No matter where you are in the world, three B’s bring people together. A barbecue, a few beverages and a bonfire. And as the evening progresses, maybe some singing of dubious quality from most of those participating.

Friends declared an End of Summer party. It’s still 20 degrees in the sun here in Nelson during the day but evenings are now cool, in single digits. There have been two dusting of snow of the tops of the distant hills. But the daytime weather has been stable and bright and sunny. Lovely autumn days.

Getting to their house, probably 3 miles away in a straight line involved…

A.       Going ashore in the dinghy from the mooring, carefully caressing a bowl of food to be shared

B.       Loading our bikes onto the back of a borrowed car

C.      Driving very carefully as the car and the bikes were enduring a somewhat wobbly relationship

D.      Unloading the bikes on arrival

E.        Eating, drinking and socialising

F.        Riding the bikes back in the dark to the dinghy dock (almost exclusively downhill so nice and whizzy whizzy)

G.      Swapping bikes for the dinghy to retrace of wake back to the boat

This morning we’ll need to reverse this travel plan to go and collect the car. Meanwhile Dave is replacing some of the cabinetry in the cupboards. We removed it as part of the rig replacement to check the chain plates.

Our standing rigging is almost to the day 10 years old (the wires that hold up the mast). Our insurance company requires the rig to be less that 10 years old. And it’s generally the industry standard too. We’ve sailed a lot of miles so the whole set up has had lots of use. It looked absolutely fine but gremlins could hide within in the wire, unseen and lurking.

So Grace currently sits on a mooring, mast-less. Much work has been done in the last 3 weeks and by Wednesday, she should be back together again. The boat rocks so much more without the mast on. It’s Sunday morning and lots of ‘fizz boats” (small speed boats) are heading out for a morning’s fishing creating wake. Don’t want to spill the morning cuppa.

Just gratuitous football. So happy. ⚽️🏆

We want to get from Lyttelton to the Marlborough Sounds. It feels like exam preparation doing the passage planning.

We plan to go up on the back of a southerly front which has brought big winds and rain. We’ll need to leave at night, likely with the front still being active. We need to average at least 6.5 knots over the length of the 165-mile sail. Or the tidal gate into the Tory Channel will be closed with a massive 6.5 knot current against us as it’s spring tides. And the winds are due to go north and being in a wind against tide in the Cook Strait will be unpleasant / grim / scary / impossible.

Dave mostly, and me a little, spent the day before studying different weather models and tidal flow diagrams and talking to a local about how the computer generated wind models say one thing but in reality this often means you get this instead.

So it was with some trepidation we left the dock at 8pm at night heading out with about 30 minutes of daylight left.

We motored out towards the head of the bay with darkness falling, at the same time as a bloody cruise ship was leaving. We didn’t want to play tag so dawdled letting it go past before we could duck behind it to start our journey north.

The wind filled in beautifully and with two reefs in the main and full yankee, we cracked along gobbling up the miles.

The full moon was just masssive (yes it deserves an extra s) and it actually didn’t feel like night. Having some light at night makes a such a difference to being on night watch. It proved to be an incredibly positive and enjoyable sail, especially after all the angst we endured planning the trip.

But some good stories occasionally have a ‘dun dun dun” moment, providing jeopardy for the reader. And ours arrived as we entered the bottom of the Cook Strait.

We were both on deck when Dave heard the automatic bilge pump going off. This is a pump which sits at the lowest part of the bilge under the floor boards where any water will collect. A sensor triggers its operation should any water cover its body.

Dave went down the companionway steps and all I heard was “sh*t”. I followed quickly behind him and was greeted with water sloshing on the floor boards. This is not good. Water on the outside of a sail boat works well. The inside is not advisable.

There’s not a heap of time for problem solving when a situation like this confronts you. It’s not a put the kettle on, find a pad to make some notes, mull over the options kind of moment.

Dave quickly determined the water was fresh water, not sea water. This is very good news. The water has emanated from inside the boat, not outside. No holes. And a quick look at where it seems to be coming from suggested the cupboard under the sink.

The story ends with us working out a piece of pipe connecting the water tank to the tap has split. Because the pressurised water system was on at the switch panel, water was being constantly pumped from the tank and deluging itself through the split onto the floor. And into the bilge. Turning the pressurised system off, a bucket, a sponge and an operational bilge pump sorted the immediate problem in 20 minutes.

Today Dave did a temporary fix, chopping and shortening the pipe, before reconnecting it. We now have pressurised water again, that comes out of the taps, rather than flowing unnecessarily onto the floor.

The weather was better than we expected. We didn’t pull into the Tory Channel but continued to the top of the Cook Strait. At 4.30am, over 32 hours after setting off, we picked up a mooring ball in the Marlborough Sounds in bright moonlight, in windless conditions. A passage we’ll remember for a while.

