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Leaving the anchorage at Cape Campbell to start across to the North Island, with the tide not quite right through Cook Strait and a forecast for 30 knots of wind on the beam.

In quick succession:

I saw that the nut on the pin through the anchor roller had loosened, and the pin was spinning itself loose, en route to freedom, off the boat and to the bottom of the anchorage.

The belt on the alternator began slipping, yet again.

Seawater began siphoning through the forward head and spilling out onto head sole.

Problems 1 and 2 could easily be dealt with at sea. But water entering the boat, with a locker and a bulkhead needing to be removed to get at the plumbing involved, called for a stationary boat and a focused engineer.

So we re-anchored. I mopped up the water, removed the bikes from the head compartment, removed the various stuff from the locker, and pulled out both locker and bulkhead. I fixed the problem - of my own making, it turns out - and put bulkhead, locker, stuff and bike back where they had been.

By this time Alisa had produced lunch for the crew. Eric, who is just making the transition away from diapers, took the opportunity to empty his bladder while sitting at the table.

Who knew that little kids had such voluminous bladders?

And then, after Eric and settee had been cleaned up, we set off across the entrance to Cook Strait, with 30 knots of wind on the beam and the tide not quite right.

Days like this - and there are a few, put me into two minds.

On one hand, I think that reacting to a constant flow of surprises and challenges can only keep me vital when compared to the more stultifying office existence that I might be leading.

On the other hand, I wonder if days like this are just turning my beard gray.