After over nine days at sea, Terry Dunn crossed the finish line at Southport in the dark at 04:47 this morning (Tuesday 9 June, NZST), onboard Nautilass, a Beneteau First 36 borrowed from an Australian racing friend.
He sailed 1,362 nautical miles from Opua in an elapsed time of 9 days 16 hours 41 minutes and 31 seconds, with a PHRF corrected elapsed time of 7 days 23 hours 44 minutes and 17 seconds. Eighth overall on line honours. Sixth on monohull PHRF handicap at the time of writing, with Diablo, Smoko and Fair Seasons still at sea.
The story of how Dunn came to be racing a borrowed boat across the Tasman starts weeks before the start line.
He had spent three months preparing Marara, his own Sparkman and Stephens 34, for the 2026 Solo Trans-Tasman Yacht Challenge. Pulled the mast, redid the rigging, worked through the systems. Marara was nearly ready. Then an Australian racing friend mentioned the Hamilton Island and Airlie Beach circuit, and the boat to do it in. Nautilass was his friend’s Beneteau First 36. It made sense on paper. In practice, it meant starting over with very few days to go. Nautilass threw up problems almost immediately, including a mast crane that needed pulling. Dunn started from scratch with the clock ticking. He made the start line anyway.
The race gave him everything the Tasman had to offer. The first night was horrendous; 50-knot squalls while he was trying to get his sails down, that in the end all he could do was lay the hull over and blow sideways. “All I could do was lay a hull, just get the rig off and just blow sideways.” There were the crazy Ivan wind shifts Peter Elkington had named, 20 knots to 40 in a heartbeat, crash jibe, chaos, water everywhere, then back to calm. “What was that all about?” He was gun-shy at night for most of the crossing, watching clouds build on the horizon and knowing what was inside them.
The autopilot had a “brain fart” in the final days, leaving him hand steering for hours. The AIS packed up at the same time, approaching the Australian coast with shipping around. “Long, tiring day. Running out of enthusiasm at night.” He got a good sleep, the boat came right, and he charged for home.
He passed Middleton Reef two nights out from the finish and found himself thinking about Bill Belcher, the sailor who wrecked there in the early years of the race, drifted in his life raft for three weeks, and was found with a bag containing his suit because he wanted to be dressed properly for the prize giving. Dunn wasn’t sure he had brought his suit.
He had been trying to close the gap to Geoff Thorn’s Catnip all race. Every day he thought he might catch him. Every night, same 40-mile gap. “This boat’s good downwind, it should be perfect for me. Last night we were doing tens and twelves. I’m thinking we’re going to catch up. Geoff’s going to look out his hatch and there’s going to be Nautilass right behind him. But every day, same thing, 40 miles in front.” Catnip crossed the line a few hours ahead of him.
Dunn was warm about everyone in the fleet, but particularly the back markers. “This race has matched all those trials” from the history books. Graeme Francis taking on water and turning for shore. Bill Kidman pulling out. Glen Jeffery on Wave. Doug Esterman hand steering the last 400 miles with a broken autopilot, sick and exhausted and not missing the party. “The other sailors are amazing.”
He sailed a borrowed boat he barely knew in conditions that have broken bigger and more prepared vessels across 1,362 nautical miles of the Tasman Sea.
