How to use the blog

Want to check where we are and what we have been doing recently? In brief? Read the blog below called SAILING LOG. The other stories are about specific incidents or thoughts.




Saturday, March 26, 2011

SOME REAL LIFE ADVENTURES

When Dean and I were married, a long time ago, we made vows. These vows included the usual boilerplate clauses along the lines of ‘in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer’ etc.  Also included were a few more whimsical vows, one of which was to ‘add adventures to each other’s lives.’  That we have done. Business ventures, travel, mad friends and family, and a few institutional battles have added interest, change, risk, hazard and excitement to otherwise very safe middle class lives. 
Our current adventure (cruising with Moonraker) has produced quite a few adrenalin-inducing moments that have taken me (and occasionally Dean) well outside the comfort zone.   My brother Boyd, who has done some sailing, gleefully points out that our adventures make everyone else feel good about staying at home.
Here are a couple of my favourite ‘adventure moments’.
 Involuntary serial re-anchoring
I am the anchor-man on Moonraker. That means that I look after the anchor when it is going up and down, make sure the electric windlass doesn’t jam and fix it when it does, ensure that the chain doesn’t jump off its track and put it back when it does, ensure the chain has easy passage in and out of the hold and clear it when it doesn’t, wash the mud off the chain, anchor and deck, and so on.  I care about the anchor, as it provides safety and comfort, usually. 
Being anchor-man is dangerous, as it involves managing the 60lb anchor with its 60m of heavy chain, all driven by electric motor or, even more powerfully, by the force of gravity.  Sometimes it feels as if the apparatus is waiting to pounce, to tangle you and take you to the bottom, or remove fingers, toes, hands or feet that get in the way.
On the day after the Sydney New Year’s fireworks, we were anchored on the Harbour.  It was very choppy because of the heavy boat traffic and we were in relatively deep water, with 50m of chain out. With me at my anchor-man post, the anchor came up easily.  I bent over to secure it on deck when it gave a terrific heave, leapt out of its cradle, and plummeted over the side, with its chain snaking and roaring very fast after it.  I leapt out of the way, very startled and apprehensive about what was happening. Two thoughts leapt to mind: confidence that we were not at risk of losing the anchor and chain, as I had checked a few days before that the anchor was tied to the boat at its bitter end; and determination to cut it free if the anchor was putting us in some sort of perilous situation.
Soon enough, the chain stopped roaring out, and I gingerly approached it.  Again, a further few meter of chain rattled out, before it stopped again.  I was apprehensive and mystified.  What was happening?  Had we hooked a whale? Found a hole in the earth’s crust. What?
Soon reason reasserted itself. The chain had merely (!) bounced free of its track in the windlass, so unrestrained, the anchor had gone to the bottom.  The boat was also drifting backwards, and for every few meters of drift, a few more meters of chain were wrenched free. 
The main problem was to secure the moving chain without losing fingers, put it back on its track and start again. Which I did. Twice.  By the time we were securely un-anchored, I needed some medicinal champagne. But all fingers and toes survived, I avoided being personally anchored by feral chain.  And, I had learned more about anchoring.
Surfing the Port Macquarie Bar
Many NSW coastal harbours are guarded by dragons that intrepid sailors must pass to reach safe harbour. The ‘dragons’ are shallow sandbars that come and go and move around. Skill, judgement and luck is required to cross safely if the wind or swell is up, especially if you are in a slow moving deep-keeler like Moonraker. The Port Macquarie bar is considered one of the most dangerous, its rogue waves having taken out hundreds of boats, ships and dingies in its time, with many deaths recorded.  The NSW Marine Rescue puts a lot of effort into helping people negotiate the bars, and tall tales and true of crossings are told and retold in other sorts of bars across NSW.
For our approach to Port Macquarie, we were well prepared, and not overly concerned.  This was our second entry across this bar, so we knew, sort of, what to expect.  It was a moderate day, swell OK, the local marine rescue service had raised no red flags.  Our approach was timed perfectly just before the top of the flood tide, we were on the leads and our reefed main was up for stability and safety.  All to plan.
I looked behind as we were almost inside the bar in time to see an enormous wave rearing up behind us.  Moonraker cockpit is a meter above the water, I am 5’ 6” and the top of the wave was well above my head. It broke just before it reached us with a tremendous roar.  Moonraker, which weighs about 16 tonnes, was picked up by the stern in the white water and impelled forward as if she was a boogie board.  She jumped and slewed a bit, but essentially plowed on, undeterred. No broach.  Well done Moonraker.