Dave almost stood on a sea lion lion. Not deliberately of course.

Ulva Island is a popular destination for folk visiting Stewart Island. Its trails are clear and well maintained and its claim to be predator free means it attracts people wanting to see and hear native birds. We anchored off a beach, pootled ashore and picked up one of the circular walks. Not far, maybe an hour and half to do a loop.

Dave was spying into the bush, and slowly walking slightly sideways when the air was filled with a stark “Ahhh”. He stopped abruptly, wobbled on one leg, then quickly hopped a couple of steps away from a seemingly camouflaged  lounging female sea-lion that had scrummaged up into the bush from the beach. Neither were injured and we scooted away.

We’ve been on Stewart Island for over a month. Today is the first crappy day weather wise. Incredible in a very good way. We’re a long way south and last year, a front a week came through. The locals say they need rain.

We’ve walked, including Magog, Bald Cone and the Tin Range. We helped cut a new trail for predator control, we’ve fished, and dived for scallops and been given crayfish. The sea lions have delighted and scared us….I had a curious polite one come to nudge my fins when in the water one day. Dave had a big male that was a bit too curious when he was replacing the prop shaft anode underwater so he launched himself into the dinghy quite speedily.

Dave had a seven gill shark, very briefly on the fishing hook. It obviously didn’t like the paltry bait provided and quickly spat it out. Since then we’ve seen a few. The internet tells me this. “The sharpnose sevengill shark is reasonably small and is located in generally deep water, and these characteristics classify this shark as harmless to humans”. In fact, Dave seems to currently have an affinity for animals beginning with s.

Our house sale is still not quite over the line yet so we’ve staying (a day sail) close to a post office in case we need to sign any more documents and mail them back to the UK. It doesn’t feel like a hardship to be here though.

Whisper it quietly. This is a top spot. Don’t want crowds to turn up. Although it’s a bit of an effort to get here so I don’t think there’s much chance it’s about to become the new Newcastle Quayside hotspot.

We are tucked up in Disappointment Cove with our new North Island NZ buddies Cyril and Janine who are also here on their boat. It’s been home for 6 nights and is a ‘snug as a bug’ all weather anchorage. We’ve used the dinghy to get about to other coves, deserted beaches, walking trails, fishing spots and scallop hangouts.

The sun has shone, the sand flies have been very manageable and we’ve loved being here. It’s very much a make your own entertainment kind of place. Last night and this morning have been windy. The forecast for the Foveaux Strait, the body of water between the bottom of South Island and Stewart Island was for 60 knots of wind. Disappointment Cove with it’s all round protection has been a grand choice to hole up in. We are anchored and have three other lines out to add extra protection for Grace. We’d spent money last year on 100m floating lines for this very purpose. It felt good to dust them off and play with them.

After two weeks of wilderness living, we will make a move soon towards Oban, the main (only) town on the island. There is no chocolate on Grace and it’d be healthy to pick up some freshies, top up on petrol for the dinghy and treat ourselves to an ice cream.

And here’s a sea-lion playing with the dinghy paddle. Hope it brings a smile to your face.

The general rule on a sailing vessel is when you come across sea life, dolphins, seals, whales etc, you should remain at least 100m away. You shouldn’t disturb the creatures, intimidate them or approach them. My question is, what’s the protocol when a massive sea lion decides to chase your dinghy, swim under it and splash you with its fins? The culprit is noticeably longer than our 2.6m dinghy, a proper chunky monkey and has a fine array of teeth in a rather impressively sized head.

Our dinghy has an aluminium hull but the tubes are made of hypalon which are filled with air. A little munch and it’s a deflating beach ball scenario. All was fine, I may be being a little melodramatic here although it was a scenario we hadn’t considered previously. There’s a beach behind where we are anchored here in Pegasus Inlet on Stewart Island. We’ve seen three sea lions plopped on that beach, just hanging out till it’s time to go fishing again. We’ve become accustomed to them swimming around the boat, our heads turning as they exhale sharply when they surface for air. Ah, the sea lions are back.

We sailed to Stewart Island just under a week ago. It was a 30 hour trip from Port Carey, near Dunedin. We won’t get much further south than this. The wind was from behind and the sea, as predicted, was a little boisterous during the night. But by the time we entered into the inlet, the wind had dropped and we motored to our chosen cove in calm bright weather and managed to anchor and sort stern lines without any drama.

It’s a stunning place. Pretty remote. Fish to catch. Old workings to explore. Yesterday we walked up onto the Tin Range. We saw precisely no one on our full day excursion, initially through the bush then out into the open with sketchy paths to follow, some bush bashing and great views all round. Today has been less active as our legs recover from 25km including a little laundry  after collecting water from the stream. Appreciate your washing machine.

