Hi Everyone!
By June, with major boat projects behind us, we were ready to tackle the Tasman. Unfortunately, there were two things holding us back—the Tasman Sea in the middle of winter is not known for its balmy weather, smooth seas, or fair winds. The second was that Tim and Ann, the Parents, were scheduled for a visit of a rather worrying duration—four weeks. In the dead of winter, with fifteen hour nights, intermittent flurries of marble-sized hailstones, and 
unbroken grey skies, there would be a formidable span of quality time together.
We picked them up on a frosty Monday morning. As we crested the Coromandel mountains, the Parents, in equal parts horror and fascination, remarked on the numerous waterfalls, rock-slides, and trees actively cascading onto the road. The tropical foliage thrashed wildly in 40 knot gusts, shaking loose a thin coating of frost and small drifts of hailstones—a combination of elements that inspired additional shock and awe.
By the time we arrived at the rented cabin, the Parents had lapsed into the kind of dazed silence you'd expect, having just realized that they could have gone to Fiji instead. Making the best of it, they explored the little cabin. There was a notice that said, in true Kiwi fashon, yes, the house sometimes shakes alarmingly, but don't worry about it. She'll be alright, mate. Then the wind increased from 40 knots to 50, and the house did indeed shake alarmingly.
There were two small space heaters, which seemed incredibly inadequate against the fierce onslaught of weather. The Parents were not convinced it was possible for a civilization to exist under such conditions without the outhouse-sized forced air furnaces of California. It wasn't until we drove them into town that they truly grasped
the hardy nature of the New Zealander. I pointed left and right, driving down the main street. Here you see an old man, shorts and a tee, leaning into the rain with an protective arm across his eyes. There you see young mother, tank-top, pushing a double-wide stroller with infant twins aboard, wool blankets lashed across them. Oh look, the stroller is too wide to fit in the coffee shop, she's left the kids out on the sidewalk. They'll be 'right, mate.
First, the wind blew onshore, East at 40 knots. One morning, we woke and the wind was blowing offshore, West at 40 knots. The 5-day forecast called for heavy rain and winds of varying direction but constant velocity—all 40-50 knots. After a week cooped up, the Parents decided a road-trip was just what they needed. We drove into the storm, keen to see the sights. We hit Mount Ngarhoe (cast as Mount Doom in Lord of the Rings). Kara, stepping over hail- and snowdrifts to the edge of the parking lot, pointed vaguely in the direction the peak should be, but the stinging rain and icy cloud had reduced the view to a few leafless shrubs clinging to life in the gravely soil along the road. We visited a thermal river for a soak in the hot springs, but with lightening striking the nearby hills and dark pregnant skies, the threat of flash flood never really receeded from our minds. Then we drove the length of the Surf Highway, around Mount Taranaki (also hidden in frozen fog), to check the waves. As we pulled up to the surf at Raglan, a wayward shaft of
sunlight briefly passed over the car, causing great excitement. As we fumbled for our cameras, it faded and left gunmetal skies and an ocean ravaged by storm-force onshores and 25 feet of sloppy windchop. A bit disillusioned by the road trip, Mom took the wheel to give driving on the left a try. We had a brief but thrilling detour down the wrong side of the street, one set of tires cruising across a lawn and the other in the street, the axels spanning the sidewalk. Then, after an abrupt halt during which Kara explained the vagaries of having both steering wheel and traffic in the new and exciting orientation, Mom drove with more success.
By the end of their trip, the Parents were masters of down-under driving. Unfazed by the double clockwise multi-lane roundabouts, they negotiated the approach and dropped themselves off at the airport's curb. Happily, they'd somehow decided that New Zealand was good fun afterall, and when asked about their trip they'd say things 
like "it was meterologically thrilling." We saw them through security and waved goodby with Uncle Dave, Aunt Maryanne snapping pictures to the last. Despite (and, in a way, because of) the weather, we had a uniquely enjoyable visit with them, one I'm sure they will never forget.
With our filial duties discharged, we are now ready to go to sea. Spring is just around the corner—in fact, the weather has been beautiful for almost two weeks now. We plan to have a leisurely sail up the east coast of New Zealand to Opua and then head back to the tropics. After a brief stop in New Caledonia, we'll head for Australia's Great Barrier Reef and then south, clear of the tropics by December cyclone season.
Thanks!
John & Kara
