Dave Gardner

Cairns to Fitzroy: 23 October 2007

Those who forecast the weather say that the trade winds will abate on Tuesday for a while. Forgive my skepticism but I've been in Cairns for over a year now waiting for this to happen. If it's true then I am going south at last.

Bought a new GPS at the last minute in Cairns. At $140 from Jaycar Electronics I thought that even I could cope with something that has only one button on it. Wrong. After several hours trying to get the Chinese bugger to speak Bluetooth to my Malaysian notebook I had given up as it was obviously faulty. I was browsing the web looking at other Bluetooth GPS units when I noticed that some of them needed something called a 'passkey'. There was no mention of passkeys in the documentation for my unit but I thought I'd try it anyway. Guess what? A passkey of '0000' makes it work fine. I also had to configure COM ports to allow Maxsea to read it (Maxsea won't read ports past 10 and by default Bluetooth installed it as COM11/12)

Now it's installed I like it very much. It works downstairs with the built in aerial and I get many hours on a single charge, although I doubt whether it's as much as the 10 hours they claim in the docs.

Fitzroy Island: 23 October 2007

Well bless my soul, it happened. The constant blast from the south east has given way to a gentle easterly while I was tied up at some new moorings amongst rocky reef just to the east of the rocks at the east end of the main beach at Fitzroy Island. Did you follow that? Good. Great snorkelling despite visibility of only three meters or so. I'd decided to go for Fitzroy Island before the predicted weather change so that at least I'd have a change of scenery, but it looks as if Huey is in a fine mood.

Goold Island: 24 October 2007

Made Goold Island in one long day, arriving at about 0230. Shallow water so I anchored out. A bit of rock n roll from the swell but very little wind.

Next day I caught up with Fritz on Alias II and we spent the day going in to Cardwell to collect the new AirX blades. Before leaving Cairns I let go of a halyard which of course was immediately attracted to the nearest moving object: the Air-X blades.  There was a clicketty clack noise and a couple of hundred dollars worth of high-tech fan blades disintegrated. So I arranged for Marty Still to send some replacements to the PO at Cardwell and they were there ready for me as promised. The easterly breeze turned into a roar while we were in town collecting the post and it was slow work getting off shore in the dinghy. By the way, if you ever have to go into Cardwell it is certainly a lot easier to go via the Hinchinbrook Marina. The bottom off Cardwell is shallow and depths are all over the place. We touched the mud several times while manouvering to anchor and eventually dropped the hook further out.

Next day Fritz and I braced the rear 'targa' bridge on which Saltheart's solar cells sit by tying halyards every which-way, and I climbed up there and removed the old blades. It was pretty easy in a calm sea. We then enjoyed the best steak and beer I have ever had over on Allias II.

Townsville: 28 October 2007

I left Fritz on Saturday morning intending to call in at Hinchinbrook Marina for fuel and water but within five minutes of leaving I decided I wanted to see Zoe Bay. Jill Knight wrote an article for Cruising Helmsman about Zoe Bay that was published a couple of years back and it was on my list of special places to see. So I turned east and headed out around Cape Richards and south down the outside of Hinchinbrook Island. Zoe is everything I imagined. There is a long perfect curve of sand backed by a heavy dark green band of rainforest, torn above by the distinctive jagged peaks of Hinchinbrook.

Back on track I settled in for the long sail to Townsville, arriving eventually at about 0300. All I wanted was fuel and water so I tied up at the fuel jetty and caught some sleep until the attendant arrived at 0600. 'How long have you been here?' he demanded. 'Oh, since earlier this morning.' I answered vaguely, aware that the sign behind him glared 'All vessels will be charged for berthing in the marina.' I was not going to pay for less than 3 hrs sleep.

Getting out of Townsville was shitty with a moderate north easterly kicking steep little waves in my face all the way across Cleveland Bay. Rounding Cape Cleveland gave me a better angle and I was able to sail past some of the most boring coast between Cairns and Brisbane. Bowling Green Bay and Upstart Bay have little to recommend them from a sailing perspective as they are large open expanses of water with few interesting features. At least the wind was good and I just kept going.

I'd had in mind that I might stop at Bowen but conditions continued good so I decided to drop the hook for a few hours sleep in Bona Bay on Gloucester Island, which I did some time in the early hours of the next morning.

Whitsundays Again: 30 October 2007

Next morning I was up early and on my way to the Whitsundays. Again.

The wind had too much east to be good sailing. Saltheart resents going to windward. So it was a long haul out through Gloucester Passage and through the northerly part of the Whitsundays. By early afternoon I could think of nothing but a good night's sleep. It seemed that Cid harbour might be the place for that but by the time I got there the easterly had turned into a north easterly and we were screaming along at 6 knots. I could have anchored in close but it would not have been comfortable so I went around the corner of Hook Island and anchored in Gulnare Inlet. Had a steak and two beers, and slept for 11 hours.

