Sleeping amongst crocs.

Thursday, 21/7/16. Reis Point, Hinchinbrook.

This is the first morning I have awoken without the pressure to move on. Twelve hours of blissful oblivion vindicated yesterday's decision.

I actually woke up at 0530, as I have been accustomed to, by the sound of someone calling out "Hoy!" (the modern version of Ahoy there).

I leapt out of my bunk thinking perhaps Shanti had dragged closer to the crocodile infested mangroves, grabbed the torch (not working) and went out on deck in the rain. (Yes, it's still raining).
Not a soul in sight. I must have dreamt it.

I slid back into my warm bunk and fell into that really deep stupor of total exhaustion for another 3 hours. Oh guilty joy!

What will I do with this free day? Perhaps use some of that bucket full of rainwater and have a shower.  Hopefully the midges won't devour me.

                                           ______________________________

All squeaky clean now after my first hot shower on board Shanti. Thanks to my friend Wayne for the great idea of using a tall rubbish bin and submersible pump.  I bought this rechargeable battery powered pump from Aldi in Melbourne and just dug it out today. I love it!

It takes surprisingly little water to create a lovely hot shower (all fresh rainwater so there is an abundance of it).  Mopping up the head afterwards is the longer part of the process, but it needed a good clean anyway. All I need is a shower curtain and drainable sump in the bilge.

Such are the luxuries we appreciate in life aboard a small vessel.

Decisions

20/7/2016  Hinchinbrook Channel

It’s not really surprising, why I’m dragging my heels at this particular point in time. A couple of days’ rest and more information-gathering has helped put things in prespective.

It has been rather a relentless push to attain the physical and psychological landmark of Cairns. Cairns was where the solo circumnavigator, Webb Chiles,  whose blog  I have been following, re-entered the Great Barrier Reef.  Sailing outside the reef (which I did consider doing) took him only 6 days non-stop from Bundaberg.

For me, going through some of the islands of the Whitsundays, it has taken over twice as long and I am still another 3 or 4 days away from Cairns. I am increasingly aware of the time pressure to be out of Darwin by the end of August. (Webb is well on his way across the Indian Ocean now.)

http://self-portraitinthepresentseajournal.blogspot.com.au/

I sat down for a few hours yesterday and plotted courses and waypoints to Darwin.  It took Webb 14 days, sailing almost every day to reach Cape York. From there he sailed 7 days and nights non-stop to Darwin, which I would also need to do.

Cairns is a line of demarcation for other reasons.  Reading Alan Lucas, “Cruising the Coral Coast”, he writes about the weather patterns that really do make it a point of no-return: “Balancing probabilities against uncertainties, it can be said that the SE trade wind will prevail on this part of the coast for all of winter, much of summer and may or may not give way to northerlies at other times.”

Facilities get scarcer and there is a sense of entering “no-man’s land” where one must be totally self-reliant.  Step across that line and one is committed to going on.

So it is time to sit and take stock of my situation now.  The risks of continuing on alone include fatigue, mistakes, discomfort, hardship, possible injury and death.  Of course I dismiss all of these out of hand the moment I start to feel refreshed, but it is important to acknowledge them and to make a rational, rather than emotional or dogmatic decision.  Ok to be dogmatic but not "pigmatic". A certain amount of pig-headedness must accompany any extreme endeavour, simply to stick with it, but it’s also important to maintain some sense of balance. This is where the two sides of oneself conflict, bringing confusion and analysis paralysis.

Sometimes, it is as if moves are simply made for us.

Sitting quietly by myself in the calm anchorage amongst the mangroves of Hinchinbrook Channel, I picked up my phone and sent a text message to my friend Colin Grazules, who lives in Townsville, asking him if he would have time to install a new fridge for me.  He instantly replied “it would be a pleasure”. Then I rang the Yacht Club and asked if they had room for me for a couple of weeks, which they did.  The SE wind is abating this weekend so I shall head back south and take the time to finish these extra jobs, like the fridge, the HF radio and Pactor modem, the dangerously jamming reef lines. So just like that, I am back to where I was a few months back, realizing that Darwin, and the world, will have to wait.  This decision, which I have been bucking, sits easy with me now.

