Trip Report 5

Sahula: Passage Report No.5

There are many challenges in cruising. While cruisers aspire to live somewhat outside the real world, in reality, it's an illusion. While the wind is free, the "iron maiden" requires fuel and so does the crew. So while cruisers claim to live off an "oily rag" they have expenses. They reluctantly live to a budget anchored to shore costs. Discussions often broach this topic.

These discussions are with a variety of cruisers. One of delights of the cruising life is the people met.

Today Sahula had three sets of visitors. Fred and Lesley of "Cheesecutter" have circumnavigated the globe and owned and built seven yachts. Bruce, a medic, works on ships doing Atlantic seismic surveys. His lovely wooden yacht "Deseado" could do credit to the lounge room.

A delight today was to again meet Eve and Ray, old friends from Mackay days, aboard their beautiful Swan 44 foot yacht. These "senior citizens" are tomorrow, intending to head off to New Zealand or, if foul winds, to Tasmania. They've already sailed over 135,000 nautical miles of the world's oceans; most while in their 60's.

Sahula's "To Do List" is postponed to tomorrow. Meeting interesting people, learning, being inspired is much more important.

Today, Sahula's electronic "bank" had added "UGrib". A free computer program that gives web weather forecasts seven days ahead anywhere in the world. This is four days past the Weather Bureau's projection. A marvellous tool to plan a cruise.

Now, Sahula's crew will consult a different god as a "prayer" for those fair winds. Saturday is "gribed" as the departure day.

Thank heaven, Friday of course, would have been tempting fate; been there done that!

Sahula has two days to arrive in Pittwater. On Monday, the Bureau forecast another "vigorous" 30 knot southerly. Interestingly, the "grib" forecasts light winds for the same area. The weather charts seem to favour the "grib."

However, the prudent sailor plans for the worst.

So Saturday came with good intentions. The Weather Forecaster, however, was not cooperative. Saturday dawned with a vigorous south westerly and dark rain squalls. Westerlies, however, are a land breeze. They ameliorate once the day warms. Maybe the much loved northerly was to come later in the day.

So Sahula went to sea on what may be the last leg to Sydney.

True to form, the Northerly came in after a frustrating morning of headwinds requiring the "iron maiden" to keep the course. Motoring in any form is a poor substitute for sailing.

Rarely, however, is being at sea, all bad. In the silence of sailing, two magnificent schools of dolphins were playing in the bow wave and seabirds swept the valleys of the long, blue green, south east swell.

It was slow going until the strengthening northerly in the late afternoon. A ruby red sunset over the coastal ranges completed the day.

Now to see through the long night.

Solo night sailing is not for the faint hearted. Especially if numerous "iron mammoths" decide upon a similar course.

A good start is a hearty high protein meal and keeping active. Frequent satellite positions on the chart and a good lookout at least every 10 minutes. It's worse if the wind dies and the "iron maiden" is called upon. So far tonight the northerly is just enough to make five knots. It's a lovely evening sail.

But it soon changed, in the late hours the wind "died" so the "iron maiden" dutifully drove Sahula south. She checked in with each passing Volunteer Coastguard.

It was a long night made longer by the failure of the electronic self steering. There was tonight to be no restful power naps, just a long tiring vigil at the wheel.

The ports and headlands checked by: Port Macquarie, Camden Haven, Tuncurry, Sugarloaf Point, and the Broughton Islands.

Finally, Sahula was passing through the towering entrance peaks of Port Stephens. A welcome respite for a tired crew. The strong afternoon northerly, welcome otherwise, was no excuse for a calm anchorage and a long, oblivious, sleep.

The "final leg" would have to wait another day.

Wonderfully, northerlies were forecast for the rest of the week. A day of rest was declared, so with the sun setting, Sahula headed to Fame Cove in the inner Port.

Fame Cove holds many memories. It was the first anchorage after the first ocean voyage from Sydney in "Katie," skipper's first yacht.

It soon was obvious that its fame had spread; arrival found a bay crowded with "plastic fantastics" and smoky, loud, deck Bar-b-Q's. It was Australia Day public holiday, after all. How easy the cruiser forgoes the shore calendar.

After a night anchorage at the bay's mouth, Sahula moved to within "cicada" range. The fleet had returned to suburbia.

It's a delight of such anchorages to be so close to the shore that the sounds of the bush, the cicadas and the birds, become as much part of the marine environment as the morning school of dancing dolphins.

It was midday in paradise, when I thought I heard voices calling "Sahula." It was Fred and Lesley, Coffs Harbour friends, aboard "Cheesecutter."

