Heading South…ish

Mackay to Middle Percy

During the first week of October, we finally departed Mackay.  The seas ended up quite messy and the winds were from the north east, making it difficult for us to point to Digby Island, so we headed for Curlew Island instead.

In the fading light we checked out the small west facing bay and decided it wasn’t much chop, (or maybe too much chop would be more accurate), so we negotiated our way around the south side of the island, avoiding shoals and rocky outcrops, to discover big breaking waves in the alternate anchorage.  We turned around and headed back to the west side, tucked ourselves in between two rock walls as close to the small beach as depth would allow.  Waves were slapping in against the transom and Graeme said something like ‘It’s not hell but I can see it from here’.  We thought it was going to be an awful night, rocking and rolling, but it turned out to be pretty good, and we rested well, safely held by the good ol’ Rocna.

The following morning saw us head out of the anchorage into flat oily seas towards Middle Percy Island.  A strange mist clung low to the water, blurring the islands and giving everything a dreamlike quality.  Remember that movie, Dead Calm?  It was kind of like that.  Well, except that we were motoring.

We arrived at Middle Percy in the early afternoon, and anchored in the perfect spot just off the entrance to the lagoon.  We swam off the back of the boat and put the shade sail up over the front hatches, bringing some much-needed relief from the heat.  Graeme and Jamie went to the A-frame so Jamie could ring the bells again.

The moon that night was a smudge away from full.

Pine Islet

With the dawn of another hot day, we decided some adventuring might be in store.  We packed a picnic lunch and piled in the dinghy, heading for Pine Islet, where the lighthouse once stood.

We were quite impressed by the geography of the island – the cliffs, dark crevasses, rocky beaches and coconut palms.  The islet is really a tight string of three islets joined by a tumble of boulders in one spot and a long isthmus in the other.

When we rounded the largest of the islets (joined to the others by the boulder fall) we discovered, high on the rocky hill, below the lighthouse foundations, the remains of the houses and service buildings.  A narrow natural harbour provided access to the area, but it has all been closed off with signs prohibiting access.  For Your Own Safety, of course.  With the main entry impossible to access, we completed a circumnavigation only to find there was nowhere else to land where you could access the ruins.  We eventually landed on a rocky beach (isthmus between smaller two islets) and wandered around, looking at the ruins of what might have been a fuel store and the remains of a sailing boat that had wrecked there some time last year.

Story of the Wreck on Pine Islet

So, this guy circumnavigated the world in his 40-foot boat (that’s just a tiny bit smaller than ours).  Incredible achievement.  On return, he tried to clear into Australia through the port of Mackay.  They turned him away as he didn’t have boat insurance.  Welcome home! He made his way to Middle Percy with his Pratique flag still flying.  Allegedly, frustrated with the high winds and bouncy conditions, and drunk (?) on home-made rum, he left the anchorage at West Bay before dawn one morning.  Was he trying to head out and back to the mainland, or was he hoping to anchor at the more sheltered Pine Islet?  We don’t know.  What we do know is that he hit the reef extending from the islet.  He was rescued the next day from the beach.  He returned to the floundering boat to collect his personal effects.  Apparently, all he took was his wallet, his rum-making still, and the sixty litres of rum he’d made!  He then turned his back on the (uninsured!) boat and got a lift to the mainland.  The boat, which had been extremely well fitted out for the circumnavigation, with all the best quality gear, was then picked over by scavengers for the next week or so, before what was left of it slipped into a crevasse between bommies and disappeared under the water.  Graeme found a through-hole valve and a nice length of teak, so the scavengers didn’t find everything, until now!  (He wonders, is it bad luck to use stuff you’ve found from a boat that got wrecked?)

The Famous Middle Percy Yacht Club Goat Stew

We swam, joined the happy hour crowd on shore, and Jamie rang the bell some more.  One of the island dwellers, a colourful character called Ernst, invited us all to come back the following night for (the famous Middle Percy Yacht Club) Goat Stew.  I promised to provide some veggies if we were still here, but we had spoken already about leaving the next morning.

Woke up to a rolly polly morning.  And Graeme woke up with a migraine.  We decided to head around to the southern bays where Graeme could rest his head for a bit in calmer waters and then we could make ready for the next leg.  We ended up anchoring at the eastern end of Rescue Bay in front of a huge sand dune.  After a while, we went to shore to explore.

I am NOT climbing that sand dune,’ said Graeme.  I wandered off to explore the beach and a deep lagoon then turned back to see Graeme and Jamie halfway up the sand dune they weren’t climbing.

Indecision meant we left it too late to go to Hexham Island and get there before dark, so we motored back to West Bay and enjoyed a fabulous goat stew with Ernst, Kate and Lindsay from the Tree House, a couple with three little girls, a young fellow called Jamie from a little 24-foot sailing boat, and five blokes from a 61-foot power boat that cruises at 25 knots.