Breakdown

16/7/16 Breakdown

Rather dramatic tittle.  I’d like to say it was a breakdown of Shanti, but no, it was of me.

Yesterday I sailed from Townsville to Pioneer Bay on Orpheus Island, about 43 nautical miles.  It was foolish, as I was still tired from the rough passage to Townsville a couple of days before.  When I am tired I make mistakes and I can’t afford to make mistakes on my own.

I woke at 0300, had plenty of time for engine checks, shower, breakfast, etc. to be ready to leave the marina at first light.  I was feeling a bit low to be leaving friends whose company I had all-too-briefly enjoyed. Also missing my family and other friends left behind.

Heavy rain and a strong NE wind woke me this morning. I checked the forecast and found it had changed overnight, with much more north in it.  That put paid to my plan to sail to the anchorage at the top of Hinchinbrook today.  An alternative option was to head over to Lucinda to find shelter in the inside passage up through Hinchinbrook Channel. This is said to be the most scenic, calm waterway on the east coast, offering good cyclone protection in mangrove creeks.

The southern entrance has a shoal bar that needs a rising tide to cross. High tide was at 0800 this morning so I set off early to sail the 10 miles in a couple of hours.

Unfortunately the strong northerly knocked me about, at one stage putting the cabin windows under water.

This was too much and with hardly a second thought I turned and ran with it.

Where to?  Back to Townsville seemed appealing, where I could rest up for a few days.

This was a very low moment for me.  I hate turning around.

As I ran south it felt all wrong.  For so long I have been heading north that I was making wrong course corrections on the autopilot. I checked the forecast again and found strong SE winds returning further down the coast.

I really didn’t want to be bashing head on into that, so turned Shanti round to the north and sailed back to Pioneer bay again.  Six hours of sailing this morning to be right back where I started. Very demoralizing.

I slept for an hour and then ate something, which made me feel a bit better. It’s now a relatively quiet refuge to sit and contemplate which way to go.  I can see that this hard push north, moving on every day, takes its toll on me.

 

 

Townsville

Friday 15^th July Townsville

Ron was wise not to join me on this leg. The BoM website that I normally find reliable let me down.  Strong winds, gales, storms, rain (all depicted in vivid red on Met Eye) were forecast for most of the week.  Only Thursday looked like a narrow window of opportunity to squeeze through.

The original plan was to sail from Butterfly bay on Hook Island to an anchorage called Nellie Bay, just before the Gloucester Passage.  Then either sit it out there or press on to Bowen, then a couple of nights on the two capes, Cape Upstart and Cape Bowling Green.

However, on studying the predicted wind strength and angles it looked like none of these stops would provide good shelter.

The first day’s sail from Hook Island was magnificent (eat your heart out Ronnie) – clear blue skies and sunshine with a steady 15 knot breeze with full main and headsail set, which I boldly carried right through the shallows of Gloucester Passage. I’m getting used to seeing very low figures on the depth sounder.

 

The day was too lovely to stop early so I continued on to an anchorage past Bowen, Queens Bay. The next day’s forecast was for winds to abate to 10 – 15 knots before coming back with a vengeance on Friday, so I decided to push on through the night to Townsville.

For most of the day I carried reduced mainsail and sometimes a full headsail.  Having the wind dead behind made that flog, so it got furled in and let out again several times as the wind swung more to the South.

I kept expecting it to drop out but at around 1600 it was gusting up over 30 knots.  An accidental gybe (luckily I had a preventer on) encouraged me to drop the main altogether and just set a small amount of headsail.

 

The waves were an annoying washing machine cross pattern and mounting.  As it started to bucket down with rain the wind gusted to near 40 knots.  Not predicted!!