Island Head Creek: 6 November 2007

I awoke this morning after a poor night's sleep, tormented in turn by insects and the acrid smoke of the mosquito coil as the tide turned and funnelled the fetid fumes below deck. I'd tossed and turned in the heat, with my exposed parts itching from insects. I realized vaguely that the place was not really on fire, it was just the mozzie coils. What a dilemna: if the insects don't eat me alive it's only because I've been smoked to death by the mozzie coils. I eventually greeted the morning with eyes like rambutans and a throat that felt like I'd gargled with barbed wire. Ahhhh! Sailing's the life! All that fresh air and sunshine, yeah!

Overnight the wind had swung to the east as expected. signalling the end of a great stretch of northerlies that had wafted Saltheart down the coast from Lizard Island, but I hadn't decided whether to keep going or sit it out. The question bugged me because, like all good cruisers, I don't sail to weather unless I have to, and I was rapidly collecting reasons to break the cruiser's golden rule. I was now short on water, the insects were dreadful and when I look up I see the smoke from the fires in the hills. Ding! It wasn't the bloody mozzie coil that nearly asphixiated me last night, it was bush fires in the surrounding hills! Still, it doesn't change anything, just adds another item to the list of reasons to go. I need water and I'm not really enjoying Island Head Creek as much as I expected from my previous visit here. And by the way, my next boat will be constructed around a watermaker!

Yes, a watermaker has become the number one desirable object. Forget that electric winch, the flat screen TV, the microwave oven, or even the sugar scoop stern -- a watermaker is what I dream of!

So what is the immediate cause of this desire for fresh water? Well, here is the story:

Yesterday, I was up early, contemplating the meaning of existence, as you do when recovering from a 26 hour sail, when there was a voice on VHF 16 "All ships, all ships, this is the sailing yacht Gabriel requesting assistance. I am drifting onto the rocks at Island Head and have no motor." What to do? Island Head is a pretty remote spot. I should know as it's only a few miles from where I am, further up the creek. The request came again so I answered. "Gabriel, Gabriel, this is Saltheart. I am anchored several miles from you and it will take at least half an hour for me to get there. Over..." "Please hurry." came the reply. So I pumped some addrenelin around and got the old body and brain into a semblance of readiness for action. Not really knowing what to expect, never having had to rescue a yacht at sea before, exept my own that time the anchor dragged at Airlie Beach and I had to chase after it in the dinghy before it ended up on the rocks at Grimston Point, but that's another story.

Under way I tried to make the place as ship-shape as possible, rolled up the boom tent, got some lines ready, put out a fender or two, and checked the tide. I could take a shortcut over the sandbank in the middle of the channel if there was enough tide, and there was, so I trusted to my calculations and blasted straight over the top at all of 7 knots, with several metres to spare as it turned out. Tides here run to 5 metres and more, which also makes for big currents, especially around rocks and entrances, just where Gabriel was. I could see her now, anchored precariously off the rocks but apparently stationary so I did a pass by to check out the situation. It wasn't good. The tide was just coming off the top and the current would be picking up rapidly. Already the easterly was stacking the waves up against the current. In my favor, the breeze was light and the swell was less than a metre.

After a quick shouted chat with the skipper I stood off and moved the dinghy painter forward from the stern bollard that I'd need to use for the tow line. I wished I'd left the dinghy behind now as it would be in the way. Still, with a short painter holding it up against the side I thought it would be ok. Then I went round again to take a line from Gabriel. My heart was in my mouth as the two yachts heaved together in the swell and I tried to get close enough to catch his line. I caught it OK and went back to make it fast, juggling the tiller as I went. I got it onto the bollard but as soon as the tension came on it went slack. At first I thought it had parted but it turned out that it was just too short and the skipper hadn't fastened it properly at Gabriel's end. In the short time it had held though, it had managed to get under my dinghy and when the tension came on, flipped it upside down. Shit!

He got another line ready and I went around again. This time I was certain the swell would smash us together. He was steel, I was was plastic, so I knew already who would come off second best. This time I missed the line and went off to think about it. It was just too dangerous trying to catch a line under way. I thought of anchoring near Gabriel and getting him to take a line across by dinghy but it was too rough. The current was now racing, twisting and turning through the channel, making boatwork dangerous. I decided to try lining up in front of Gabriel and slowly dropping back with the current to a point where I could catch a line. On the second attempt we got it. Very slowly, I inched Saltheart forward, taking up the slack. It was a good rope , about 3 cm diameter and this time there was plenty of it, maybe 100 m. As I took up the slack, Gabriel raised his anchor and we were off.