Next morning we were off just after 0630, with not much wind.  Our early start meant we were able to get to Pearl Bay on the mainland –  but entering this gorgeous anchorage from the north on low tide, we ended up with only 30mm under our keel (!!) and quickly kicked the boat into reverse and got out of there.  We were disappointed we couldn’t stay, not just because of the delightful scenery and calm conditions, but because it meant we had to travel further down the coast to the next anchorage, before dark.  We upped the speed to get to Port Clinton.  On the way we saw a strange site: two turtles having a cuddle.  Well, that’s what we’re calling it.  Special cuddles, maybe?  Fellow wouldn’t let his girl up for a breath!

Port Clinton to the Keppels

In retrospect, we anchored too far down the south arm of Port Clinton, too close to the mangroves and beyond the protection we needed.  Graeme said the sand flies descended before the anchor did.  We closed up the boat but it was too late.  Then, during the night, we started to rock and roll.  Oh joy.  Isn’t it supposed to be flat in here??  We got away the next morning into another messy sea with wave trains from two different directions.

We made it to North Keppel Island, where we were able to make further repairs to the rod kicker (which hadn’t been working too well since hasty repairs in the Whitsunday’s), and a very pleasant anchorage it proved to be. The next morning we sailed to Rosslyn Bay and filled up with fuel at the wharf near the fish co-op.  Picked up some prawns and mackerel too!

Back out to Great Keppel Island, we anchored off Resort Beach, which really is a magical place.  We went to the bar for lunch then back to the Rainbow Hut for (obligatory) ice creams.  Knowing that Resort Beach isn’t particularly well protected, we upped-anchor and moved around to Long Beach.  Before long, the winds strengthened, rattling in our rigging.  A stream of boats followed us around as conditions at Resort Beach became untenable.

Mast Head Island to Lady Musgrave

Next morning we were off early, headed for Mast Head Island.  This was somewhere we hadn’t been before.  Mast Head Island is surrounded by coral reef and pretty much inaccessible at low tide, when the reef dries.  The island and colourful reef waters called strongly, promising adventure, but we had to anchor in 23-metres of water (!!) in a fierce current.  We lowered the dinghy and watched as the current tried to tear the dinghy away from the boat, and reluctantly gave up the idea of adventuring.  The Rocna held.  So did the 85-metres of chain – some of which hasn’t seen daylight for years!  (We later discovered there might have been a shallower spot to anchor, but the only other boat there was already in it and we’re not such we would have fit.)

As the light faded, we watched thousands of dark coloured birds, (probably sooty terns) silhouetted against the sky, returning to roost.  We can’t say it was the calmest spot we’ve ever anchored, nor one that filled us with reassurance, but the Rocna held and we passed another night.  The alarm was set for 0500.

We set off in excellent conditions, although the day was quite overcast and some anvil-shaped clouds threatened on the horizon.  We made it to Lady Musgrave and entered the lagoon with no difficulty.  A welcome party stood on the bow of one of the anchored boats.  It was Andrew and Lynne, on Mischief.  We were reunited, at long last, with the friends we were supposed to have been cruising with.

We swam in the crystal waters, had a leisurely lunch, then Andrew and Lynne joined us.  It was so good to see them and be able to share such a divine location.

Later that afternoon, Tom and Patricia from Mary Claire joined us all for sundowners, along with another club member, Peter, who had joined Mary Claire.  So we had an impromptu CCCA Happy Hour which finished close to midnight after a BBQ dinner.

The next day it was all about snorkelling with Andrew and Lynne, and using the Power Dive at the bommie with the white stick.  I had a great dive, with everything working just right.  Later, we dinghied out to the entrance and discovered remarkably clear water.  Graeme and I went for another snorkel, marvelling at the visibility (it was about 40-feet deep, and we could see the bottom) and the array of sea life.  There was a bommie with a whole village of sea anemones with their resident clown fish.  I’ve never seen so many clown fish in one place.  Graeme saw several reef sharks, to his delight. The area is a ‘green zone’ (no fishing), and we think the fish have worked that out, as they were there in abundance.

We had a curry night and played a funny card game called Exploding Kittens.

Lady Musgrave to Graham Creek

We left Lady Musgrave the next morning around 0900.  Visibility was not ideal with the sun silvering the water, so we took it pretty slow. A short time after exiting the lagoon we looked back at an ominous sky.  We watched water spouts developing in green-hued clouds, a phenomenon we haven’t seen before.

The water spouts would develop, grow alarmingly long, then retract back into the cloud.  Fortunately, the water spouts couldn’t seem to maintain themselves, and dissolved back into the clouds without causing any havoc.

Wanting to spend some time in Mischief’s company, we made plans to head to Pancake Creek, then north again (shhhh, don’t tell Jamie we’re headed north again!  He thinks we’re going home!)  The plan was to eventually restock in Gladstone then head back out to Lady Musgrave, then down to Platypus Bay.  Ah… the best laid plans.

