Time to go I’ve been here too long, nearly a year, and I’ve been out sailing only
five times. So the plan is to go out to the reef between here and Lizard Island,
a bit north of Cooktown, before heading south to Brisbane. Hopefully, this year
will bring the usual northerly breezes that didn’t eventuate last year. If not it
will be hard work going south.
As I emptied the shelves of the supermarket into the trolley I wondered where I
was going to put it all. I’ve spent the past couple of weeks on another renovation
spree, building shelves and improving storage, but as I was shopping the boat was
still a mess. The only reason I was out shopping instead of cleaning it up was to
wait for some paint to dry before fitting the last of the new shelves. When I dropped
30 shopping bags into the mess below decks I seriously questioned how it was all
going to come together, but it did and I am sitting in a nice orderly yacht that
has rarely been so clean and well-organized.
Tonight I will be at Upolu Cay, a short way off Cairns, just to ease back into sailing.
Then probably a quick visit to Port Douglas, then Cooktown, then the islands for
a few weeks. I’ve missed a beautiful stretch of perfect cruising days. Today is
the last of them, so I expect wind and rain from tomorrow, but nothing dramatic
according to the weather forecast. I’ll try to keep the log up to date now that
I’m back into sailing but it depends on network access. I am expecting it will be
patchy and slow.
I wrote that yesterday. Today, after an uncomfortable night at Upolu I wish I'd
checked the state of the tide before selecting Upolu as an overnight stop! A spring
tide at Upolu means the reef and cay are well covered and you get little protection
from the swell.
Last time I was here I got a berth in the Closehaven Marina. This time I waved to
Gol and Linda, who look after the marina, as I motored past and anchored in the
inlet just behind Braveheart, Chris and Judy Atkinson's catamaran. We followed each
other up and down the inlet, dragging our anchors with us. The holding is non-existent.
Nevertheless we stayed a few days until the weather improved. An older but nice
looking 40' steel boat called Onya anchored between us, but on the other
side of the creek and found some holding there.
Met up with Fritz here. So now we are three boats, but only Fritz and I are going
north, Braveheart is returning to Cairns next week to pick up guests.
Fabulous to swim in a clear sea again! Snorkeled around some reef and played with
the very bold fish behind Braveheart.
This pair of islands consists of a larger mangrove covered cay to the west and a
smaller but much more pretty beach-encirled island to the east. The weather was
perfect so I stayed several days. Met Bob from Port Douglas on his 38' Catalina
'Sea Wizard', who very kindly invited Fritz and I to come fishing. He promised we'd
catch mackerel within 10 minutes of where he said. It took a bit more than 10 minutes
(if you don't count the 'strike' that Bob insisted we got at the 9 minute 59 second
mark) but we had a fridge full of mackerel by mid morning. Nine out of ten, Bob.
The fishing trip was such a success that we decided to celebrate with a few beers.
This led to lunch and Bob cooked a magnificent round of beer battered mackerel.
This led to a few more beers but we're all getting too old to be boozing during
the day and suffered a bit for it. Except Fritz who has the indestructibility of
a bloody teenager.
Bob could not bring himself to call Fritz 'Fritz' so called him 'Fred' instead.
Fitz tried to correct this to no avail. He had become 'Fred'. Fritz told me that
when he first came to Australia many people would call him 'George' or 'Fred' --
some leftover prejudice from the war maybe? Or maybe it undermined the slang personification
of the German soldier as 'Fritz'. Most likely it's just that insularity that comes
from spending too many years in a country town. Bob grew up around Port Douglas
and Mossman and was a teacher there all his working life. Conservative by nature
as well as by political inclination, he accepted change only when it was 'good',
and clearly, most change wasn't 'good'.
Lots of snorkeling here along the extensive reefs around the east island. The best
was the last day, when we dived over the north western reef. There were more and
bigger fish, and more spectacular coral, and the best visibility. Lots of photos.
Stayed here a week.
