Passage to New-Zealand, part 2: vertical acceleration.

October 14th – October 16th, 2024.

An 18-knot wind, blowing 37 degrees on the nose, keeps us on edge all Monday morning when we leave the parking lot. O2 groans and creaks as she pitches and heaves, battling fiercely against wind and waves. At times, when the waves relentlessly smash against her hulls, the water no longer feels like a liquid. Each time O2 crashes down onto the water’s surface, it sounds like a giant hand slamming a massive wooden table with furious force, stopping O2 momentarily in her track. In the euphemistic language of nautical terms, this is called “vertical acceleration.”

Catching some sleep in between shifts is a challenge, especially when, in the middle of the night, the starboard engine bilge pump blares its alarm. I was already looking sideways at the life raft. But it was nothing serious—just a minor leak in our freshwater pipe. But the leak was enough to create a pool that triggered the alarm. We shut off the freshwater pump and opened the faucets to release the pressure. The conditions are too rough for a shower anyway.

As predicted, the wind direction improved rapidly, allowing us to sail at a wind angle between 50 and 70 degrees, but the vertical acceleration is still going at it and the wind is howling. The ocean is a moody blue and our noses are red—not from sunburn, but from the bite of the southeasterly winds that chill our tropical bones. We feel ejected from our balmy turquoise paradise into raging madness. Cyclone season be damned.

Oh, what a difference the sun makes! Suddenly, the ocean sparkles a brilliant blue once more, never mind the cold. The vertical acceleration is still quite vertical, but we’re getting better at ignoring it. We’re cruising at an average speed of 6,5 knots on an efficient beam reach, and able to hold a straight course toward Opua. We tie up at the Opua’s Q dock at exactly 4:30 AM, Sunday morning. We crash in bed for some very necessary horizontal hush. It feels like heaven. At 9:30 AM, the authorities come to clear us in and Luis, the bio inspector has us fill up the huge black garbage bags he brought with him. There goes my frozen spaghetti sauce, goulash and chicken curry. We knew it would be confiscated, but we had to plan for a potential long stay at the parking lot in Minerva. However, after 3 days already, an acceptable weather window opened up with storm on the horizon, so we had to get out asap. That’s why our freezer didn’t get emptied out in time.

We’ve now booked a berth for 5 nights in the gorgeous Bay of Islands Marina of Port Opua. O2 has been washed clean of all the salt and sparkles in the sun. The radio is tuned to FM 100.70 known as THE BREEZE, playing all the hits from the eighties and also some blues.(At the moment “Take the long way home.” is playing. I swear!) Life can be a breeze.