Escape Velocity

We arrived at the marina in Cairns just before the weekend so no actual work can get done for a few days. We joined up with the crew of Erie Spirit and rented a car for a day to drive in search of two of the most elusive of Australia’s unusual wildlife. We picked the brains of locals and searched for likely locations and set off on an beautiful day to explore the coast we just sailed past and the tablelands inland.

Our first destination was a camping park that boasts resident cassowaries. Sure enough, right near the amenities building we spied a small male strutting his stuff. He didn’t seem to mind being stalked by tourists and campers and often seemed to be posing as we clicked away.

Call me crazy but I think that hat is just bizarre.

In the tablelands we stopped for a waterfall and a “curtain fig tree” that gave us a chance to stretch our legs a bit during a day spent driving.

Our final mission was the most elusive of creatures, the platypus. We know plenty of Aussies who’ve never seen one in the wild but still, we were hopeful. There was a recommended “viewing platform” over a muddy creek and once there our hopes fell. The water was so murky there’s no way you could see below the surface. My research advised watching for concentric circles in the water and sure enough, after we got the hang of it we could almost anticipate where the resident monotreme would come up for air. It was only visible to a second each time so getting a photo was a challenge but I finally lucked out.

What a strange animal! We called the day a success and for Jack and me that leaves only a crocodile on our list of must-sees before we depart the land Down Under.

A few more days of frustration brought us to Fitzroy Island, another lovely anchorage and within striking distance of Cairns, a major goal for big provisioning and some critical boat work.

The island is a convenient spot for both day trippers from Cairns and holiday makers from all over so there was an interesting variety of boats in the anchorage, including this gorgeous schooner. It was full of young boys and we assumed some kind of school or Outward Bound group. When the boat was settled and secured the boys took turns jumping off the bow with much hooting and hollering.

Another anchor neighbor noticed our American flag and dinghied over to say hello. It turns out he’s a diver and we jumped on the chance to hire him to scrape EV’s bottom. He declined the hire and insisted he’d do it for free but we pressed some cash into his hand, as well as a loaf of fresh banana bread and a small gift for his wife. Jack hates cleaning the bottom and to keep the peace I’m always happy to pay someone to do it.

We didn’t linger at Fitzroy and never even went ashore. We have much to do in the coming month and we’re eager to tie up at Cairns and get to work.

Sometimes in springtime a young man, maybe even occasionally an old man, is overwhelmed by a certain sensation. It’s the combination of a number of factors like an awakening warming trend, gentle rain, bright green shoots poking out from under last years dead debris, and one can sense a general rising of life affirming sap all around you. It’s kind of nice but it makes you want to get…busy.

Even Yours Truly is not immune.

Down here in Australia things are not so subtle. Last year about this time, as we approached Lady Musgrave reef I began to notice large coagulations of what looked like really nasty bilge water, like maybe out of an old ore carrier. We were making water at the time so I ran down to the reverse osmosis water maker and turned it off while we passed through the horrible looking goo. Turns out it covered acres and acres but eventually we passed through. A short while later, after I’d gotten the water maker up and running again, I could see the signs of more goo coming over the horizon. It was a massive…spill, but what was it? Rusty beige in color, particles roiled and swirled around in the soup. I also couldn’t explain the wonder I felt as mile after mile slid past Escape Velocity.

Turns out we were in the middle of one of earth’s magical mysteries. Every year all the corral of the Great Barrier Reef, I guess the only word for it is “ejaculates” millions upon millions of spore into the waters surrounding Australia. All in synchronicity. It must be seen to be believed. It makes one kind of giddy.

On our forced march up Australia’s East coast it’s happened again. Seas of coral spore surround us. All this life. It’s like hope.

Editor’s note: Yes, we know it’s autumn Down Under. The skipper has earned an Advanced Poetic License.

Despite my aching ankle and Jack’s wobbly knee we undertook the hike up the Fort trail on Magnetic Island. It wasn’t a tough hike until the uneven steps at the top, and oh, what glorious views! It’s funny how those of us who live at sea level crave the high aspects once we reach land with any altitude.

The fort was built in 1942 to protect against attack from the Tasman Sea. Most of it’s gone now except for vague ruins of various buildings and the gun emplacements, missing the guns. It’s a lovely forest, and there are supposedly koalas in the eucalyptus trees. We didn’t see any that day.

It was great to stretch our legs a bit but we’re continuing our push north despite the uncooperative wind. Cairns awaits.

We got a brief break in the weather, long enough to sail to Shaw Island on the southern edge of the Whitsundays.

It was great to be in a beautiful anchorage again as we waited out a passing front. I spent the day paying bills online and did some other admin, defrosted the freezer and made more passage meals to be frozen. The front blew through with a vengeance and as the sun set the wind was down to 10 kts. Four fancy Oyster yachts, part of the Oyster World Rally that arrived while we were at Mackay marina, sailed into the anchorage just before sundown.

We awoke to high winds again, which was not predicted. No one in the anchorage moved, not even the Oysters. They’re heading to SE Asia like we are, but apparently not today.

We got underway just past noon and as I was running back to the cockpit after loosening the jib lazy jacks my foot turned under and I fell hard on the side deck. It was the same exact fall I took two days into an 8-day cycling trip when I proceeded to pedal another 300 miles on what turned out to be a broken ankle. And it’s exactly the thing you don’t want to happen on a boat, especially underway. Jack handled the boat while I iced my ankle and took an Advil. Luckily by morning it was clear my ankle wasn’t broken, just sprained, and I could put my weight on it but only just. A couple of days of rest and ice and I’ll be back to normal.

