Blog takeover!

In days of old, people looked sideways at vessels in port and made sure they didn’t linger out too late at night for fear that you would be bailed up in an alley somewhere by a bunch of blokes with anchor tattoos and press ganged into service.

A few short weeks ago, I hopped on board Salt Lines for an exciting journey along the coasts of New Zealand. This was in part because society at large has assured me that press ganging doesn’t happen anymore, not in this day and age.

That was a lie.

Silver Fern and Te Kaihopara in the background

We’ve done well chasing the sun!

It wasn’t a bunch of blokes who forced me into bitter service, it was Jess - our first mate and the usual author of this blog. And I was not made to climb the rigging risking life and limb, or shoved in the scullery to peel potatoes for the rest of my life. No. It was worse.

I was told - due to my virtues of youth and superior strength (which I’d showcased through hefting cups of tea and bikkies into my face whilst comfortably at anchor) that I would be a willing and enthusiastic member of a “friendly” relay race involving kayaks and paddle boards.

I understood immediately what had happened: bored by our need to wait a day at anchor to see out some bad weather, Jess and David had dreamed up a way to entertain themselves using hapless clients. Some of my counterparts must have lost their marbles overboard somewhere out in the ocean, because there were three enthusiastic nominees from Salt Lines. The rules demanded there be four. Rest assured, I took being pressed into service with grace. Namely, I crawled around begging and pleading to the rest of the crew hoping for someone with a noble heart to sacrifice themselves in my stead. No luck.

I am the fourth member of the Salt Lines four-man relay team, and this is my story. To temper your expectations, none of us are Olympians. Actually, we do have an Olympian on board Salt Lines - Sharon Ferris-Choat, our skipper - and I would like it noted she was suspiciously absent during team nominations.

Getting some enthusiastic encouragement from Debbie and Jess

Macca showing of his surfing balance and giving Tim a run for his money

So the game was set: the course starting and ending at Silver Fern, around the bows of Te Kaihopara and Salt Lines. Kayaks, then paddleboards, then kayaks, and then a final paddle board leg towards triumphant victory or sour defeat. If only I knew then what I did now, perhaps things would have been different. Instead, we cheerily piled into the tender, along with a boisterous support crew, and made off for Silver Fern. If I could go back in time I would tell us this:

Keep your enemies close, and Silver Fern’s crew closer.

“Over here” called out David, Johnny and Chris as we neared Silver Fern. “We have your Kayak ready! Who’s getting in? Let us give you a hand!”.

As the first kayaker of Team Salt Lines, I accepted the offer and three pairs of hands graciously helped me into my kayak. My competitor and I locked eyes, I gave a respectful nod, and together we waited for the boat horn to start.

Paaaarp!

I was off! I think. Maybe. Truth is, I’d never kayaked in my life. I’m actually not a fan of getting wet, and I’d always thought that the venn diagram of people who kayak and people who get wet is basically a circle. I learned this is indeed true. I also learned, much to my dismay, that paddling a kayak is harder than it seemed. The kayak swayed side to side alarmingly with each paddle, and it felt like I was dead in the water despite giving it my all. I braced my core and continued to dig in with the paddle.

“Amelia! Stop!”

I’d come to far to give up now. I might not have chosen this, but my team were relying on me. I paddled even harder, pitching, rolling and swearing.

“Amelia, they’ve tied something to the kayak! You’re not going anywhere!” Jess yelled again. A roar went up from our crew.

Looking back now, perhaps my stoic paddling in the face of overwhelming resistance (a woolies bag tied under the kayak with fishing wire) roused the rest of my crew to feel something like pride. More likely, it was pity or mortification. Regardless, Salt Lines was roused. When I was freed, the chase was on. Our support crew banged pots and pans together and cheered.

Cheating Silver Fern scoundrels

Jess trying her best to send Matt swimming with a game of chicken between the tender and the paddleboard

Nick putting in a commendable effort to make up for the time lost by the rest of his team mates

Despite the considerable lead Silver Fern had gained through underhanded tactics, what followed was a close and pitched battle of the boats. It even involved a few rounds of Tender chicken - where the Tenders dodged and weaved through the course in an attempt to use their wakes to knock competitors into the water. I won’t tell you who won because that would encourage cheaters everywhere.

In the end, I have to hand it to Jess and David - it was an entertaining way to spend a day at anchor…even if I now have some trust issues to work through!

Everyone pretending to be stoked about the tiny easter eggs

Happier times before being voluntold to compete in the relay