Easter weekend here. Easter weekend everywhere you may add, but you'd be wrong. Easter is a 'movable Christian feast'. The simple definition of Easter is that it is the first Sunday after the Full Moon that occurs on or after the vernal equinox. If the full moon falls on a Sunday then Easter is the next Sunday. Unfortunately this definition is not, strictly speaking, correct. The vernal equinox used is not the true equinox but an artificial one always assumed to be on March 21. The full moon used is not the true full moon but an artificial construct based on the Metonic cycle.It's amazingly complex but the 'simple' way of calculating it is given here.
However, not that simple either because the Greek Orthodox Church uses the Julian calendar not the Gregorian calendar and this year Easter falls next weekend but it can be a number of weeks different from year to year!
The point of this is it is a holiday weekend. We start Olympic Trials on Tuesday (25th) so I had to be in Auckland today, Monday 24th. That means that its not a 'proper' full four-day holiday weekend but a contracted one. To make the best of it I ferried over to Picton last Friday morning where I was met by Bill, Toni, Callum and Mishca, the feline member of the entourage, who had been cruising in Morning Star for some days (MS is the boat dead-centre in this photo). They had totally 'gone bush' and had no idea what day it was.
The weather report was good for the Friday but then threatened a southerly on the Saturday so we had to plan the weekend well. We set sail in a northerly direction heading for Furneaux Lodge. On the way I took over the helm. Sounds good, doesn't it? I was somewhat trepidate (a new word which I have just made up, meaning to possess trepidation)because Morning Star is not a small boat. It weighs 24 tonnes and has a single screw so manoeuvring is slow and somewhat 'fuzzy'. I got the hang of it and by the end of the weekend I was in line for the title of Old Salty Dog. When Toni sends through a picture of me driving (not sitting on Bill's knee) I'll post it.Approaching, crossing and passing other boats is interesting because there are rules of the sea and most of them seem to be rules of thumb. Anyway we didn't crash into anyone the whole time so all was good.
At one point there was a water-taxi ahead which was slowly circling and all the passengers were variously leaning over, pointing and gesticulating. Bill thought they had found some dolphins so we chugged (the perfect term, by the way) over to see what the fuss was about. Indeed, dolphins it was, but no ordinary dolphins. These were Hector's dolphins - Cephalorhynchus hectori, the rarest dolphin on the planet! They are cute, toy-like little things, around 1.2-1.4m in length. Apart from their unique colouring their most distinctive feature is the ping-pong bat-like dorsal fin. How and why would a dorsal fin evolve into that shape? Another interesting fact - there are different sub-species of Hector's dolphins on the north island and south island. The islands are 10 miles apart - how would different sub-species develop? There are only 111 of the north island ones left so they're on a big uphill struggle. You can see the left pectoral fin of one of them is pretty shredded; I suspect it may have had an encounter with a shark and managed to escape. They buzzed around for some time then wandered off so we continued up to Furneaux. Awesome, something which I may never experience again.
Furneaux; now this is an interesting little place. On New Year’s Eve 1997, two holiday-makers Ben Smart and Olivia Hope disappeared from a party at Furneaux Lodge. They were last seen boarding a mystery yacht with a mystery man. Five months later, 26-year old Scott Watson was arrested and later convicted of their murders. He is now serving a life sentence.But according to the evidence of witnesses, Scott Watson could have had nothing to do with it at all. Journalist Keith Hunter published a book a couple of years ago, Trial by Trickery, which details the manipulation of witness statements and withholding of evidence by the police. The story still has some time to run before it reaches a conclusion.
The Lodge is set right at the top of a long inlet, there are no roads - the only access is by boat. You moor up in the bay and then either row ashore or radio for a tender to pick you up. The mooring we had 'booked' was already taken so we 'rafted' up against another largish boat ('rafting' means you tie yourself to the other boat which is tied to the mooring.) Morning Star's tender is a small inflatable with oars so, because Callum was with us, we radioed for the Lodge tender. The tender arrived driven by Curtis, a Canadian from Alberta. On the cruise from Picton we'd been listening to Marlborough Marine Radio the whole time and it had become apparent that a whole parellel universe exists on the waterways of the world. People were filing 'TR's" (Trip reports) saying where they were headed and what their ETA was, they were arranging to meet friends at such and such a place, discussing the best sites for fishing, asking for directions, it was amazing. When we walked from the Fureaux jetty to the Lodge it instantly became apparent what a full parallel universe it was. The place was buzzing! The bar was packed, sports chanels were ablaze and the conversational noise was deafening. Through the bar into the restaurant reminded me of an old Warwickshire country hotel, very sedate and classy in an 'old' sort of way and the food and wine were exceptional.
The following morning, after an uneventful night, no murders, no sinkings, no wrecks and no'body drownded', in fact nowt to laugh at, at all! So, seeking for further amusement we set sail for other climes. The goal of the day was fishing so we sailed around until we found somewhere that looked good and dropped the lines. Now, I was brought up on your Great Grandad's trout fishing and its not quite the same as fishing for cod in the Marlborough Sounds. If you don't hit a cod within 30 seconds, you up and move on. We had enough for dinner within minutes. The GPS has a fish-finder facility but its unreliable. It works by echo-sounding the sea bottom not by asking the satellite where the fish are.
The weather was starting to look pretty worrying, the sea was becoming very lumpy and the southerly was predicted at 35 knots (A knot is 1.15 miles). Gusts can double the predicted wind speed and a 'southerly' down here means it started in the Antarctic!
We searched around for sheleterd mooring but everyone had the same idea so we were in danger of getting stuck or dropping anchor, not really something you want to do with a seven-month old on board. Morning Star is owned by a syndicate of which Bill is one, so he phoned one of the other partners in the Wairarapa who described the location of what he thought may be a suitable cove. Off we set and made it not long before dark. I have no idea what the cove is called but I'm pretty sure 'x' marks the spot.
The following morning the weather had settled and we decided to go for a coffee en route to delivering me back to Picton for the return ferry ride. The GPS was now showing we had criss-crossed the Sounds like a demented spider but it was fun. Coffee was at The Bay of Many Coves Resort, again, only accessible by boat! Again, moor up, ask for a taxi and a Canadian comes out to fetch you! Voitec, originally from Poland but recently of Vancouver. The coffee was terrific, the banana, pineapple, apple and something else cake was historic and the landscape, ambience and atmosphere were perfect. Very much BC-like but I don't think you get these restaurants and coffee houses tucked away in secluded bays like you do here.
That was it. Time to get on our way and me back on the Wellington ferry. Back to civilisation. Back to normality. Shame.This is MisterClive, clear. That's marine-speak for over and out.
