Goodbye's

I was a young, skinny eleven-year-old. Dad often told me I had to stand in the same place twice to cast a shadow! I was raised on a cattle farm near Jacks Bay. We were isolated, but I had my older sister to get into mischief with. The few farm kids from nearby were older than my two brothers, with only one of similar age who caught the school bus with them. Over the past seventeen years, Dad had forged Bay View Station from the bush. In the later years, with help from his teenage sons, it was now time for a change.

Dad had finally found a yacht nearby at Opua that amazingly met Mum's requirements and his own. I don't know if my three siblings had any say in the yacht, but I did not. So Franda II was purchased, and consequently, our lives changed.

Mum had been busy learning navigation from Mr Townend, our neighbour and retired English ships captain. After a few sea trials in Franda II, Mum learned about Franda II's idiosyncrasies and gained some practice in over-the-horizon navigation. We then ventured off on our five-year circumnavigation.

Before departing, we needed to say goodbye to friends in Russell. So we tied up to the wharf for the night so the oldies, including my two brothers, could go out for dinner with friends. Kathryn and I stayed on board and entertained some of our schoolmates.

I had one good friend, Wendy. We were closer than sisters, always together at her house in Russell or mine on the farm. Wendy spent the night on board, top and tailing in my top bunk. We chatted about the future, but we were both too young to think about, let alone know, what five years apart would mean. To encourage me to write to her, Wendy used her pocket money to buy me some New Zealand postage stamps. We were young and naive and didn't even understand that they could not be used from overseas.

As Franda II left the following morning, I cried and held onto Wendy until Mum gently pried us apart. I was not allowed much time on my bunk, being consoled by my teddy bear, as the sails needed hoisting.

We had a "sail by" the Russell Wharf as a final farewell. Waving to all who came to see the Hutton family off. Mum and Dad had been very active in the community, the School, the Church, and the Masons.

We sailed out of Russell Bay and rounded Tapeka Point. Instead of heading NE out of the Bay of Islands, we continued rounding Tapeka Point until we headed towards Jacks Bay. Finally, there, we dipped our flag to Mr Townend to farewell the person who had really made our trip possible by imparting navigation theory to Mum.

Townie gave a final wave, seen through the binoculars. Then, going about, we headed back the way we had come until we could clear Motukauri Island. Again, we changed direction, easterly towards Cape Brett. It was one of those perfect days, with a lovely breeze that had not yet woken the waves. A beautiful day to farewell the islands and bays of my childhood.

This was our playground, these islands and bays we had anchored in and sailed around. Where I learnt to sail long before I can remember. Kohara, a 24-foot mullet boat, taught me to sail. The dinghy taught me rowing and manoeuvring skills. The little "P" class that my Brother Stuart built taught me more about sailing, the importance of ballast and, more importantly, how to tip it over and right it again without getting wet. A great deal of fun and freedom was had during the school holidays.

We often spent school holidays or long weekends on Kohara exploring the Bay of Islands or further afield. Fish, crayfish, oysters, mussels and scallops were all readily available. It was fresh, whether caught on a line or dove for by my brothers.

Sailing close by Army Bay, where we had camped onshore, I felt my face heat as I remembered biting into a prickly pear. I ran my tongue slowly over the roof of my mouth, feeling the pain as the hairlike spines moved and pulled at my skin. I should have known better. After all, the name gives it away. Unfortunately, we had no tweezers on board the Kohara, so Mum removed most of them using her hair clip. However, those few left caused a long, hungry sail back to the farm.

We sailed between Urupukapuka Island and Rawhiti. Then, with eased sheets, Cape Brett was on the bow. Finally, we had several last looks at the Hole in the Rock as we tacked through the school of working Kahawai, landing two nice-sized fish.

While Dad filleted the fish, we jibed Franda II and headed SW to Wangamumu for the night. Anchoring here, my thoughts turned to the Holmans, an American couple we had met here the previous year while on their circumnavigation, and here we were starting ours.

Although we did not need more fish, I automatically had the fishing line over Franda II's port side. The act made me feel secure. I knew this harbour and fishing line, and my family was below. The excitement of leaving dwindled, and I just felt at home. We were sailing south, as we had many times in Kohara. I think I was already accepting this lifestyle as "normal". I was too young to understand the implications of what we were setting out to achieve. It sounds easy, when said quickly, to sail around the world. But what did that mean? What hardships were waiting for us? What fantastic things would we experience? Who would I be when I arrived back at sixteen? I was already accepting the change; it was now my life.

