It is fantastic to see the boat coming together again, and looking great. Even better, all the clutter down below of carefully stored hardware is slowly disappearing. Every day there is a milestone to celebrate - the stage when the ports are in and the hatches are on when she can be locked up; the fitting of the binnacle, compass and wheel; and finally, with the engine panel rewired and refitted, the cockpit speakers and dc power points fitted, and the fittings for the bimini and dodger frames in place, the very last of the hardware is on and she is weatherproof, and ready to move outside to step the mast. It is a symbolic moment when the anchor, which was dropped with all its chain to allow the chain locker to be painted and for the chain depth markings to be repainted, is hoisted back aboard.
The riggers arrive early and ready the mast for the crane to lift it in place. I go round with them - "shouldn't this split pin be opened more? Shouldn't there be tape over that? Shouldn't we seize that shackle? " and generally being a nuisance - but I want to be able to rely on that rig.
The mast is a very heavy section, but it still bends under its own weight as the crane lifts it and we struggle to control the heel of the mast .
With the mast in, and all the rigging in place, one final lift and the boom is replaced. An hour after the crane arrived we have our rig back! The riggers spend the rest of the day tuning the rig while I run the wiring from the mast through the boat - the mast lights are easy, as there is a connection panel near the base of the mast where the wires exit the mast, and for once I have kept note of the wiring colours for the new mast wiring to each light. The VHF aerial is a bit harder, it goes back to the radio and AIS at the chart table - through the backs of various lockers, all of which have to be dismantled and replaced. And the masthead wind instruments go all the way to the cockpit instruments, which involves removing and replacing ceiling panels.
That night, I turned on all the lights and instruments, and to my surprise everything was working perfectly. The new LED Hella masthead tricolour shone nearly as brightly as the deck level nav lights (it meets international standards) but uses much less power, and the red green and white lights cut out correctly at the same angles as the deck lights. The new ST60 plus instruments are much clearer and brighter than the old ST50s, and the autopilot, chartplotter and radar all worked as they should.
Next day she was lifted onto the travelift and moved to the launching bay - but I still needed to scrape back, fair, and paint the underside of the keel, which had not been properly painted for many years because, of course, the keel is always resting on blocks while the boat is ashore. I was lucky the boatyard agreed to hold me in the lift for two days to allow a proper job scraping, grinding and sanding, several coats of epoxy, a primer, and two coats of antifouling paint - and even with two days I was working late into the night to get so many coats on and dry in time.
We are lowered into the water and held in the slings while we check for leaks (none!), start the engine (instantly) and check that cooling water is coming out the exhaust (none - curses!). After feverishly checking the valve, opening the water strainer, taking off the hose and still no water coming in even though we can see through the open ball valve the penny finally dropped - the travelift strop was blocking the water intake. With everything replaced, the strop was lowered and the water promptly ran through the exhaust.
With a couple of shore lines we swung her into the river and alongside another boat, facing downstream ready to head off next day. A quick cup of coffee to celebrate the launch, and then we got one of the yard workers to help us carry the sails onto the boat - the main is fully battened and we had stored it rolled up with battens in, so it takes at least three people to carry it without damage, and the genoa is a heavy and awkward lift for two men down a ladder and over the deck rails.
Fitting the genoa is heavy work but pretty straightforward - we get the luff in place on the foredeck, tie on the sheets, hoist it and furl it without too much trouble.
But the main is a lot harder. It is a struggle with both of us shoving and pushing and heaving to get the foot of the sail into the track of the boom furler mandrel, then to strongly lash the tack and clew in place, and finally to hoist it, with a gentle but occasionally gusty wind dead astern. And then, the sail wont furl properly. It is never easy to furl with this system off the wind, and after a few tries it is clear I have not set the boom angle correctly. We drop it back down on the deck and decide to clean up the dinghy (stored outside under a tarpaulin) while we wait for the wind to drop. As soon as we do that, the wind drops, and I sneak back, hoist the main, and furl it into the boom before the wind realises.
With the dinghy cleaned out, carried to the waters edge ready to launch, we have only to fit the bimini, and tidy the boat up before finishing for the day. We are both worn out, and go to bed very early.
Next morning we are up early and have our morning cuppa on deck in the shelter of the bimini. The tide is out, and what looks like a wide river at high tide is a very narrow little creek. There is a gentle rain, the far bank of the river is well wooded and green, and we watch the ducks come and go. At half tide the rain has stopped and there is enough water at the dinghy pontoon to launch the dinghy, so we can lift it up on the davits. Two hours before high tide we drop our lines and quietly motor off downstream. It takes an hour and a half at three and a half knots to go downriver - at that speed, if I make a mistake and go aground on the mud, there is a good chance the rising tide will lift us off. And it takes a lot of concentration to stay in the deep water. Even though there are some posts and buoys marking the channel, they are often misleading, and you need to guess the likely path of the channel (deeper water is usually on the outside of the curves). Sometimes, when the depth drops alarmingly so we have inches under our keel, it is hard to know whether to turn to port or starboard to get back into deeper water. It is a pretty and peaceful, but nervewracking, trip downstream - and a relief to make it into deep water in Mahurangi harbour, where we anchored for lunch and to check everything before we headed out to sea - the wind was forecast at SW 25 - 30knots - hard on the nose for our trip to Auckland.
As it turned out, we had a great sail with sheets eased to Tiri channel, and the wind steadily eased after that below 25 knots, then below 20, and down to 10 at dusk by North Head. After taking on diesel at Bayswater Marina fuel dock, we motored easily onto our marina at slack water and no wind, which was a relief as I was worried about scraping my shiny new paint!
So, now there are a few jobs left, which will take a couple of weeks, the offshore safety test to pass, and then we sail to Opua in the North of New Zealand to wait for good weather to head off.
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