Life at the End of the Pier

The married couple makes it to the gate before me.

Damn.

He steps in front to swipe the gate, opening it for his wife. He looks up to see me, and I notice the same kind of calculation pass behind his eyes as clerks get when I buy beer with my groceries. "Do I card him or let him go? "Do I hold the gate or make him swipe himself in?"

Its a fair question. Its well after dark and there's an issue of security. Maybe I don't belong here. I might have timed my approach to sneak in. I could disappear down a finger and break in to steal somebody's property. If he has a swipe he must have a berth and it might be his own boat next time someone slips past. After a half second delay a decision is reached. He returns my hello and opts for a compromise by handing me the door instead of holding it open.

They're both dressed like they're out for a fine meal, and probably just ate at the Lobster Club here at the marina. I'm wearing an old jumper and have just shifted my clothes into the dryer. They want to enjoy their evening promenade out on the water. I want to blitz past and attend to the other half dozen chores I need to wrap up before driving back to Auckland. Of course I can no more rudely brush past than they could have slammed the gate shut in my face.

I'm a fast walker when I've got somewhere to go, and have to keep stopping to give them a comfortable lead as we cover the block-and-a-half walk from the water's edge to the end of the pier where I'm berthed. Having hoped they'd duck into one of the first couple launched that line either side, it becomes apparent as we run out of boats that they're walking all the way to the end too. They aren't going to visit a boat at all.

But wait. Of course not. Its a gorgeous night. A bit of a breeze is blowing, but the sky is clear and the air carries no chill, despite the season. I pardon myself as I duck around the corner and we exchange glances as I step onto deck. They smile as they realise I was behind them the whole time. I smile as it dawns on me their idea of a scenic stroll is just the walkway to my front door. Moments like this help to remind. Its too easy to take for granted sometimes, this life at the end of the pier.

Its been some eight months since I started "living aboard" and already quite an experience, though less of the kind originally hoped for. Engine problems and dodgy mechanics laid me up in Gisborne for the majority, leaving me homeless and living at hostels and couch-surfing just to stay available for work. That much turned around by help from Ian, the previous owner, who pitched in physically and financially to see things put right.

The same period has seen off the last of the friends I made during my first two and three years living in New Zealand, and many more of the ones I've made since. They've all moved away to try their own hands at life abroad. Its been a trying time, fortunately made smoother by new players stepping onto the stage.

Summer may have faded but so have the feelings of frustration and being taken advantage of. The heaviest weights were left behind when the last sun set on that city.

In the end, the passage around East Cape was no real challenge, just a pleasurable cruise through calm waters and a clear horizon for the duration. Brani, a work associate, answered the call when the right timing and circumstance managaged to come together. We flew out on a Friday and picked up groceries and alcohol for the trip. A few bits and bobs from the hardware store later all of the last-minute handy work was complete, and we set off.

We started making good time right away and by nightfall were in good spirits, the lights of Gisborne long since past to the southwest. Suddenly the glow from same the red warning light basked the cockpit, once again staring at me like an angry bloodshot eye. This time I just flicked the circuit back on, checked the oil level down below, and verified the batteries all looked good because I knew the alternator wouldn't have been charging through the isolator while the switch was off. The defining moment everything going wrong Halloween night became the moment I earned a sense of accomplishment from being properly prepared with knowledge of the vessel.

Dawn broke the next morning as we approached East Cape itself, and we were greeted by scores of dolphins, perhaps three or four full pods, who dove around and between all three hulls of the boat for an entire hour in the morning light. It was a spectacular way to greet the day, and became the highlight of the trip.

The rest of the day passed with ease. A light wind carried us along and we waved at a handful of small yachts fishing just beyond the mouth of Hicks Bay. With cell phone coverage blocked by the mountain slopes in the distance, there was nothing to do but unwind and relax. The sun shone bright and warm, pure t-shirt and shorts weather as we passed into the Bay of Plenty.

As the second day underway came to a close the BBQ was fired up and a feast was made of the two Teriyaki steaks in the fridge. There was the thinnest sliver of moon in the sky, leaving the horizon once again dark on all sides. The water was soon full of phosphorescence, tiny specks of green light shining in the water as the hull passed over them. Lazily watching them pass below the trampolines complemented the morning's dolphins like matching bookends.







The third day dawned behind White Island, an active volcano. The light lit the horizon in brilliant yellow, orange, and red strokes of colour, as though the island was errupting at that very moment. It wasn't long before Mount Maunganui appeared on the horizon and we could just make out parachutists gliding on top the thermals that rise from its peak.

Entering the channel which led to the Marina was a bit nerve-wracking, as the trip to that point had gone so perfectly well and this was the only questionable part of the journey. There's a dangerous rip making it only possible to enter or leave the port on a slack tide - exactly at high or low tide. As it was approaching 5pm on a Sunday, every boatie out on the water on this gorgeous day was trying to make it back in at the same time. Otherwise they'd be stuck until the next change of tide at 11 o'clock at night.

Having gone from the only vessel for hours in any direction to being thrust into this heavy traffic required a bit of adjustment. We eventually arrived at the marina without incident and radioed in for a guide to lead us to the new berth as I had never seen it in person. With a little help from a fellow who would soon be making his own way back towards Napier, Triple Vision was soon secured, leaving Brani enough time to catch the last bus to Auckland.

I was to stay aboard for an extra couple days, cleaning everything and seeing to paperwork for the marina. I had another reason too. Many months prior, in the midst of all the trouble and turmoil happening in Gisborne, I had promised myself a nice meal after I had made the passage. Nothing would fill the craving like a Venison Stone Grill from a favourite downtown restaurant. I had already showered while waiting for tide, and after three days at sea stepped onto land clean and ready for town. What a brilliant way to travel.