A 15 knot breeze wafted us up to Cooktown from Hope Islands. My first impression
is that nothing much has changed in the 10 years since I was here. Cooktown is still
a sleepy little outpost at the edge of the known universe. You can buy a block of
land in the 'CBD' for $180,000, and erect your own tin shed on it. The occasional
tourist in a hired 4wd, a few more serious travellers intending to go further north,
and the locals who are laid back to the point of collapse. To get fuel at the jetty
I have to book a day ahead, don't get confirmation until just before I leave, and
still have to raft up outside a fishing boat at the fuel jetty. They weren't busy,
not disorganized, just unorganized. For the first time I had to pay for water --
a sign of what's to come I suppose. As usual, Fritz knows Rex, the fuel jetty owner,
and his offsider Larry. Fritz, makes things easy for me by handling my lines and
I returned the favor by filling his fuel jerry can. He'll follow me out in Alias
II.
I now understand why Cooktown has a reputation as a difficult port to leave. Coming
out of the channel we had 25 knots from the SE. If it had been stronger, or against
the tide then it would have been challenging to get through. As it was I was a bit
surprised at how rough it was, but not concerned. After turning north and setting
the headsail things settled nicely for a fast reach up the coast.
Bowling along at 6 knots plus on starboard tack, Saltheart was loving it, with the
sea a bit aft of the beam the motion was reasonably steady, except for the occasional
rogue wave that rolls us to starboard and creates havoc below. The sea is only about
1.5 metres and the wind settles at about 20 knots with gusts to 30.
No FM radio reception so I can't listen to 'AM'. Instead, I wedge myself into the
top of the companionway from where I can see everything, and read 'The Faraway War'.
About 30 minutes out, Fritz calls from Alien II on the radio to say his jib halyard
is jamming, he can't get the jib up, and he'll have to motor. That's a blow because
his reacher is already out of action due to a problem with the furler and I don't
think he ever uses the main when he's by himself. Then, an hour later, another call
to say the autopilot has gone troppo so he'll have to steer by hand. Nothing better
to put you in a bad mood. Steering is OK when there's crew but it's not practicable
when you're alone. There has to be some way you can leave the helm, even if it's
only to make a cup of coffee or look up a chart or tide table. When you're stuck
behind the tiller all day it does bad things to your feeling of well-being. We agree
to pull in behind Cape Bedford to look at the situation and make some repairs.
Cape Bedford is about half way between Cooktown and Cape Flattery, our original
destination for the day. Having never been there I am not sorry to make a stop and
check it out. It turns out to be a large very shallow bay behind a couple of hills
that protect from the SE swell but provide no protection from the wind. The result
is fairly calm water but a constant roaring wind that the Air-X just loves but that
will drive me nuts if I stay too long. I sailed up and down looking for a calm spot
without success. The large hills look deceptively protective but the wind just blows
around them and so you get chop from one direction and wind from another if you
anchor directly behind them. It's just not possible to get in close enough to get
into the wind shadow. So it's better to go further into the bay where the wind and
swell are aligned.
Alien II came round the cape as I was still putting things away. By the time she
anchored I was in the dinghy. We had a beer to relax and Fritz was surprisingly
calm after a really shitty day's sailing. Teltra NextG phone signal was good enough
to call Brian Swinton for some advice on the autopilot. He suggested we might be
missing a jumper setting on a replacement rudder feedback unit he'd recently sent
to Fritz, so I installed the missing wire and the autopilot started working again.
One down and two problems to go. We had a look at the jib halyard but there was
nothing obviously wrong with it except that the halyard ran very roughly. We hoisted
it without the sail and while it didn't jam it felt like it might. Then, unexpectedly,
it would run free for a while. Strange. If it was the sheave then you'd think it
would be rough all the time, so it probably wasn't that. Which leaves just the halyard
itself. The rope was Spectra and had seen a hard life and lost much of its flexibility.
It was flattened and the outer was damaged in places. Fritz suggested replacing
it so we'll do that today and see it that fixes the problem. Eternally hopeful,
but not confident. I think it is a damaged sheave or sheave block.
