Author: Neill

While Heidi and I were in quarantine, Artemis stayed at a marina on the Brisbane River. After we “escaped”, we spent another two weeks in the marina working our way through a list of repairs. But, after a month, it was time to get moving again.

We waited for the incoming tide so that we would get a bit of a “free ride”. Luckily, just as the tide turned the wind also came up so, with wind and tide going our way, we made good progress.

The river meanders wildly and is a major highway for commercial boats and ferries so we had to continuously tack the sails and concentrate – both things that are not so necessary when we are out crossing oceans. The plus side was the constantly changing scenery with evidence of abandoned coastal industry and a lot of new developments. The river is an interesting place.

The City Cats are the local river ferries and they zip from pier to pier apparently at random. We just held our course and let them go round us as the law of the sea says they should – they being motorized and we under sail.

In the heart of Brisbane we anchored off the botanical gardens and enjoyed our sun down drinks with the skyscrapers just off our stern.

A few days later we moved on to a pier right in the middle of the city, put our mountain bikes together and cycled in to the Mount Coot-Tha Forest. By chance we chose a route that included the steepest climb anywhere in the eucalyptus forest. At least the long run back down in to town made up for it. We left at 05:45 and were back five hours later. The amount of early morning bicycle traffic on the riverside bike path had to be seen to be believed. A counting station claimed that over a quarter of a million bikes had passed this year.

The following day we cycled along the bike paths heading downriver and enjoyed the bike lanes, bike paths, parks and side streets. Brisbane is a bikers paradise.

In the afternoon we cycled over to the outdoor swimming pool and enjoyed the refreshingly cool water.

In the botanical Garden we saw our first dragons – Eastern Water Dragons. In the evening the flying foxes flew above our heads – bats with a one meter wing span. There is a lot of new things to see here in Australia; and people to meet. Our neighbours on the sailing vessel Mahili invited us over for sundown drinks that became a late night affair which was great fun! A tour boat pulled in to take on new guests and Heidi knew the skipper from a barbecue a week before. (A month in Australia and she knows everyone 🙂

After a week of city life we let the outgoing tide carry us back down river leaving the skyscrapers astern.

After our two weeks of quarantine, we were released on to the streets of Brisbane. Finally, about thirty years after I first dreamed of visiting Australia, we could start to explore.

The bikes were assembled and we set off to look at the surrounding countryside. We discovered perfumed Eucalyptus forests, bright red flame trees, flowery Jacaranda trees, orchestras of cicadas and winding creeks.

The cycle paths along the creeks were wide and the Australian pedestrians disciplined. It was fun to ride everywhere. We rode to the supermarket, to the chain supplier and to the telephone company.

On the first day a marina neighbor took Heidi shopping. Another neighbor asked us to join him on an evening sailing trip. It turned out that our presence was fortuitous. At the end of the trip there were 16 people on board and we were the only ones not drunk. An interesting experience. Other marina neighbors invited us round for drinks with great pizza and gave us lots of tips. The skipper of a government boat also gave us good advice. Australians appear to be extremely friendly and willing to help with anything.

A doctors practice converted our French vaccination certificates to Australian digital versions and last week we received our covid booster injections so are now ready for the harsh measures being introduced for the un-vaccinated next week.

Wine only costs four dollars a bottle and cheese is affordable again. Every day we are being introduced to something new in this exciting new country. Life is fun!

After two days recovering from the Pacific crossing, while locked away in our quarantine hotel, we began our fitness program. The first two days we did ski gymnastics following this video.

After spending seven weeks sailing, we thought we were fit but after these 20 minutes the leg muscles were burning.

For the third and fourth day Heidi chose something with a little less leg exercise.

I still sweated non stop and the lady in the video just smiled all the time. I am not sure if she is human.

Days five and six. Same lady. She is still smiling. My muscles feel better but her exercises are getting more demanding. I was so happy to see the young lady wipe a drop of sweat off her nose towards the end of the session. She is human!

After we were finished I read what the lady had written and she wrote “Dieses No Repeat Workout ist das Härteste aus der gesamten Reihe!!!” which is German for “this is going to hurt!”

Day seven.
Six days you shall labor, and do all your work, but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the LORD your God. In it you shall not do any work. – Exodus 20:8-11
Well you can’t argue with Exodus can you? And my muscles needed a rest anyway.

Far off on the horizon we could just make out some hills that we knew to be part of Australia. Land Ho!

The first boat we met was “Texas T” and they were kind enough to photograph us with fully reefed sails as we headed for Brisbane harbour. The coastguard were warning of an approaching storm every hour and we were caught by it just before we reached the safety of Moreton Bay. Another sailing boat, maybe two hours behind us, was not so lucky and was blown south – hopefully to take refuge at Southport, further down the coast.

