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.

________________________-