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.