Looking at the forecasts in Whangārei, our choices for continuing north were narrowing to either spend the rest of summer getting there, and then turn right back around, or do a couple of long days to get north, and then spend the rest of the summer there. Since we were looking forward to a more leisurely period of cruising that didn’t involve daily worry about how we were going to get the next twenty miles, and then the next, we decided to go for the latter.
Our first day out of Whangārei, I was hoping to be able to exit the Hatea completely and get as far up the coast as Tutukaka, which I remember liking very much from our last visit many years back.
Our day ended up being even more ideal than that. We were able to leave the marina at high tide, just when the lift bridge opened after morning rush hour. We then had a flat calm trip down the river, helped by a fast ebb. Almost as soon as we rounded Bream Head, a strong southerly filled in and started pushing us smartly up the coast. We passed Tutukaka just after noon and made it all the way to Bland Bay, just south of Cape Brett and the entrance to the Bay of Islands, right at sunset.
Despite the name, Bland Bay looked like it would be a nice place to spend a few days. The problem with that plan was that our strong southerlies were predicted to start fizzling out by noon. To make the best of them, we were already in the open sea again by sunrise.
After doubling Cape Brett and Piercy Island, we had a couple hours crossing a mess of confused seas coming from multiple directions. These were pushed by swirly winds tumbling over the mountains. Just after noon, as predicted, the wind started to back counterclockwise and decrease. The seas smoothed out, which helped us keep up our speed. We ended up arriving at the Whangaroa Harbor entrance in light headwinds that were just getting far enough forward that we were going to need to start tacking.
Inside the dead-calm harbor, we motored over to Rere Bay, the popular anchorage near the Duke’s Nose viewpoint. Two munohulls were already there, taking up most of the prime space. We poked around on the shallow edge, hoping for a large enough area of catamaran-suitable depth. After deciding it was too tight for comfort, we returned to the deep water at the entrance. We would need all our chain again, but there was just enough room for us to swing without encroaching on the others.
As we were slowing to a stop at our chosen drop spot, a British ketch, skippered by someone of questionable upbringing, came into the bay at speed, wedged up right behind us, walked to the bow, dropped anchor, and then returned to the cockpit, all while conspicuously avoiding eye contact so that he could not see my rude gestures of protest. Maryanne hadn’t even had time to press the ‘down’ button on the windlass controller.
Despite the fact that I was sure the correct response was to yell, “Towanda!” Kathy Bates-style (from Fried Green Tomatoes) and set the throttles to Ramming Speed, Maryanne (correctly, much to my dismay) reminded me that since the rude little wanker had lowered anchor before us, he now had right of way. If we still didn’t feel there was enough room for us to safely anchor, we were now obliged to make other arrangements. Oh, Grr!
Fine. Taking a deep breath, I put the engines in gear and we left Rere Bay altogether for the adjacent, equally deep, but much roomier Waitepipi Bay. With my adrenaline levels slowly returning to normal, I quickly realized Waitepipi was a much better deal. Rere Bay is usually overcrowded with a rolling queue of arrivals and departures, so that worry never really goes away. Waitepipi has plenty of swinging room, more privacy, and better views of the northern part of the harbor, including the Duke’s Nose. The extra distance can be traversed in only five minutes with a kayak. Later on, we met one of the occupants of the original two monohulls in Rere Bay. He told us that the ketch, which ironically has a name like Serenity or Quiet Time, has a really loud generator that they run most of the time. Sometimes, being run out by self-absorbed boneheads can be a good thing.
Arriving in Whangaroa Harbour
Anchorage location >> On google maps
No comments:
Post a Comment