Find me a Neuralyser!

(or Musgrave to Bundaberg)

Thursday 17 August is a day we’d like to wipe from memory.  The Men in Black had it right with their little memory wiper doo-dad, the ‘Neuralyser’.  Get me one of those and instead implant a memory about how lovely it was. 

Remember my dramatised version of our Wide Bay Bar crossing?

Getting out of Lady Musgrave was worse than that.

Let’s just rewind for a moment and set the scene.  By 0930 we were underway, carefully picking our way through the bommies in the lagoon.  We had listened to another boat about an hour earlier report that the conditions outside were acceptable, with a bit of ‘overfall’ at the exit of the lagoon.  In our opinion, they’d left too early.  Even for us, the sun could have been higher.  The water still had a silvery sheen, making it virtually impossible to see the bommies until you were almost upon them.  We entered the pass and were navigating our way through, committed to leave.  There is considerable outwards current and NO ROOM to do a U-turn in the passage.  If you attempted to turn around and go back in, you would more than likely end up getting swept onto the reef.  Not only that, we had Blackwattle following pretty close behind.  So, changing our minds was not an option.  As we reached the final approach, Graeme called out that I might want to return to the cockpit.  I was looking to port and starboard, making sure we were staying in the middle of the channel, so he’d seen it before me.

Huge overfalls (waves) breaking just outside the exit.  I feel ill just writing about it, all these days later.  I returned to the cockpit, and sheltered behind the dodger, my attention pulled to the roar of the curling breakers ahead of us.  I didn’t want to look at Graeme.  The blood had most likely drained from his face, but I didn’t want to see fear.  If he was afraid, I would be too.  Symphony and the first wave came together like two heavyweight fighters in a ring.

There was an almighty slap as our bow hit the wave, then she rose up, and up, reached the peak and fell back down with a ka-boom.  Now our stern was in the air. Water that was scooped in onto our transom on our upward rise now rushed in through the cockpit almost to the companionway.

And then we did that a few more times. And a few more.

We still love Lady Musgrave, but we we’ve learnt that conditions inside the lagoon can vary wildly with those outside, changing dramatically even in the space of an hour (with the falling tide, in our case).  She’s beautiful but she’s deceptive.  We’ve gained a whole new level of respect.

At some point, Jamie appeared in the companionway to enquire why the boat was crashing.  Poor kid.  We’d been so caught up in the unexpected turn of events that we’d had no time to warn him about the conditions we were about to encounter.  We directed him to stay below and hang on.

Yep, it was hideous.  Even when we were out of the overfalls things didn’t improve much.  We had hoped to be able to head high enough to set course for Pancake Creek, but the ride was terribly uncomfortable.  We were hard on the wind sailing, and there were swell trains of about two metres high (which then add and subtract from each other, creating bigger peaks and troughs) coming from two different directions.

Unfortunately, the waves at the lagoon exit had dislodged quite a few things downstairs.  Cupboards that stay closed in most conditions slid open and spilled their contents.  Things that never move launched themselves off shelves and flew through the air. Five Corelle bread and butter plates kamikaze’d out of a cupboard and only two survived.  So now we had shards of glass everywhere.  A hard knot in my belly had turned to nausea; I was sick – only my fourth time seasick in almost 10,000 offshore miles, and I think it was mostly anxiety, but I became useless for quite a while, I admit.  Jamie was confined to his cabin, much to his disgust, to avoid walking on broken glass, and it was up to Graeme to sail the boat AND clean up the glass.  It was decided to change course to get into a more comfortable motion which meant we were heading for Bundaberg.

Christian, his much heavier cruising boat coping with conditions better than us, had everything under control and was determined to maintain course for Pancake Creek.  He’d already spent more than enough time in Bundaberg.  (We later found out he a very uncomfortable day, culminating in had a hair-raising ride into Pancake Creek, and entering through the leads with breaking water all around had been terrifying.  He was extremely relieved to get his anchor down.)  Cruising is fun!

So, we maintained course to Bundaberg.  The conditions, which had improved slightly with the course adjustment, gradually deteriorated, with swells increasing until the horizon disappeared.  For those unfamiliar with boating, losing sight of the horizon means you’re in some pretty big seas.

And it continued like that, with the boat rolling wildly from gunwale to gunwale, through the afternoon and into dusk.  Things didn’t improve until we got behind the low breakwater at the entrance to the Burnett River, although we did average 8 knots (and more than 10 surfing down waves).

It wasn’t over.  Burnett River has limited anchorage areas, in shallow water.  We arrived after dark to discover numerous boats already anchored, some of them without any lights at all!  We had to try to find a suitable spot to anchor, in the dark, amongst lit and unlit boats, outside the shipping channel, with a current, and shallow spots everywhere.  We finally dropped the anchor, decided low tide would almost put us on the mud, so re-anchored to discover we’d only gained about 200mm of water.  I think we said something like, ‘Stuff it.  This’ll do!’

Exhausted and greatly relieved to be in flat water, we spent the next hour cleaning up the remaining glass, washing the cockpit down with fresh water, and putting everything to rights.  We had a light dinner of pancakes then fell into bed.

So, sometimes being at work or doing a really unpleasant chore like changing the kitty litter is better than cruising.

Who’d of thunk?