Category: Blog

We have reached the Whitsunday Islands. These tropical islands off the coast of Queensland are where Australian sailors dream of spending winter; the number of charter yachts anchored around us is witness to that. After a long sail we reached Shaw Island in the south of the archipelago and hid from the strong trade winds in its shade. Heidi studied the pilot books and declared Sawmill Bay as our next target. The Bay was only twenty nautical miles away and, if we lazed around in the morning and used the falling tide to help us along, would be an easy day sail.

The lazing around went well and getting Artemis shipshape is now a well trained “standard operating procedure”. As we lifted anchor, the wind was behind us and, as soon as we left the bay, the effect of the following tidal stream could be felt. The sun was shining so we sat outside and hand steered towards the distant outline of Dent Island.

Neill handed over the tiller to Heidi and went below. Just as he returned and stuck his head out of the companionway a large wave approached. Heidi could read in his face that “something” less good was about to happen. The wave smothered Heidi and continued on to soak Neill. Luckily he blocked most of the water from heading below so we only had a minor flood in the kitchen. Neill stripped his wet clothes off, used them to begin mopping up the worst of the salt water and then got dressed in dry clothes before relieving a dripping wet Heidi. Heidi added her sodden clothes to the collection in the sink and then began some serious wiping up.

By now we had reached the passage between the islands and the current was running at three to four knots. With a bit of sail we were making eight knots whether we wanted to or not. Heidi had a hard turn to starboard (right) planned through a small passage between two islands. We jibed the sails, pointed right and – kept going straight on. With more sail and a few more course adjustments we were managing to juggle tide and wind to head through the passage. And then – of course – a huge motorboat appeared coming towards us. For a moment the situation could be described as tense. Heidi called the motorboat on the radio and said “We are under sail and are trying to maintain our course but it is difficult”. His answer was a curt “Understood!” and he turned to pass far away from us.

With the motorboat gone, the tidal stream dropped to less than two knots and the wind to a breeze and we could relax and enjoy the sail around the corner to the exotic Sawmill Bay.

Later the kitchen, oven, walls and floors had been cleaned with fresh water, our clothes were washed and hanging in the cockpit and we could enjoy a sundown drink and reflect on our quick day sail.

We first met Stuart in a yacht club in Tasmania. He had almost lost his propeller and was bolting it firmly back on. Stuart’s boat is a solar powered sailing boat so pretty much what we dream about every time our diesel engine is started.

A few days later Stuart was in Launceston and came on board for a coffee. He was picking his wife, Heather, up in Hobart and they would both be back in a few days.

Unfortunately, by the time they were together in Launceston, we were climbing Mount Amos so we missed each other again.

A few days later they drove out to Coles Bay where we were at anchor and called us on the phone. A squall had just begun so we all agreed I would pick them up in the dinghy as soon as it finished. An hour later the squall was now a storm and they drove away unseen.

Shortly afterwards they set sail back north so that Stuart could stand for the Green Party in the state election. We agreed that we would stop on our way north to see them.

A few months later we arrived in their home town of Port Macquarie and took a buoy next to their boat. The locals were all friendly but – Heather and Stuart were further north in Mooloolaba. We continued north.

After our time in Raby Bay, we were once again searching but now received the information that they were on a catamaran behind the Great Barrier Reef. We sailed north of Fraser Island and – wonder of wonders – finally met Heather on Great Keppel Island.

Heather, Meredith, Stuart and Brian invited us for a delicious dinner and enjoyable evening on the catamaran and the following morning we all enjoyed coffee and cake on Artemis.

It only took seven months but we finally met Heather.

After the long journey from Tasmania heading north, we finally used a breeze to drift to the entrance from the Pacific Ocean in to the quiet sheltered waters behind Stradbroke Island.

About a mile inside the waterways we dropped anchor and then slept for twelve hours with no one on watch, no rolling bed and no need to worry about lurking ships or fishing boats. Over the next few days we used the rising and falling tides to work our way to Raby Bay and Chris & Sue’s private pontoon. As we entered the canals it felt a bit like coming home especially once Artemis was securely fixed and we were all sat in their kitchen with a cup of coffee.

In Indonesia it is law that visiting yachts have an AIS transmitter – a device that sends your position and course to other vessels around you. We had already ordered the relevant hardware and so, after the coffee, Sue presented us with a pile of parcels to unwrap. Luckily everything worked as we had hoped and after a few days we were sending our position to the world. You can see us on Marinetraffic. At the end of the project we had the old receiver left over so installed that on Chris & Sue’s catamaran. Now they can see the vessels around them on their display.