So when it came time to exit across the bar a few days later, we were being VERY careful. Now we knew what they mean by ‘rogue waves’. We consulted all and sundry at the marina about tactics and they confirmed advice from the VMR that the leads were not the best guide to crossing the bar. The leads are apparently positioned due to the inertia of feuding local authorities rather than the position of the sand.  Ten degrees north of the leads was considered best.  We endlessly studied the bar (in real life as well as via the real-time bar-cam on the web).  We picked a day that had moderate winds, low swell and again no red flags from Marine Rescue.  We prepared the boat carefully (washboards up, life jackets on, everything battened down) and set off at dusk.
Again we were nearly through when a huge wave (I would say 10ft face) reared up steeply in front of us. “We’ll take it head on”, shouts Dean.   “Well, I certainly hope so”, thinks I. And we did. Moonraker climbed the wave then swooped down its back. 
 But no relief.  An even bigger wave followed, and this time it was breaking. Worse, the previous wave had left us a few degrees off straight to the waves and with some momentum lost. So, with no option but to watch and hang on, we took a breaking wave over the starboard bow. White water foamed, covering the boat.  What would Moonraker do?  I was worried that she would broach and be washed sideway onto the rocks.  But no.  Moonraker shrugged off the wave, albeit after a mighty jolt and a bit of a roll, and continued to head stoically out to sea.  Fifteen tonnes and a sturdy diesel engine helps.  And it was a two-wave set, thank heavens.
We got a thorough soaking. White water had washed into the cockpit, soaking us, our navigation computer (RIP), the bean bags.  Miraculously the i-phone survived, as did Dean’s old Nokia. The cabin took a dousing through the open companionway hatch (which we hadn’t closed over the washboards on the grounds that water NEVER gets there) and the carpets got soggy.  The dingy on the foredeck snapped its lashing but luckily got stuck drunkenly in the safety rails.  
I was a bit shaken to say the least and it took me an hour or so to stop shaking, about a day to recover my good humour and two days to clean up the mess.  We later heard stories from a chap who had, in his youth, taken a boat exactly like ours out to wind-surf the Port Macquarie bar ON PURPOSE, FOR FUN. Made me feel like a wimp.
The night we ran aground on a mud bank in Laurieton
When we lived at Brooklyn on the Hawkesbury, one of the shameful acts of schadenfreude we indulged in was to smirk at the people (not to their faces) in hired houseboats who became stuck on sand banks. Poor things had to wait in conspicuous embarrassment until the high tide floated them off. 
But what goes around comes around, and so we too became the objects of amused pity of locals. The actual event was at Laurieton, an impossibly picturesque little town nestled under the towering North Brother mountain, with a lovely river in which we sought harbour one fine, still evening.  We had managed to negotiate the bar but it was dark by the time we motored into the river, intent on finding the mooring we had booked from the local boat shed.  Our cruising guide was quite specific: it emphasised the importance of following the channel; it warned of the large moving mud banks; it cautioned against trusting published charts and guides; it counselled that the locals knew the shifting banks best; and it suggested that we follow their well-lit channel markers in preference to anything else. 
Ken and I were lookout.  Dean was at the helm inching the boat forward.  But, what we didn’t realise is that the lights on the channel markers are not maintained religiously.  So, most were lit and three were not.  On the dark, moonless and overcast night we failed to notice the unlit ones. To cut it short, we hit the mud.  Moonraker rounded up and her momentum and the force of the incoming tide pushed us harder into the mid-stream mud bank.  We were stuck.  We had no chance of floating off as we only had 20cm left in the tide and were about 40 cm short of floatation depth.
 Luckily the wonderful local marine rescue people agreed to forsake their Friday night activities and launch their rescue craft. They declined to pull us off backwards (damage risk to rudder) but pulled at us from the side, using a long, long rope and two huge, roaring outboards on their rescue cat.  At first, giant spumes of water issued from their engines but we were not moving. Then, we began to inch sideways. Suddenly the mud let go with a jerk, we slid sideways off the bank, and then found ourselves virtually water-skiing behind the rescue boat, doing  what felt like 15 knots up the sleepy river.
So, embarrassed, thankful for the amazing marine rescue volunteers and chastened about our navigation skills, we clocked up another adventure, applied champagne and carried on.

