Our annual leave had finally arrived and our much awaited holiday within a holiday was here, a solid 10 days away. Claire was trying to give Greg some more responsibility with packing whilst still overseeing the operation to ensure correct items were packed, correctly folded and space used efficiently. Unfortunately Greg stumbled at the first hurdle, when he realised he only has 8 pairs of boxers in New Zealand, and he was currently wearing one of them. Claire rapidly informed him that commando, inside out or back to front was not acceptable adult behaviour. Luckily Greg decided that two of the days were 'swimming' days, so he wore only trunks.

After a long (8 hour), hot drive to Auckland we finally arrived. Claire was relieved as Greg had decided halfway that the repeated 'ITS' label on traffic cones at any road works was a good base for the next beat-boxing smash hit. Claire still hears the 'song' as a theme tune to her nightmares..."it's, it's, it's, it's, it's". To make up for this, Greg accidentally took Claire out for a traditional New Zealand Brazilian BBQ - endless supply of meat, fish and vegetables with plenty of caipirinha to wash it down. Greg got Claire drunk enough that she brandished his Birthday present early - a shiny new GoPro to document the more extreme elements of their travels. Unfortunately Greg seems to have only mastered recording himself turning the GoPro on and off so far.

The following day we set out on the final leg, after 4 hours of Greg trying to explain to Claire how our holiday within a holiday within a holiday within a year out is exactly like the film Inception we arrived in the Bay of islands. Our first stop was Paihia where we spent the afternoon exploring the town and discussing how glad we were that we didn't have to eat canned tuna on a cracker for dinner, like the real travellers in our hostel, before enjoying a seafood platter and a glass or two of sauvignon blanc at the local seafront bar/restaurant. We woke early the next morning and head south to Opua where we were introduced to our home for the next five days - the good ship Carnival. Our instructor Ian, the commodore of the local yacht club, was a fellow Pomme and had spent his retirement sailing around the world...but only made it halfway to New Zealand. Carnival was a 20 foot keelboat with two covered rooms - the kitchen/dining room and bedroom/toilet. In keeping with its name it looked like it had been used as a dodgem once or twice but Greg and Claire decided this just meant it had been thoroughly tested.

We set out on day 1 of our 2 day lesson with mixed feelings. Very excited to get going but on the other hand we were extremely nervous, neither of us having sailed since primary school. The weather forecast didn't look too hot either. Our fears were rightly justified, by the end of the day we were both behaving like people with post-traumatic stress disorder, having learnt to sail in the worst conditions our instructor had ever sailed in. After the event he admitted it was his first ever time he needed to take the main sail down to avoid capsizing or snapping the mast. To add insult to injury, we soon realised that Greg's face was rapidly turning a glowing deep red. Greg had forgotten to apply sun cream due to the weather and was now not only radiating both heat and colour but his face had begun to swell, until he resembled his baby picture.

After our second day of lessons we were feeling much more confident. The weather had taken a dramatic turn and we spent the day calmly sailing in beautiful sunshine (Greg wore a hat), we even saw dolphins swim past the boat. We were confidently told at the end of the day that the instructor was happy for us to go out on our own. Apparently, after surviving the conditions on day one, we would be fine. We celebrated with dinner and a drink or two at the local yacht club, where we were introduced to the commodore's very merry wife. She was excited to learn that we were the two crazy English people learning to sail in a storm.

Our first day sailing alone was somewhat a challenge - physically, mentally and for our relationship. The weather was due to get worse than it had been on day 1. Therefore, we were advised to set off early, get to a mooring and to stay there for the rest of the day and night. We will summarise only the key disasters of the morning so as not to waste your time too much. After having proudly reached the correct bay for mooring we set about taking down the sails in order to motor our way into the mooring, thus avoiding crashing into the numerous expensive boats already sheltering in the bay. Unfortunately the motor would not start. We were aimlessly drifting in an ever roughening sea with a darkening cloud hanging heavily overhead. Luckily, as in any good blockbuster it sprung to life in the nick of time and we were able to chug into the bay. We had been given very rough directions to the mooring which, upon seeing the numerous bouys and boats, felt like we'd been told to look for a man in glasses in a where's wally puzzle. There was no way of picking it out and so we decided to moor to a random bouy before hunting it down via rowboat. Our first attempt at mooring was less than optimal. Claire became extremely flustered at the nearby land and decided the best course of action was to turn the engine off while Greg stood in silence, unsure of how to handle this delicate situation. Eventually luck landed them on a random bouy and Greg set off on a rowboat to hunt down our mooring. The number greg was sent looking for was 1041, unfortunately Greg decided instead to spend the next 45 minutes rowing around looking for one that matched our postcode (4010). Needless to say his search was fruitless. He returned dejected and confused and so team win decided to pick a bouy that matched the vague description they'd been given and stick to it. Claire fired up the engine and headed straight for it, Greg leant over with his hook on a stick to catch the mooring and, again, there were issues. Unfortunately this time Claire did not turn the engine off and Greg was unable to keep hold of the hook on a stick against the forward momentum of the boat and decided the best thing was to drop it overboard. That was the last straw, Claire abandoned her post and jumped ship into the dingy to rescue the stick while Greg single handedly crewed the ship. We won't go into further detail but we did end up on a mooring, just not a mooring either of us expected.

The rest of the day was spent relaxing and sheltering. We were glad of the decision to hunker down as the storm raged around us. We were both also glad as we each managed to open our bowels successfully and comfortably using the ships onboard toilet. That night as the storm raged and we lay in our bed rocking we soon realised that the result of our bowel motions were also rocking directly beneath our heads. The 'slosh' factor meant Greg had the sensation that he was sleeping in a well used portaloo all night...Claire didn't seem to mind.

The next day was far more successful. The storm passed and left behind beautiful sunshine and a light breeze that propelled us exactly where we wanted to go. We spent the morning sailing to Roberton Island where we anchored for lunch, rowed ashore for an explore and indulged in a little snorkelling. We then set off to find a place for the night and found a deserted bay (Assasination cove), unfortunately as the bottom of our boat scraped along the bottom we realised why it was deserted and made a swift exit to avoid beaching ourselves. We instead found another deserted bay and anchored there (Opunga bay). We spent the evening soaking in the sun, eating and drinking in the 'cockpit' and playing a few rounds of monopoly deal. All fun and games until a gust of wind blew several of the deck into the sea. Greg fished all but one out with cat like reflexes before noticing the final one drifting and sinking out of reach. Claire promptly insisted that one of us will need to go in and get it (what if it was a property? Or worse yet a deal breaker?) while making no movement to indicate she had any intention of jumping in. Greg stripped off like the superhero he is and dived in...alas it was a £5 million card, definitely not worth the bother.

Before sleep they lay in bed with the hatch above open looking at the stars (aaaah!) and Claire even saw her first ever shooting star! (even more aaaaahs). That night the sea was completely still and there was not a whiff of poo to be smelt. Clearly this was what the boat was designed for. We were greeted next morning by a friendly stingray swimming around the boat and on the return trip we passed several small penguins enjoying the water. How could the holiday get any better? Time for the Coromandel...