We needed some new flags and Heidi mentioned buying material to Sue. The next day, the material was bought, the sewing machine was out and, after lots of work by Sue and Heidi, we were the proud owners of extremely well made Scottish and Indonesian flags.

I have lost track of the places that Sue and Chris drove us to so that we could buy “the bit” we needed to fix something. I think we seriously impacted their working efficiency. I know that we ate every day in an amazing restaurant and both put on weight because there was nothing you could say no to.

One afternoon we were picked up by our friends the Laming family. Dad was up north working but the ladies kept us fed and entertained the entire evening. Neill was definitely outnumbered and lost every discussion he got involved in. We received a copy of Andrew’s latest book but, as he was not there, it was signed by his wife and daughters – we hope the kids grow up to be very famous. The empty wine bottles were a good hint that we needed an Uber to get home.

After a week of living the high life we sailed back out in to the bay and round to Coochiemudlo Island where Anne and Ivan live. We had met them in Tasmania and, as we were passing, called in for a coffee. The coffee turned out to be coffee and pancakes with jam and cream followed by a cheese board, then pork and all the trimmings and ice cream with chocolate mousse.

We took the dinghy back to Artemis in the dark, lifted anchor and sailed north reflecting what amazing friends we have made in Australia.

I am writing this while anchored in the Burnett River downstream from Bundaberg. It is eight months since we were last here and in that time we have sailed 4000 nautical miles. That is 7400 kilometers which is the same distance as from Gibraltar to Saint Petersburg – and back again. Or from Switzerland to Namibia. It is a long way, especially in an eleven meter boat that averages 4 knots or 7.5 kilometers per hour.

Eight months ago we had not seen the fireworks on New Years Eve, we didn’t know there was an Australian territory called “Jervis Bay” and we had never seen Tasmania. We had only read about the legendary Bass Strait, didn’t know how wood boats were built and had never worked on a stud farm. Port Davey, Lakes Entrance and Bruny Island were names we had never heard of. We had never cycled through the Blue Mountains or taken our bikes to the top of Mount Wellington. We have seen a lot and learned a lot, “down south”.

When we left here there were so many people that we didn’t know and now call friends. Other sailors, ex sailors and those we met in the ports and bays we called at. People invited us to their houses or boats, drove us where we needed to go, gave us presents of fish, fruit and vegetables or organised the support we needed to enjoy our travels.

We are lucky that we can afford the time to decide that “Tasmania sounds nice” and then take eight months to sail there and back. But we are also glad that we have the drive to do it. Others were here when we left and are still here now, dreaming of the adventure they will do “one day!”

And now it is time to head north towards Indonesia. It is “only” 2100 miles as the crow flies.

Tying your boat to a dock in a marina should not be rocket science. It is a fairly easy process and if you are not sure you can even look it up in the Internet. There are “cleats” on each side of the dock and you tie your lines to the cleats nearest you.

But, as this picture shows, this is too complicated for some people. They bought a nice big motor boat and have now tried to shoehorn it into a small dock. They ran out of cleats on their side so thought they would use one of the neighbours.

They could have tied a single loop leaving space for the neighbour but instead decided to see how much rope you could get on a cleat to ensure their was nothing left for the boat next door.

Obviously, at some point some one took exception to this stupidity and untied the line. Maybe, at this point, you or I would have considered if what we were doing was sensible or polite. But not Mr Big Boat. He then used cable ties to ensure no one untied his lines from the cleats he had “stolen”.

It makes you wonder. But then you take a look in the boat’s cockpit and wonder a little less.

Artemis is attached to a pontoon at Bermagui so it was easy to get the bikes on land and assembled. Only two hours after getting out of bed, we were off exploring the area around Bermagui.

We cycled about 35 km and climbed about 650 meters. Just another average bike ride. But it wasn’t.

We rode along the rocky Pacific coast and watched the whales offshore as they migrated north to give birth in warmer waters. We saw seals playing among the rocks and waves. We cycled past archaeological remains of a 40 000 year old culture. At the beach there were surfers out among the waves and a surfer explained the importance of waiting for a “set” to surf.

We cycled through a eucalyptus forest and surprised kangaroos, wallabies and a black snake sunning next to the track. The snake surprised Heidi but it was Heidi’s scream that frightened Neill.

We enjoyed 6.5 km of single trails in the Bermagui Mountainbike Park.