Fritz is talking of returning to Cairns. He's realized that his preparation wasn't
up to scratch and resiled to one of the most difficult things a live-aboard yachtie
has to do: spend money. Alien II is a well designed and built Crowther catamaran
but Fritz has been letting things go. His engines, rig and electrics all need an
overhaul and he can't easily do that anywhere north of Cairns.
That night I cook fish and chips but we are both tired and Fritz goes home early.
The wind has dropped a bit and I sleep well except for strange dreams about a forgotten
girlfriend and her imaginary celebrity husband. His name was 'Max' but I have no
idea what sort of celebrity he was. The main focus of the dream was surprise at
the lack of enmity I felt towards him. This was somehow significant but the nature
of the significance has not surfaced.
The wind picked up well before sunrise and it's now 25 knots again. The anchorage
is comfortable enough but the carpet is starting to make its presence known to my
nose. I've been meaning to wash it for ages and yesterday I spilled a jug of coffee
over it on the way up. The brew is now starting to fester so I juggle the spare
water cans around, remove the carpet, which is still wet with coffee underneath,
and give it a good scrubbing on deck. We are not going anywhere today so I am looking
for little things to do.
There is a strange satisfaction in small things: cleaning the carpet, making some
beer, installing a reading light in a formerly dark spot. The satisfaction is out
of proportion to the effort.
I am desperate for a swim. My hair is grotty, my skin feels greasy and my back hurts.
All things that will be cured by a swim. I can't see any crocs and besides they
only eat once a month don't they?
The weather is still a bit blowy for Fritz to move south so we will stay another
day. I have declared today and tomorrow a global holiday and Fritz will do a couple
of steaks for lunch. I wonder how the rest of the world will celebrate my holiday?
This morning Fritz and I explored the south eastern shore of the bay. There are
mangroves to the south and we found a creek that went back a mile or so. Unsurprisingly,
there is a sameness to mangrove creeks. I don't dislike them, but I no longer posses
a burning desire to explore every creek I find.
Further east the mangroves give way to a rocky shoreline where we went ashore and
discovered that we're not far from people at all. A well-used track runs past the
water about 50 m inland. Along it was the evidence of many campfires, and lots of
parties: large oyster shells, remains of prawns in plasic bags, even balloons! This
is aboriginal land and I am not even certain that we should be ashore here without
a permit. We walk a few hundred metres along the track which runs through pleasant
semi-wooded country with pretty paperbarks and flowering banksias before returning
to Alias II for our holiday celebration.
Well it's still blowing 20 knots and more, although the BOM says its only 15 at
Cape Flattery and less at Cooktown. This place must be a wind magnet, which is quite
possible given the configuration of the hills which could be funnelling the breeze
between them. The forecast for tomorrow looks better though so Fritz will wait till
then and I'll keep him company.
I did it. Shaved my head. Looks dreadful. Hope it grows back faster than my beard
does. I really should have got a hair cut before I left. My skull is red and blotchy,
and that doesn't include the shaving accidents. Maybe a suntan will fix it? Don't
have any instant tanning product and I'm afraid to go out in the sun for fear of
sunburn. Oh my! What have I done? I look like some nutcase polly or a wannbe business
toughie. Ohh, where is my hair!!! You know those hairless cats? I look like one
of them, except I missed a couple of locks at the back. Shit!
Yelled goodbye to Fritz as we parted this morning: he to Cairns and me to Cape Cape
Flattery. We'd agreed to depart around 7 but I was still fidlling around below when
Fritz sailed passed yodelling his goodbyes. I jumped upstairs and yelled back "I'll
call you from Flattery!" and he was gone. A few minutes later and I too was away.
It was good to be leaving the bushfire smoke behind. Fritz reckons aboriginals are
natural pyromaniacs and I have to agree that they sure have a fondness for setting
fire to the bush. Big fires were directly upwind of us the whole time we were at
Bedford and smaller ones burned inland.
I didn't bother with the main and simply unfurled the headsail. The wind was over
the stern quarter and I doubted the main would help much. Unless the headsail is
poled out the main simply blankets it. Even if you use the spinaker pole to hold
the headsail and put the main on the other side ('goosewing') you get very little
extra speed and it becomes necessary to put a preventer on the boom to stop accidents,
and rig up and down hauls on the pole. I don't like running with everything locked
down like that; I'd hate to come across a container, a log or a whale and be unable
to maneuver. So now I only do it when the small increase in speed reduces the tedium
of an exceptionally long day.
