Episode 4: Lin Pardey on Love, Loss, and A Life Under Sail
Find the episode on Spotify here.
View the article on Cruising World here.
May 2025
“Moturekareka, that’s the one with the wrecked ship on it, Motuketekete, it has a nice quiet anchorage during southeasterlies, the next one we’ll sail near is Motoura, an old farm that’s now a reserve and camping spot. And if this wind stays light, we can anchor and take a walk on my favorite, Tiri Tiri Matangi.” My running commentary is augmented by pointing out our course on the chartplotter. We are on board Sahula, running south before a light, but slowly increasing northeasterly. With David and I are two of his dearest friends. Di Mah and Ben Boer had flown from Sydney to spend ten days with us.
The days had sped by as they added to our life at our North Cove home. Walks along the tracks behind the house, meanders along the foreshore at low tide, a Saturday night gathering of half a dozen friends full of lively discussions, and then the special treat of a Sunday picnic and fine jazz on the Mansion house lawn. But, even before they arrived in New Zealand both Ben and Di had expressed their desire to once again sail somewhere on Sahula. They had, in the past, rendezvoused with David to sail in Indonesia and again in Europe when he was a solo voyager. Just two years ago they joined us on Sahula in New Caledonia for a ten day cruise to the Isle of Pines. So I knew we’d all enjoy any excursion we could organize.
Di Mah, a respected Australian watercolorist, gave David all sorts of new ideas for his artwork. Ben Boer, is an internationally respected environmental law expert. They have joined David on board Sahula several times as he circumnavigated. Dinner time conversations were never boring with those two on board.
As chief coordinator of visitors, I was a bit concerned about getting Ben and Di safely to the airport on time while also showing them some interesting sailing destinations. If we planned to drive them to the airport, we’d have only two days left for sailing because we had to be sure we got back to Kawau with time to take them to the mainland and then to the airport. After a careful look at the long range weather forecast, I came up with an alternate plan that was eagerly accepted by all - sail south to the islands near Auckland and enjoy three days afloat, then, on the fourth day, sail into Westhaven Marina where Ben and Di could easily catch a bus or the train to the airport.
A foray ashore at Tiri Tiri Matangi not only delighted our friends, but reminded David and I of why we are supportive of the regeneration work now being done on Kawau. The island had been predatory free for more than 25 years. Native bush had regenerated and an array of extremely rare, endangered birds resettled. The birdsong was so varied and loud, the raucous sounds carried right out to where Sahula lay at anchor.
Nothing like having guests on board to remind you of the pleasures of exploring under sail. |
Crew and the dinghy back on board after their Tiri Tiri excursion, a fast run before a freshening northeasterly sea breeze and three hours later we sailed into the lee of Motutapu Island. Though we’d already decided to carry on to a favorite anchorage at Islington Bay between Motutapu and Rangitoto island, I couldn’t resist thumbing through the sailing guide, each page holding memories of anchorages we’d visited, anchorages we might visit some day in the future. The sun had almost dipped below the distinctive summit of Rangitoto when we came to anchor that evening. Di is a successful water colourist and art teacher. I eavesdropped as she and David, who spends part of each day working with pastels or other art mediums, spoke of the best colours to use to catch the ever changing sunset and transform the elegant lines of Rangitoto island into an image on paper.
I really enjoyed exploring the tide pools of Motutapu at low tide.
Three days later, when we upped anchor to head towards the bright lights of the city and a promised farewell dinner ashore, I realized I’d been privileged to have guests on board. I reveled in our guests expressions of delight as we skimmed through flocks of fishing birds between the green clad islands, their pleasure in diving right off the boat to cool off after a long walk ashore, their huge appetites after a day spent out in the breeze and sunlight. This short foray with friends reminded me once again, of that wonderful quote from Wind in the Willows, “Believe me my young friend, there is nothing – absolutely nothing – half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.”
The birds own Tiri Tiri. When this oystercatcher decided to nest right on one of the main tracks, someone just put some branches around her to protect her eggs. Worked perfectly.
Special - 20% discount on any Pardey title. Use the code PARDEY20 at check out. Click here.
January 2025
I’m almost finished with my morning writing and eagerly
anticipating heading down to work on Sahula. On days like this, preparing
to set off on a voyage feels almost as fulfilling as actually being “out
there.”
When the cyclone season in the South Pacific draws to a
close about four months from now, David and I are headed across the Tasman Sea
again. This time our goal is the outer reaches of the Great Barrier Reef in
north Queensland. It has been almost a year since we last took Sahula
offshore so of course there is a list of to-do’s. Right now I have several
projects underway, the most challenging involve woodworking; building a new
front for the engine box, replacing bits
of trim that had to be removed by force to let David inspect the steel hull under
the floor in the loo, building a replacement strut to insure the cockpit seats stay
firmly in place when someone steps on them, creating another shelf in the china
teacup and glass locker. My voyage
preparation list started with 11 woodworking jobs, six rigging jobs and a dozen
general jobs. As of today, two of the
woodworking jobs are finished and crossed off, and I am minutes from completing
number three, a new front panel for the engine box.
