Mainly on the nose (Airlie Beach - Rodd's Bay)
Day 1:
Goodbye Airlie - it’s been special. It’s now time to begin the long migration South.
We up anchor under a bright full moon, and head out from the back of the anchorage, past Funnel bay, Pioneer rock on the corner and down towards Long Island as I write this.
We’ve got 4 days of island hopping to get us down to Great Keppel, with (allegedly) usable wind throughout. Fingers crossed for that.
With the current helping us along, and actually getting some just about usable wind (pretty much on the nose) we made good speed through the morning in flat water.
That ‘pretty much on the nose’ translated into a mildly frustrating, and an exceptionally tiring time, pulling the sails in and out seemingly every 15mins or so as the direction and strength ebbed and flowed.
At 2pm, with the wind, the tide and the current trying their damndest to get us to go back the other way, we opted to call it a day.
It was that or continue motoring at high revs to achieve just over 2knots of speed in the right direction. As an alternative, we opted to drop anchor in an inviting looking bay on a handily located Brampton Island - 10nms short of our destination (St. Bees), but both agreed this was a good call.
Day 2:
Having slept like babies in the calmest of waters, and awoken to the chirp chirp of Welcome swallows on the bow - we both agreed: that stopping there was indeed a very good call.
Upped anchor just shy of 7am,
Made our way over to St. Bees in flat, but due to the strong current, a little confused sea. Took a buoy on first attempt, then settled down with numerous turtles popping their heads up to check us out, and yet another pair of Welcome swallows coming over to say ‘Hi’. All this before 10am.
It’s a peaceful spot, with a strong current passing through the thin channel between Bees and Keswick Islands.
I tied a ring of four fenders around the buoy to reduce any hard knocking on the hull. Something I’d seen on a Facebook post - and this (delightfully) worked a treat. A restful day and night ensued - marred somewhat by an unexpected curveball text from Charlie:
“There’s blood in your poo. You need a colonoscopy” - oh dear.
Day 3:
The next morning at 4am I didn’t get up!
This was prearranged due to Chez keenly wanting to get us underway on her own. I understand the feeling, the desire to prove you can single handedly operate the boat, just you, the wind and the sea. As I write this, I can hear engine noise and the line holding us to the buoy being dropped - I could get used to this! 
…and half an hour later I’ve heard both sails being pulled out.
It appears, for now at least, she’s a single hander - Oh dear - I’m supernumerary! ….Wait ‘til she needs to fix the toilets 
Nice passage over to Curlew island, the wind and current both doing only slightly less than we’d hoped for. We had periods of pure sail, motor sailing and just motoring to get us to our destination by 1:30pm. No issue passing through the narrow reef as we entered (I wrote this just before we arrived: fingers crossed it turns out to be true!)
Anchored on our second drop, the wind and strong current making for a mildly fraught 5mins.
Returning the fender ring which had sat on the transom all day to the front locker, I snagged one of the lines while doing so, stumbled and somehow royally fucked up my knee.
Day 4:
Sitting here the next morning after another peaceful night with a knee brace on, and a pathetic old man shuffle when I do walk about - Ho hum.
Left Curlew first thing (6ish) and headed out past the sandbar/reef without issue. The wind is good for sailing and first impressions are that it’s going to be a champagne sailing day.. as ever: we’ll see!
Up to now on our journey back South we’re yet to see any whales. A situation rectified by a graceful up close (50m away) glide-by of a large shiny backed humpback mother and calf. They’re amazing! We were treated to a few rises and breathes as their slightly more sedate progress soon had them fading in the distance.
We did end up having to motor for some of the journey - the wind and current not quite sufficiently in our favour to allow for the champagne sailing we’d hoped for. Arrived in to the calm bay at Hunter island, at 1ish. There’s a gaggle of catamarans here who are also enjoying the picturesque little spot. The long days are translating into us both being pretty knackered by the end of them. So after a quick dinner and the first episode of Celebrity Traitors UK on the big TV, we both flopped. I mention ‘on the big TV’ as this is a rare treat, usually only indulged in when we’re plugged in to the unlimited power at a marina.
Day 5:
Up and at ‘em again the next morning. For once, me waking first at 5:30, soon followed by Chez who sprang from bed all ready to go. Anchor up by 6, and we’re on our merry way again. Today’s destination, a mere 45nms away: Pearl Bay.
A fairly uneventful day of motor sailing followed.
On arrival at our anchorage, we were met by what appeared at first glance to be a wide uncharted sand bar, effectively blocking our way to where we wanted to drop. We avoided this by taking a loop around one of the small islands in the bay and coming at it from another angle. I should also note that the anchorage stunk of rotten fish..
The sandbar turned out to be a swathe of lightly coloured coral bloom - Chez informs me the local coral is scheduled to bloom during the first full moon of October (just past).
With a Billingsgate smell in our nostrils, we dropped anchor, and hope that we either get used to it, or it fades with the turn of tides. Either way, it’s only for one night!
Day 6:
Up and at ‘em once again at 5:30, the smell did lessen (think: men’s public urinal going down to ladies toilet) - we’re glad to be leaving. The narrow entrance to the bay is only mildly disturbed, and we’re through without issue. As the sun comes up we’re back to motoring into the fresh, non-smelly wind. Destination for the day is our old friend Great Keppel - with the promise of coconuts, and a rest day, we’re both quite tired by now.
We didn’t quite make it there. After some discussion and confusion about whether to get fuel or not, we ended up sailing in strengthening wind to North Keppel instead. There, we dropped as the wind intensified to low howl levels, where it’s remained the rest of the day. Thankfully, that was not the case overnight - at 4am, both of us up for a wee, I said to Chez how silent and flat it was, she replied: “I thought I was dead” - thankfully this was not the case.
Day 6:
The next morning we had a slower start to the day - the wind not forecast to pick up until around 10ish.
…and pick up it did!
I’m writing this some 8hrs later, having endured a sapping afternoon of howling wind (still pretty close to being on the nose)and big swell against us coming over the bow. The pair of sailors on board longed for land for the majority of the journey.
I did some hand steering for a large part of the afternoon trying to juggle the helm to keep us as close to the wind as possible. Not that it’s related to my driving, but Chez had a very brief bout of seasickness during this time. One minute she’s fine, the next she’s retching off the back. Unable to leave the helm, I was forced to ignore her. Bizarrely though, within 5 mins of it coming on, it had passed.
Arrived into the barely protected anchorage at Cape Capricorn, where we dropped anchor for the night. The anchorage was quiet, but a little rolly.
Day 7:
Both of us were awake at both 2am and 4am. The second time we decided to head out and make a pre-dawn start on the day down to Pancake Creek. As dawn breaks, there’s a few dark clouds around, with sufficient accompanying rain to thoroughly wet the cockpit, but not quite enough to wash the bird shit from the bimini. Writing this some 5 hours later; we are passing through a field of bulk carriers awaiting loading outside Gladstone. Chez advises she’s counted 14 of the hulking beasts - thankfully they’re well spread out.
As we neared the end of the bulk carrier parking lot, the wind strengthened and then strengthened again - this translated into a second day in a row of Chez and I retching and hand steering respectively. An exhilarating ride ensued.
In other news during the day; I lost a big fish to a rusty hook (it took the hook but left the lure!) and we both got rope burns along the way today..
Where we dropped at Rodds anchorage (just short of Pancake Creek) wasn’t the peaceful little nook we’d hoped for - as I write this the waves continue to splash our sides and the wind continues to howl unabated outside. Not the best day. ..and due to weather we’ll probably be here for tomorrow too!
Day 8:
Rest day… ahhh, that’s better!
Comments
Post a Comment