Great Mercury Island to Happy Jack Island December 20 Janet I love looking out the back of the boat and seeing the scenery drift past as the boat swings at anchor. We are at Elephant Cove on Happy Jack Island on the Western side of Coromandel, and, yes, its raining again.
Its strange, we've been away three weeks now, but neither of us feels like we are quite yet immersed in this new life of ours. Its been a busy time aboard ship, continuing to cut our ties to land and do boat jobs in preparation for going offshore, running from anchorage to anchorage, mainly because of weather; either storms coming our way, or favourable weather enabling us to sail somewhere. Like today, we picked up what was supposed to be a Northeasterly to at least get to sail some of the trip around the top of Coromandel Peninsular.
But we motored the first few hours, then picking up a breeze as we rounded Colville.
We are both tired too. It could be post trip-preparation exhaustion, or maybe just the end of the year weariness. I know a day will come and we'll feel more energized and we'll just "be" in this lifestyle.
Happy as an oyster at Happy Jack Island Sunday Dec 21 "These are rock oysters!" I cried with delight. We were standing on the shore of Happy Jack Island when I realised the shells encrusting the rocks under our feet us were a food source. I grabbed a large rock and smashed the shell of the biggest oyster I could see. I wrested the soft, almost liquid, flesh from the shards of shell, rinsed it in the sea and placed it on my tongue. Salty, soft, sensual, fleshy.
I only ate a dozen, just in case there was some algal bloom around that we didn't know about. (There wasn't) The island's geology was stark evidence that we were sailing around an area that used to be riddled with active volcanoes. Elephant Cove is clearly a former crater, surrounded on three sides by extraordinary formations. The lava must have flowed down over rocks that have then eroded away leaving dramatic arches reaching out over the shoreline.
We leave this lovely place late afternoon as the wind is shifting, and motor over to its neighbour Motu Wi. We tuck right in against the Pohutukawa-lined shores, calculating the tide and depth to work out how close to shore we can anchor. No other boats here. Apparently this will be completely different after Christmas when every anchorage for 200 miles will be dense with yachts.
I'm lying in the cockpit when we are rudely disturbed by the noise of runabout that parks almost on top of us. It's driver immediately gears up and jumps in the water. I grumble about how inconsiderate these motorboat people are. But I don't stay grumpy for long. When the diver surfaces David waves him over and asks if we can buy some of his scallop catch, and the good man gives us three of his small catch of 20. I sauté them in white wine and butter, serve with a chilled pinot gris in the cockpit. They taste of summer.