David was helping me do the final fit on the slide bolts
that secure this replacement section earlier today. When the job was nearly finished,
he stood back and said, “That’s a real improvement. How about replacing the top
of the engine box – those stains and chips are even more obvious now the front
looks so smart.” Glowing from the compliment, I willingly add one more job to
the list. This one presents a new challenge – getting straight clean cuts on
the sides of the plywood. (Yes, the plywood edges will show as this surface is
also one of the working areas for the galley.) So now am thinking of how I will
practice using the jig saw. I’ve got lots of scruffy looking off-cuts of ply
around the shop I can use for my practice cuts. I am actually excited by this newest addition
to the list.
There are a few reasons I am particularly enjoying myself. First,
I am being forced to learn new skills.
In the past Larry, as a master boatbuilder, took care of any woodworking
projects – handing me beautifully shaped pieces of timber to inspect for any
pencil marks he might have missed. After a close inspection I would then sand
and varnish or paint each thing he had built until it glowed. Larry did teach
me how to do some simple woodworking jobs on my own, using the drill press to cut
wood plugs, then hammering each plug carefully in place, then using chisels to
cut them flush. He taught me how to sharpen a wood plane and use it to trim the
edges of the cedar planks that eventually became our bunk boards. But generally,
I was the perpetual apprentice and finisher.
Now I am sailing with David, a retired solicitor who taught Environmental Law and worked as an environmental activist. He laughingly describes himself as a “highly skilled pencil pusher.” David is willing to take care of engine and systems maintenance and the sump of the bilge to the top of the coach-roof rust chipping then recoating and repainting work that is necessary as owner of a steel cruising vessel. But he has no patience at all with woodwork. We need to keep our costs in control and there are no carpenters available here on the island where we live. Thus, the relatively simple woodwork upgrades have fallen to me. It’s a case of - either I do it or I put up with it.
This is the forward cabin on Taleisin. Her whole interior reflected Larry’s skills as a master boatbuilder and what many would call, “a traditionalist."
Furthermore, Taleisin’s interior was a
stunning example of Larry’s boatbuilding/carpentry skills with features
such as Birdseye maple raised panel cabinet doors surrounded by California
black walnut set into solid teak tongue and groove cabinetry, all lovingly
finished with six coats of varnish. I felt privileged to care for that beautiful interior, Larry had the
skills to repair any small bits of wear and tear so even after 27 years of hard
use, it looked almost like new. In contrast, an amateur built Sahula. He
was more comfortable working with steel than with timber. Her woodwork, mostly plywood, was unsophisticated
when it was built. After almost 30 years of use and abuse by three different male
owners who sailed mostly on their own it had become, to put it bluntly, a bit
shabby and patched looking by the time I met my wild Australian boy. The first
time I offered to replace a broken bit of trim and build a paper towel holder,
David said, “go for it. But remember, this isn’t Taleisin. Nothing has
to be perfect.” His delight at what I felt was a mediocre result, encouraged me
to try other projects. And David, over the ensuing 7 years, smartly fed my ego
by pointing out my simple improvement efforts to everyone who came on board.
Sahula’s interior is a complete contrast, far less formal. It reflects David’s love of color.
Today, I am having a hard time concentrating on writing this
blog post even though the early summer weather here in New Zealand is squally
and wet, my office comfy. I keep mulling over how to fit the new engine box lid
around the wiring that goes from the engine through the lid and on to the
cockpit instruments, whether to paint the top of the new engine cover with
white two-pot epoxy paint or a heavy-duty polyurethane varnish. I remember I
have a can of white epoxy. Decision made, I can get onto the next projects,
building a shelf inside the dish locker and finishing this blog post so I can
share it with friends like you.
Lin Pardey
Kawau Island
P.S. Thank you to those who have written wonderful notes via
facebook and posted great reviews on Amazon and other sites after reading
Passages: Cape Horn and Beyond. (Yes, like most authors, I do watch reviews to
see how folks react.) Here’s one of my favorite:
I've read all of Lin and Larry Pardey's cruising
chronicle books (all of Seraffyn’s adventures and Taleisin's Tales). I loved
this book for it's telling of tales of passages. But this book went a level
deeper: Lin shares her anxieties, insecurities, and how she deals with some of
life's most difficult moments in this memoir of the years after Taleisin's
Tales. Her positivity continues to shine through despite it all, but the book
provides plenty of food for thought about life and love, both on and off the water.
To order a copy of Passages, click here.
See all of Lin's available publications, click here.
Passages: Cape Horn and Beyond
Available Now!
Find it here
July 2024
Passages: Cape Horn and Beyond
By Lin Pardey
I have lived and breathed sailing for the past two years, not just afloat, but ashore. While David and I were cruising on Sahula and meandering through the 250-mile-long coral fringed lagoon of New Caledonia, I spent several mornings each week writing the first chapters of a book with the working title of Passages.