Saturday, March 12, 2011

SAILING LOG MARCH 2011


Note reverse date order.  This is the bureaucrat coming out in me.
Passage: Coffs to Yamba-Iluka 62NM
Left Coffs just before dark, on Wed 23th March and had really nice night sail to Yamba-Illuka, 10-15 knots abeam, 1-1.5m swell.  Storm jib and reefed main up most of the night.  There was phosphorescence in the wake, brilliant sunset and sunrise, and moon all night.
Timed arrival at Yamba-Iluka perfectly to cross the bar, arriving about 11 am, just before the top of flood tide.  On approach, it looked as if the bar was breaking right across, and the fishing vessels were being piloted across.  VMR told us to stand off and watch before we picked an approach, which we did, getting increasingly apprehensive.  It wasn’t made any better by observing the pilot boat appearing to play dare-devil with breaking rollers at the north end.  Eventually the VMR guy couldn’t bear it any longer and more or less indicated that we would be OK if we came in on the south leads keeping close to the centre and NOT to follow the pilot. We did that, and only had a few non-breaking waves to push us in.  Phew.  Then proceeded to anchor in Iluka Bay, dead calm, balmy. Champagne and beer at the best hotel in Australia (Sedger’s Bay) at sunset.  Gorgeous.
Mucking around in Boats at Coffs Harbour
March 15th – 23rd

Trial Bay Goal.  Convicts seemed to spend 9 years
building a very short breakwater. Nice holiday spot?
Spent the first day, Tuesday, catching up on sleep and drying things out, on the pick in the bay. Next day, took a berth in the marina (not really a nice marina but OK) after a visit by a diesel mechanic to fix the blocked filters.  Will need to clean the fuel tanks I think, probably in Brisbane.  Spent a lovely week exploring Coffs Harbour and its hinterland.  Trial Bay Goal a real highlight but also Bellingen and the rainforest at Dorrigo and the weekly growers market in Coffs. Lovely area.
Passage: Port Macquarie to Coffs Harbour 72NM
Moonraker in Coffs Harbour
Left Port Macquarie on the evening of March 14th to arrive at Coffs on 15th.  This passage was very thoroughly planned, as we were worried about the bar crossing and had decided to do an over-night sail. It was certainly the most eventful passage so far.  Getting over the bar was a nightmare (see blog Some Real Life Adventures) and the night sail was not that much fun.  Swell was up over 2 metres, wind had more northerly than anything else, and we were shaken by the bar crossing.  Did two hour shifts turn-about .  Only a little real sailing.  Fully reefed main up all the way, mainly for stability rather than momentum, and an uneventful entry into Coffs.
Mucking around in boats at Port Macquarie
Tuesday 8- Monday 14th March 2011
Busy time at the Port Marina in Port Macquarie, on mooring and berth.  Work completed on bilge, engine exhaust, electricals, sails etc.  Dean adores the shipwright Neil Wallace: his new hero? Move over Stanner.  I went to Sydney for two days for Choice and other matters. Port Macquarie is a great town: friendly; good shopping; the post office works; everyone seems to be friendly, fit and into exercise (go the Dragon Boat ladies of a certain age who invited me to join!); lots of community activity; great  historical record; plenty of markets; great concert hall; functional port; modern facilities; great beaches; clean; charming teenagers; reasonable nod to Aboriginal antecedents; great marina staff; 40 min on plane to Sydney. Wow. 
Passage : Laurieton to Port Macquarie 17.32 NM
Monday 7th March
Left Laurieton at first light, got across the bar and it was very bumpy.  Forecast  5-15 knot SE with 2m swell, but actually NNE to 30 knots with 3m swell at least. Checked with VMR Laurieton and Port Macquarie. They gave no red lights so we went on.  Nice sail for parts of it but kept the motor going so we would arrive at high tide at 10.30 hrs or earlier .  Crossed the bar with a reefed main as staysail,  on the documented leads. The leads turns out to be what you should NOT follow. A 10 ft wave broke behind us with a scary roar but Moonraker and Dean at the helm handled it with aplomb. Locals later told us the correct bearing for entry and exit is the  subject of local bureaucratic wrangling but no action. Apparently you should line up about 10-15 degrees north of the leads to miss the bar.  Oh well. No wonder they have so many wrecks on that bar.
Mucking around in boats at Laurieton