 

These winter days are short and it gets dark early, more so it seems in gloomy weather. The combination of complete blackness, strong winds, driving rain (the coldest night on record for these parts), and big confused seas had me shivering.

Wise call Ronnie, not to come along!  I was thinking I should have stayed with Ray and Di at Hook Island where it was warm and peaceful and so sheltered they were able to raft up alongside Shanti for the night and share the same mooring. However, here was an opportunity (I kept telling myself) to test boat and captain.

Shanti handled it beautifully, probably much better than the captain did, who, as we all know, is the weakest link in the equation.  It was quite a remarkable achievement that I managed to withstand the pounding, bucking, jarring, jerking motion – even down below (my dreaded place) without getting seasick. I’m definitely getting better as more miles pass under the keel.

In the dark of night you can’t see the size of the rollers that whack into the hull, but you can sure feel their impact as the boat gets stopped in her tracks and slewed off sideways. 

Not every wave is a Goliath – perhaps every tenth – but those that crash like hitting a brick wall send torrents cascading over the entire boat and you wonder if the windows will hold and how much water is coming in through unseen leaks.  The boat slews over on her side, lockers pop open and everything not tied down becomes a missile. Even the onions from the bottom of the hanging fruit net find their way out.

Every hard edged surface wants to colour in my bruises.

It was one of those endless nights, when even my mantra, “this too will pass” was wearing thin. There were moments when I questioned if we would make it through the night, but I just had to keep us on track, avoiding all obstacles, until one of us gave up.

How hard this single-handing can be!  There are times when wind and tide conspire to slow down progress to almost nothing and it seems like we’ll never get to that safe haven.

At 0200 the lights of an anchored fishing trawler, whom I had picked up on AIS coming up the coast, guided me to a shallow patch under the lee of Cape Cleveland, about 10 miles from Townsville harbour.  The surge was still very active and wind howling but I managed to close my eyes for a few hours.

At 0600 I got up and punched into waves, wind, tide and rain for the final leg into Breakwater marina.  A most welcome stop!

Whitsundays

12/7/2016.   Whitsundays.

On Thursday 7^th 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.

 

Navigating on my back. :-)

Inside reef

As you can see from my track, I decided to sail inside the Great Barrier Reef rather than do the 6 or 7 days non-stop to Cairns.

There were a few reasons for this, the main one being problems with the alternator. Right from the start I have suspected it of not charging properly, never seeing more than a few amps going in even when the batteries were low. Hence I have seldom run the fridge. Shame that I prefer white wine to red but good thing that cold beer is not a necessity of life. Sadly fresh veggies are.

I came close to buying a new alternator at a few ports along the way but fortunately didn't. Turns out there was nothing wrong with this one. It just needed exciting. Apparently there is this extra little exciter wire that had never been connected, without which the alternator can't get turned on.  Hmmm..

So a relatively simple and (for once) inexpensive fix. White wine & lettuce now chilling nicely.

I have often contemplated what necessities bring a sailor into port.
So far, I have listed water, provisions, repairs, accidents, illness, loneliness.
Hot showers and laundromats are nice but not essential. Power is only a temporary top-up, which was a priority for my hungry batteries..  Not now hopefully.

Will post some pics of Pancake Creek & Gladstone later. This has been my first attempt to write this blog post on my iPad down below while motor-sailing under poled-out headsail with 7 knots tail wind & very rolly seas.. Amazing progress in my mal-de-mer tendency.
Ok enough now...

Tracking Shanti

I have taken an additional subscription on my Spot satellite personal tracker. If I leave it turned on all the time, it sends out my position every 10 minutes and the track looks rather cluttered with waypoints and gumboots marching all over it. It also gobbles up the lithium batteries in a couple of weeks.  If I only switch it on every few hours it is much neater but tends to join the dots and have me travelling over land. It doesn't show speed - which is probably not a bad thing.

For those of you interested here is the URL:

http://share.findmespot.com/shared/faces/viewspots.jsp?glId=0nF19568UPQRLxbfplGA5Ikyxqa8FFRNR