After spending a night in Whangamumu, we sailed south to Tutukaka on a summer day in New Zealand that resembled a typical summer day in San Francisco—windy, cold, and gun-metal grey. I was wearing a down jacket in the middle of the afternoon, and even Dominic pulled on some fleece. Comfort aside, the sail was good. The wind was blowing from the stern quarter, although we had larger seas than the day before.

While in Whangamumu, after our hike but before the languid sunset I mentioned, we had time for a little photoshoot. Here is Helios, as she works it.

After three enchanting weeks cruising the Bay of Islands, we decided to unfurl the sails and head south toward Whangarei last weekend. Our first stop was Whangamumu, and our sail there is one of the more perfect days of sailing I can remember. There was no swell, but plenty of sunshine with which to enjoy the coastline: grassy cliffs topped with the occasional lighthouse, and rock formations with tempting tunnels. We had a comfortable, downwind ride. The winds were between 15 and 20 knots, blowing from the northwest. We beam reached on a port tack to Cape Brett, rounded the point, gybed, and cruised into Whangamumu Bay on an easy starboard tack.

Here are photos from our Sunday morning stroll through the woods, passed the lily pads, and beyond the wildflowers to Rainbow Falls in Kerikeri. The path was well maintained, short and relatively flat; the larger of the two waterfalls was only 90 minutes of leisurely walking, birding, and bouquet gathering from the boat.

Sailing vocabulary of the day: gunk-holing—to cruise one’s boat upriver until the bays become ponds, the rivers become creeks, the seabirds are replaced by ducks and geese, and high tide becomes a prerequisite for all navigation. Synonyms include creek crawling and giving the keel a mudbath; an example includes visiting the fine town of Kerikeri.

Another day, another bay, another ridiculously beautiful hike, another impromptu head wrap to keep the sun off my skin...yesterday we spent the afternoon anchored in the pass west of Waewaetorea Island. The island was small, and the beach was soft and sandy, giving the water a blue brightness we haven't seen since leaving the tropics. The trail was more hidden than others we've explored. We spent the climb bush-wacking (or tramping, as the hardy Kiwis might say) in the knee-deep-in-grass equivalent of fresh powder. Our picnic vistas were worth the climb: we had ocean views, bay views, Urupukapuka Island views, and even had time for a little photo shoot. Can you spot Helios?  She's just beyond the mast of the historical tall ship in the photo.

Binoculars and telephoto lens in hand, we spent yesterday hiking like hobbits through the Shire-ish environs of Urupukupuku Island. We wound to the top of the ridge, climbing alongside cliffs, watching ferns unfurl, and contemplating the piercing violet of the wildflowers. 

We spent a blustery day in Russell, an old whaling village with a raucous reputation turned quaint vacation town. We spent an afternoon touring the museum, eating fresh oysters at the oldest bar and hotel in the country, and went to the bookstore to pickup our New Zealand birding guide and the latest issue of Vogue.

In Maori, New Zealand is known as Aotearoa—the land of the long white cloud, an apt name, considering the drizzle and fog hovering overhead for the last few days. But in a redemptive turn, it is at least a long white cloud from which emerge many birds.

After motorsailing for two hours yesterday, we dropped anchor in a large cove on the leeward edge of Roberton Island. Roberton is the closest island to the coast of the mainland in the Bay of Islands, and spending the afternoon in the cockpit offered excellent views of the nautical traffic (ketches, schooners, and fishing boats, oh my!) and the mercurial weather: abundant sunshine, rain, multiple fog banks blowing passed, a fantastic sunset, and many layers of jackets and fleece going on and off continuously.

Just a few more pretty pics from our first hike to Paihia. Helios is cleaned, provisioned and our land lubbing chores are done for now, so we're cutting the dock lines and heading out to the islands to enjoy more scenery this afternoon—I'll have the camera ready!