Sailing on the Soren Larsen

Just before 10am on a warm Auckland morning a few days before Christmas, and a motley gang – crew is probably too kind a word at this point – gather on the wharf next to the Søren Larsen. There’s excitement in the air as everyone introduces themselves, instantly forgets everyone’s names again, and tries to work out if the ship’s captain is the likely young fellow in a crisp white shirt or the bearded chap in overalls next to him. Prompt at 10 Katy the purser comes ashore, welcomes us, and ushers us all on board for a Christmas holiday unlike any other.

The voyage crew for this December cruise in the Hauraki Gulf was made up of an assortment of people who have relocated – temporarily and permanently – to New Zealand from overseas and some Brits, Aussies and a Dutchman on holiday. Some of us fancied escaping a usual Christmas; others were a long way from home and family. Sailing experience ranged from yachting and voyages on other tall ships to, well, nothing. But on Søren we were all pretty much novices.

The morning sped by in a whirl of smoko, tour of the ship, safety briefings and lunch. We discovered the captain, Nick, was the overall-clad gentleman, Tatyana the cook was a very good cook, and we tried to take in everything our watch leaders told us. By the time the mooring lines were cast off our heads were full of nautical information and none of it really made much sense.

The wind was not really with us, but with the engine on we set some headsails and staysails and motor-sailed towards Waiheke Island, getting used to life on board. There was a little tacking to get past Rangitoto and its neighbour Motutapu, but by 1800 we were anchored and enjoying lemon fish and a few beers as the sun set, getting to know each other.

Nick warned everyone that Søren talks to her crew, and during the first night we discovered she’s rather a chatty ship. Nobody slept particularly well and there were a few bleary eyes in the morning. Just to wake us up, there was an “up and over” session for those feeling brave, interrupted by a brief, fierce rainstorm. Once everyone had made it to the fighting top and back down safely, the starboard watch went aft and the port watch forward and under the control of Nick and second mate Gareth we “sailed off the hook”, using headsails and the mainsail to execute a turn and head out into the gulf.

The day developed into one of fine sailing. With most of the sails set we hurried along nicely in the force 4 breeze, getting up to seven and occasionally eight knots. It wasn’t exactly sunny, but it was good fun, and only a few of the crew felt seasick. Nick set our course towards Little Barrier Island. We all took turns at steering the ship, at doing the safety round – how many little wire things showing in the bilge? How do you work out the wind direction? Has everyone remembered to close the little blue valve in the heads? – and at lunchtime we tried to eat soup on a slant.

After lunch the watches changed, although the quiet afternoon I planned with my Patrick O’Brien book didn’t exactly happen as there ended up being enough sail handling to involve extra hands. It wasn’t really quiet reading weather, anyway, so it was hardly the end of the world. We tacked a couple of times and headed back across the gulf to Kawau Island, north of Auckland off the Whangaparoa Peninsula. It didn’t seem as though we were within a very short distance of New Zealand’s biggest city as we anchored, again all under sail, in Burgess Bay.

Christmas Eve dawned bright, warm, sunny and almost wind-free. A good day for going ashore, according to Nick, who took us round the corner to Mansion House Bay. We spotted a little blue penguin swimming around as we came in; the crew kept talking confusingly about peacocks. But once we landed (and after I’d managed to toss a lifejacket in the water – sorry, Laura) there was a large white peacock sheltering from the sun. Out came the cameras, and we chased the peacock around for a while.

Kawau had several options for the would-be explorer. The mansion after which the bay’s named is a sort of museum, and there are plenty of walking tracks in the bush surrounding the park. Four of us decided to check the mansion out first. There was nobody at the desk, but the sign outside did say the house was open from 10am during the holidays. We left money and started going through. Halfway round the house the caretaker lady appeared on the stairs and told us it was actually closed – although she didn’t mind us seeing the little there is left. There was a lovely view of the ship from the balcony, and we coveted the grand four-poster beds in the main bedrooms.

