update 19

Happy New Year from Whangarei, NZ!


After leaving Opua and the Bay of Islands behind, we were anxious for the Big New Zealand Potter Family Reunion to begin. Kara's parents, older sister, and nephew were flying from California. Her younger brother and sister had been hiking on NZ's South Island and were flying in from Christchurch. Aunt Abby was flying in from Honolulu. We'd been in the South Pacific and mostly out of contact. Despite the logistical difficulties, the plan was for everyone converge in Auckland December 2nd.

Kara's family have been known to be a bit emotional at times, so the streets of Auckland were probably not the best place for the first meeting. Passers by gave us sympathetic looks, plainly wondering who had died as tears puddled on the sidewalk. Kara's younger siblings, fresh from backpacking the South Island, had transformed from two two clean-cut models of personal hygiene into something a bit more woodsy: over the next few days they spent a great deal of time picking twigs and leaves out of their hair and maintaining their dreadlocks against the onslaught of shampoo and conditioner. Mother was not entirely thrilled.

We spent two blissful weeks with the family, hiking, surfing, fishing, and catching up with each other. Having been sitting on the boat for the last year, we had trouble keeping up with the hiking, but we eventually learned how to walk in a straight line again. We plied them with our home brewed beer, which was such a big hit that when it was time to go, they cleaned out the local supermarket and loaded their suitcases with enough raw material to yield 80 gallons of beer. Again, mother was not entirely pleased.

Eventually it was time to go. The goodbye lasted over an hour, in the rain, on the street – again. When everyone was all cried out, they climbed in the car and drove back to the airport, and we lost ourselves in boat work for the next two weeks. For Christmas, we caught a ride in “the Whale” back up to Shipwreck bay for a few days of surf – glassy, well overhead. On the way back, Kara went for a soak in some exceptionally stinky hot springs. The rotten-egg scent lingered on her for days, which was a bit unfortunate as we spent the subsequent week sealed up in Orca during heavy summer rains.


Up to this point, we had yet to encounter the long lost Uncle Dave Pennington, who had slipped out of California sometime in the late 70's or early 80's, moved to New Zealand, and now—reportedly—lives in Auckland with his wife and three boys. I'd only met him once, when I was 12. Our plan was to meet him just up the coast for New Year's where an email hinted we could catch him and the family camping on the beach – how hard could it be?

When we pulled into the appointed bay, we were greeted by hundreds of tents on the beach. Between Christmas and New Year's its a kiwi tradition to trade the crowds and comforts of the city for—well, crowds and comforts. The massive tents were packed in so tight that in many places you couldn't walk between them. Inside cloth houses one finds couches, TV's, 4-post beds, refrigerators, showers, and sinks: all the amenities of home. We picked our way through the tent city looking for the mythical Uncle Dave. With no cell signal, we had some detective work to do: we didn't know what he looked like, what kind of car he drove, anything at all, really, except his name. We started canvassing the neighborhood. Eventually we found someone who had actually spoken to the mysterious creature, but they remembered only sketchy details of the encounter: he drove a green van towing a silver boat, there may have been a dog involved. By New Year's eve, we had half the tent town looking for green-van-silver-boat and still hadn't found him. We had a lovely evening anyway with a couple of sailors from Amsterdam and their Kiwi family who had been helping us track the elusive Uncle Dave. It was a true New Zealand New Years, celebrated in a sheep shearing shed on a green pasture surrounded by big tents filled with full-sized home appliances.

Eventually we cornered him. He had avoided detection by driving a silver van with a green boat, but we forgave him his deception and were soon re-meeting family. They gave us a crash course in NZ – we had marmite, learned Maori history, and were “chuffed” to learned “heaps” of “wicked” kiwi lingo, "eh?" We spent three days with the Pennington's before the wind came up and drove us out of the bay to find better shelter. We're now anchored in the mouth of the Whangarei estuary waiting for the tide to take us into town.

Thanks!


Kara and John