Beyond the Barrier Rally – Part 3

Diamond Islets

Hello all!  I write this from Cairns, where we are at in the midst of a 3-day lockdown due to ONE case of COVID-19. 

No more excuses.  Here’s the next blog.

We left you in the beautiful surrounds of the Marion Reefs.  The next morning, we departed Carola Cay across placid waters and into a fairly calm day.  I made banana bread on passage, which was delicious eaten warm and smothered with melting butter. We settled in for what would be a 24-hour run.

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In the early evening, we had (unexpected) squalls and a thunderstorm cross our rhumb line, with many of the boats experiencing heavy downpours and lightening uncomfortably close by.   We don’t have radar so couldn’t see the path of the storm, although we were listening to radio updates from those ahead and behind us, and planning accordingly.  One thing we always do when there’s electrical storm activity is to put portable electronics and devices in the oven, which acts as a Faraday cage and would hopefully preserve them if Symphony gets a lightning strike. Sarisha, not far from us, had a ‘near miss’, with some disruption to their electronics, but Mint, a new, very high spec catamaran, was struck (indirectly) and lost all electrical systems.  Being a ‘speccy’ boat, this meant they lost pretty much everything.  They had no lights, no autopilot, no navigation, no radar, no AIS (position reporting), no communications. They also lost control of their engines (a completely electronic system).  The rally organiser and a very persistent rally friend continued to call them over the radio and try to determine their position and status, after they went ‘dark’. Finally (poor) communications were re-established with their hand-held radio.  Fortunately, the very experienced family (2 adults and their 15-year-old son) were all OK.  They had to hand-steer and follow the navigation lights of another boat to maintain course and reach our next destination. 

Most of the fleet arrived too early at our next destination, with people having to slow their boats to allow for safe visual navigation (although some chanced it and went on in to the anchorage anyway).  We came in at the back of the pack, and whilst visually navigating and looking for a spot to anchor, the clouds decided to dump their load, and we were saturated within a couple of minutes. However, it wasn’t long ‘til the sky cleared, and we could get a good look at the slice of Paradise we had found.

East Diamond Islet is truly a diamond in the crown of the surrounding reef.  It is an islet rather than a sand cay because it has vegetation and is a permanent landmass.  The surrounding water has the clarity of gemstones; topaz, emerald and aquamarine, through to sapphire.  We went to shore to the northern end of the islet soon after anchoring. Ours were the only footprints.  It is fair to say we were in awe at the pristine, wild beauty of the place, with its white sand scattered with coral and shells. 

The hundreds of birds soaring overhead or nesting in the shrubs were more curious or indifferent rather than afraid. We saw dozens of red hermit crabs ambling along the water’s edge, and crabs the size of your hand scuttling along the rocky eastern shore.

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Rather than give a day-by-day and blow-by-blow account of our time at the Diamond Isles, I’m going to give a brief outline of how our days usually played out, and I’m sure the pictures will help to paint the scene.

Mornings:  There was always a sched from the rally organisers.  One morning, John read my poem to everyone (see previous blog post if you missed it).  It went down very well, with everyone wanting copies, and I became a minor celebrity.  😊

There was a yoga class on offer early every morning on the sand spit, run by Leanne Hembrow.  I can’t imagine a more magnificent place to practice yoga, and I attended several times.  After class, there was often a swim in the crystal waters.

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One morning, we circumnavigated the islet on foot, and took photos of the nesting birds and surrounds (see previous photos).  Snowflake eels hunt the crabs in the shallows, and Caylie from Solo was, I think, the only one to get any footage, and things got a little exciting when the big eel came swimming straight towards her!

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Later in the mornings/early afternoon, there was usually a snorkelling or diving experience, and we were fortunate enough to scuba dive with Peter and Michelle on the ‘Barracuda Bommie’, where there was indeed a huge resident school of barracuda, as well as a huge dog-tooth tuna (and her suitors), and a beautiful swim-though cave with an impressive Gorgonian fan. 

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Afternoons consisted of more water activities and culminated with sundowners on the beach.  Jamie always enjoyed these events, as there’s nothing he loves more than a good chat. 

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At one of these beach events, the family from Mint recounted their lightening strike and how they managed the frightening situation.  Of special mention is the 15-year-old, Tyson, who is mature beyond his years and was a terrific help to his parents, keeping channels of communication open, providing updates on their status, and helming the boat while his father was down below controlling the engines!

Dinner was often reef fish, donated to us by fishing friends such as Forfar from Sarisha, who is quite the accomplished fisherman, and has passed on a few valuable tips.  Most nights, people went back to their own boats as it’s risky being out on the reef in a dinghy at night, although we did have the guys over from Indigo one night for a delicious fish curry (Emperor).  We were extremely grateful to Tracey and Julian, who had Jamie on board again, so that Graeme and I could go diving together.  Jamie loved being on their boat.  They have a washing machine and a bread maker, so he was able to help with washing and making pizza dough.  “Happy as a Jamie in a laundromat”!

Next stop, Flinders Reef. Until then…