After leaving the closed house, with the caretaker busy hovering, we set off on a walk through the bush. On the way we spotted a weka and some wood pigeons, and met some of the other voyage crew at the lookout over the old copper mine – together with some friendly yachties, who obligingly played photographer for us.

Back down at the house we indulged in proper flushing loos and ice-cream before the boat arrived (Gareth giving Gemma driving lessons) to pick us up. There was a spot of water balloon throwing from the ship, but very few missiles actually hit us.

Most of the crew spent the afternoon on board, sunbathing, reading and swimming. I decided to try a swim to the shore and back, and succeeded despite having problems with hair in the mouth, keeping a lookout for ferries, and the odd wave. Back on board there was smoko, and the crew rigged a rope swing from the course yard – attempted by quite a few of us, led by Doug.

Tatyana and Karson, aided by crew and voyage crew, spent most of the glorious afternoon tied to the galley making our Christmas dinner. It had been decided to do Christmas a day early due to the weather forecast – a sensible decision, as it turned out – so we sat down to fizzy wine, crackers, turkey and all the trimmings, and three Christmassy puddings. There were mince pies for the Brits, pumpkin pie for the Americans, and a Russian cake from Tatyana. Afterwards we returned on deck, replete in a seasonal fashion.

Christmas Day, true to forecast, turned out to be somewhat less sunny than its eve. We dawdled over a good breakfast. Some of the permanent crew were given a quick lesson in how to use the dinghy as a tug, and the rest of us had fun lobbing water balloons at them. Some hit. Some didn’t. However the bucket of water chucked over the dinghy definitely met its target.

Boat in, we raised anchor – once more under sail – and set out into the Hauraki Gulf once more. The wind direction was such that we were bound once again for Waiheke Island to the south. It was a little more sedate than earlier in the week, but that meant we could set more sail and soon the topgallant was flying too above all – cueing a spell on the bowsprit with my camera. Despite the efforts made the previous day, the galley did us proud again and we ate smoked salmon at morning smoko, and turkey soup for lunch. Later on there were dolphins, briefly.

By mid-afternoon we had anchored and stowed sail. It was grey and raining, but the mood aboard was good. When deckhand Ruth suggested a swim – after testing the water temperature and pronouncing it to be 20 degrees – there was a pretty good take up (although fewer went for the skinny dip option than originally proposed). The water was almost certainly not 20 degrees, we discovered on leaping in, but nevertheless fun was had and it wasn’t that cold, not really.

Dinner, for some of us, was bookended by a boisterous game of “Articulate” during which Katy and I discovered we were quite good at describing things without naming whatever we were describing, and cards. For how can there be Christmas without some sort of game?

Boxing Day 2007 should forever be known as Tacking Day in Søren Larsen history. The winds were not favourable, so we kept the square sails stowed and set headsails, staysails and the main as well as what Nick drily called the “die-sail”. Thanks to engineer Winch for keeping it going all day – definitely made life easier as we tacked. And tacked. And tacked again. By the fifth or sixth tack port watch were getting pretty good at shifting the main sail and staysails before moving to the braces and bracing round the square sail yards. By lunch, we were able to tack the whole ship while starboard watch tried to save their salad from blowing away.

The afternoon continued in similar fashion, except we moved forward to the single jib and faced increasingly strong wind and waves. Everyone got fairly soaked from the spray and it was a relief when we finally anchored. Nobody was particularly keen to go ashore, but there were several takers to help harbour-stow the square sails – rolling each sail up so it was neat on the yard. It took a while, but it was worth the effort.

Dinner was a fancy-dress party. Several of the guys seemed far too comfortable in slinky, glittery dresses, and Super Pumpkin and Coca-Cola Rescue Man faced a few fearsome pirates. It wasn’t exactly warm on deck though, so we retreated below for Nick’s farewell muster and the presentation of our lovely voyage certificates. After that, time for more games. The boys won Pictionary, but the girls triumphed at Articulate.

In the morning, a swift motor into harbour, and the voyage crew finally dragged themselves away from Søren after a last smoko. Five days had flown by in the company of some fantastic people – a truly memorable Christmas.

Pictures at Flickr.