While I
wrote, David enjoyed working his way through an art course to help him
negotiate away from acrylics and back to using oil paints (water oils.) My work
computer and his easel soon had new storage spots. Instead of being tucked away
in the forepeak, they were right at hand in the main saloon. Though other
cruisers might have resented the reinforced trades that set in for weeks at a
time and kept us from exploring the outer reef anchorages, neither of us seemed
to notice. I became so engrossed in the story I was trying to tell, that each
day seemed to rush past. When David suggested we climb into the dinghy and find
a place to land so we could stretch our legs, I had to spend a few minutes
dragging myself away from the people, the places, the by-gone passages I was
engrossed in so I could live in the moment.
Even as we
were sailing away from the threat of cyclones towards New Zealand, my project
added to life afloat. The trade winds,
instead of helping us reach quickly south, now seemed to decide to take “time
out.” For seven of the nine days of that passage, we had extremely light
winds. No problem. Out came “the book
project” to quell any sense of impatience.
I had brought along several of the logbooks I kept during the later
years of voyaging with Larry on board Taleisin plus the several of the
diaries I keep when I am ashore. They became my quiet-time reading as I tried
to decide what to include in the next chapters of the book.
When we
arrived back in New Zealand, I realized, if I wanted to have this book finished
for the Annapolis boat show, I had to work on Passages at least six
hours a day, five days a week. David helped tremendously with this. When I
seemed to bog down, he’d begin packing Sahula . He suggested we head off
for a week or ten days to meander around to some of the islands within a day of
sailing from my homebase. We had rendezvous with friends, took long walks along
the meandering streams on shore, settled into the cockpit seats to watch the
sun go down. But after a day or two of leaving my office, my computer came out
and I was back at my “project” feeling invigorated. And even when we flew to Australia
for a two week visit with all of David’s daughters and his six grandchildren,
everyone generously accepted I would hide away in a quiet corner for several
hours each day and keep reliving my past.
Finally, not
too long ago, David got out a bottle of our best wine, set out a tray of
nibbles then helped me celebrate writing the very last words of the story that
now had a full name, Passages: Cape Horn and Beyond. Ever a supporter of
my writing habit, he said, “It’s great.” But I reminded David, though he liked
what I had written, and I felt I had written something that many sailors would
enjoy reading, I had concerns that others might be disappointed because this
book is was far different than anything I’d written before.
Then the
outsiders set to work and, emails began pouring in as first the editor, then
the proofreader sent query after query – correction after correction: did I
want numbers over ten written out; should it be on board, aboard or onboard. I
suffered through what felt like a lesson in punctuation and accuracy. A week
ago, the book designer took over from the editors. Now the emails asked, “do
you have a higher res copy of this photo?” “Who gets credit for that photo?”
I had, as required
by the publisher, sent a copy of the manuscript to several early readers. Fingers
crossed, I prayed they would like what I have written and offer a short comment
for the back cover of the book. I held my breath as I waited for their
impressions.
I can let my
breath out now. I am thrilled with the initial response to the hardest story I
have ever tried to tell.
“Lin Pardey’s new book just may be her best. It’s a classic Pardey voyaging narrative, but it’s so much more. It’s filled with wisdom and love, as Lin chronicles Larry’s slow decline with perspective and deep gratitude for the life they were able to share. And it’s filled with hope and optimism for the future, a blueprint for how to keep living as we get older. It’s a terrific story.” — John Kretschmer, adventurer/author, Sailing a Serious Ocean
This is a brave book, written by an indomitable woman and sailor. It honors the man with whom she shared more than 50 years of that life voyaging the world’s oceans and inspiring generations of sailors. And though it sails straight on into the hardest of life’s passages, it also celebrates the light that emerges when one has had the strength and courage to endure the storm. - Wendy Mitman Clarke, Editor-in-Chief, SAIL Magazine
“The title reflects both the thrilling sailing adventures of Lin and Larry Pardey and the profound changes in Lin's life. I absolutely loved this!”
Carolyn Shearlock – Creator of TheBoatgalley.com
“Generations of sailors have found inspiration and courage in the voyages of Lin Pardey, whose self-reliant sailor ethos sets her apart in an ocean of sailing stories. Her writing has never been more compelling and speaks to sailors in every part of life’s journey.”- Erin Schanen, editor, SAILING Magazine
So ,what do I do while I wait for Passages to be published? Once again, David is getting Sahula ready so we can head off sailing towards the quiet anchorages at the far end of Waiheke Island to enjoy the first bit of good weather that comes along. It is blowing a gale right now, heavy rain is forecast, the days are bitterly cold (In New Zealand that means 42 degrees at night, 50 degrees during the day.) But there is a high-pressure system moving towards us from Australia. So next week we should be able to sail and enjoy just messing about in boats.
To order a copy of Passages, click here.
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