We passed the fairway buoy that marks the beginning of the ships lane just before dusk and spent the night sailing south with the strong winds and swell following us. We had to ensure that we remained in the marked channel but at the same time avoid the monster ships leaving the commercial port of Brisbane. Each meeting was preceded with a quick radio conversation

“Monster ship, Monster ship, this is Artemis! Over.”
“Artemis this is Monster Ship on Channel 12! Over”
“Monster Ship, we are the tiny sailing boat heading your way with a dim light in the mast. We should meet in about 10 minutes and will keep well to starboard. Over”
“Roger that Artemis! We have you on visual and radar and will pass you red to red. Thank you for the info. Out!”

At least the port pilots spoke English English. A tug pulling a barge passed us to starboard and his Australian accent was so broad on the radio, I was not sure of everything he said. But he avoided us as agreed.

Once we reached the river mouth we turned upwind and drifted backwards and forwards for four hours to wait for daylight, wait for the incoming tide and, most importantly, finally sleep a bit. Until now we had both been catnapping while the other one held course.

At dawn we sailed up the Brisbane River. We passed the container terminal, the cement works and huge factory complexes. Just one tiny sailing boat being pushed by the wind between this landscape of industrial giants.

After about eight miles we reached the marina, turned in to shore and Heidi passed our bowline to a waiting dock-master. After 45 days at sea, we finally made it. We had done it. We had crossed the Pacific, the worlds largest ocean. We held each other tight, kissed and laughed.

The Australian Border Force had three officers waiting on the pontoon. They told us they had been following our progress via satellite and were a little confused and worried about out four hour “drifting around” in the night. They checked our papers and then said “welcome to Australia!”

Next was a gentleman from the Ministry of Agriculture. He should have checked our boat for animals and plants but couldn’t as we may have Covid so told us to ring him when we get out of quarantine.

The Border Force passed us on to the the Queensland Police who scanned a few documents and then discussed cricket with us while we waited for a taxi. The taxi ferried us to a quarantine hotel while being followed by the police (to ensure we didn’t make a break for it during the journey). At the hotel there were more police and medical personnel to process us safely in to our hotel room for 14 days quarantine. Twelve government employees for two sailors. Not many countries are that welcoming.

The last day of October and the 34th day at sea on our way to Australia. Polynesia is two and a half thousand miles behind us. The Cook Islands, Tonga, Fiji and New Caledonia all came and went. Ahead of us is Australia, “just around the corner”, eight hundred miles away.

The day started with no wind but blue skies and remained that way all day. Sailing was not an option – even we can not sail with no wind. Before breakfast Heidi said “Let’s just have a lazy Sunday”.

During the morning coffee we learned French reflexive verbs to keep the brains working. Heidi made fresh bread for breakfast which we enjoyed in the cockpit surrounded by ocean. Not everyone has an uninterrupted view across a thousand square kilometers of the world from “the balcony”.

As there was no wind we ran the motor for half an hour to check it still works. We found condensation below the diesel filter so bled that off and then reprimed the diesel pump.

The motor had warmed the water up and the sun was shining so we washed the bed sheets, a few towels and us.

We also repaired the jib furling line and hoisted the main to sort out the furling lines. The mobile Solar panels we packed away ready for the forecast wind and Heidi cleaned the main panels. We documented a few things and finally sat down with a coffee and biscuits. I love these lazy days.

In the evening we made pizza. I did all the “easy stuff” – mix the dough and chop everything – while Heidi did the magic with herbs and the dangerous juggling of hot trays. We ate in the cockpit as the sun set.

We had just finished washing up when the wind came up so we set the sails and set off once again sailing west.

Another fantastic day on Artemis.

It is only three years ago that we sailed across the Little Minch to the Hebrides. Having spent a few weeks sailing amongst the Inner Hebrides, this was our first “Crossing” – twenty miles from the end of Skye to the safety of a deep fjord. The pilot book warned that the sea could be rough, the weather forecast promised a storm in 24 hours and we could hear passing ships on the VHF radio.

We were a little excited but the crossing went well and we were satisfied to have achieved our destination and be huddled at tbe end of Loch Seaforth.

As we worked our way south we crossed from Scotland to Ireland then on to Wales, across the Bristol Channel to England and then across the English Channel to France. Each crossing increased our confidence and a “quick” day jumping from A to B became routine.

The “big Adventure” was the Bay of Biscay”. 350 miles, three to four days at sea and years of hearing horror stories about this ship eating Bay. After much planning and a reprovisioning, we took three and a half days to arrive in Spain and were very proud to have such a crossing “under our belt”.

From Spain to the Canary Islands was 600 miles and on to Cap Verde another 900 but by now “a few hundred” was not something we thought much about. A quick trip of 80 miles between islands was “just for fun”.

The Atlantic crossing was once again a “step up the ladder”. Firstly it was an ocean crossing and secondly it was twice as far as anything we had yet undertaken – over 2000 miles. We were at sea for eighteen days and proved what we already knew – we like sailing and we like being together.

To Columbia was 300 miles, onwards to Panama was 400 and the Pacific sail to Ecuador 600. By now this all felt like “puddle jumping”. Check the weather, provision and leave. Sail if there was wind, drift if not and arrive one day.

