The essentials of life

22/6/2017

Yorkeys Knob (just north of Cairns)

Interesting the way things can change, from absolutely perfect to all messed up.  The morning sail from Mourilyan was glorious, flat seas, beam reach, light SW wind up to 12 knots.  The coastline was spectacular with layers of gentle hills fading to a backdrop of steep mountain ranges. 

One forecast was for nothing over 15 knots; another had it getting up to 25.  Always confusing that.

As the wind increased and the seas mounted, Tilly (autopilot) decided it was all too much for her and let out a long, plaintive squeal, meaning either “I’ve had enough” or “I need a rest”.  So I gave her a rest for a couple of hours.  Then I needed a rest.

But the waves were getting bigger, lifting the stern and throwing it off at wild angles, requiring a strong grip on the tiller.  I started wondering what to do.

Reduce sail was an obvious thing, but I was hoping we could just hang on for another hour and we’d be in the lee of Fitzroy Island, which would make it much easier to deal with.

As invariably is the case, the time for me to act was overpassed and it was taken out of my hands.  One of those infamous “double the average height” waves hit us hard, slewing us sideways down its face.  The force on the tiller was uncontrollable.  The boom dipped in the water as we broached, the lee cloths were ripped off and water poured into the cockpit.

Down below, the cutlery drawer flew open, spilling its contents; everything that could move from the starboard to port side of the cabin did so.  OK, a big hint that time to slow down was overdue - much as surfing down the backs of waves at over 8 knots was thrilling.

I let us round up into the on-coming waves, lashed the helm and dropped the main.  Luckily I had furled most of the jib in earlier so there was not too much flogging.  It surprised me how well she sat in that semi hove-to position while I started the engine.  It would have made so much more sense to do it an hour before.  Still more learning required.

Fitzroy Island was only a mile or so away and provided welcome shelter for the night.

Sailing from there the next day, the wind again was up over 30 knots, but I was prepared for it with hardly any sail up.

If I thought the entrance to Bowen was scary, coming into Yorkeys Knob was terrifyingly heart stopping.

 Entering the marked channel an hour before low tide, the depths below keel went rapidly from 0.6, thru 0.5,4,3,2,1 to 0.00m!  With a strong cross wind, had I grounded, Shanti would soon have been on the rocks.  It’s hard to believe they don’t have a warning attached to this place.  When friends of mine enquired about depth at the entrance later that same day they were told there was no problem.  How totally irresponsible is that?

Nonetheless, I have enjoyed a 4 day respite in the muddy, croc-infested shallows of Yorkeys and am preparing to depart tomorrow morning.

 

 

From here on up, some things get a bit tighter, like easy access to shops and bowsers and water taps.  So it’s been number crunching time, trying to calculate how much of everything vital is necessary over the next few weeks of relative unavailability.

Water is probably the biggest concern.  The trade winds should blow consistently strongly from the SE, obviating the need for too much diesel (of which I carry around 100 litres – sufficient for about 70 hours of motoring). 

I have been experimenting with water rationing, seeing if I can manage on 2 litres per day.  My water tanks hold 160 litres, theoretically enough for 80 days, which other cruisers find amusing.  I decant 2 litres into an old vinegar bottle each day, only to find I’m short by about a cup in the evening when I feel like a cup of tea. This is partly due to the fact that things like rice, pasta and lentils are also thirsty and can’t be rehydrated in salt water.

Newfound friends on a cat called “Hard Yakka” have been very kind and supplied some scrumptious freshly caught fillets of Mackerel.  Ric is sailing up and over the top and on to the Kimberleys with his all girl crew, one of whom happens to be an ex work colleague of my daughter, Pandora’s.  Small world.

From here on up, outside contact with the world becomes a bit more rarified. There are two more possible stopovers, Port Douglas and Cooktown, but I will most probably by-pass those.  I have reprovisioned with enough food for Africa, filled up with water and diesel, done the laundry, scrubbed myself clean, and am as ready as I’m ever going to be.

From here to the tip of Australia at Cape York should take about two weeks, with nightly rests in some apparently stunning anchorages.  The town of Gove is the next civilization if I choose to go there.  Otherwise it’s a non-stop run of around a week across the top of the Arafura Sea to Darwin.  So blogging may be on hold for a while until then.

Vulnerabilities

June 10^th 2017 Horseshoe Bay, Magnetic Island

Cape Upstart found me laid up with some kind of tummy bug.  At first I thought the nausea was due to having lost my sea legs after the Bowen interlude, but when it developed throughout the night into some serious evacuation of my insides to the outside, I knew it was different. So another lay day was necessary, feeling quite wretched, with thoughts of the perils of life at sea.

I have been giving some consideration to contingency planning in relation to possible vulnerabilities from breakdown, loss or damage.

Last year, it was the inverter, which converts 12V battery power to 240V. Its failure would mean there would be no way of charging the laptop, on which I run my main electronic navigation system, using Open CPN with C-maps charts.

I thought about buying a spare inverter but chose instead to get a 12V DC charger, the kind that plugs into a cigarette lighter. This uses a lot less power than the inverter.  I also bought a second, larger iPad that runs Navionics.  And in case all that fails, a sextant and paper charts.  I think all bases are covered there.

