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Travel JournalWell here it is Wednesday and we are off to Kaiteriteri to go sailing. The weather is cloudy with patches of sun but warm enough – around 20 degrees. Kaiteriteri is in the Abel Tasman nature reserve and it really is a stunningly beautiful place. We track down the boat, a large Catamaran, and introduce ourselves to the skipper.
He is a native of the town and has been here all his life. His name is Mark and I guess he is in his late 40s. He certainly looks the part. Quite weathered in his countenance, burned brown by the elements and the fresh sea air. He is very fit, has untidy longish but clean hair, wears no shoes and has a slow and clear drawl which is both precise and easy to listen to. You certainly feel the man knows what he is doing.
The whole boat is tidy and each series of operations to hoist sail, stow loose rope ends, lowering the twin keels and securing the tiller is completed without hurry but extremely efficiently and with complete confidence in the outcome. Our skipper is not a man confined to the coastal waters and the known courses. He is a man of the deep blue and the long ocean crossing, the reader of the sun and the stars and one who has a deep respect for the sea and her endless power. As we head out into the Tasman the boat picks up the swell but it remains very comfortable and extremely stable. Mark adjusts the tiller, (that’s the steering wheel for you land lubbers) the breeze off the land gently fills the huge sails and they take up a soft curve. They are now billowing out cathedral like above us and the self same breeze is now singing in the shrouds and flapping the flag at the mast head. Now comes a menu of different actions on the complicated series of little winches and pulleys and the tiller is moved to steer the craft into its best position. The sails now move from a gentle curve as they become iron taunt and crack as they exert their huge pressure on the mast. The keels and the two parallel hulls counteract the pressure and the boat, working out the triangle of forces, picks up speed as if it is a fox hound that has been let off the leash. The noise of the sea changes in tone from a soft gurgle to an insistent hiss and the demure lady has transformed herself into the warrior queen of her domain. The waves are now running smartly along the hull until they cascade off into the air and break into a million shining diamonds. The hulls ride up on the clear blue water and you just know this craft is in its element and being controlled every bit as cleverly and exactly as those wonderful Spanish riders with their Lipizzaner thoroughbreds. This is the steed of the ocean and the only thing happier than the boat is the man who is guiding its every precise movement. As the day wears on Mark proves himself not only a very learned man in terms of the ocean but of nature in general. He answers all our questions and supplies information not only about what is happening here now but what was happening fifty years ago and two hundred years ago. He is sensitive to the history of the nation and all its peoples and has that remarkable natural gift of knowing when to talk and when to stay quiet. Both of us really like him and feel safe with him in charge of the boat. Jill and John Stewart |