Cook named Cape Flattery for flattering his imaginings of a way through to the open
sea. But as it turned out the cape is misnamed: the opening in the reef turned out
to be real and this was the last of the mainland that the Endeavour was to see.
It is a beautiful spot with a pleasant beach and those incredibly soft green cool
maleleuca's that seem to grow up here. There's fresh water of sorts behind the beach
but I wouldn't drink it. The track leading up the hill ends at a vantage point,
just above the triangular lead. It's a good view all the way to Direction Islands
and my final destination: Lizard Island.
A reach to Lizard Island and this time I remembered to get the main up before hoisting
the anchor. When your course is a reach then getting the main up before you leave
is the way to go when you're alone. Unfortunately, Saltheart has had very few opportunities
to reach since leaving Brisbane. It's almost straight 'downhill' from Brisbane along
the coast which means I get lazy and simply hoist the headsail and forget the main
altogether.
This day is perfect. The breeze from the SE has stabilized at 15 knots and Saltheart
has taken to it with a full suit of sails heading for the Land of the Lounge Lizards.
This is my last northerly leg: everything from here on will be south back to Brisbane.
The sea is about a metre or a bit more but Saltheart is stiff before it. A plane
skims low overhead and for a moment I think it's Coast Watch about to intrude on
my enjoyment of the moment but it turns out to be one of the Lizard Island commuter
planes. I imagine what Saltheart looks like from the air under a full spread of
sails and my heart lifts. I wave, too late.
Lizard Island grows larger as we rocket along at well over 5 knots. Yes, anything
over 5 knots might take your breathe away so I'd better be careful! Mrs Watson's
Bay is on the northern side of the island and hidden until we pass Palfrey Island
and the resort. I'd been told there were only 30 or 40 yachts in the bay this year
and therefore I was surprised to see just eight, including two catamarans. For a
moment I think I have the wrong place but no, this is definitely the only bay with
yachts, so it must be Watson's. Even the GPS says so.
I am tempted to sail up to the anchorage but sanity returns in plenty of time
for me to start the engine, drop the sails and motor cautiously forward. There is
a large reef in the west of the bay, well marked by bouys, and a strip of reef along
the rocks on the eastern shore. The center is clear apart from one or two bommies.
You can go almost to the beach -- many cats do -- but I anchored in 3 metres about
150 metres off. With 20 metres of chain out I can still see the anchor on the bottom.
Well, here I am: legendary Lizard Island. I wonder if
Al Lowe ever visited?
For the uninitiated, Leisure Suit Larry was a hilarious computer game written
in the 80's by Al Lowe and notorious for being 'soft porn' because it followed Larry's
ludicrous attempts to get laid. It featured a place called the Lizard Lounge.
I am fairly certain that there is no connection with Lizard Island Resort, but you
never know... Al?
I walked to the top of the hill to see Cook's cairn (the track is marked 'Extremely
Difficult' by National Parks). This is a monument to the place where he's supposed
to have spied a way through the outer reef. Whether he did or not, along this part
of the reef all he had to do was keep following the Ribbon Reefs north: there's
an opening every dozen miles or so. Of course, his crew didn't know that and hence
their anxiety. Did Cook know or suspect something they didn't? After all, he continued
going north well after his officers recommended turning about.
Then, to prove I'm not dead yet, I went snorkeling along the reef along the east
shore of the bay. It's generally disappointing but there are a surprising number
of very large giant clams amongst the ruined coral.
I am not being social at all. The only person I've met has been Hayden off Warneta,
a ferro yacht that anchored behind me. I was out taking a few snaps of him and then
he waved at me, upped anchor, and went around again to anchor further out. Puzzled,
I continued taking photos as I thought the clouds in the background rather nice.
After he was done he came over and asked me what the problem was! Moral: be careful
taking photos of people as they anchor because they can easily mistake your interest
for concern over their choice of anchorage! No, I wasn't warning him to back off!
