The rest are just below the surface and a serious trap for the unwary. In the middle
of the skirting reefs is a lagoon with a sandy bottom, apart from where there is more coral scattered randomly throughout the whole area.
On the northern side is a narrow channel into the lagoon marked by green and red beacons, and as soon as you’re through the reef there’s a warning beacon and you
have to do a sharp 90 degree turn before venturing further into the lagoon. There
you'll hopefully find a spot that won’t snag the anchor. The good part is that the water is crystal clear so with good daylight you can aim the anchor at a sandy spot.
We got there in the late afternoon, around 4pm and all we could see was reef and breaking waves and in the middle of it all, 2 little beacons that didn’t do a thing to settle the nerves. Sandy was on the bowsprit picking our way through. A hand waved
to the left, or right could mean “Go that way”, or “watch out for that coral right there!” We made it as the sun was getting low and set the anchor in clear white sand under
6 meters of water. There was coral around but it was deep and although I was worried about winding the chain around a chunk of it, I was more concerned about not having
enough chain out and dragging onto a reef. Chain is cheaper to replace than a boat so
we put out a lot.
There were half a dozen other boats in the lagoon plus a few ‘cattle barges’ to ferry tourists to the beach and snorkeling spots when the big day trippers come in from Bundaberg or the Town of 1770. The evening was on us and it was overcast and squally so we decided not to tempt any sharks at their dinner time.
The night was comfortable and we both slept well. The grey skies were still around in the morning along with a few showers. Around lunchtime there was a break in the weather so we launched the dinghy and picked our way through the coral maze to the shore.
On the north side of the island the beach is just dried out broken coral and hard on
the feet. Nearby there was a path into the forest which is made up of a canopy of low trees, probably 10 meters in height. The island is a marine park and in the right seasons shearwaters nest in burrows in the ground, and turtles invade the island to lay their eggs there too. We walked across the island and then made our way back around the eastern shore.
The peace and beauty was wonderful.
Seagulls perched on the roots and limbs of dead trees making quite a picture. Then we spotted a turtle in the shallow water just a few feet from the edge. Of course we
had to get a picture of it, my job for some reason, and we stalked it most of the way back to the dinghy. I’ve got pictures of a dark shadow in the water, dozens of them.
The water was so clear I could catch him with his flippers spread so there is no mistake he’s a turtle. Some even with a little splash where he’d just ducked down again after catching a breath.
I seriously think he was holding his breath just waiting until I dropped the camera.
Eventually Sandy spotted a second one and I got the shot on his second breath. If only that stupid first one knew he’ll never get on Facebook now!
Late that afternoon we headed over to the back of Peggy-Anne. The owners, Norm
and Dawn motorsail up and down the coast holding little ‘dinghy concerts’. We all
tied up off their transom and chipped in $5 for the Prostate Cancer Foundation.
As the sun was getting low all 4 dinghies rubbed shoulders and enjoyed some Willie Nelson, Jimmy Buffett, Everly Brothers etc. It was simple and suited that setting. We had the perfect ending to it too with all of us watching the sun as a ball of fire slip below the horizon.
It was a glorious sunset and we all knew what we were hoping for, the mysterious
green flash that sometimes occurs as the sun disappears into the sea.
We’ve only seen it once before and it was interesting but hardly impressive. This time we got the perfect example and no, we didn’t get a picture of it. There was a collective spontaneous ‘WOW’ as for a split second we all saw a large, brilliant green dot the colour of a fluorescent emerald.
It’s a sight that will stay with us forever.
During the concert one of the smaller yachts, Pelican, started dragging her anchor. Paul, the owner and another couple took off to go and salvage it before it reached the reef. He continued to struggle to set his anchor, which was way too light, even though his boat is only three tons. He was going to have no choice but to get out of the lagoon before total dark and do another solo night sail, probably to the mainland. He’d done a night sail the night before so was really not in great shape to do another one.
We offered to let him raft up alongside Wind Wanderer.
We have good ground tackle and at 30 tons, his 3 ton boat wasn’t going to add much to the load. He was very appreciative and an interesting guy. He’d worked on clam trawlers for years so over coffee we learnt all about it. They drag a chain over the seabed with a net just above it. As the clams are disturbed they leap up on their water jets and into the net. I shudder to think what it does to the seabed!
The movement of the boat with the additional load on one side was quite different and Sandy found it difficult to sleep. But we held firm and both left at 7 in the morning to exit the lagoon and head for Pancake Creek on the coast. Pelican only draws half a meter and we envied her as we picked our way gingerly through the coral, Sandy on
the bowsprit again.
As we cleared the reef Pelican had her simple Chinese style sail up and was going
easily when a gybe showed just how tender she is!
We got 3 sails up and started a good run for the coast. From time to time the wind
died and we had to motorsail a bit, but for the last few hours we were dancing along
at 7.5 knots with 15 knots of wind on the beam. Why can’t it always be that good.
We arrived at Clews Point late in the afternoon, furled the sails and zigzagged through the entrance and into Pancake Creek. Half a mile upstream we set the anchor in a
surprisingly calm anchorage for the night. An hour later Pelican arrived and motored further in where he could park himself on the beach. We really are the two extremes of monohull cruising.
Until next time…