Vulnerability # 2: “Tilly” autopilot. (We have an all-girl crew on Shanti – the tiller pilot is nicknamed “Tilly”, the Fleming windvane “Min”). Min is the main hand for long distance passages, but doesn’t work so well up the coast with wind directly behind. So Tilly gets to have most of the fun, whenever I let her have it.  We have a kind of co-dependency and I rely heavily on her unerring support when I am otherwise occupied.

Solution: buy and wire in a back-up tiller pilot, an oversized Simrad TP32.

Tilly was overheating so needed a damp cloth and microtowel shade, courtesy of Rosy Patole, France

Vulnerability # 3: reading glasses. It suddenly occurred to me that if lost, I would literally be lost without them.  Easy fix to that one.

Vulnerability # 4: Me.  Hmmm.   Stay safe, stay well, stay on board.

A new motto occurred to me recently: “Everything is fine until it isn’t.”

So I am learning to stay more in the present moment, not letting my mind run so freely down those “what-if” tracks, trusting that I will deal with things as they arise.

The passage from Upstart to Magnetic Island, near Townsville, is a long one, around 70 nautical miles.  It requires an early morning start, and even though I didn’t really feel up to getting up at 0330, it needed to be done. The full moon was very welcome in helping me avoid the few other boats anchored nearby.

On my “lay day” I had set up the whisker pole, ready to pole out the headsail on the opposite side to the main if need be. 

 This goosewing effect allows both sails to remain effective, instead of the main blanketing the headie.

Not the first time I have poled out, but the first time with the new dinghy taking up much of the foredeck.

Have had to remove the baby stay because of the dinghy on the foredeck.  Found this double-sided Velcro is fantastic for so many uses round the boat.

It was interesting to note that I made this same passage last year on my youngest daughter, Shoni’s birthday, 14^th July. This time, it was on Misha’s birthday, 9^th June, a very different experience to the black night, pouring rain and howling gale of last year.

I am more than a month ahead, which gives me a better chance of getting to Darwin by the end of July.

Was wonderful to be welcomed to "Paradise" at dusk by Cam on "First Contact", who baked a tasty veg lasagne for our dinner. Thanks Cam!

I have been reflecting on how different things are this year.  Shanti is far sounder, with her rudder post leak and other things fixed. The engine (who used to be known as “Mary, Mary, quite contrary”) is less of an unknown quantity. It was very disconcerting, never knowing which inopportune moment she would choose to stop.

After a year’s “shake-down” I have much more confidence in both boat and self and can relax a bit. Last year I was constantly vigilant, feeling that if I wasn’t standing in the cockpit watching everything, every second, things could go horribly wrong. Every wave that rolled us beyond the point of gybe, every slat of the sail that thwanged so violently it seemed as if the mast might come down; it all required me to be at the ready. 

There never seemed to be a point at which I could leave Shanti to her own devices for a moment and trust that she would be OK. I couldn’t even force myself to lie down and rest for 10 minutes.  Of course, such vigilance is sometimes required, as for example in a storm, but cannot be sustained constantly, without burnout.

So I am learning to pace myself and not suffer unnecessarily. There will be time enough for that.

“A voyage is a problem to be solved with your mind and body.” (Webb Chiles, on his 6^th circumnavigation).

Blowin at Bowen

Bowen  31/5/2017

Had a brilliant sail from Airlie to Gloucester Passage, the scene of the annual Shaggers Rendezvous in August, which was such fun last year.  Of course, passing through in May this year was a much quieter, solitary affair; basically just another overnight stop.

The weather forecast was for strong winds for the following week and I really didn't fancy a repeat of the beating I took last year sailing up to Townsville.  So I opted to park Shanti in Bowen Marina for the duration of the blow.

There were two windows of opportunity for ease of manoeuvring in the tight confines of Bowen. - either slack water low at 1000 or slack water high at 1600.  It's about 12 miles across, and I allowed 3 hours sailing time. The current flows westward with the ebb tide, so I would either have it with me in the morning or against me in the afternoon.  When I awoke at 0630 the wind was already whipping up whitecaps so the decision was made for me to up anchor and go.

It was hard to slow Shanti down enough to get there at 1000.  Even with the headsail half furled in, she was still doing over 6 knots SOG. (Speed Over Ground).

I had rung ahead and been given the number of someone who could be there to take my lines.  The berth I was allocated could scarcely be given the illustrious title of Marina berth, being more like a narrow gap between the rock breakwater and the floating plastic walkway.

The leads in are narrow and shallow and a strong crosswind was blowing when I arrived at 0930.  Half a dozen people were standing on the end of the dock, yelling instructions at me.  The trick was to turn immediately toward the shallower mangroves (0.2 metres below keel), then reverse back toward the rock wall, then do a last minute pirouette to parallel the pontoon, all the while avoiding the barnacle encrusted piles and moored boats.

I had three quite respectable goes at it, after which it was obvious Shanti just didn't want to go in there. Can't say I blame her.

The helpers agreed and yelled out a change of plan - apparently there was a proper berth available, a lot easier to get into.  It was the spare berth belonging to a man called Kerry, who perceived that my need of it was greater than the others who had said they were (possibly) coming.  I was soooo grateful!  He even told the club not to charge me for the larger size, just the 10 m I had requested.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ugsZTmKy2XI