day 174: PFGBI
Miriam: Whoops, my spelling error meant our last blog got lost in the ethers for a few days. Ironic seeing as it was my rally cry to the continuing blog. And then we wallowed in the absolute lap of luxury hosted by Naomi’s Aunt Karon and Uncle Pete near Whangarei and couldn’t be bothered to blog at all, being away from the boat and the tablet upon which these epistles are composed. It was a marvellous few days, fed to bursting with all the delicious things (Lemon curd! Date scones! Pork chops! Chocolate cake!), sleeping in our own rooms in wonderfully soft beds, and last night I even took a bath. Swoon. Karon, perhaps the patron saint of domesticity, did all of our horrifying laundry even, throwing out and replacing the most egregious offenders (the tea towels I tried to replace a month ago in Fiji that were kept for sentimental reasons) which was truly a gift to us all. Meanwhile, Pete ran us around on errands and gave us fishing tips and lures for bagging the snapper or the king fish that Jamie has been plotting about since reaching NZ waters. We are so incredibly grateful and are absolutely spoiled now. We did manage a major boat cleaning during our stay so the tea towels don’t look completely out of place in Bluebird’s sparkling interior.
And then we were off! An early morning departure into a brisk sunny day, catching the icy southerlies to sail swiftly to Great Barrier Island. The wind was dynamic, shifting from barely there to a brisk 18 knots, and made for a fun day of reefing the mainsail only to shake it out and shortly thereafter reef again. We made it by late afternoon and Jamie and I set up the dinghy to head out on a twilight fishing mission. I gathered and shucked oysters for bait while Jamie dove for snapper and once he was freezing and I had a nice pile we transitioned to drifting in the dinghy, lines dropped, quietly patient and waiting for our fish to come in. Alas, no luck yet, but it was a gorgeous pastel sunset, lingering as they do in these lengthening days of Spring. Fishing in the gloaming was a wonderful end to the day, reminding me of my Grandpa and how he, long ago, taught me to fish. Tomorrow is a new day and rest assured the fishing will continue as well as bush wanders in these compelling hills of thick regenerating native forest. We shall head to sleep, bundled in all of our warmest blankets, and rise again to meet the dawning (or possibly sleep in, tbd).