We visited a full size salt water swimming pool which is kept topped up by the waves off the Pacific and finished with the biggest hamburger and largest portion of chips that we could buy.

Our route is at Alltrails.

The local real estate company – Marshall + Tacheci – has put together a stunning video of the area which is well worth a watch.

At about 0.15. you can see where we anchored the first night and the marina we cycled from is shown at 0:28.

Karma … is a concept of action, work or deed, and its effect or consequences.

Wikipedia

Luckily we met Ivan and Anne in Tasmania. And, luckily, they introduced us to John and De. And luckily John told us that we should sail up the coast from Eden and contact their friend Gordon for a berth in the marina at Bermagui.

We sailed all day but arrived off Bermagui just before the sun set. Rather than attempt the entrance in to the port, we decided to anchor in the beautiful Horseshoe Bay for the night. After we cooked the evening meal we could both smell gas which is more or less the last thing that you want to smell on a boat. Immediately you start to see pictures like this with yourself in the starring role.

We closed the gas tap and checked Google for the nearest gas fitter. There was no one listed in town so we decided to ask in the harbour the next day.

The following day we tied up at Gordon’s marina and walked around the harbour. Sat at the chip shop was a man with “Adam Prentice – plumber and gas fitter” written on his jacket. I noticed but thought he may be on holiday here or in a sports team sponsored by the firm. A little further on I saw a van with the same name on the side as on the guys jacket. I returned to the chip shop and asked “Are you a gas fitter?” He confirmed that he was indeed and lived locally. I explained the problem and he promised to visit us that afternoon.

Adam came over and looked at the problem. Because this is Australia, the boat is British and everything gassy is incompatible, he had to go home and build a pressure test adapter. The next morning he was back and confirmed a leak in the gas oven. He took the front plate off and found a loose screw that he tightened and the tester held its pressure. A cup of coffee later the pressure was still holding. We were saved!

Adam doesn’t advertise as he has more than enough work without doing so. And he told us that it was a once off that he stopped at the chip shop for some lunch. Some days you just have to have good Karma.

Long ago Max was in Australia on a “Work & Travel” visa and “Red’s farm was his home base and the place he learned to be a farmer. Catherine‘s brother “James” is also a farmer in Victoria. James and Red are the same person – one is his given name, one his nickname – and he agreed to let us spend some time down on the farm.

Catherine was travelling the 1150 km from the Blue Mountains to the farm and agreed to divert “a little” to pick us up at Lakes Entrance. It was “only a 300 km diversion” – nothing to an Australian. We found three helpful locals – thank you James, Harry & Jeremy – to look after the boat while we were away so waved Artemis goodbye and drove the entire day to Tahara.

We arrived after dark and found a warm, log stove heated kitchen waiting for us and a hot, tasty dinner. The log fire burned continuously for a week and the great food never stopped – almost all from farm produce. We should have put on weight but luckily a farm has even more to do than on a boat so we could burn off the calories as we ate them.

On the first evening Catherine wrote a list of jobs that needed doing and we set to the following morning to be useful. The interesting thing about the list was that it got longer as time went on. Each evening for the first few days we ticked items off and then added more at the bottom. Luckily we all decided that we should stay a day extra and thus left with almost the entire list ticked.

I am not sure if the spare bed was one of the best I have ever slept in but every night we lay down and immediately slept until dawn.

Maybe it was the variety of tasks we were allowed to participate in:

• pick up the second utility truck from the workshop in the local town (70 km round trip)
• collect dead wood and old fence posts from the fields and bring them back to the farm
• cut and stack the wood for the fire
• tidy up old wire and fencing and bring it back to the farm
• feed the cattle and dogs
• plant 239 trees (one was taken back to the Blue Mountains)
• pick stones off the fields and throw them in the ford
• mow the grass in the farmyard
• jump start tractors, move them around and connect various implements
• roll an entire field flat after it was sown
• replace a gate and a light and rehang a door
• herd cattle and sheep
• collect the fish nets from the reservoirs
• tag the calves and mark the heifers

Or maybe it was the social program:

• Visit the Blue Lake and Umpherston Sinkhole in South Australia (a 200 km round trip)
• friend John’s eightieth birthday party
• dinner at the neighbours
• Uncle Ray’s eighty-seventh birthday party
• a nieces eighteenth and a nephews twenty-first birthday party
• an overnight fishing trip to a shack on the Glenelg River (another 200 km round trip)

Were we really only there for seven days? It was an amazing experience to be able to visit and work on an Australian farm – normally an experience reserved for twenty something work & travel people. It was thoroughly enjoyable as James was such an amazing host and always willing to answer our stream of questions. Thank you James! Thank you Catherine!

