of rum in the early hours of the morning! 

That evening set the tone for my new sailing life in New Zealand and it was important to everything that followed. During the first month I went on numerous boats, met many extremely friendly and dear people, participated in several regattas and sailed over 1,000 miles – not always in the best weather! 

As for the small, wooden sailing boat I bought while I was in London, it turned out to be a masterpiece of one of the greatest and most famous designers – the legendary L Francis Herreshoff – a Buzzards Bay 14. She is called Francis H. When I first saw her, hiding in a yard under an olive tree in Kerikeri I was even more convinced that our union was meant to be despite the great distance. Elated, I sat in her cockpit, happy to find her in such good condition.

Murray, who had built her in 1974, had invested a lot of effort into restoring his treasured boat. I spent a few wonderful days with him and his family, sanding her hull and painting her. Then she was finally transported to Stillwater and went back into the water. 

When she floated I was overwhelmed with joy for although small trickles of water came through her seams, there was nowhere near as much as I’d been warned to expect. She was solidly and tightly built and within 12 hours she wasn’t making a drop. Her charming lines and the grace with which she floated delighted me as did the first glass of wine I drank, sitting on her deck and watching the sunset. 

Many passers-by were overwhelmed by her beautiful lines, which made me very proud. Pete had offered to help me convert her to a junk rig and soon I ordered what was needed to build the mast and he pulled green sail material out of his secret repository, which was soon transformed into Francis’s sail. The second stage of my “Manifesto” was taking shape … but that was another story!