Gabriel is a 42' steel Boro ketch and weighs about 12 tons. Saltheart is a 33' GRP monohull, and so had to tow twice her own weight against a current that was running at over 4 knots. The 30 hp diesel and big fixed blade prop helped and we crept gradually past the rocks into the relatively calm water of the inside channel. Suddenly, Gabriel dopped anchor. I backed off and let her settle, then drifted back to have another shouted conversation. He was anchored in about 12 m over the edge of the sandbank in the middle of the channel. It was much calmer but the current was still fierce. Hardly a good place to anchor. I offered to tow him to calm water further inside the inlet. He thanked me but said he was happy there. So I dropped the tow line, waved goodbye and went back up the inlet to sort out the mess on my boat.

Stuff was everywhere. I hadn't had time to secure things properly and the blender effect out in the channel had done a good job of homogenizing Saltheart's interior. A water jug left on the galley top had smashed, an open half-filled water bottle had contributed its contents, my papers and notes were strewn about like newspapers at a garbage dump after a storm.

I'd got half way back to my anchorage when Gabriel called on VHF 16 again: he'd worked out that his engine had seized because he'd lost his cooling water. He needed 200 litres of fresh water. Could I relay his request for water because he thought his VHF wasn't working properly? I thought about it. Saltheart has about 200 litres of water in total. If I gave him half my water I'd have to forget about going to Lady Mulgrave Island but I could get by ok if I went down the coast to Keppel Bay instead. "I can let you have 100 litres." I offered, "That might be enough to get me to Rosslyn Bay" he answered. So I turned back and anchored next to him in the channel so we could ferry the water across.

Fortuitiosly, the towline had slipped under the dinghy and flipped it back up the right way during the tow, but it was still full of water. I baled it out and tried to start the outboard but it was dead. I'd have to pull the carby apart. So I asked Gabriel to use his dinghy. It took him about half an hour to get the dinghy down from the davits and I thought he'd go into the drink or worse several times. Eventually, he made it over to Saltheart and we went downstairs for a cuppa. He looked badly beaten, with blood flowing from a number of scratches and cuts.

Once he'd revived a bit he carted across sixty litres of water, and claimed it was enough for now. I'd talked him into staying overnight further up the inlet. He topped up the engine cooling water and his engine now started so off we went to get some peace and quiet for the night.

It turned out that he had just purchased Gabriel a couple of week's before. It's a bargain, we agree. Ignoring the leaking water tanks, the stern gland that lets in enough sea to exercise the bilge pump almost continuously, the dodgy electrics, the cooked engine, and the cooling system that won't hold water. They were minor problems. Easily fixed. It was a bargain for sure.

This whole event heated my brain in a number of ways and raised a number of questions. Some of these are things you think of only after the event, others have no simple answer, but for what it's worth, this is the list that comes to mind:

There are some moral issues here that also come to mind:

• Just because you are asked to render assistance, should you?
• To what degree do you risk your own yacht, and even your life, to assist someone else?
• I sail alone most of the time. But if I have guests or crew, am I justified in risking their lives to assist another boat?
• If someone goes to sea in an unseaworthy craft, are you still obligated to assist when they find themselves in distress?

There are legal issues here as well but I'm no lawyer:

• I am obligated to render assistance to a vessel in distress. But what if I am unable to do so safely?

And of course, who pays?

• Will my insurance company pay up if Saltheart is damaged while attempting to rescue another yacht?
• What claim, if any, would I have against the other owner if my yacht was damaged while attempting a rescue?
• What claim could the other owner make against me if I damaged his yacht while attempting a rescue?

This story has a happy ending. The only damage was my broken water jug and drowned outboard, and a few cuts and bruises where the dinghy attacked Gabriel's skipper. But it's not hard to imagine Gabriel on the rocks or Saltheart's hull smashed by a rogue wave lifting her into Gabriel's path at the wrong moment; or a tow rope tangled around an arm or leg; or bodies being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just a few weeks ago while moored in Cairns I watched the local VMR practice towing. Again and again and again they practiced pulling "Sir Bob" out of the calm Trinity Inlet mangroves with a smaller boat. In twenty years of sailing I have never even done something as basic as that. I have no special rescue skills. I got away with it this time and Gabriel benefitted, but was I foolish to try?

Having given away 60 precious litres of water I am now a bit short. I will have to use saltwater for washing up, have saltwater showers, wash clothes in saltwater, and put up with the stickiness. With a watermaker I wouldn't have to worry about fresh water and I could have the luxury of a freshwater shower every now and then. Plus, I would have been able to fill Gabriel's tanks more generously. So, on my next boat, a watermaker will be basic equipment.

This time I've decided to sit out the weather here in Island Head Creek. Turns out there's a strong wind warning and it is going to blow from the south east for a few days. Gabriel has taken his troubles and headed off into the weather. I guess he isn't really a cruiser after all.