We have created an album with our best farming pictures.

We were recently anchored in a lonely bay with sunshine and a stunning view reflecting in the mirror like water. We took the dinghy across to the neighbour’s catamaran and immediately had beers pushed in to our hands. We were talking about what a great place Tasmania is and he said

There are too many tourists here already. Tell them it is cold and horrible in Tasmania. Tell them we are all unfriendly. Tell them it is dangerous and to stay away.

So maybe you should not watch the following video

Tasmania is one of the least unfriendly places we have been. In Port Davey we took the dinghy across to Pieter van der Woude’s amazing catamaran “Odalisque III” to ask for a weather update. We came back with the weather and a bag of food. Half an hour later they brought us more food. The next day, after two weeks away from shops and civilization, we sailed the uninhabited south coast of Tasmania with fresh wraps, smoked ham, fresh salad and fresh fruit.

Sailing north along the d’Entrecasteaux channel we were hailed on VHF channel 16 – “Sailing Yacht Artemis, this is Daydream. Over!” Colin, who we knew from Port Arthur and who lives on Bruny Island, had seen us approaching on our satellite tracker and called as he saw us passing. He had arranged a berth for us at the tiny sailing club and immediately put us in the Landrover and took us home to his farm in the middle of the bush. He took the rest of the week off to show us everything and when Claire arrived there was an amazing dinner party with the neighbours.

We had battery problems – don’t ask – but pulled in at Kettering and were twice chauffeured to Hobart by John to visit the battery shop. De filled another shopping bag of fresh produce from her garden and they both invited us to their boat for coffee and biscuits before we departed.

We anchored next to friends off North Bruny and enjoyed a great evening where we ate too much, drank a little and the girls played the boys at some horrendously complicated game. The next evening the crew of Mischief invited us to meet them on land for a grill. Two other cruisers we had never met before made us smoked muscles and grilled Abalone (marine snails).

After passing through the Denison Canal we called Dougal who we met a few months ago. He had his friend Matt make us great coffee in his workshop and then turned up with beer and chips for the four of us.

But don’t tell anyone we told you that the Tasmanians were friendly. And don’t watch the video.

And just when we thought it couldn’t get more remote …

We had heard that up the Davey River there were impressive gorges where the river cuts through bands of hard mountain rock. We had also heard that they were reachable by dinghy.

We sailed across the swelly waters of Port Davey making use of the winds blowing up from Antarctica. We then gingerly nosed Artemis across a shallow bar and anchored in a deep pool with a little protection from a woody peninsular. We used the strong wind to pull the anchor hard in to the sandy bottom and then waited a night to be sure the boat was really safe.

The next morning we awoke to sunshine, no wind and the promise of temperatures above twelve Celsius. We had agreed to explore the river the same day as the crews of two other boats for safety and so awaited their arrival. Once they appeared and anchored, we packed the essentials in to the dinghy, wrapped ourselves up and set off across the sea towards the river while keeping a sharp watch out for the multitude of kelp covered rocks lurking in the dark waters below us. 

The river mouth has a shallow sand bar and we crossed at low tide, surfing the small breakers to pass from ocean to river. The other dinghys were now far ahead of us so we followed the meandering river towards the mountains. Just the two of us, a dinghy, an outboard, a flask of coffee and a packet of biscuits. The nearest inhabitation was hundreds of kilometers away, there was not a single sign of humans and we did not even see an animal the entire journey.

After about sixteen kilometers we reached the point where the river entered the mountains and continued in to the deep gorge. On both sides the cliffs drop vertically in to the black river which reflects them perfectly. We passed the other crews drifting down river but continued on up as far as the dinghy could safely reach. The whirlpools on the surface now promised many submarine, propeller eating rocks and the back of nowhere is not a good place to be “up a creek without an engine”. We turned the motor off and slipped slowly back down river with no sound but the running water. Anywhere else in the world we would have to share the experience with all the other people but here there were no others, here the whole gorge was reserved for the two of us.

With four hours of daylight to still play with we retraced our route at a leisurely pace. The current was now with us so we could run the outboard motor at less speed and enjoy the relative silence and the amazing sense of solitude as we passed virgin forest and untouched hills with everything reflecting in the river.

Nearly seven hours after leaving Artemis we were back home after another exciting adventure. As the sun set, we enjoyed a coffee in the cockpit and agreed that we “did it right” again.