The delight of finding fellow cruisers in unexpected anchorages is one of the true gems of cruising. Stories are told, voyages dissected and future ones discussed amid the unique camaraderie born between fellow cruisers.

First amber light dawned, Sahula's was away, her mast seemingly touching the fog cloud threatening to engulf her through Port Stephens. It cleared and soon the day dawned cloudless on a sparkling sea.

Nothing is settled at sea. An "iron mammoth" steaming to Newcastle threatened Sahula's course. Then it disappeared, completely; was it there, an illusion, a morning mental aberration. The trusty radar settled such foggy doubts. It soon loomed too large, too close, only a kilometre distant.

No wind came, the "iron maiden" again being pressed into service, driving Sahula to its date with Sydney.

Then, as if answering the need, the forecast northerly swept in. Sahula for the first time winged out the Yankee headsail with the full mainsail. In 15 to18 knots, she sensed the bit. It was a sleigh ride to Sydney.

Tonight, Sahula's in Towler's Bay, Pittwater. She's again in a "cicada" anchorage, seranaded by kookaburras.

She's made it.

Memories, flood in of the trip it meant and was to be. Over two months she's wended her way from Townsville. The trip has included the full gamut of cruising's challenges, adventures and experiences. Most importantly it has been fun despite the breakdowns and later crew concerns.

Now for a month at ease, on Pittwater and Sydney Harbour. Good friends and some repairs. Then, in March, Sahula will again wend its way north. She'll eventually depart from Darwin for the Indonesia to Thailand yacht rally, the first ocean crossing to Sri Lanka and onto Europe.

Ah dreams and reality, can we ever find the perfect blend.

Trip Report 4

Sahula's Passage Report No. 4

It's quite, peaceful as it can be in a marina here on Moreton Bay. I've "spring" cleaned the boat and enjoyed the email contact of friends, read "The Australian" to check how Rudd is doing. It remains a mad world, justifying my new life.

The wet weather ensures I cannot do any deck work. BOM's (Bureau of Meteorology) report doesn't herald a change. It's time to settle back, enjoy learning patience.

Life in a marina is oddly, lifeless. The risk dynamic of sea life is lost to the static status of the boat, its secure moorings and the convenience of shore facilities.

I'm quite different, more "at home," when at anchor. It's more at one with the environment.

So I'm reading. My "retired" status allows me to read, read and read. When working I mostly read author's of fast moving fiction. They related to that life I lead. Now my subjects are more obtuse, history, lives, tales by international authors. It's marvellous, intellectually stimulating; a symptom of abundant time.

I actually don't think like I've abundant time. I wake at daybreak. I consciously want to fill the day. It's a little unsettling. This boat life is not one for those that crave a routine.

Today, I've had two visits from good friends. So the day has passed quietly but quickly.

Good friends offered me a berth at Raby Bay alongside their spare wharf, so Sahula has moved there. She's nestled amongst the nouveau riches of Mac homes and white plastic fantastics, looking very business like. No red yachts here, the marine monotone is gleaming glary steely white. It all looks magnificent but it isn't me. My contribution was to arise early this morning and polish the hull to a shining waratah red - in between rain showers.

I itch to leave for Sydney. Please weather god, release me, send in a northerly, any northerly, even an easterly would do, no, even a light south easterly if you must.

My prayer was answered, a northerly has come in. Patience, not yet, the electrician is coming tomorrow and the crew, Chris is having medicals so will leave on Friday.

Friday; old salts of yore would never leave port on such a day, it courted bad luck.

Friday arrived, a new solar panel was in place, the ship was ready, and it blows a nice northerly. Sahula motored off through Moreton Bay's myriad of channels to Southport.

We arrived about 1800, signed out with the coast guard and headed to Point Danger. Sahula was at last heading towards NSW.

It depends how you understand "luck", but it seemed to slowly ebb from Sahula.

Within an hour, the crew wanted to turn back: the easterly was wrong, the skipper was incompetent, seasickness afflicted the body. We pressed on with the crew agreeing to continue to Coffs Harbour. However, it soon became clear the crew could not continue; the "seasickness" turned to something including increasing agitation, hot flushes and double vision.

We arrived back in Southport late evening. Chris disembarked to the waiting family and back to Brisbane. It had been a frustrating experience. I wish him well.

The "old salts" had a new recruit.

It was now too late to recruit a crew. So feeling fine, if not a trifle tired, I opted to go solo. I'd head off in the early morning. It was, after all, "lucky" Saturday.

So assisted by the "iron mainsail", Sahula retraced her "footsteps" to Point Danger and headed south.

Two large "iron mammoths" tried to eliminate Sahula. She changed course.