It took a few more days of mixed conditions — great sailing for awhile, then motor sailing in light wind — but we finally made it to Magnetic Island, or Maggie as the locals call it.

Ice cream awaits!

Shaw Island, where we’ve taken refuge because of a strong wind warning here in the southern Whitsunday islands. Facing west, the full moon. Facing east, the advancing front. We awoke in dead calm, but within 30 minutes the wind is in the 20s and strengthening. We are well hooked along with our six anchorage mates, making coffee and planning a day of reading and cooking.

We boat people are very good at not poisoning the oceans with our trash but we sure do like to leave our mark in various places. We’ve been looking forward to visiting Middle Percy Island where an A-frame structure houses a constantly growing collection of yacht signatures on all manner of boards, driftwood or other media.

The local residents keep bees and sell the honey from a display with an honesty box. We bought a few jars for the pantry.

We meant to stay and watch the sun go down from the beach but a wicked swell started moving into the anchorage and we thought it prudent to get the dinghy off the beach before we got swamped.

By morning the swell was so bad we left at first light and pointed the boat back toward the mainland when we learned some foul weather was moving in. We took shelter at Digby Island overnight, one of those anchorages you swear will be miserable but ended up being calm and restful.

As we approached MacKay the AIS reminded us of Panama with so many ships waiting to come into the harbor, but at least here they were all anchored and we didn’t have to dodge them in a shipping lane.

We took a berth at the marina to wait out the weather and spend our social security checks on coffee and eggs Benedict. As you do.

As we made our way up the Sandy Straits we learned that Sue Owen of Macushla has died after a long struggle with cancer.

We met her and Mark early in our life afloat and we immediately became fast friends. We shared sundowners and meals in many anchorages, celebrated birthdays and holidays, sought each other’s company in good times and bad. So many of our best memories include them, in particular our magical sojourn at Minerva Reef on the way to New Zealand. She was warm, funny, compassionate and beautiful. We will never forget her.

We dropped anchor in the calm Burnett River and made Dark and Stormies to toast our dear friend. There’s a curry simmering on the stove in honor of the many delicious curry dinners we enjoyed aboard Macushla in anchorages from St. Martin to New Zealand. Wish you were here, Sue.

As soon as we were able we left Scarborough for Mooloolaba, spent a couple of days patronizing our favorite gelato emporium, then continued our campaign northward.

After a day of motorsailing in very light wind directly behind us we knew we weren’t fast enough to get over the Wide Bay Bar and into the Sandy Straits by high tide and darkness, so just like last year we anchored overnight at Rainbow Beach. It’s rolly and not a restful anchorage, but a necessary evil in order to cross the hated bar in daylight and on the right tide.

Ideally you cross during the latter part of the incoming tide, but on that day it was also when the wind was predicted to pipe up from a doable 10-12 kts. on the beam to a decidedly uncomfortable 20-25 kts. We figured out how far we could push the entrance to beat the wind and timed it perfectly, with the wind just starting to increase dramatically during our last two miles into the straits. It also helped that the volunteer Coast Guard tracked us on AIS and talked us in. We never saw less than 11 ft. under the keel, but oh, some of the swells were a little sickening, especially watching the wild rolling of the boat that followed on our tail, and the breakers to the left of us.

No worries now. We’re just going to find a quiet anchorage, crack a few beers and bid a not-so-fond farewell to Wide Bay Bar forever. We won’t miss it at all.

By 08:30 our lines were eased and the morning sun began to peek out from behind Manly’s early morning dissipating clouds. The reason for such a civilized departure time was our goal just 25nm up the coast, still in Moreton Bay. Not without its hazards, the bay is huge but shallow with lots of things you can fetch up on if you’re not paying attention. The weather report looks good for sailing but we’ve heard that before.

First we thought we’d serpentine around Green Island and run the pass at St. Helena under power, where the water can get a little thin. As soon as we cleared St. Helena the breeze met us and we rounded up into the wind. With all standard sail flying I switched off Charlize, feeling that little tingle I always feel when the press of sail takes over.

This is just glorious in 9-15 kts of SE breeze doing 6-7kts. Soon we passed Mud Island and, in a first, we sailed right past the Brisbane ship channel where we usually turn and head up River to Brissie. Just a lazy sail past Bramble Bay in 25 feet of water now so no worries. Too soon, giving Castlereagh Point a wide berth, we entered Deception Bay where it gets seriously shallow very quickly.

Now Yours Truly doesn’t particularly care for creeping up closer and closer to a beach watching the depth sounder numbers get smaller and smaller and you’re never really sure about the state of the tides around here so at a certain point my courage ran out and we dropped the hook. With weather moving in we knew we hadn’t bought much protection from the expected 30kts of wind and the inevitable swell but I’d had enough. The problem is it’s said that waves will curve around a headland up to 30 degrees but my experience has been it’ll do more than that.

That night the squalls got well into the high twenties and we definitely weren’t in far enough to escape the worst of the swell so in the morning, after a rocky night, we decided to sneak in closer to Scarborough Marina, which friends in Manly told us was doable. Sometimes when they dredge out a channel they deposit the spoil right beside the channel, so if we approached the area in the channel, near where we wanted to anchor, we might not be able to cross over that suspected spoil area.

We came in beside the marked channel as far as we dared and dropped the hook, not as close as several catamarans had, but all that day we could hear it blowing but it hardly affected us. Like Bert Lahr used to say, “What have they got that I have not? Courage.”