Like Smigel, My Body Adapted To Its Environment

Feb 7th - 23rd, 2008


My reason for returning to Opua and the 'Caravan of Love' (as the caravan is now known, for no reason, I repeat, no other reason than the fact that the local radio station played "Love Shack" by the B-52s on three different mornings during some of Tobi and my gigantic breakfasts in the caravan), was for a few more days of chartered sailing. At this stage in my trip, however, I'd learned to make definite plans only to laugh later on at how much they change. There was also some talk of Tobias and I being able to take one of the sailboats on an overnight trip as a bit of a reward for all of Tobi's hard work on the docks. I figured that I had a lot of sailing in my future but I couldn't have imagined the numerous opportunities I'd end up having to get out on the great ocean blue.



Only a few hours after arriving in Opua, I became ballast on Terry's (the owner of Great Escape Yacht Charters) boat, Morara. I was taking part in a bi-weekly race put on by the Opua Yacht Club. As ballast, my job was to scuttle as quickly as possible from one edge of the rolling boat to the other at just the right time, all the while ducking as low as possible to avoid the swinging boom. Other responsibilities such as "pull the windward winch until there's no luff, and get ready to gybe to starboard," which at the time meant nothing to me, often took me too long to decipher and then the revised instruction would become, "just pull the fuckin' winch handle!" Despite the good nature of the racers, they still liked to win which lead to some vulgarity. Sailing and vulgarity go hand in hand. To gain more experience in sailing, after the race I asked another racer, named Ron, who was short on crew if I could crew on his boat the next race. He accepted and we agreed on a meeting time and place. Already, on my first day back in Opua, I had sailed in a race, and had plenty of future plans for sailing.

Cleaning both my body and the dishes became a little bit more difficult while I was away from Opua. I wrote on an earlier post that the caravan had no amenities but that we simply had to walk down to the driveway to the sink and shower. An inebriated driver who was maneuvering out of the tight parking lot the bathroom was next to seemed to have become frustrated and took his anger out on the gas pedal. Being in the forward gear, the car piled its nose directly into the shower, sink, and fridge of the boatyard shed, narrowly missing the toilet. So, we then had to stroll into town for a shower at the yacht club. Most notable of this whole incident was the fact that the inebriated driver was a police officer in the nearby town.


Glad that I brought a book to read, I watched Ron, the man I was to sail in the next race with, sailing far offshore having forgot about me. He did strike me as the type who might forget, so I was content watching the race from the shore and reading my book. But soon after, I looked up from my book to find out who the people in the impressive looking race boat where yelling at and then I realised the only person in the area they could be yelling at was me. I headed down to the dock to find that they were asking me if I wanted to join them for the race. I said, "yeah!" and hopped on board. Thy asked me what experience I had and I proudly, "ballast!" During the race, their orders once again, meant nothing to me. This race team, however, didn't even bother with words after the first try, resorting instead to physical force. I was at one point repositioned by one of the racers picking me up by my shirt. This team was serious, and their seriousness resulted in a first place finish. They obviously chose the right person for ballast.

'Cadillac', the race winning boat of champions which I 'ballasted' on.


Racing was a great experience and a good way to learn to sail, but what really attracts me to sailing are the times I can relax and enjoy the ocean. With my racing days behind me, Tobi and I had the good fortune of being able to take one of the charter boats for an overnight trip to the Bay of Islands. Our destination was a bay on Motukiekie Island. When we arrived we had the bay to ourselves. After setting anchor we took the dingy to the island for a small walk. What appeared from a distance to be regular grass on the island was actually very long, dense grass that felt like foot deep snow when walked upon. It made an excellent bed for weary sailors. While I lay on the grass, I felt as though the world was rolling back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, not having developed my sailing legs yet.


Tobias Hartmann in full control. If I put a picture of me sailing the boat, I'd look far less confident, I assure you.


The view just before setting anchor on Motukiekie Island.


Our boat in the bay on Motukiekie Island.


Grass bed overlooking the boat in the bay.

Toby and I watched a movie before turning in for a night on the boat. It was an artsy french movie with Japanese actors speaking French, but overdubbed in German. Toby was kind enough to tell me the storyline in English with his German-New Zealand accent. So, there I was sleeping on a sailboat for the first time, watching a movie which went through multiple layers of translation, thousands of kilometers away from home. It was a unique experience and a highlight of my trip thus far.

The second day of the sailing trip was pure bliss. We jumped off the bow of the boat, rowed the dingy around the bay, stopped in another bay for lunch and beer, played guitar, and snorkeled. It was my idea of a good time.

Terry and Cindy were feeling the need to take on a new challenge while I was hanging around the dock. Terry, being an avid skier, decided to start a business transporting skiers to remote locations using an Argo (an eight-wheel-drive vehicle which was for sale in New Zealand after having been used in Antarctica). I was very entertained when the two of them tested the amphibious vehicle for the first time in the ocean by the dock. As a thank you gift to Terry and Cindy for letting us use the boat, Toby and I had three hilarious pictures framed of the two of them driving in the ocean with big grins on their faces.

The Argo with Terry at the helm.


Between walking to town for showers and my daily sailing strips, I was getting into good shape. Toby and I had taken another of the owners boats called a 'Flying Fifteen,' or a 'fanny wetter' out on a couple of occasions. Like its namesake, this boat was a small racing boat which one has to hang over the side to level the boat in high winds. Not only did I get a wet 'fanny' but I had an excellent abdominal workout. Despite all this exercise, I gained body fat from the incredible amount of food I was consuming daily. I was developing the typical sailors body, very tanned, a slight amount of body fat for insulation, and sore muscles all over. It felt great but I am by nature a skinny city boy and was becoming poorer by the day. I figured I'd strike it rich in Wellington (Welliwood), home of 'Smigel' and his "Lord of the Rings" friends, and booked a train ticket there.

The last few days of my time in the Northland were filled with heavy rain resulting from the remnants of an offshore cyclone. I spent the rest of my time hiding in the comfy caravan which surprisingly didn't leak, reading the K.I.S.S. learn to sail manual. I now know what 'luff' means, so I left Opua feeling satisfied with what I'd learnt.


FLORAL DEPARTMENT INSIDE JOKE WRITTEN BELOW. OTHERS MAY WANT TO DISREGARD.


When we stopped for lunch on the second day of our sailing trip, there was a flashy speedboat named '007' complete with creepy old man in a speedo.

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

Love the sailing tales Derek. Keep them coming.

Love Mom

Anonymous said...

Thank you so much for this hilarious funny post. I enjouyed again getting some more info on what's going on with my brother half the way round the blue ball. He's quite quiet about what's going on besides the pictures we got from him.
And also you make me jealous of your sailing experience and the good times on the water.
And, according to your family: Keep on sailing and writing about it; great style it is, though you are changing between "Tobi" and "-y".

So far,
- Alexander

Anonymous said...

derek, great stories. my favorite was your comment on how youve kept in shape from your sailing "strips"..i did not know stripping was legal there. interesting.

hil

Derek Miller said...

Hahaha! Apparently I have some editing to do. Truth is, I don't know how Tobias likes to spell the short version of his name and I like how sailing strips sounds, so I'll leave that too. Thanks for the comments!

Anonymous said...

what happened to "like smigel, my body adapted to its environment"??

Anonymous said...

Oh Derek - I absolutely love your blog! I can instantly feel my mouth form into a smile whenever I read of your travels :) You definitely have a great talent for writing. I can't wait to read some more :) Take Care - xoxo Sarah (Miss McCracken if you will)