It had been one of those weeks, in fact there had been several of those weeks! I was getting so mired in jobs half completed and tasks demanding attention, that I could not see anything other than the hole I felt I had dug myself into. I was stressed and grumpy, not the best of company, and my good Wife with real compassion (and a fair degree of self preservation) suggested on the Friday night, that I should toss my sleeping bag into the boat and head out down the lake for a couple of days.

Feeling torn between staying home to dutifully slave away, yet being keen to escape the stress, I was grateful that Jan had seen I needed a break, but I was upset that I had been such a poor companion that the family wanted me out of the house. It took some persuading on Jan's part for me to accept her suggestion - a sure sign I was not in a fit state!

Once the decision had been made, I was off, my fat little cruising dinghy on the trailer and loaded with food and bedding, galley box having been checked and refreshed. I stopped at the second-hand book shop and the fruit‘n veg shop on the way through town.

It's not a long trip to the ramp at Lake Rotoiti, perhaps 15 minutes or so, but it was remarkable how my cares were left at home during the quiet drive through the forested road. By the time I was rigging the boat it seemed that the weight of the past few week's pressures had lifted from my shoulders.

Houdini, although only short, is a very comfortable cruiser. Packed with camping gear, she still has room for her crew to sprawl out and is stable enough to stand up and walk about in - if need be. We ( Houdini and I - we are a team and it is hard to think of a trip like this as just “ me”) slipped away from the jetty with the last of the evening light softly reflected off the dark water. There was a very gentle breeze moving us at a pace that gave me plenty of time to watch the little black ducks diving and feeding from the bottom in the superbly clear water. As we sailed beyond the willow-lined inlet and set a course along the pink cliffs which edge this flooded volcanic crater, our wake was just a line of ripples.

Rotoiti is a wonderful place for a small boat. The houses are confined to only a couple of locations and it is 12 miles or so long, by a mile or two wide. It is surrounded by forested hills and blessed with a number of superb beaches and sheltered harbours. There are hot springs in several places, a couple of islands to visit, songbirds on every shore and the deepest, clearest water you could imagine.

Although it was early in the season, my weekend turned out to be near perfect weather. We ghosted into a sheltered spot behind a point on that evening's last breath and it was so still I am sure that if I had not anchored the boat she would not have drifted more than a few metres.

I slept like a log that night, exhausted without the stress to drive me, not even setting up the tent, but just pulling a small tarp over my sleeping bag. Waking damp in the morning, but glorying in the warmth of the sun, I cooked a huge omelette over the camping stove while sitting in my bedding. I welcomed the new day in a way I had not done for a long time.

Saturday was a cracker! By the time I had my dishes washed and had rinsed myself in the lake, the breeze was up. With an occasional whitecap out there, we were soon off, charging along, making a “bone in her teeth”, going nowhere in particular, the big tan standing lugsail pulling like a horse - just going! We were soon down to the southern end of the lake and came back quietly along past the settlement on the weather shore, peeping into people's kitchen windows as we slipped along at the foot of their gardens and for a tiny moment, being a part of their day.

By late morning we were back near the hot springs and the wind had freshened to a very solid 20 knots plus. The middle of the lake's deepest blue was flecked with the most amazingly pure white. The beach on the windward side was almost in a dead calm, so I pulled in there, and after brewing a cuppa, stretched out on a towel to lose myself in the first of my 'shop' books.

Somehow, I’m sure I’d only closed my eyes for a moment, but it was mid-afternoon when I looked up! My appetite had disturbed me and the stove was soon back in action, since my galley box was onshore with me. Secured by her lead, tied to an overhanging tree, Houdini dozed with her bow snuggled up on the warm sunny beach.

There was some traffic out on the lake by this time. A couple of big outboard motors were just audible in the distance, where the waterski lanes were in use. I saw some fair-sized yachts rounding a buoy and not far away, were two launches rafted up by the beach while their families swam and lazed. Although the wind was still fresh, it was gradually dropping, so Houdini was soon loaded, and we were off, headed for a group of inlets on the bush-clad eastern shore. A lake this size is well-suited to a boat like mine, because there is enough space to go for a really good sail, but if you need to get somewhere, then it doesn’t take forever. Still in good daylight, we gybed around the point into the most delightful anchorage you can imagine. 

A tiny cruiser needs only a tiny harbour and this was ideal for my beamy “13 and a bit” feet long friend. The beach was about 20 paces in length, deeply indented between two cliffs. There was a fallen tree across the mouth of the inlet providing a perfectly sheltered pool, which was about 10 metres across and the water was not much more than knee deep - just perfect!

I set the boat up “properly” this time with the inflated air bed laid out on the self-draining floor and the galley on the port side. The tent was hoisted over the boom, then tightened by hauling up on the topping lift and I made sure the loose-footed sail was stowed above the tent ridge to prevent drips inside. A shock cord tensioned the edges which were clipped in under the gunwale to keep my shelter in place - even if it did blow in the night. With good sitting headroom, and so housed, I cooked a “real dinner”.

My frozen steak had defrosted well by then, so it was, “ Steak Rosemary; mashed Potatoes with grated Cheese Topping; steamed Green Veg and a glass of Port followed by a hot Raisin Pudding and Custard"! I sat there listening to the birdsong while the sky turned pink and the dusk crept in. I wondered how other people had to search so long and hard for paradise and knew how lucky I was to have found a corner of it - just when I needed to.

While cruising like this I don’t carry a timepiece, and tend to go to bed at dusk, arising with the sun. It is a very relaxing schedule, but it normally takes a few days to settle into the rhythm. Even though this was the shortest of cruises I found myself asleep almost as the sun disappeared and woke feeling totally refreshed to discover the morning light filtering through the trees that formed a roof over my miniature harbour.

When stressed, I cannot sit still and tend to compound the problem by working harder and harder, for less and less gain, but my cruise had relaxed me enough to enjoy freedom from stress. I had a leisurely swim before breakfast, then I spent the day reading, with more swimming and making cups of tea. As the sun wandered gently across a perfect blue sky I moved my towel around to stay in the shade. It was only in mid-afternoon I moved to pack the gear away into the big locker under the foredeck. Then I cast off and crept out from my hideaway to experience a pleasurable downwind slide back to the launching ramp and the car.

You know - it’s a funny thing - I had quite consciously left my cares back at the car when I’d dropped my little cruiser off her trailer and into the water. They must have got tired of waiting for me, as they weren’t there when I got back!