Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Warren had written to the Labor Board asking permission to hire me as a ship's carpenter,
which was something I could do. Almost immediately, I was given permission and was in-
structed to sail over to Opito Bay, a few miles to the north again and to report for work on
Monday morning. I duly loaded up with provisions and left on Sunday morning, a week
after the great Hungarian showdown.
The sail was just perfect. I idled along with the local radio station keeping me company.
The water was calm and blue, and the passing scenery was green and quaint and interesting.
Other boats glided by on the almost picture perfect day. I found the little half-moon bay
of Opito and saw the skeleton of the big, wooden house under construction on the side of
the steep cliff. I dropped anchor and rowed ashore. I walked and explored the immediate
countryside. It was again rolling, green pasture lands lined with huge, leafy, green trees and
hedgerows, divided by ribbons of simple, black roads that snaked over hill and dale, disap-
pearing into thin points of eternity. It reminded me of England.
I returned after a long ramble and relaxed until the morning, when I gathered my tools and
rowed ashore. I was introduced to about four other carpenters and the foreman, who even-
tually turned out to be one of my best friends while in New Zealand. He had spent years
working on the oil rigs in the North Sea oilfields. He had returned to his home here and had
married and built a lovely house with the good money he had earned.
He was as strong as an ox, broadminded, and had a devilish sense of humor. He was very
safety conscious and laid all the scaffolding on this daunting worksite. For the next five
months I was to work with this crew, knocking off at four p.m. every Friday afternoon, re-
ceiving my pay and sailing back to Russell, where I spent the weekends alone doing my
exploration into marine art. Sunday afternoon saw me sailing back to Opito Bay to start
work again on Monday.
When the winter came, it became almost too cold to live on-board and work. Warren and
Eileen kindly invited me to move in with them in their old wooden house, which I thank-
fully did. Their son, who also worked with us, lived with them as well. We would take off
some nights to the cozy little bar in the town of Keri Keri, where there were one-armed
gambling slot machines, great New Zealand draught beer, and merry fires always burning.
I met a lot of good people and felt really welcomed by these Kiwis. I would immigrate to
New Zealand in a heartbeat but not on a boat in the middle of winter; that was too cold!
Even the recommended clay flower pot on top of my propane stove wouldn't drive the
winter chill from the cabin!
There was something so magical about sailing around these friendly waterways, coves, and
little islands in the Bay. It was always so interesting to sail to some new spot. I would some-
times take Terry from Olivia with me and go shopping in Paihia, a little fishing village a
