‘extreme’ thrills in the jet boats, flying over in helicopters and going out in Sea World’s and
other ‘adventure’ providers’ huge day tripper boats to who knows where.
Holiday money is big business.
But if anyone wants a real thrill, try to get on a helicopter filming a jet boat in action, probably
for a promotional video or brochure.
One morning we heard a helicopter sounding like it was in a dogfight. Sure enough, there it
was swooping low, then shooting up, backwards ahead of the speeding, zig zagging jet boat.
We got a full aerobatic display while they worked.
On the morning of our departure we even had a couple of hot air balloons aloft to send us
on our way.
We got to do a bit of shopping while we were there, refilled our gas bottles and caught up
with friends, both our new sailing friends and John and Rosemary, friends I’ve known since
my late teens in S. Africa. They got married recently and are working on a house they have
bought in the Mount Tambourine area. It’s a beautiful spot surrounded by rain forest
with tame kookaburras, crimson rosellas, rainbow lorikeets, cockatoos etc.
Quite a paradise.
Before leaving we decided to take on diesel and scouted the area for the easiest access to
a fuel wharf. The wind always picks up by mid morning so getting in early is wise, but the commercial tourist boats are there at 8 am when they open and have to get to their
passenger pick up points so they get priority.
When we got there the wind was just starting. I left what would have been a good margin
space but as we were just about past the entry pylon a gust got us and we hit it with our
rubbing strake. (Sandy’s blog… “we slammed into the jetty”!)
So with my reputation in tatters we tied up and took on around 650 litres. As we were
leaving we had to avoid a small fishing boat that had tied up in front of us. It was tight and
we had to battle the wind pinning us to the jetty, but we wiggled out without incident,
not that it did anything to restore the crew’s confidence in her skipper!
Our weather window favoured calm seas at the cost of good wind and we motorsailed for
most of the trip, bypassing Brisbane, the Sunshine Coast and the length of Rainbow Beach
to the southern end of Fraser Island.
It’s the biggest sand island on earth and is well covered with vegetation as well as having
fresh water springs. In fact until the 1970s there was a logging industry there extracting
fine hardwood timber. There was also sand mining but all that has stopped and the island
is heritage listed. Now there are limited inhabitants, dingoes, bird life and an everchanging
tribe of 4 wheel drives. There are campsites and a few basic resorts.
The island itself is separated from the mainland by the Great Sandy Strait which opens into Hervey Bay. At places it is wide and shallow with many sandbanks and quite large islands.
In other areas it is deep and narrow.
As we approached Wide Bay there was a wind shift as a southerly came through and we were
able to kill the engine and enjoy a couple of hours doing 6 knots on yankee and 30% mizzen.
The entrance to the Great Sandy Strait is a little tricky with a 3 mile sandbar sweeping out
and up from the southern side. The wind was gusting to 25 kts and had whipped up the swell when it was time to furl the yankee. As we turned head to wind and before we could get it
furled it started flogging as it sometimes does.
I was on the winch and heard Sandy say “It’s ripped right up!” I looked and there was our
poor old yankee with a gaping long split. I kept winding and eventually all the bits were secure
on the furler.
We had repaired that sail twice coming across the Pacific, once in The Marquesas and again
in Fiji. The last time it included patches on some pinholes that could be seen against the light. Only a few days ago Sandy noticed some more so we figured we’d probably need some sail
work again soon.
The Northsails guy says a sail should be good for a circumnavigation, or about 26,000 miles. We’ve done about 14,000 miles and the previous owners around 5 or 6,000 so it falls short.
Very frustrating and Australia is not a cheap place to get sails made.
No time to worry about it right then because we could see the waves breaking over the sandbank and it looked wild. The chart plotter gave us a track to run on, but there is supposed to be a
bright white light on the Fraser Island shore as the first lead in.
We watched our depth closing in but had no sighting of the light.
With the waves breaking on the bank it wasn’t difficult to see where the end was and we wallowed past it and turned sharply, picking up the next lead on the mainland.
The bank acted as a breakwater and things settled down a bit as we made our way into the strait
and eventually dropped anchor in Pelican Bay. I wouldn’t go so far as to say Sandy is ok with big sea entrances, but I saw the colour returning to her knuckles and I think she accepts that sometimes it’s a part of coastal sailing that can’t e avoided.
The wind remained strong and there was a bit of wave slap but the holding was good and we
got a fair night’s sleep.
The Great Sandy Strait has deep enough water for most of its 40 odd miles.
Between Stewart island and Turkey Island there is a 9 mile stretch that we would only get through on the last half of a rising tide, and we needed to start out at midday to hit that point around 3pm.
All went well, and although we were ticking over with just enough revs to keep steerage we were being swept along with the incoming tide at 5 - 6 knots. At times we idled and let the current carry us along but even so, we got to Stewart Island at 2:45.
