There was no wind so we reefed the main to the second reef as a dampener and motored for the first 3 hours. As we drew parallel to Cape Egmont the wind started to fill in from the N/W.

We motorsailed for another hour with full main and Genoa until the wind got up enough to sail. Soon we were surging along under full sail averaging 6 knots with 20 knots of N/W wind on the beam.

Leaving Port Taranaki

Our only problem was not getting too sunburnt. There were small boats and one trawler for the first 20 miles or so but after that we had the ocean to ourselves.

In the early afternoon the wind picked up a bit and I tucked in a reef and took a couple of turns off the Genoa. It was still lovely and sunny; Mount Taranaki looked brilliant in the sunshine. Maui A and then Maui B platforms slid past to starboard.

After a while the foothills below Mount Taranaki sunk below the horizon giving the appearance that the mountain was projecting from the ocean.

The rest of the day the wind was stable from the N/W. Later in the afternoon a N/W swell had built up to about 2metres. The wind had built to around 30 knots so we tucked the 2nd reef in the main and put the working jib up. We were still sailing at more than 6 knots.

The swell was a nice round 2metres, the sun was still shinning it was looking like a milk run back to the South Island.

The first indication that our milk run was about to curdle was as I was listening to a sched. on the local Tasman channel I heard a trawler complaining about rough conditions north of Farewell Spit - not too far from where we were headed.

All we could see was a nice round 2m swell with a few whitecaps; I shrugged my shoulders and continued to torture Rachel with my harmonica.

Rachel managed a delicious tea as per usual, its amazing what you can do with instant noodles in a moving galley.

Just on dusk the sea became suddenly much rougher. At first I couldn't work out why. We were in deep water that shouldn't be subject to much in the way of current. The wind was still constant from the N/W still around 30knots nothing that would cause the current sea conditions.

The sea was confused, the 2metre N/W swell and associated whitecaps were still there, but looking across the sea scape there were now some breaking waves occasionally rearing up, apparently from nowhere, and dumping like on a steep beach.

After studying it for a while I realised that there was a large S/E swell causing most of the problems, but adding to the confusion there was also a 1m S/W swell. Every now and then these opposing swells would meet the N/W swell at just the right point to produce a large breaking wave.

We must have sailed south of one of the headlands at the bottom of the North Island and were now exposed to the S/E swell coming out of Cook Strait.

It was now getting dark and I considered our options. The wind was still from a good direction and we were still sailing at a good speed, on course. I considered hoving to; this would be a lot more comfortable and would prevent getting slam-dunked by the breaking waves caused by the swells hitting each other.

Unfortunately we would make leeway towards Cook Strait and sea conditions would only get rougher there. Also the conditions were not forecast to change in the near future.

I decided that we may as well keep going, we already had Nightshift rigged for heavy weather. We had been clipped on since it had gotten rough. Despite a good chance of a knockdown in these conditions this is not normally too much of a problem in an H28, with our sturdy rigs and long keels we pop up quickly, and we have never damaged anything yet.

I did want to slow us down a bit just in case the mast took a bath, there was no point in straining it too much by plowing in at 6.5 knots, which we were currently doing. I tucked in the 3rd reef and tied it off; this brought the speed down to between 4.5 and 5knots.

Neither of us felt like trying to sleep in these conditions so we battened down and spent some "quality time" in the cockpit together. George the windvane was steering like a trouper. Every now and then the whine of the wind was drowned out by the crash of a large dumping wave.

Looking across the sea at any one time there were half a dozen large breaking waves within view. I noted when they reared up that the N/W swell overpowered the S/E one and always broke to leeward so we clipped on the windward side.

Over the next few hours breaking waves occasionally turned up right under Nightshift and we would skid to leeward and heel over a bit, but nothing too dramatic. By 2300hrs, when picked up by a breaking wave, the conditions had built just enough to get quite a bit of water over the leeward side of the cockpit but the waves only broke at the exact right place to do this about every 15 minutes or so.

Around 0200hrs I noticed the breaking waves were dumping with a bit more enthusiasm and not too long after one nailed us. I don't know if we can officially call it a knock down as I think the top of the mast has to hit the water. At the time my attention was not on the top of the mast but I did note, as I was flying across the cockpit, that the boom disappeared under the water and the port side spreaders sure went for a swim.

Our harnesses pulled us both up before we actually went swimming, and as usual Nightshift flipped back upright, shook herself like a dog with water pouring off everywhere. George immediately carried on steering and Nightshift carried on sailing.

Rach and I untangled ourselves and sat with out feet up on the cockpit seats, as the cockpit was still full of water.

Now I might have mentioned before that my first mate is somewhat of an optimist and normally puts a positive spin on things. Some wives might be less than happy having been dumped in the water in the middle of the ocean on a dark night, but she promptly exclaimed with apparent genuine glee, "Look we have our own spa pool and it has phosphorescence in it.

I had been preoccupied checking that all the bits of the yacht appeared to be in the correct place, but a glance at the cockpit revealed a swirling mass of bright purple phosphorescence.

Over the next couple of hours this incident was repeated several times, although not quite as severe as the first one, and I learned that sailing at 5 knots it takes about 2 minutes for the cockpit drains to empty a completely full cockpit.

I also made the unpleasant discovery that my 3-year-old "Katmandu" bib and brace waterproof overalls were no longer waterproof, despite having recently been treated with their expensive re-waterproofing system. My "Musto" jacket kept my top half warm and dry, which was just as well as the rest of me was wet and cold. Suffice to say that I will be buying the overalls to match the jacket before our next trip.

As we dropped south of Farewell Spit the sea conditions eased a bit. Gradually the S/E swell disappeared, obviously blocked by some distant feature at the top of the South Island, also Farewell Spit itself blocked the low S/W swell, and conditions returned to normal. The 2m N/W swell and 30 knots of wind seemed positively flat without the other swells mucking things up.

Just as I thought we were going to make Port Hardy at the top of the South Island in about 2 hours. The wind that had been so reliable suddenly failed. Within 5 minutes we were rolling with the sails slatting. I dropped the headsail and set the main as a dampner on the second reef.

We started the motor and set the electric autohelm, as George now had no wind to work with. We motored for a while which gave me a good chance to check below. In spite of the unusual angles acquired earlier, the cabin was relatively intact with only a few small items scattered on the cabin floor. I later discovered that the contents of the cupboards had been somewhat rearranged.

After motoring for half an hour the wind returned but unfortunately right on the nose. It continued to build to about 20 knots and we splashed to windward for the next 3 hours before arriving at Port hardy, just as dawn was breaking.

We dropped the anchor in a small bay in the south arm where the water was like glass and we both slept until well into the afternoon.

With the passage-making part of the holiday over with we spent a very pleasant time over the next several days, bush walking, sleeping late and sailing only short distances between anchorages and catching up with the odd friend who happened to be anchored nearby.

Unfortunately we eventually had to come back to Nelson, and now I have been back at work for a while I already want to be at sea again, even if it is with a cockpit full of water at 0300hrs on a dark night.