Catching the breeze -
a Daysail on Auckland's Hauraki Gulf.
From the 'AA Directions' Magazine - Chad Taylor indulges mariner fantasies aboard the Soren Larsen

"It's Sunday morning, a week before Christmas and white clouds are sitting over Auckland like a hangover the city can't quite shake. The Soren Larsen is moored on Prince's Wharf in the noisy shade of bars and restaurants setting up for another day of lunching at the Viaduct Harbour. A kitchen hand dumps bottles into a bin and a diesel street-sweeper runs along the steps.

The Soren Larsen's crew are washing the deck and polishing the brass. There are a lot of different vessels on the wharf but the ship is easy to spot. She's a twin-masted tall ship or schooner, with a square (or brigantine) rigged foremast. From a distance she looks antique, like a 19th century illustration: up close, she's clearly a working ship.

After we board, the Soren Larsen heads to windward past Rangitoto Channel, with three sails set - the main sail, upper staysail and outer jib, if my amateur notes have it right. I've sailed before, but on nothing like this. The oak decking is gapped with tar and the mainmast is rubbed with tallow aged to verdigris green. The rigging appears complex at a glance: up close, it's even more complex. We're invited to raise sail, lining up on the halyard. The task is simple, but satisfying. I still can't read the orchestral score of the rigging, but I've picked out a two-note tune.

We're sailing with a diverse crew. Eric, the first mate, farms in winter and sails in summer. Richard, a deckhand, apprenticed on the Spirit of Adventure. Dave is a volunteer deckhand for the day: his real job is engineer on a fishing trawler. Nathaniel, the bosun, is a carpenter from Maine. Nate reckons the Soren Larsen is the best sailing gig in the South Pacific. They all do. The crew really love this boat.

They spend summers in Auckland running charter cruises and three-day tours of the Hauraki Gulf and northern coastline. In winter, they follow the good weather north for Pacific journeys, where passengers (the Soren Larsen calls them guests) become part of the crew for periods ranging from 10 days to three months, setting sail, maintaining the ship and experiencing the South Pacific from sea level. Richard has been out on the bowsprit in six-metre swells. He's fished for tuna over the side and watched dolphin and whales swimming beyond the white sands of Tonga. Ian, the ship's liaison officer, says his favourite spot is Vanuatu, where locals paddle out to welcome the tall ship and barter with whoever's on board.

The main crew quarters are forward in the bow; amidships, the original cargo hold has been converted into dining quarters. Overhead, the beams are lined with dozens of souvenir plaques from previous voyages - Boston, Liverpool, the Coral Sea.

Built in Denmark in 1948, the Soren Larsen was originally a Baltic trader. Fully laden, the ship is 290 tonnes. She's sailed Cape Horn, circumnavigated the globe and endured light pack ice. In 1978, she was restored by her current owners and set to work for movies and television productions, the Onedin Line among others. When the ship was invited to represent Britain in New Zealand's 1990 celebrations, the crew liked the place so much they stayed. As Ian, an Englishman, puts it: "North Sea or Pacific - it's not much of a contest". The Soren Larsen calls herself a New Zealand ship now.

At Motutapu's Martian landscape the ship tacks, sets the square sail and heads back towards the city. I normally spend an Auckland cruise watching the surroundings, but this time I watch the ship. The broad hull glides silently through the water, leaving hardly a wake. In a small yacht you're on the sea but the big ship feels like part of it, as graceful as the current.

The white scratchings of houses pick up past St Heliers and above the cliffs along Tamaki Drive. North Head and Bastion Point - a military base and a protest site - are now green respites, the most tranquil places on the skyline. Chased by boats and kayakers, the Soren Larsen glides beneath the grey traffic on the Auckland Harbour Bridge. Low tide has stranded a yacht in one of the West Harbour bays. The sand spits are the colour of rust. The clouds have split and the sky is blue and the sun has come up hard and bright. The business district is fading in the hot light like so much office junk. The wooden deck is warm underfoot and the sails creak lightly in the breeze. We're late making it back.

It doesn't seem to matter. "

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