Sammy, my sister, was ready to go. She couldn’t wait to put on her skipper’s hat and head off on a great adventure. It was 1998, when offshore sailing was off-grid, whether you liked it or not. There were no fancy chart plotters and weather apps to tell us the conditions; we relied on the basics: radar and depth sounder and the SSB radio for weather updates. Sammy plotted our course hourly on a paper chart. Back then, we simply had to rely on long-range, low-tech information.
Standing on the pontoon saying our goodbyes in Auckland harbour, four of us made a solid crew. I was the least experienced. My sister had worked for Ocean Youth Club, sailing 70ft offshore yachts around Britain with youngsters on board. Her then husband, Mike, who was a Kiwi, had done the same. Crew Bruce was an experienced offshore sailor who had crossed to the Pacific Islands on a previous occasion. I was an enthusiastic river sailor, just a novice.
A SENSE OF FOREBODING
As the lines were untied from the pontoon and taken on board Sammy’s 39ft, steel-hulled Denis Ganley, , Mike’s mother, Mari, said from the quay: ‘I