The northerly filled the MPS (spinnaker type sail) whisking Sahula past all the coastal ports. It was idyllic, dolphins played in the bow wave, seabirds glided effortlessly between the swell and waves. The East Australian Current had Sahula clocking seven knots plus.

It wasn't all a "breeze", taking the MPS down proved a challenge in rising wind. Sahula clearly needs a more manageable system of running before the wind, in light breezes. It would be better to have headsails (yankee and staysail) set out on poles, wing on wing.

The evening soon came with a half moon, a much lighter northerly and a horizon of possible rain squalls. It was time to reef the mainsail and again ask the "iron mainsail" to provide the knots needed to take us securely through the night to Coffs Harbour.

Sahula had to be there before a forecast "vigorous" southerly change.

A sailor's nightmare is to be "deleted" at night by an "iron mammoth." Peace of mind requires a continual watch. Sahula was in a busy shipping lane. The strategy requires constant "power naps" of no more than ten minutes; the time it takes a mammoth to travel from horizon to embrace.

Next morning, remarkably, I felt fine. I considered soldiering on to Port Stephens. However, the Solitary Islands (I felt a kinship) heralded the nearby port and then there was the "southerly."

Sahula was soon alongside a Coffs Harbour marina berth. I'd made it. A nice lunch and a long sleep, a hot shower and shave, some "moisturiser" (prescribed by daughter, Emily to keep aging Dad intact!!??); ingredients for a renewed man.

Today the 30 knot southerly is singing in the rigging.

It seemed to start as an uneventful relaxing day. Well it was but for one little flutter.

I could hear water fully dripping which often sounds like water lapping on the hull. This was clearly more close. The heart stopped (almost), I moved into rescue mode. I found the bilge full and filling. Sahula was sinking - again.

First check is the sea cock. It was closed, what next? Engine hoses were fine - remembering the last time.

Then I found the "drip less" propeller shaft seal was no longer. At least the problem was found, it was grit in the seal. I moved the seal and the problem was no more. So simple; life aboard is never allowed to be dull.

The heart returned to normal. A quick "Skype" to Peter, a fellow sailor using a similar item, reassured me that I'd corrected the problem.

I made myself a chai and enjoyed a nice Iced Vo Vo or two, willing the northerly and a sail to Sydney. The sail is unlikely before Saturday. Relax, enjoy Coffs, the marina and friends made here also south-bound. This is cruising.

Trip Report 3

Sahula: Passage Report No. 3

It's the way of cruising that time should not drive action. However, I find that sitting here tied up to the Tin Can Bay Marina wharf is an exercise in frustration. It seems I'm not yet in true cruising mode.

Nevertheless, I can't justify slipping the lines, the nameless "cyclone" (995 pressure) came this way, was reported to have whipped up 100km winds and big seas that hardly touched this marina oasis. The berth was clearly the best hideaway.

However, it isn't quite right. There are fellow cruisers, purists if you like, out there in the bay, straining at the chain, amongst the whipped white water. They seem Ok. Here in the marina, the recorded winds have rarely exceeded 25 knots. The only large boat dragging seems to have been a huge windage, three deck mega luxury motor cruiser.

It seems to me that weather forecasters could be labelled "terrorists," they mean well but it does seem that their forecasts are a little extreme. They have the effect of striking well meant terror into already worried minds. "Huge waves, extreme tides...Clear the Fraser Island campers...by tonight" say the reports. The reports are always premised on a "maybe 40% more...."

Yet, oddly, they refuse to name it. So I've taken the liberty; it's called "Meg".

I've done this so my friends in North Queensland can better identify with the temptuous lady. After all, it's now tracking north-east. Its going to its home fields, where, dare I say it, it should have gone in the first place. No self respecting cyclone should terrorise so far south.

And, of course, I want to "slip the lines" - tomorrow, so I wish it to take on a kindly nature and fair winds.

But that was not to be, or not immediately.

We remained a week to New Years day, tied to B31. It rained, it blew, and on New Years Eve they partied regardless. We did too, Ken cooked a gourmet meal for sharing with friends, Stuart and Lily (sv "Vehella"), Fritz and we, "Sahula" crew. We celebrated not only New Year but also my last day of employment but also my first day as a "retiree" cum "self supporting pensioner."

It was a fine party that ensured a somewhat forlorn crew, slipped the lines on News Years Day and headed out to confront the elements. There was a certain madness in the exercise suppressed by some manic need to feel again "Sahula" underway. A week was long enough in a marina.

Be assured however that no other yachts were seen underway that day. In a 25 knot plus southerly, under staysail alone, and reassured by the "iron mainsail's" constant chug, "Sahula" raced down the Tin Can Channel beset by driving rain.

