From Chile to Fiji via New Zealand

Chile

From New York, I flew to Chile, where I spent two months with my Chilean friend Gloria. I lived with her in Rome, as an au pair to her daughter, many decades ago. For years I was promising that I would visit her one day. We were both elated that we made it happen.

At her small holding in the deep countryside near Puerto Varas, I found a proper retreat from the sea. I spent 2 months with her, immensely enjoying our revived friendship and her warm hospitality. We ate, slept, walked, talked, discussed, observed, and just did everything together in unison. What a joy that was.

We lived on and off the land that nurtured and nourished us. As well as being stocked with fresh produce, which we struggled to eat quickly enough, Gloria's granary was bursting with preserved vegetables, fruits, juices and pulses - ready for consumption over winter months. The most memorable were my daily visits to the garden, where, apart from everything else, plentiful daily picks of raspberries satiated my desire for my favourite fruit.

Extensive flatlands, interspersed with rolling hills and gentle valleys, were dotted with numerous small farms, settled by generations of the same families who have worked the land, tending animals and are still living fully sustainable lives. Their simple but hard life felt pure and fulfilling, and maybe the only sensible way forward.

We travelled around the beautiful Los Lagos region, meeting many family and friends. They always greeted us with hearty traditional meals; their houses oozed with cosiness.

We then hopped to vibrant Chiloé Island. I pondered over the craftsmanship and ingenuity required to construct now UNESCO-protected wooden churches (not a nail or a piece of metal in them), wondering how they withstood centuries of strong battering winds and downpours of rain; their interiors still emanate purity and simplicity.

The imposing coastline with its endless beaches and rugged hills stretched for miles on end, leaving no place to hide. I looked at it with trepidation, wondering if I would ever sail here, and where and how we would be able to land a dinghy in that relentless Pacific surf.

I lost myself in the deep silence of eerie old forests, moisture dripping from crippled, monster-like trees breaking the spell. Like rugged robed witches, they stretched their mossy arms, their velvety feel irresistible to touch. My every step sank into a dark, soft decay of the path, only to spring, full of life, stretching to the light up high.

My next stop was going to be Croatia, then via the UK, to Toronto (train to Vancouver) onto Alaska to meet Pete. Never before did I book so many flights and organise everything well in advance. You cannot imagine how much I was looking forward to meeting many of my friends and to seeing my old parents, my family.

Alas....

Stuck in the Mud!

From New York, Pete flew back to NZ with the intention of sailing to Alaska in April.

However, he had some health setbacks and was unable to depart. He slipped off a friend’s boat, (don't ask how and why!) hit the pontoon, and ended up in the water. Promptly rescued, he was taken to emergency services, where, in addition to having 2 cracked ribs and a chipped vertebra, he also could not urinate.

I have come back to NZ many times, and spent more than 2 years living here over the years. Understandably, I consider it my home, especially because of so many good friends that we have here. At the time of leaving for New York, parting with my friends was poignant, as I thought I probably was unlikely to see them again.

China Moon was tied up next to the Stillwater Boating Club for more than 3 months while we dealt with Pete’s medical issues. To get to his various health appointments, he covered more land miles than in the rest of his life. In between his health appointments, we were building our new 8 ft plywood dinghy, weighing under 30kg and with two rowing positions. We called it TUI - a beautiful NZ bird singing to us while we were building it. It also rhymes with TWO-e (catamaran).

A proper recovery time was needed, as well as many checkups and hospital appointments. His unfortunate fall was a blessing in disguise. It doesn’t bear thinking about how he would have coped with the prostate issues mid-Pacific.

With the war in Iran just starting, I cancelled all my flights and flew back from Chile to New Zealand to reunite with Pete in May.

We cannot thank Roger enough, our dearest friend in Stillwater (20 miles north of Auckland). He ferried us around on a weekly, sometimes daily basis to various places - dropping us off / picking us up as and when it was needed. Not only that, he let us build our new dinghy in his backyard! What a star.

Jo, my ex-colleague from London, was always there for us, and on standby, giving us much-needed accommodation in her charming little house in Auckland.

We remain indebted to their infinite kindness and huge hearts.

To celebrate my birthday, we took the eleven-hour train journey on the Northern Express from Auckland to Wellington. This satisfied my desire to see more of the land I so much admire. With all my senses, I devoured the North Island's enchanting landscape. Rolling lush green hills, dark deep gorges, glistening snow-covered mountains, peaceful valleys could suddenly disappear in heavy rain, only to re-emerge bathing in overarching double-rainbow skies. Travelling smoothly, gently rocked in a comfortable train seat, mesmerised, I filled my heart with joy to the brim for posterity.

