My heart lies waiting over the foam... (New Caledonia - Australia)

Day 1. 10 Oct '23

Like two excited children on Christmas Day morning, we jumped from our bed as the sun came up. There’s an unfamiliar tingle fluttering in my stomach.. an air of anticipation..

What’s the reason for all this excitement?

Has Santa been?

Did it snow?

No… Better than that: We’re going to Australia!

We’d prepped the boat yesterday, checked out and provisioned.

All that was needed to do this morning was slip the dock lines and glide out of the marina. This was a task made significantly easier as a couple of days ago Capt. Chez had decided to turn the boat around to be facing bow out.

We’re away from the marina before 6am and on our way to Bundaberg. Within the first ten minutes, we had a visit from two dolphins - surely a good omen for our last passage (… again I must stress: I’m not one for omens and portents… I do however seem to keep mentioning them. Funny that). The dolphins sedately circled the boat then headed on their merry way. We made our way through the pass in the reef on the ebbing tide, then into light wind and long frequency swell. A rolly but not altogether terrible way to be heading home.

The morning was spent juggling: engine, sail, flap, engine, sail, flap repeat. For the moment, I’m happy to tweak and play around with the sails as we’re keen to maximise our speed. There’s strong coastal wind forecast along the Queensland coast at the tail end of this trip, and we’d like to get there before things gets too crazy. That being the case, even an extra 1/2 a knot is …a new term coined today… a Bundy bonus!

By mid afternoon, the wind has increased sufficiently to have us once again gliding along under sail alone at around 5/6 knots. Other than being a bit grey and cold, it’s a good day. Wind held until after sunset allowing us to make an average of 5.7knots over the last 10 hours. Later, almost inevitably it dropped off. As Chez tried to sleep the sails began to flap and I happily tucked them away and turned the engine back on: ‘All haste for Bundaberg and don’t spare the horses!’

…or diesel in this case.

One benefit of having the engine on during tonight’s dark moonless night is to once again be able to marvel at the twinkling trail we leave as the prop churns the water behind us. That beautiful popping candy path snaking away from our stern will never cease to amaze and delight me. Like the dolphin visit first thing this morning, I count myself truly honoured to see such things.

Day 2. 11 Oct ‘23

Woke to brighter skies and slightly calmer seas. Made a brekkie of ham, cheese, tomato and onion omelette in a baguette. Very nice.

We made 130nms yesterday - happy with that.

We had a fierce but short lived squall come through at lunchtime - this highlighted the fact that I’d left the galley hatch open after breakfast…oops. We’re still making around 5 knots, with occasional 4s that flap the sails, and occasional 8s that terrify.

Our second day; our second dolphin visit - jumpy and delightful but too busy to stay and play.

In the afternoon the wind got up, and stayed up - we were rounded up (stern kicked round in the swell) a few times, and it was another uncomfortable worrying ride for some hours. We’re well reefed down by sunset when Chez heads below - fingers crossed for an uninteresting night.

I considered not adding the next bit… how many dolphin visits and sunsets can one diary hold?

As I said - Chez has headed down, I’ve put my headphones on and I’m staring at the setting sun in front of us listening to some tunes. Out of the corner of my eye I see two fins arc through the water right next to me. It’s dolphins, glad I got the rods in.

That’s the third visit of this passage, they didn’t stay, but whizzed around for 30 seconds or so at the bow. Then there’s the sunset - the sky tonight is a thick, heavy blanket of threatening dark purply grey clouds, the sea below is an equally dark bluey green hue with occasional flecks of white horse spray. In between these two swathes of muted colour is a vivid neon band of brightest orange. It’s definitely a spectacular sight, but having spent 5 years seeing the majority of the sunsets going down each night, and regularly getting visited by dolphins, I’m perhaps a little immune to the beauty.

By the time I finished writing that, it’s pitch black, the spray from a rogue wave has just sloshed over the rail and spat me square in the face.

The night turned in to a rather lovely affair in the end: the clouds cleared, the sky filled with stars, the sea flattened, and at midnight I let some more canvas out to keep us gliding along at over 5knots.

Day 3. 12 Oct ‘23

Blue skies, sunshine and good wind

122nms yesterday.

We’re into the rhythm of the passage now. Didn’t get up to much today: I caught up on some sleep, and Chez listened to podcasts while the boat happily whizzed along at upwards of 6knots under full sail. With a squeal and a twang, I lost a lure before dinner.. you know what though: I ain’t even mad!

We’re sailing to Australia… which still seems somewhat unbelievable.

The wind turned and dropped to such an extent that the engine was called back in to service at 10pm - it had been a great days sailing up to that point, speedily cutting through the surf at a comfortable 7 knots that felt more like 4 or 5.

Day 4. 13 Oct ‘23

Clear sky, sunny.. no wind.

143nms yesterday.

We’re still motoring this morning - this was forecast, but disappointing none the less. The sea is pretty calm though so the swell isn’t bad despite having no sail showing.

Over half way ‘home’ now

On the opposite side of the world, my three siblings: Doug, Lou and Isobel are today driving up to Isobel’s house in Scotland. Along the way they’re making a family pilgrimage to the Burgoyne Hotel in Reeth (up in the North Yorkshire Dales). This was our go to family holiday destination when we were kids. Despite currently being on my own very exotic adventure, I do have a twinge of jealousy toward the three of them, so lucky to be able to spend time together.