From Ecuador to Easter Island should have been 2000 miles but, thanks to Covid, we ended up taking 54 days to do 4000 miles. After that experience we thought nothing of “popping down to Raivavae for Christmas” – it was only 500 miles each way.

And now we are on our way to Australia. Yesterday – after 38 days – we achieved the 3000 mile mark but the feeling was a bit “been there, done that!” Now it is only another 300 miles so “just round the corner”.

When you have time and enjoy sailing together, distance becomes irrelevant.

We were sailing gently west happy to have escaped the doldrums of the previous five days. The sun was shining, the sky was blue and we were relaxed.

Davo sent us a short message. “You are approaching a ‘washing machine’. Wind variable. South, North, West and then South again”.

The first indication of Davo’s washing machine were the heavy clouds ahead and the rain showers. The wind stopped and then started strongly from the other direction. We changed sails and continually reduced the amount as the wind became stronger and the waves steeper.

Night fell quickly and, with no stars and no moon, it was pitch black. Turbulent black water under thick black clouds.

In the night the wind shifted sixty degrees within a minute. The boat turned so the sails were on the wrong side and the line of the towed generator wrapped around the windvane. Despite the wind and bucking boat, we sorted everything out, hand steered a bit then set up the windvane for the new course.

Twenty minutes later and course, sails, generator and windvane were all messed up again. Sort everything out, hand steer through the worst and then lie down – again.

At first light the wind changed again and we were heading East instead of West. The sea was a mess with swell from every direction but especially against us. Once again we were hand steering and getting soaking wet from the waves breaking across the deck.

Eventually we saw blue skies ahead of us and the swell became a little more normal. The windvane was back in action and we left Davo’s washing machine behind us. Hopefully we don’t repeat that night too often.

Obviously the world is round.

But deep down inside, all those years of lieing and oppression by the church have left their scars in our brains. And at school there were always those big flat maps on the wall with nicely delineated edges. They taught us that Marco Polo went East and Christopher Columbus went west but not a lot about those who went “all the way round”.

Even Garmin – who you would expect to be experts – suggest that there might be an edge to fall off. The map they supplied with our tracker goes East or West from London but stops beyond New Zealand going one way and Polynesia in the other direction.

Today was the day we were going to find out what really happened at “the edge”. Today we were due to reach 180 degrees west. The place where the western world stops and – supposedly- the Far Far East begins.

We both sat watching the degrees and minutes increase on the navigation system and “the edge” get closer on the Garmin.

179 degrees 99.999 minutes West arrived. And a second later we were in the East. Everything outside looked exactly as before and Garmin solved their “flat earth problem by “beaming” us across the map to the other side of their map.

We celebrated having sailed half way round the world with wine and biscuits as Artemis continued heading across the open ocean towards Australia.

Davo had warned us. “You will pass through a frontal system and the wind will shear from north to south.”

Today was Sunday so we decided to have a lazy day with no water making, no washing, no complicated meals, just a gentle sail. The wind was only a breeze so we spent half an hour launching the huge Parasailor. We were hand steering and even then we were still making less than two knots. The sky was overcast, we were heading (slowly) west and were relaxed.

Heidi was steering when Davo’s wind shear happened. Suddenly, with no warning, the wind changed direction completely and wrapped the sail around the mast and rigging. The wind rose and the drizzle started.

We turned the boat round to untangle things, dropped the parasailor in to its bag and got the bag below deck before it got too damp. The drizzle became rain and we got wet through changing the lines to use the jib. The wind came from everywhere and we did three jibes before we found ourselves sailing hard on the wind and through the rain to the north west.

After only an hour the wind dropped and we had to lash the tiller and reduce sail to a minimum to minimize the flogging.

And so ended our “lazy Sunday” – aching arms, wet clothes and a tiny boat rolling around in the Pacific swell while going nowhere.

As you sail west things get later. The sun rises and sets a little later each day. After a while you are eating breakfast while your friends in Germany are eating lunch. Later, their dinner time is your breakfast.

And then, finally on the other side of the world, you are behind everybody. The whole world has lived their day and gone to bed by the time you watch the sun set. You have reached the end of the day and ahead lies only the international dateline.

Luckily the wind dropped and left us drifting only miles before the dateline. The swell stopped and we were left bobbing gently, totally alone in the middle of our private blue ocean. We were directly above the Tonga Trench and therefore eight thousand meters above the sea floor. A strange feeling to be sat in your home knowing the ground is eight kilometers below you.

Together we cooked Risotto “Esprit” with our last bottle of red wine. While it cooked through, we enjoyed a sun down drink in the cockpit – or as we like to say “on the balcony” – as the sun set on Wednesday evening.

At five o’clock on Thursday morning, while we were still cuddled up together in bed, we drifted across the dateline and Thursday became Friday. We got up on Friday morning having jumped over Thursday. We are ahead of the whole world and jump out of bed before any one else is awake.

So now, we have a great excuse for anything we should have done but didn’t. “It was planned for Thursday October 14th 2021!”