LAST TRIP OF THE DINGHY

A week has gone by and we're about to leave Auckland when we decide to get rid of the Warehouse dinghy. We row it ashore along with the Old Yellow Wonder and a pump for the latter. We then dispose of the new one the only way we can think of: we take it back to The Warehouse and get our money back. After having said goodbye to some friends we make it back to our trusty bridge and dinghy hiding place.
Upon arriving back to our sad old Metzeler dinghy we are (not very) surprised to find that someone has bothered to steal the pump while leaving the dinghy (now chained to a post) and the drybags. Laughing in disbelief we start blowing up the one remaining pontoon using only our mouths. A little while later we have fashioned ourself a raft using our drybags, the dingy and some rope. It is leaking in half a dozen places, but it floats and should be able to take us the 6-700 metres out to our boat. We have stripped down to our shorts such as to keep the wet gear to a minimum should the thing sink.
At first things look good; the craft is manouverable and “fast”. It is even pretty dry. However soon after The Point of No Return I, being in the back realise that the freeboard is decreasing. We are soon down to about 10 cm which means that every stroke Egil does up front fills our construction up a little more. Which in turn means we are shipping a little more water with every stroke. Which in turn means we are riding a little lower in the water. Which in turn means we manouver a little worse. Which in turn means we are slower. I think to myself that there is no way we will reach “home” this way, and envision us drifting into the Hauraki Gulf. Not a very pleasant place to be drifting around at one in the morning in a leaking makeshift raft with no lights.
The raft soon becomes agonizingly slow and nigh on impossible to steer. For every three strokes we take I have to brace two strokes at the opposite side and we are moving at about 0,1 knot with the current sweeping us laterally away from our boat. We realise we need a change of tactics.
The current has swept us sideways leaving our own boat an impossible goal, especially as our muscles are on fire with the constant effort the last 30-40 minutes. We do however have a yacht on a neighbouring mooring. It is quite a flashy 50 foot racer, with heaps of electronics in the mast and a nice paintjob. Quite the opposite of our boat in other words. More important than the physical characteristics of our neighbour is his location: he is slightly closer to shore and to the side where the current has been taking us. Add to this that we know for a fact that no one is aboard, the decision to make an unscheduled visit is easy.
Some more minutes of constant effort later and we land at our neighbour's stern. Had we missed we would have drifted to sea. Good thing we didn't.
We take advantage of the roomy foredeck to rebuild our craft, and soon we're off again. The same scenario repeats itself, only this time we're so much closer to home. Ten minutes later we're slapping each other's backs in our own cockpit. We snap some pictures and go to bed. We're ready to leave Auckland.

Next morning as we raise the anchor to leave we see the owner of the neighbouring yacht board his boat. They walk around and get ready for a sail, obviously not suspecting their two scruffy nighbours of having helped themselves to a tour of their boat during the night. We wave to them and turn our backs both to unsuspecting neighbours and to Auckland.