Hey Ho - my choice though.

The wind remained elsewhere for the rest of the day.

The night-watch was significantly warmer than the previous three. There’s no wind coming up from the Antarctic.

It’s a clear starry night, the sea is smooth enough that some of the larger stars are reflected in the water. Still moonless, the complete darkness makes the iridescent trail behind us seem so much brighter than usual. Spent a large part of my nightwatch standing at the stern taking it all in - I will miss this.

Day 5. 14 Oct ‘23

Sunny, clear sky, no swell, no wind.

I hadn’t mentioned it yesterday (just in case.. you know), but it was Friday the 13th. We managed to get through the day completely unscathed - Yay!

Made 130nms yesterday, no great feat as it was all under engine power. This leaves a mere 250 odd nms to go. Oh my God… then it’s Australia. Surely that can’t be right?? We’ve been so far away for so long. To now be so tantalisingly close still doesn’t seem real. We’ve both had a touch of glassy eyed lip wobble thinking about it. I struggle to fully explain why, but it’s definitely an emotionally happy time for us.

Hitting land this time will likely mean the end of a chapter in our lives that has been so special and removed from anything else we’ve ever done. I’m not ruling out further adventures on the high seas by any means, but Australia definitely represents a large milestone in our journey. Just to be clear - that’s ‘journey’ in the correctly defined sense: The act of travelling from one place to another, not the wanky reality TV usage

…we must be getting near to Australia now: I just saw a bluebottle (little stinging jellyfish) floating by… a Portuguese Man ‘o war - scourge of the East coast beaches.

Sunset tonight is an absolute beauty. A pure one: all the sun fully visible as it heads off for the night in a glorious display of gold turning pink.

To further confirm we’re heading in the right direction, the first stars I see in the night sky tonight are the two pointers to the Southern Cross off to my left.

Day 6. 15 Oct ‘23

Light wind, patchy cloud, less than a meter of swell.

Woke to shouts from up on deck…

“Richy! Whales!”

Bleary eyed, I roused myself, and headed up. I saw just a couple of puffs near the horizon.. not the most exciting encounter we’ve ever had. I headed below to put the kettle on, only to be called up again. This time was definitely worth the trip: two magnificent humpbacks are crossing our path on the surface. These are the biggest whales I’ve seen up close - and close is right. We had to cut the engine to avoid running in to them. I headed forward and saw them glide underneath me a meter or two in front of the bow. Easily as long as the boat, with shiny grey gnarled backs. Once they’d passed us, with a lift of their heads the pair took a synchronised breath, and with a swish of their wide whale tails they sank below. Wow. That’s a way to wake up. We saw a few more puffs, some fins and splashes further off:

What a nice welcome to Australian waters!

We’re passing lots more bluebottles this morning - what little wind there is is currently on our nose. That’s bad news for us, but good news for Eastern seaboard beachgoers - the stingers are being blown offshore.

We had another windless day, I’d much rather that than getting smashed at this stage though.

Had yet more visitors this afternoon - another yacht: Phil and his wife Claudia on ‘Bruno’s Girl’ passed close enough to wave. Chez had chatted to them while I’d been taking a siesta. One big bonus of that chat was to get an update on the weather: wind picking up, but nothing overly concerning - phew.

The up to now windless day, turned in to one with a very useable wind after sunset. So much so, that soon after raising the sails, I needed to reef down to keep us down to a decent speed… as opposed to an indecent one that would have us heeling over and the cupboards rattling. There was however sufficient rattling to keep Chez from getting much sleep. She came and joined me soon after midnight, taking over the watch early while I dozed with her up in the cockpit.

Day 7. 16 Oct ‘23

10-15 knots of wind, clear sky, 1m of swell.

Well I can’t see it just yet, but any time now Australia should be starting to show itself in front of us.

We made good speed overnight, and are now just 25 nms from the entrance to Bundaberg.

Another amazing whale encounter - 20 meters to our Starboard, a big gasp, then a classic massive whale tail perhaps 3-4meters wide arcing up out of the water and then gracefully sinking down. This gave me goosebumps and merited calling Chez from her morning nap. That leviathan didn’t resurface. Luckily though there was a playful pod a few hundred meters astern who put on a show for us. Repeatedly jumping half out of the water and flopping back down then turning onto their side to wave their surprisingly long fins - feeling grateful.

Another - less delightful - wildlife encounter has left some evidence of its visit on deck. The culprit is long gone, but a large trail of squid ink is now polka dotted across the deck on both sides. Initial scrubbing hasn’t removed it. That’ll need some bleach when the deck isn’t moving beneath our feet.

Something else associated with our approach to Australia has just brought a silly grin to my face: at the top left of my phone I’ve got 1 bar of ‘Vodaphone AU’ showing

…..and soon after: LAND-HO!!

The arrival not as smooth as hoped: initial radio issues with the marina made communication frustrating. When we did eventually get through it turns out Borderforce are backed up for the day with arrivals, and we’re told to anchor up for the night - with check in to follow tomorrow. All good, we’re here, albeit unofficially for now.

…and you know what - I think that’s me done for a while. Hope you enjoyed the journey, I did (some of the time!)