We got an unexpected phone call from a reporter here in Dunedin. So rather than write our latest offering, I’ve let someone else have a go. Not sure it’s up to my usual standards. And being described as Mr and Mrs Savage just makes us laugh. And of course there’s a bit of journalistic poetic licence. Enjoy.

2025. This year will include my 60th birthday. There’s a mind numbing fact to crunch.
I’m not a resolution maker. However. My buddy Rob has signed me up to his friends WhatsApp group which requires folk to do at least 30 minutes of some kind of exercise a day and post a picture of you doing it. It’s remote bullying / motivation.

So far (5 days) this is proving to be a good start to the year. My exploits won’t be as dramatic as some of the others, youngsters, but the need to do something is buzzing in my head when I wake up in the morning. I do need to shift some timber. There, I’ve written it, it’s out there rather than just knowing it in my head.  Move more, eat less will be key in my 60th year. You all have permission to bully / remind me. In fact I’d welcome the friendly poke.

Christmas and New Year have been awesome. We hooked up with the  Connolly’s and ate and drank and made merry. It was an overnight trip down from Akaroa to the little harbour here in Oamaru. Are there any other cruising boats here? Of course not. They just don’t seem to exist often this far south.

Kevin the local harbourmaster sorted us out a mooring.  Grace has been here on her own since Christmas Eve while we’ve stayed in Kakanui. We got back onto the boat yesterday and it’s been particularly windy since then. Lots of white horses out beyond the breakwater. Glad we’re tucked up. Maybe by Tuesday the southerly winds will have abated a bit and we can head down south a bit further.

We get it why there are so few other boats here. It’s a tricky place to sail. But there’s lots to do here. We spent a night at the blue penguin colony watching about 280 of them come in from the sea at dusk and waddle their sweet way to their little houses. We cycled to Duntroon and back for lunch. 110 kilometres. On electrics. Cheating? Maybe. And we’re just back from a walk / scramble / seal avoidance dance around the headland. Boy is it windy out there. Tea it is then.



I had my Andy Warhol moment. Although it lasted a little longer than 15 minutes.

Our friend Edie, who is on the social committee at my old tennis club in Derbyshire, asked me if I’d do a ‘bit of a chat’ about our travels one evening. Edie is so lovely, she’s not someone you’d ever say no to. “Yes, of course I will. I’ll put a few piccies together to show on the telly and think up a few tales to share”. I then realise she’s selling tickets. Hmm, the stakes have altered somewhat. There are expectations now.

I spent a couple of days pulling together a bunch of photos, a few video clips and a couple of animated graphics. I was very proud of my animated graphic as I was able to show on a map roughly where in the world the boat had travelled. The fact the ‘moving boat’ went over land a couple of times due to slight operator error caused a bit of hilarity and it certainly broke the ice for the evening.

It proved to be a really fun time. Dave reckoned there were probably between 35 and 40 people there, many of whom I knew from tennis playing days. They were thankfully a forgiving audience.

I wanted to make sure the talk wasn’t just a linear explanation of where we’d been. That felt a bit dull. So I included some sections on people we’d met, why we set off in the first place, iconic places we’d visited and a few adventures we’d had along the way. My Miss Marple story about apprehending the sandal thief in Bora Bora landed nicely.

I thought I had enough material for about 45 minutes of presentation and guessed that 15 minutes would be plenty for any questions. But I rattled on easily for 90 minutes with lots of questions along the way. I do need to give Dave some credit as he chipped in too, particularly on the spannering questions. He did a really good job of ‘batting away’ the chap who was obsessed about how were we able to afford this lifestyle by working hard to convince him we weren’t actually multi millionaires. 😀

Spring turned to summer then autumn and winter. That’s how long we’ve been in the UK.

That’s pretty much it in the UK for us till next May. Time to head back to NZ for some sailing and summer sun.  I’m on a train to meet up with Dave for a Savage family pub supper. The train conductor has just delivered his spiel, and concluded by saying, I’m Kevin the Conductor, and your driver today is awake.  I like Kevin.

The main project this summer was to get our house back from the tenants, spend about a month doing it up and get it on the market to sell. We did get the house back, a few days late but that’s another story. We did do it up but it took much longer than anticipated, another story. And as I sit here heading towards the Savage gathering, we have a buyer and assuming the solicitors and surveyors do their stuff, tomorrow night will be our last night in No. 2.

We were really happy in that little house before we set off on Grace. That south facing vista over the village and the countryside beyond is exceptional and possibly the best view anyone has from their front door. But it’s time for a change and selling the house will hopefully facilitate that.

I’m feeling excited about the future. I know we’ll both be sad to close the door behind us for the last time. I’ve spent hours pottering in that garden. It made me very happy.

Think I’ll leave it there. Don’t need to say anything else.