It was not for the faint hearted; at times blinded from the navigation marks, eyes fixed on the depth sounder, we intermittently glimpsed the greens and reds and were soon off Inskip Point.

We'd had enough. We'd satiated the adventurous spirit. We turned into Pelican Bay, and were thankfully guided by a Fraser Island car ferry to the anchorage off Bullocky Point. Peace reined again, warm and dry, capped by an Iced VoVo and a cup of tea.

Our intention was to wait out the weather, explore the Straits and eventually sail south. But again, yes again, the weather forecasters spoiled the party.

While Meg was heading north, she'd spawned another low (or more relevantly called a "depression") which was forecast to head in our direction.

It began to seem "Sahula" was destined to never cross the Wide Bay Bar. Worse still, it seemed, prudence would soon have us back in the Tin Can Bay marina.

However, being a "cruiser" is to never loose heart. "All will be well" is the catch phrase.

"Meg's" little sister came to nothing but again rain squalls.

After a few days, word went out that the Tin Can Bay fishing fleet would be leaving. This was major news. It's well known that fishers have a weather sense which is incontrovertible. However, the question remains, would a prudent cruiser follow the weather hardened fleet? More to the point would such a sailor follow the fishers over the Wide Bay Bar, aptly recognised as Australia's worst?

On Friday, "Sahula" was moved to Inskip Point in readiness. She was joined by a small fleet of fellow frustrated yachties. The Coastguard counselled Sunday.

However, when Ismo, on a Gold Coast yacht, announced he was going over at 1800 hours, Saturday evening, we prepared to sail. All that could move was belted down, we donned lifejackets and lifelines. The Bar is well known for the rogue "curler" that unloads tonnes of itself, sweeping all before it.

The fleet rang with the nervous anticipation tinged with the adventurous spirit that marked yachts people.

We motored along like an ancient armada of ships of the line, sailing into battle.

The bar seemed calm enough. Ismo was across but within range, as if vindicated, we could see the odd curler breaking were once was Ismo's track.

Thank heaven, they broke in other places and soon we were all across.

Sails were raised in anticipation of the much anticipated sail to Brisbane. It was not to be, the wind died, the seas calmed, all under a beautiful sunset. It was time to stoke the "iron mainsail" and off we chugged all night to Brisbane.

In the morning, we had a marvellous sail across Moreton Bay to anchor in the River in late afternoon. It was a relief to be here.

Next day we "toured" the Brisbane River. Times change, the river's industrial past is now supplanted by riverside apartments, large homes and nearer the city centre by a massive wall of city office blocks. All along the river, the cities "lemmings" could be seen exercising, running and bicycling on the foreshore board "walk". Fast city "cats" seemingly determined to collide, fed the city its workers. It seemed a remote, modern Brueghel-ian scene.

We moored between the piles off the Botanical Gardens. It was again time to party. Today was my birthday of not inconsiderable age. I enjoyed a lovely meal with my daughter Emily and next day a lovely lunch at the Queensland Art Gallery with Sahula's crew, myself, Ken and Kelly and Emily.

Two days was enough of city life. The lemmings convinced me their lifestyle was not mine. The rushing river current making going ashore an exercise in risk management, spurred departure.

Sahula is now in the East Coast Marina at Manly. She leaves on Saturday for a friends berth in Raby Bay to await the reluctant northerlies. Ken, crew since Townsville and his lovely wife, Kelly disembarked today. It has been marvellous to have them aboard.

Chris has signed up as crew to Sydney. He'll embark when we leave for Southport in readiness for the sail to Sydney.

It would be nice to begin next week but who, given past experience, can really predict the weather gods?

Supplementary Passage Report to No. 3.

A human at sea has little in common with the landed kin. The kinship is more with the wildlife - the birds, the fish, the whales and dolphins.

So when Gracie fluttered aboard off Caloundra it caused some amazement. This was a small "earth" bird, dove like, a ground runner, all beautifully brown feathers. It couldn't have been more different to its seabird cousins.

Gracie landed on the side deck and promptly hopped into the cockpit. There she (?) sat, reciprocating the stares or looks of amazement, of her new company.

She was exhausted, she was off course, swept to sea by some errant wind, grateful to find some good steel or anything, in whatever shape, to rest on.

So there she sat while Sahula sailed on and the crew carried on as usual. She didn't say anything, just sat there, seemingly in shock. Eventually she "flew" up into the doghouse out of the way of cockpit activity. She refused offers of water or food.

She settled in for the night but was gone in the morning. A memory to savour. All that remained were two small brown feathers. These now adorn Sahula's "Greek eye" necklace made for the ship by daughter Nichola while sailing in the Aegean Sea.

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