The water whooshes against the hull as it slides through the
sea. The moon is high and bright: the near full orb commands the star filled
sky, illuminating the white sails. There is no other sign of life on the inky
water. It’s just me and the boat. Oh, and my two travelling companions asleep
down below, and quite possibly an inordinate number of Southern humpback whales
migrating south with us.
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Without any moonlight, the night was as black as the inside of a cat. |
Such solitude on my two-hour watch: I can see the attraction
for the solo circumnavigator. However, I’m not skilled (or brave) enough for
that so am pleased to rely on the experience of the master and mate for this
650 nautical mile journey.
Fuel, water, gas, provisions, safety gear: check. We
completed preparations ahead of schedule and last month departed Bowen Boat
Harbour on a flood tide. Making way is everything on a sailing vessel so no
time can be wasted, even though we had 10 days to get to Brisbane. Winds were
light and the sky was clear and blue as we sailed through the Whitsunday
Islands, our home cruising ground. As the sun descended so too did the breeze;
just as the tide turned against us. It was time to turn on the dreaded iron
headsail, but thankfully for only a brief stint.
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Departing Bowen on Lady Katherine, a Peterson 43 Serendipity design |
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Only the tide is helping us make way towards Gloucester Island |
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The one and only time we fly the MPS - for about an hour before sunset on the first day. |
As darkness was closing in it was also time to commence the
watchkeeping roster, and a routine that was to become familiar over the next
few days: sleep, eat, keep watch, snack, put a fix on the chart, gaze at the sea, point out any wildlife, repeat. The
crew become part of the boat and take comfort in her rhythm and familiar creaks
as she glides across the Coral Sea. We sailed through the night into the next
day, and another night and day, until we anchored for an evening’s rest at
North West Island, east of Gladstone, to wait for the turn of the tide.
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Giving way to a BYS off the Port of Gladstone |
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Sunset at North West Island. There were over 20 small vessels beached on shore inside the lagoon with many campers. |
Next stop, Lady Musgrave Island, a wish list destination for
many years. There was no way we were sailing past it this time! We timed it
well to enter the vast 1192-hectare lagoon in the southern Great Barrier Reef
World Heritage Area: at low tide and during daylight hours for optimum coral visibility.
I couldn’t wait to jump in for a snorkel, and wasn’t disappointed. We then dinghyed
to the beach and stepped ashore (for the first time in three days) for a stroll
around the 14-hectare coral cay. The island is thick with enormous Pisonia
trees and the pungent smell of guano. So, this is where all the flocks of black
noddy birds come to roost after flying around all day fishing.
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Entering Lady Musgrave lagoon. |
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A silver tern checking us out |
A solid night’s sleep was had by all as we, along with a
dozen other vessels, anchored in the protected waters of the lagoon for the entire
night. Bliss. Another stunning sunrise saw us setting off to Fraser Island,
where for several hours we wouldn’t see anything on the horizon for as far as
the eye could see. They say there are two types of sailors – those that get
scared when they see land, and those who are scared when they don’t. I’m happy
either way – it’s just a matter of getting used to it. Throughout the 12 hours
of perfect broad reach sailing we saw five other vessels, one dolphin, a
handful of wedgetail shearwaters and silver terns, two sea snakes and a dozen
whales before dropping anchor at 2230 hours below Arch Cliff on the world’s largest
sand island.
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Crossing the Wide Bay Bar |
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Time to hand steer for awhile. It doesn't look it but there was quite a swell behind us - we were travelling at about 8 knots! |
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This sunset off Rainbow Beach was by far the most colourful of the journey |
As the sun set yet again on breaching whales and indifferent
dolphins (it’s a cliché I know, but it’s true!) we settled in for our last
overnight sail. We weren’t going to get it easy though. Now we were in the open
ocean, no longer protected by the reef and so had a swell to contend with, and
for the first time a south easterly breeze. Going into the breeze was slightly compensated
by riding fast on the East Australian Current (remember Finding Nemo?) but we
also had to contend with a lot more traffic and their confusing navigational
lights. Is that a fishing boat with the intense white light? Is it heading
towards us? Why has that Big Yacht Squasher stopped in front of me but still
showing it is making way? The first hint of light brought a sigh of relief – it
was a long night. A brief rest off Tangalooma saw us refreshed for the final
sail into the Brisbane River. Although tired, spirits were lifted as we took in
all the sights and sounds of a big city – past the Port of Brisbane, with a pod
of dolphins, and under the Gateway Bridge, pointing out familiar landmarks as
we made way on the tide to our destination at Kangaroo Point with a front row
seat view of the Story Bridge.
We made it. Seven nights and eight days – it was a trip of a lifetime. When can we do it again?
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Entering the Port of Brisbane |
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Making our way under the on the incoming tide up the Brisbane River |
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Alongside expensive Dockside Marina, and rather bouncy when the river cats speed by! Conveniently close to all the action though. |