 

Bundaberg: 24 November 2007

Left  Island Head Creek at 0500 on 14th November. The weather has eased slightly to about 25 kn SE. Getting out of the creek is dramatic with 3 m breaking waves but Saltheart handles it easily. With a third reef in the main and no headsail I motored through at the bottom of the tide. Yalonga, Willow, Latitude and all the other boats left at the same time because the army had closed the inlet to yachties so they could bomb it.

Heading south east to Keppel Island was hard work. I tacked in and out while motor sailing. This is the worst of all worlds but I was running low on fuel and could not afford to motor directly into the weather. So I tried to compromise between economy and felicity by motor sailing. By midday I had only made Pearl Bay, 5.3 miles from where I started at 0500 that morning. I had had enough, so I furled the headsail and motored into it. The weather had eased a bit and I made good headway at 2000 rpm, quite reasonable.

A couple of hours later the wind swung to the east enough to set the heady again and I dropped the revs to 1600. Saltheart sails well on most points, but not close hauled. Beyond a certain angle she needs the engine running to keep tracking. Sea state has a lot to do with it. The nasty chop in the shallow waters of Keppel Bay would have been a challenge for any sail boat. I later met up with Latitude who complained loudly about the conditions and they are a 49 footer!

Dropped the hook at Great Keppel Island at about 2200, exhausted after 17 hours of hard sailing.

Up early next day to catch the flood tide across the south of the bay and into The Narrows. Once clear of Keppel Island the sailing was good. Managed 5 knots with a third reef in main, full headsail. Flat sea, perfect breeze. What a contrast to yesterday!

Anchored in 3 m off the old pilot houses at Sea Hill in windy but flat conditions. It's now a matter of working out the best way to navigate The Narrows, which is dry at low tide.

After much argument with the tide tables, a calculator, and Mr Lucas I have decided to go early and tackle The Narrows on the lowest tide that will get Saltheart's 1.3 m keel through, rather than wait for the maximum clearance. I run a greater risk of touching the bottom if I go early but I'll also have the most help from the tide in getting off again.

This is my first time through here and I am somewhat apprehensive. It turns out to be easy. My tide calculations were exact and I had 100 mm of water under the keel at the highest point, just south of The Cattle Crossing. This is a beautiful place made enchanting by sailing through a landscape filled with trees, even if they are mangroves!

Gladstone is at the far end of The Narrows and I was really looking forward to fresh water and a shower. The marina here is open and friendly, much more so than Mackay. The only hassle is that on leaving I filled all my tanks, including the drinking water containers, with Gladstone water that turned out to have a strong taste of burnt chicken! I discovered the state of the water only after I anchored at Fitzroy reef, after a full day of motoring straight into the weather. There was no way I was going back. It didn't seem to make me sick, it just tasted fowl (ha ha). I quietly cursed the marina and later sent them a sample but have not heard any result.

Because of the lack of water I only stayed one day at Fitzroy. It's a beautiful lagoon with no island to harbour insects and other nasty land creatures, and few boats. I dived on a bomee inside the lagoon and enjoyed it.

Lady Musgrave Island and Lagoon is a replica of Fitzroy but with an island at one end of the lagoon. I arrived here just before low tide and the stream rushing out through the narrow entrance was intimidating so I anchored outside in perfect calm and snorkelled around the reef wall for a couple of hours. Exceptional visibility and some great anemones. Lots of fish but no big ones. The entrance here is, if possible, even narrower than Fitzroy, although this was probably made more dramatic by the low tide. As I approached I had to keep telling myself that Saltheart would actually fit between those coral walls because it certainly didn't look like it!

Inside, most of the lagoon is sand with a few scattered bomees. I let out 50 m of chain in 8 m of water, more by accident than design, but was glad for it that night when a storm came through. Preceding the storm, an awful stench of rotting fish pervaded the boat, together with swarms of midges. I can only assume that the exceptionally low tide uncovered reef that was normally underwater, but where the midges came from I have no idea as I was over a mile upwind of the island. It was the stench of rotting crayfish that woke me, and then the wind started to rise. When it got to howling I was glad of all the chain I'd put out!

As soon as it was light enough to navigate past the bomees I headed out of the lagoon and set sail for Bundaberg and fresh water. Have I mentioned that my next boat is going to have a watermaker?

A magnificent day's sailing on a broad reach with full main and headsail doing 7 knots in a 15 - 25 knot breeze. This is why I do it. The sky still looks angry over Lady Musgrave but clears as I gain latitude. Entering the Burnett River in late afternoon is about the best time, except that the sun is directly in my eyes. I have decided to go up the river to Midtown Marinas so I am close to shops and don't need to catch the bus from the port, where the other marinas are.

Next day at the marina office a I happen to mention that I'm on the last leg of the trip to Brisbane where I will sell Saltheart. The chap behind the counter says he knows someone looking for a yacht like mine, one thing leads to another and I sign a brokerage agreement with them.

So this is it. The end of Salheart's Log.