Dear Friends and Family, Human potential is an interesting thing. I often hear of situations which demand some bravery or presence of mind and hope that given the necessity of such circumstances I would remain calm and able to observe, experience, process and act with intention throughout the moment of difficulty. I work daily to develop my inner quiet and recognize it as my source of strength but of course without being in the fray regularly, one never knows. However after this recent experience I feel in a small way surer of myself. Originally faced with John's absence and our desire to get our boat safely from Tonga 1300 miles across open sea to New Zealand, it never occurred to me to take the boat myself across the potentially difficult crossing. I was searching for a crew to deliver the boat. But I was also conflicted about abandoning her to someone else's care. When I expressed my dilemma, I was unexpectedly and immediately offered aid from what would evolve to become a most excellent and experienced team. First to offer was a young cruising friend named Falcon who is the same age as my children far away in the states. He is strong, energetic, experienced and creative in his approach to sailing. He proved himself a great friend in his generous assistance and throughout the adventure. Second, offering the wisdom which only comes with age and also cruising experience was my Dad who on hearing of John's injury and flight to the U.S for surgery, without hesitation zoomed down from California with only 2 days notice to rush to my aid. And so it was decided that I, bolstered by their most excellent support, should bring the boat across myself-or rather as it turned out that we as a team would accomplish the deed. And it was one hundred percent as a team that we undertook the task. Initially when asked who was the captain we would shyly side step the issue but later I believe we all felt we practiced an evolving mutual respect for each member's area of expertise and generally worked from consensus. The adventure began with a windless sea so calm as to be mirror like in its reflecting of sun and cloud and even moon. For two solid days we powered across this silver blue surface marred only by the passing pumice fields. Then on the third day the wind began to blow and weather reports warned of an approaching low which was moving our way fast and building. Some boats in the loose ramada taking advantage of the narrow weather window for crossing between the gale season ending in October and the cyclone season starting in November turned back to Tonga now 300 miles behind us to flee the storm. We puzzled and problem solved and laughed and worked together in preparation for whatever came. Everything loose must be removed from deck. The solar panels had to be lashed down tight. The bimini also must be dismantled and tied down. Below deck as well everything must be carefully and securely stowed. Shells on display in a corner or a tea kettle off the stove could become dangerous missiles in rough seas. Some said the seas were 12 meters high. Others said the wind blew 60 knots. One vessel was lost at sea apparently struck by a rogue wave. Her injured crew was more than 18 hours in the water awaiting rescue. We saw 4 meter seas and up to 40 knots of wind made worse by the confused and lumpy sea state but made better by beautiful squalls sparkling in the back lighting of bright sunshine and even rainbows. The seas were rough enough that Falcon tied a thick line in my kitchen which I could use to tie myself to the grab rail freeing my hands for cooking and which I found myself also using as a belay line essential to fetch things from various cabinets within reach. At times I literally climbed my way hand over hand up the rope back to the kitchen stove which banged against the hull and my grab bar alternately at the full extent of its gimble. At one point I recall looking up from the cockpit to see an approaching swell, dark and hugely menacing, it's top whipped white by wind rearing high and vertical well over our heads just before it crashed solidly over into the cockpit flooding it and drenching all of us. At other times I watched in awe as opposing swells rising in summation caught the sunlight translucent in their narrow combined peak stretching skyward their tops shining bright and blue and clear. A leak in the mast kept the cabin sole treacherously wet and slippery which combined with the 45 degree angle and constant rolling and lurching made movement below deck almost impossible. Occasionally a tin of canned food would break loose from a cabinet and fly across the cabin. At one point my heavy cutting board took a sudden flying leap into the air as if levitated by some malevolent spirit and hurtled across the room luckily missing anything breakable before slamming to the floor. I had to be very careful that no knives were left unattended even for an instant while cooking. Dad emerged from the head with the toilet seat broken off in his hand and Falcon was drenched by a wave crashing through the head port-light which had until that time remained open. For 3 more days the seas were breaking over the deck and the wind was roaring while the boat charged bravely on and we took our turns at watch round the clock. The Rose sailed beautifully keeping herself just out of reach of the pursuing storm while some boats were blown 100 miles off course or blown back into the storm center repeatedly. Falcon especially drove her onward, tirelessly changing sail configurations and warp length or otherwise fine tuning to keep her pulling strongly but not overpowered which steadied the ride and kept us out of reach of the worst of the storm. Dad kept reminding us not to break the boat and so balanced the tugging exuberance of youth with moderation. As a team we had reviewed all the available weather information and decided early on a course south west directly to Opua, New Zealand rather than the usual and much anticipated stop at Minerva Reef followed by the usually advised westing. Through no fault of our own this decision put us in very good stead with the developing low which at one point threatened to become the first named storm of the season and certainly took on a disturbingly cyclonic formation on the weather grib files. Although the storm took an unexpected dive southward seemingly hot on our heels, we were able to stay ahead of her. Then mid-day of our last day as suddenly as it had all begun, the wind died and we lay still in a hush. We looked around as though waking from the influence of a dream or drug and picked up as though anew to complete the last leg of our journey. We made the crossing in a short 8 days rather than the expected 9-10 and although somewhat rummy with fatigue it was with bittersweet triumph that we pulled into the Bay of Islands on the next misty morning at sunrise --mission accomplished. In retrospect, perhaps the most surprising thing that happened was the realization that through the faith in one another engendered by our teamwork we could truly enjoy this difficult and stormy crossing reveling in the awesome and majestic power of sea and wind and nature. In fact Falcon and I both agreed that with a good day's rest we would be ready to turn right around and joyfully sail back into that glorious tumultuous liveliness again. Instead we turned ourselves to the task of buttoning up the boat so we could all return to other priorities-Falcon to repeat the crossing with his own family, Dad to return to Mom, tennis and clinic and I to make my way back to John and see what assistance I could be to his situation. Perhaps the most enduring mark left by this experience is the profound love I feel for the members of the team who touched me deeply in their willing support of my need for assistance and the manner in which they selflessly gave. Also I find woven into my inmost being a new appreciation and gratitude for the abundant richness of the varied and often unexpected experiences of daily life which sometimes blindside us but also nurture and enliven us. Often it is these events which we at the time least anticipate and least appreciate but which in the end catalyze our growth and change our lives. This has been one of those times. I am on my way home for the holidays with gratitude and love shining in my heart and All is well. Much love, Pat S/V The Rose in New Zealand safe and sound. November 16, 2012