The sleek lines of Moon River sliced through the tranquil waters of Whangaroa Harbour in Northland, New Zealand. Our ketch glided effortlessly, her sails catching the last of the sea breeze as we steered her towards Rere Bay, a favorite anchorage, the culmination of our annual pilgrimage north. The picture-perfect scene that seemed plucked from a sailor's dream was aptly described by Captain R A Cruise in 1820: “The interior is lined with lofty hills, richly wooded; and close to the western shore is a series of huge rocks, rising in the most fantastic shapes to an immense height, from the tops of which tumble many cascades that lose themselves among the innumerable trees and shrubs with which the bases of those stupendous piles are profusely covered.” Neither time nor man has left a mark on the northwestern arm of the harbor. This harbor holds so many memories, diving for scallops with dad, wakeboarding with university friends, New Year’s celebrations on Whangaroa Houseboats, getting lost on waterfall walks, and more recently this bay sheltered us during a 60-knot ex-tropical cyclone. As the boys sail their Opti around the bay, one can lose all track of time and truly live in the moment, this was, and still is the dream.