Initially all went well and we found the recommended track was deep enough for us, so it came
as a rude shock when right next to a green beacon where the plotter and Lucas’s pilot book showed the track with 3.8 meters of water, we came to a shuddering stop.
The swiftly following current pushed us hard onto the bank and wriggle as we may, there was no
getting off. The heeling was disconcerting but we’d particularly chosen a rising tide, so that in just such an event we’d have the rising water working in our favour.
We held her stern to by keeping the revs up and 20 minutes later we were still wrestling with it.
We radioed Sandy Straits Coast Guard and they advised us that where we were was a problem, but that we still had enough tide to go to get us off. It was then that we were told that another yacht was stranded a short way behind us and they appeared to have a damaged rudder. Any vessel assistance would have to go to them first.
Within another 10 minutes we were free and continued up the Straits feeling a lot less confident about our chart plotter and pilot book. We had timed this shallow 9 miles to be behind us right on sunset and had picked a good anchorage beneath South White Cliffs, about 15 minutes
further on and out of the main stream. Now our timing was going to be a lot tighter and we never like to anchor in a new anchorage after dark.
We were making good time again and all was going well as we ticked off the red beacons passing on our starboard side, until we saw a beacon up ahead that was shaped like a drum instead of a pylon. It was red as it should be but the recommended track passed with this unusual one to port.
Sometimes you get markers just making you aware of something different, like an entrance to a possible anchoring area etc.
We stuck with the track. Big mistake!
We grounded solidly and once again the swirling current pushed us hard against the sandbank. Now it was time to get some local knowledge. There was no way of knowing if we should head left or right of the track to find deeper water and with the sun getting very near the horizon, not enough time to get it wrong. With the tide due to turn soon the last thing we needed was to be stuck there and end up on our side waiting 12 hours for the top of the next tide.
We hopped on the radio, gave Coast Guard our coordinates and were told we were on the wrong side of the beacon, by a long way.
Slowly we managed to swing around as the tide continued to lift us and when free we made straight for the beacon.
What a relief.
As we approached the beacon Coast Guard called and wanted all our details for their records... registration number, type of vessel, number on board etc.
We were trying to oblige, which was dumb, look for the next red beacon as well as a green to
gauge the channel width and with the distraction of the radio ran straight onto the sandbank
on the other side of the beacon! The navigable channel width is actually very narrow right there.
I was cursing my stupidity in fluent piratese as we were already down to late twilight.
Back on the VHF and this time we were told we would have to reverse out against the still swiftly flowing current holding us grounded, right to the red beacon again. Trying to turn wouldn’t do it.
Sandy kept directing me to the beacon as I upped the revs and wrestled the helm port and starboard to try and get loose. It took awhile but with the last of the flood tide we broke free and backed until we were at the beacon. It was just about dark and the beacon lights had come on
as we swung the bow straight at the next red light in the distance. We learnt later that the drum shaped beacon was in fact a relocatable one that gets moved when the sandbanks change.
With the moon nearly full we could see quite well as we picked our way carefully to the waypoint I’d set on the plotter, marking the end of the shallowest stretch. We could see the white cliffs
above the anchorage in the moonlight and edged towards them. There were a few boats anchored much further into the anchorage so as soon as we had a good spot, even though it was deep, we set the anchor and felt free relax at last.
More than enough drama for one day, or so you’d think.
I went down to the galley to make a couple of post sundown sundowners and started with getting ice. We freeze plastic soft drink bottles of water then cut away the bottle and break up the ice with a hammer. This time it was a square Fiji Water bottle and the plastic was particularly tough. I’d made some progress with a sharp knife and was thinking I should probably get the pliers to grip the plastic and rip it the rest of the way when the knife slipped. I looked in disbelief at the tip of my left thumb sitting at a weird angle as the blood started to flow.
My comments along the lines of “I really should be more careful…” brought Sandy rushing down. She took one look at it, turned pale and said “What are we going to do now?”
I was squeezing my thumb with the other hand but it wasn’t really stopping the bleeding.
“Just cut through the rest of it and we’ll get a compression bandage onto it.”
“Are you kidding? You’ll bleed to death!”
I got it under the tap and gave it a wash while Sandy raided our first aid kit. Together we got
a compression pad onto it with gauze strapping. I took a few pain killers, and finished making the sundowners.
Sandy called her daughter, Bek, who found the number for the triage nurse at Hervey Bay Hospital and she basically confirmed that we’d done all we could and should get a doctor to look at it
as soon as possible.
The next morning we got under way around mid morning and motored through the rest of the Straits. The changing scenery was interesting with the remains of old jetties and the occasional rusty remains of a once proud cargo vessel. We wished we could have explored more but the
urgency to get to Bundaberg to get started on a new sail and see a doctor took priority.
That night we anchored in Hervey Bay on the mainland side northwest of Urangan. An early start the following morning would get us into Bundaberg in the early afternoon.
All went according to plan and we tied up to Bundaberg Port Marina at 2pm.
Until next time…