Pete’s prostate operation was successful, as were the cataract, tooth root canal, and skin eczema (the full works), with no side effects or follow-ups needed. He managed to don fishnet tights to practice can-can while recovering in a swanky hospital.

All fixed, fully recovered and back in action, with all plumbing functioning very well (!) what else to do if not escape to the sea again and to detach ourselves from the Stillwater mud? We had to hit the waves again. And so we did, literally.

Fast and Furious to Fiji

There was no time to waste. We left Opua, NZ with a good 10-day forecast, expecting no surprises. And that is how it turned out to be. We arrived in Savusavu, Fiji, a week or so ago after a “Fast & Furious” 8-day passage. Although presumed healthy, we were not physically fit for a boisterous long passage, and the first two to three days were hard to bear, getting up in the middle of the night and staying awake was a struggle, but we soon adjusted.

Neptune: We left Opua with a fresh SSE force 5 to 6, which had us flying along at 7 knots and our best days' run of 173 miles. The waves increased as the wind picked up to force 7, and one particular wave crashed into our quarter and snapped off the self-steering trim tab. The wind backed more into the east, and we soon had waves on the beam continually breaking against the starboard hull, nothing dangerous, but plenty of spray keeping everywhere wet, except under the cuddy, where we kept watch.

We were doing our usual 3-hour watches, and despite Linda not being happy with the boisterous conditions, she continued to reef and shake out reefs as the wind varied, becoming more confident and brave as the passage progressed. The wind continued for the rest of the passage firmly in the ESE, usually force 5 to 6. The timing of our arrival at Savusavu was perfect; we approached the entrance reef just as the sun was rising.

We ended up using the Autohelm 2000 for the whole passage, which, surprisingly, worked flawlessly despite the rough conditions. Until the wind backed further E the sails were blanketing the solar panel, and we had to drop one sail for a few hours for a few days to top up the battery.

Linda: Having not seen big ocean waves in all their intimidating glory for a while, I found it quite daunting to stand my night watches. Since my Tasman “Baptism of Water”, the sea lost much of its allure for me. As if, once faced with its relentlessly ferocious colossal power, I fail to re-engage with it. Unlike before, I cannot see the beauty in every wave that comes my way. Now I look in awe and with fear at fast-approaching big waves, with their menacing, too close for comfort, breaking crests. I get no thrill, elation, or joy of riding them. I have not rediscovered my mojo with them. Not sure if I ever will….. But I definitely got my overdose of thrills in the Tasman Sea.

However, experiencing the refreshing joy of detachment from modern civilisation is worth the hardship that an ocean passage brings, for the time being. Out there, a speck of nothing in the vast expanse of untamed nature is cathartic. You merge into one with nature, time and space flowing freely with no other distractions. It feels blissful to live a different form of existence.

China Moon - rode the waves like a raft - beamy and buoyant, but her two bows were slammed inside / out, causing a jerking movement that made it difficult to stand. Breaking waves poured waterfalls over the starboard hull and over the cuddy where we were snugly hidden, but everything was constantly wet.

During those dark, wet nights, as I listened to smashing waves in big blows and watched China Moon racing at 8-9 knots, I was struggling but succeeding to handle sails on my own. Despite my raging fears of imminent disaster, I felt competent, accomplished and brave, realising that I had enough strength and courage to do it on my own to let Neptune soundly sleep below. I’ve done it, I can do it! Yes!

The waves that passed under the boat would hit the cockpit sole, sending spray through draining holes. Others would smash into the port bow, maybe bounce back on the starboard one - and send some spray aft. Big chasing waves were slapping our sterns, sending occasional streams into the cuddy. One never knew where the water might come from. Luckily it was not very cold - just cool and wet.

When 200 miles off NZ and 1000 miles to go, we lost our self-steering; I was distraught, not looking forward at all to having to hand steer for days on end, again!?

Neptune came up with a hat-trick. Just as well. He brought out a Raymarine autopilot that we never used before, and that he reluctantly agreed to buy, after our Tasman smashing. We could not believe our luck, how well it worked, and what it got us through. Instead of pulling numerous, incomprehensible strings and rings, all I had to do was press a button to occasionally correct the course. I loved it! It seems that even Neptune was converted, although he is building a new trim tab just now.

As soon as feasible, I will plan my next visit to Europe. Meanwhile, I hope to hear from you every now and then. Please stay in touch. While the world seems to be falling apart, the care for each other intensifies.

Go Well!

Thalassa & Neptune - Fiji / September 2026