We were heading south to visit my maternal grandparents in Gisborne and would leave New Zealand from there, setting a course for Fiji.

A few days were spent in Whangarei Harbour, where, for me, the first inkling of my father's dream was shared. In a dreamy voice, Dad would talk to us about sailing the world and the adventures we'd have.

On occasion, we came to Whangarei to shop for farm produce. We could not afford to eat in a cafe, so we visited the supermarket for a cooked chook and a loaf of NZ famous Vogel bread. Dad would make this picnic lunch seem such a treat to us girls. We would sit on the grass banks of the Whangarei River Basin, looking at the foreign-registered yachts, moored between poles, dreaming. But here we were, now, one of those liveaboard yachts.

We struggled to leave Whangarei. When we poked our bow beyond the Whangarei Heads, we realised it was far too uncomfortable, so we returned to tie against a tug for the night. The following day, Mike got something in his eye and needed to visit the hospital. Still, on the third day, we cleared the harbour and sailed past the Hen and Chicks Islands to Great Barrier Island.

Great Barrier Island is as far south as I had sailed before. From this point on, everything was new to me.

After Great Barrier Island, we had a few night passages, my sister's and my first taste of night watches. We were on watch together and noticed a light patch on the horizon, and didn't know what it was, so we woke up our favourite brother, Stuart. He explained it was just a cloud, but it changed and grew brighter. This time, Stu told us it was the moon! Consequently, we decided night watches could wait until we were older.

Franda II rounded the most Easterly point of New Zealand with fair winds. The sunrise on Mount Hikurangi was spectacular, distracting Kathryn, a new cook, from her porridge duties. It was rubber for breakfast!

Dad had always been the breakfast cook, and Mum mostly prepared the evening meal and made our school lunches. Although Kap and I were inexperienced at cooking, these duties were, unfortunately, falling our way.

As we closed on Gisborne, two separate pods of dolphins came and played under the bowsprit, adding to the excitement. Kap and I lay on the foredeck, leaning down to get a closer look at these playful mammals. Mum was growing increasingly excited as we drew closer to her family.

Mum, at 0200 hours, had the whole crew on deck, looking at the lights of her "hometown". She'd left there 21 years earlier as a new bride. But her family would have to wait till daylight. So Franda II spent the remainder of the night docked alongside a dredge. Barbara had successfully navigated Franda II here to Gisborne. However, it was all coastal navigation, so the real test for her was yet to come.

As the youngest, I got to phone Grandma from a payphone. It was the first time I had used one, so Mum had to show me how and, of course, give me the coin. Grandma had been expecting us any day, but without the communication of these days, there was no way to inform Grandma that we were close by.

We didn't visit Mum's parents very often. They lived about 750km away, over twelve hours of driving, and with the farm, Dad had trouble getting away. Money was scarce, making the cost of the drive prohibitive. Also, the four kids arguing in the back seats didn't make it enjoyable for the drivers. However, my grandparents would visit us at least once a year, and when Dad first bought the farm, they were regular helpers. Grandpa, being a carpenter, turned the barn into a house with extensions.

I enjoyed spending time with my grandparents and cousins, but the two weeks passed quickly. Although cold and wet, we enjoyed exploring Aunty Margery and Uncle Rob's farm. Sadly, the younger cousins had school, but we saw them before and after. We sisters finally started our correspondence schoolwork when there was little else to do.

Unbeknownst to me, my grandfather was dying of cancer, so it was farewell. However, Grandpa did not want his eldest daughter to delay her travels, so he encouraged her to take her family sailing.

Kap was the first of us to have a birthday on board. She was now a teenager, sixteen months older than I. Mike had left the teens just before leaving the farm, and Stu, sixteen months younger, was eighteen.

Mum knew this was likely the last time she would see her father. The last time they would be together as a family. This knowledge must have made leaving a very emotional and challenging time for her, but I never noticed

Although the forecast was poor, our time had come. We needed to leave New Zealand to start our 5-year circumnavigation of the globe.