12/7/2016.
Whitsundays.
On Thursday 7th July, my good
friend from SYC, Ron Blint, flew into MacKay for a few days cruising the
Whitsundays. Other friends, Ray and Di Newton on “All That Jazz” were already
waiting in the MacKay marina, just in case I didn’t make it. Luckily I did, though not without challenges.
It was good practice for me to have to push
on every day regardless of weather or tiredness. I have to get used to this if
I am to make it to Darwin this season, which I am still keen on.
From Gladstone, it was a few days of boisterous
sailing, mostly with the wind dead behind and lumpy seas (not uncommon up here).
The wind was gusting up to 28 knots and I found it necessary to hand steer down
the rollers. Boat speed at times was 7 -
8 knots but speed over ground was a lot less with tide against me. The tides up here are phenomenal – up to 6
metres.
None of the anchorages was particularly comfortable,
the worst being at Hunter Island in the Duke group. It was perfectly still when
I arrived and I was looking forward to a good night’s sleep. Just after midnight an unusual sound woke me,
(it’s always an unusual sound that seeps through even the tiredest skipper’s
dreams) - rather like a fast flowing torrent. Which is just what it was.
Turning on the instruments I saw the depth had gone from 3 metres to 9 and the
boat speed was showing over 2 knots through the water. I went up the bow to check the anchor rope
and found it as taut as a steel stay, straining back under the boat. Worrying that it could pluck the anchor out I
let out a few more metres of rope.
I only have 35 metres of chain plus another
50 metres of nylon rope, which I haven’t needed to use up to now. Ideally a
ratio of more than 4:1 meant that in 10 metres of water I should have at least
40 metres of rode out, depending of course on the wind, of which there was
none.
That changed half an hour later when 20
knots produced a rapid assault of breaking white caps hitting the hull
broadside. Not a good angle for an anchor
to stay set.
It was hard to get my bearings in the pitch
black moonless night, wondering which way I would motor if I had to. The strongest element was still the tide and
the anchor rope was still back under the boat.
I didn’t know if I could even get it up if I needed to in a hurry.
Times like this my mind goes shooting off
into “what-ifs” and I start thinking of all possible disastrous outcomes, so
sleep is impossible. I inwardly grumble about being alone with no-one else to
share the watches and the stress and the decisions. But then I remind myself
that this is my choice, so just shut up and deal with it.
There was more to deal with at day-break
when I found the rope jammed in the anchor winch gypsy. It took a few goes, with short bursts of
engine in forward gear, running from cockpit to bow and back again, tying a
rolling hitch on the line to take the strain, free the jam, and get it all
running again.
I have observed that a wonderful sense of
elation follows these low points.
It was a very welcome reprieve doing only
short day sails with Ron, in company with “All That Jazz”, enjoying sundowners in
some of the top spots of the Whitsundays.
Some bad weather is forecast, so Ron opted
to fly home from Hamilton Island rather than sit it out here for the next few
days. For me, it is another opportunity to see how Shanti behaves in the rough
stuff, so I shall continue on my way north.
I tucked into the top of Whitsundays in
Butterfly Bay, Hook Island, a very tranquil spot with public moorings to
protect the fringing reef.
I am learning that one of the most
important things for me to do is to relax.
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