Saturday 5th-Sunday 6th March 2011

Mary-Ann (busy as always), Ken and Mary (cheerful
as always), and Dean hiding from the camera (as always).

Mary and Mary-Anne arrived to join us in Laurieton (very picturesque).  Poured with rain on Saturday but we had a nice dinner in the CS (Combined Services) Club, which has a culinary style (but not architecture) uncannily like every other RSL Club. Natalie phoned to tell us about the bended knee, the sparkly rock and the great happiness of engagement. Great joy and lots of congratulations (weirdly) to me followed from all and sundry. Full breakfast next morning for 5 on Moonraker, a trip to the top of North Brother with a walk down the mountain for Dean, Mary-Ann and me, then the three visitors left for Sydney.  Mary’s goodies will keep us fed for weeks.
Passage : Broughton Island to Laurieton 72 nm
Friday March  4th 2011
Low tide at Laurieton, so a sand bar we couldn't see in the
dark shows itself next to this yacht.  Look carefully and you
can see the 3 nav. lights that were not lit.
A long haul with winds flukey and from N to NE.  Thw wind sometimes veered to the east so we had some sailing some of the time.  Main up to steady us in following swell and genoa sometimes.  Dolphin squad spectacular.  Left the anchorage at first light (6 am) to get to Laurieton by top of the tide (7.30 pm).  Arrived at perfect time for the tide but it was dark by the time we got into harbour, heading for a mooring we had arranged from the Boat Shed.  Horror! Ran aground before finding that the green and red channel markers are powered by solar panels that are bit unreliable.  Three dead green lights on a dark, cloudy, moonless night,  an s-bend in the river and Moonraker was high and almost dry. MR Lauriton very kindly hauled us off (side-ways with much roaring of their engines) and we anchored (with some radio support from VMR and an anchored yacht) near the CS (combines services) Club.

Passage : Port Stevens to Broughton Island 8 NM
Thursday 3rd March 2011


Ken loves sailing but never misses a chance to
 have a snooze (this was in rolly conditions on
the way to Lauriton).  ....Then
he's always up for the next challenge, see below

   Tuesday March Left Port Stephens in good order and sailed with Ken to Broughton Island.  Flew the MPS.  Beautiful anchorage off Providence Beach.  Dean and I went ashore and tramped a bit over the island which is windswept, more or less uninhabited and with low tough scrub.  Felt like Robinson Crusoe.  Only one other boat in the bay and so we had Rob and Steve from Magnum (not the gun, the icecream or the champage but a nice sloop on its way to CYC) on board at sunset and shared some wine with them.