 

We had an uneventful time in Pancake Creek, although there’s nothing uneventful about socialising with Andrew and Lynne!  We departed the Creek at 0500 the next morning to catch the depth before the tide dropped any further.  And it rained.  And rained.  We had limited visibility up through Gladstone Harbour through the steadiest and heaviest rain we’ve had this trip.  We found all the leaks in the cockpit canvas and elsewhere.  Fortunately, there were no shipping movements to speak of, in this usually incredibly busy industrial port.  Gladstone Harbour is miles and miles of shipping lanes.  Its banks are lined with steal processing plants, ship loading facilities, massive black piles of coal, red piles of iron ore and white piles of gypsum. We passed almost-kilometre-long ships being loaded and watched tug boats jostling ships into place. We passed the entrance to the marina and, still with constant rain, entered Graham Creek, where industry stops and mangroves reign.  We spotted John Barleycorn and a catamaran, Cool Change.  We eventually rafted up a little further up the creek.  This is the first rafting up we’ve done this trip, and it was nice.  (Rafting up, for the landlubbers amongst you, is when you tie boats together – alongside- instead of being separately anchored.  It allows easy access between boats.)

A Quick Mention:  Women Who Sail (Australia)

I’d like to take this opportunity to mention Women Who Sail, Australia, a wonderful Facebook-based association of women who are (generally) into sailing.  It’s a great group appealing to any woman who wants to be or is on the water in any capacity, whether she be a die-hard racer or a cruiser, someone with loads of experience and know-how, through to women just starting out with a dream (or helping follow someone else’s dream!).  As a member, you feel like you’ve got ‘sisters’ out there with words of support or advice from everything to keeping the heads smelling nice through to major engine replacements, boat deliveries, provisioning, techniques and strategies, recommendations (or otherwise) for brands and service providers, everything!  Members look out for each other – we’ve got a blue and white burgee.  Gatherings and get-togethers occur spontaneously.

Back to the trip…

The sand flies and mozzies were FIERCE in Graham Creek.  We had all our screens on and mozzie coils burning.  No doubt Graham Creek is a great place for fishing and crabbing.  We chose to socialist instead. In our second day there we had a couple turn up (braving the rain).  Jo (with husband Jeff) was from Cool Change, and we’d ‘spoken’ on the Women Who Sail facebook page.  It was great to have them join us for a chat about their travels.  They keep Cool Change in Pittwater but live in Melbourne. I expect we’ll see them again down south.

Fed up with the rain and the biting insects, and with strong winds forecast, we made our way to Gladstone Marina the next morning.  We headed off first, attempting to get into a pen before the wind came up and then be ready to assist Mischief into the pen alongside us.  We were pleased to see three fellows ready to take our lines in our ‘blow off’ berth.  Mischief arrived somewhat late, announcing they’d had some trouble with their engine.  It has a new ‘note’ to its sound, was running hotter than usual, and there was black stuff coming out of the exhaust.  There new mission was to have the engine diagnosed and repaired as soon as possible.

We spent a week in Gladstone Marina, enjoying dinners, socialising with Mischief, their friends  from Scintilla, the guys from John Barleycorn (who ended up on the same marina arm as us) and walks around the parks and township (when the rain allowed).  Jamie enjoyed acquainting himself with a new laundromat and helping as many people with their washing as was possible.  Gladstone is a funny place.  The marina and park surrounds are well kept.  The parks a verdant green.  The town is obviously built on the mining dollar but for a ‘backwater’ town (sorry, Gladstonians!) the prices for coffee, restaurant meals and real estate more closely align those of a big city.

Tragedy

During our time in Gladstone, a bêche-de-mer fishing trawler went down in rough conditions off Round Hill (1770), not far south of us, with six men lost of the seven men on board.  I’m sure you’ve heard about it, no matter where you are.  Whilst discussing the tragedy and the miracle of the fellow being found after spending all night in the water, on Women Who Sail Facebook page, a woman from the boat who rescued the lone survivor joined the discussion, and we suddenly realised she was on the boat in the pen right next to us.  On my way to the showers we struck up a conversation about events surrounding her part in the rescue.  She was quite traumatised by the whole thing, as you can imagine.  They saved a life that day.  It was only because they were there that we all have some idea of the fate of the trawler.

Mischief’s engine needed some serious work.  I won’t go into too many details here, as I expect they will write another article for our club magazine regaling readers of their engine woes.  Suffice to say, the decision was made to replace Mischief’s ailing engine with a brand new one.  This would take no little time.  Graeme joined Andrew in the engine room and helped dismantle as much of the engine as possible, in readiness for the new one.

They expect to be in the marina a few more weeks, and while we love their company and were supposed to be cruising with them, we were feeling the pinch – the need to get further south to stay on schedule for a mid-November return to Sydney.  We still had Wide Bay Bar to cross, and now it was thunderstorm season, which meant getting out of Southport for the final push was also going to be getting trickier.

It was a dreary grey morning, and I think we were all feeling a bit sad as we said our farewells and Mischief’s crew cast off our lines.