I apologized and we agreed to catch up for a beer later, but haven't so far.
There seems to be a group of yachties on the beach every day. Haven't intoduced
myself. Should I?
Met up with some of the other yachties:
|
Otya
|
Chris and Tania with children Sasha and Fergus
|
|
Stardancer
|
Andrew and Kim and two sons |
|
Kalida
|
David and Allison with children Natasha and Matthew
|
|
Warneta |
Hayden |
|
String |
Lydia and Darren |
|
Sansabaar |
|
|
Salt Water |
|
Chris arrived in his plane from Cooktown today and couldn't start the engine to
go back so he and his passengers were stuck here for the night. Offered assistance
along with other yachties but he was adament that everything was organized. The
Fisheries and Wildlife patrol boat is also here because of mechanical problems but
I didn't hear that anyone offered them assistance! Chris is a very pleasant young
man whom Fritz and I met in Cooktown where he was drumming up business in the main
drag with his wife Alexis and young son. They were celebrating their son's 100th
birthday -- 100 days old. Chris suggested calling the Iceworks if we want him to
fly out supplies.
Sundowners on the beach again. I am starting to relax into the Lizard Lounge social
life. This could become a habit. More yachts have arrived and there were about thirty
people. Motoring back to Saltheart afterwards I looked at the sky, the hills surrounding
the bay and the sea and all was well with the world.
The wind picked up again overnight amd the bullets came from all over the south
east swinging Saltheart from side to side and causing the anchor snub to rub against
the bobstay. It's hardly noticable during the day but makes sleeping difficult in
the front cabin. I got up at five, turned on some lights and sat on the firedech
for a while trying to figure a way to stop the noise. When I could no longer concentrate
I wandered downstairs again and put up with it.
Around midday I heard noises outside. It was a trio of snorkellers who must have
swum off the beach and were passing behind my boat. They were a long way out so
I interrupted my bread-making and brought my coffee upstairs to keep an eye on them.
They worked their way behind Saltheart and kept going in the direction of the big
reef in the center of the bay. It started to get obvious that they were tiring and
sure enough they soon turned around and started swimming back. When they got within
hailing distance I suggested that they might like a lift. This went over pretty
well so I said "Climb into the dinghy." There was an older woman, between 30 and
40 years of age and two teenage boys, one about 12, the other maybe 14. "I'm Corrine,"
said the woman. "You wouldn't have a can opener would you?" I was taken aback. How
can anyone think about a can opener just before they are about to be swept out to
sea and drowned? I went below and got my one and only can opener, passed it to her
and drove them to the beach. They thanked me and I arranged to retrieve the can
opener the following day.
That evening Kalida organized a pot luck. I cut up a loaf of the bread I'd maked
earlier and threw some philly, smoked salmon and a few capers around. It disappeared
so fast I didn't get a piece. Hope the salmon was ok -- it was well past its use
by date.
It was windy last night and I didn't sleep well. Too much reading and not enough
physical exercise. I gave up trying to sleep around 4am and got up to make a cup
of tea. Finished reading Dan Parkinson's The Fox and the Fortune. Literature
it ain't, but crikey that guy can weave a good tale. Why can't I write like that?
Woke up this morning after a good night's sleep, considering that when I went to
bed it was blowing 30 knots plus with enough swell sneaking into the bay to cause
all the yachts to waltz around, swaying back and forth, spilling beer and driving
yachties nuts. Maybe I should make a stabilizer after all. But I dropped off fairly
promptly and only woke up four or five times, dropping off again quickly after each
awakening. They say you can get used to anything.
The weather has gone wet, grey and windy. Haven't seen the sun since it set a couple
of days ago. The rain is enough to make everything damp, even if it's not under
the hatch that I left open.
Can't get on the internet. I suppose everyone else is trying to do the same. So
it's time for me to bring this up to date.
The weather is looking good for departure to the Ribbon Reefs tommorrow. Sailing
down the Ribbon Reefs will place me out of internet range for about a week, until
I get to Cairns (around the 12th, later if the weather is good).