It's been a while since the last blog, we didn't sail much last year, life got in the way. A brief saunter back up the NT coast around the Coburg Peninsula was all we could manage, we found a idyllic spot to drop anchor for a few days, fished, watched dolphins, played mandolin, read and relaxed.
This year is different, for Gavin at least. He has now embarked on an epic trip from Darwin through the Kimberleys, to Broome, then Perth and the plan is that I join him there and sail on to Adelaide.
Fortunately he is not alone out there on the water at present. Greg is sailing with him all the way from Darwin back to his home in Adelaide, Bruce also did the Darwin to Broome leg and now Blair is on the boat to Perth. ANYWAY is currently somewhere, in the middle of nowhere or maybe anywhere. Actually not quite true, I can track the boat through Greg's SPOT gismo which helps me feel more connected, slightly.
Right now it shows them heading for South Hedland. They have been sailing straight into the wind since they left Broome so slow going.
However the purpose of this Blog update is really to publish the photos and text Gavin sent from the Kimberleys. The photos may not in the right places at present so I may rearrange later.
"Day eight of
the Kimberley exploratlon.
All sorts of
thoughts pass through my mind on trips like this. The arrogance of this
subheading comes to mind straight away. The
real explorers were amazing…to travel waters like these with the
technologies they had and without prior knowledge took great courage and determination.
Their systems must have been flooded with adrenalin several times a day every
day for months on end. If they lived long enough to be eligible for arthritic
pains they would never have noticed them.
Me? I’ve
been “alarmed’ twice a day now on every day! I have to say, however, that some
of that fright/fight/flight stuff has been caused by the use of modern technology
and the apparently authoritative information carried within it.
It is
arguably better to have no information than bad information. Most of the charts
are accurate, it is just the whizz-kid trickery of current flow prediction that
is palpably wrong. Interestingly, when trying to find the source of the problem
(currents shown relating to the ebb and flow of the tide are the opposite of
reality) I find the same on the Admiralty charts for this region. My chart was
purchased nine days ago and was
adjusted up to the date of purchase.
Enough whingeing.
This place, the Kimberley coast, is just as fantastical as I have heard, just
as beautiful, wild, extensive, varied and full of life as I imagined. I was
here for three months, mainly fishing for Spanish Mackrel over submerged
offshore banks, in 1992. I remember thinking then that I had wandered into
Brobdinag, the fictional counter to the land of Lilliput in Gullivers Travels. That
impression is here again, huge tides, huge currents, huge fish, huge reptiles, and
a feeling of being very small and naked in the middle of it all.
The weather
is hot today and winds have been non-existent except for late in the
afternoons, when an on-shore sea breeze rises, sometimes up to 15kts. At
present we are trending down the coast to the SW and as the tides are flooding
south in the mornings, we are faced with an inconvenient choice, either to motor
in the calm morning with a favourable tide, or sail in the afternoons with the
current against us. The latter provides enjoyable sailing but gets us nowhere.
The tidal currents can be 4kts or more around the many headlands.
Today we used
the calm sea and a furious Yanmar diesel to get to the Mitchell River before
the tide turned.
Rivers are a
feature of this trip. We arrived from our three day crossing of the Bonaparte
Gulf at the mouth of the King George river. Not such a long gorge this one, so
we dinghied upstream between spectacular sandstone walls until we found a cliff
with water trickling down. Earlier visitors had left a hawser and a rope ladder
to help others climb the vertical rocks. A bit tricky and slightly scary, but
well worth the effort when rewarded by freshwater pools above the cliff to
drink from and swim in.
No saltwater
swimming in this country! The nearest creek to todays anchorage is
called
porosis creek. Just a clue.
Later on we
found another good anchorage, named Freshwater Bay. Yes, behind the mangrove
fringe was a creek that led to a rock wall, easily scaled this time, with a series
of freshwater pools and cascades. Friendly birds, small freshwater fishes,
Pandanis and Capok trees amongst the sclerophill and monsoon vines. Beautiful.
It was easy here to fill up our freshwater tanks to the maximum. The bay had
some interesting residents though, a rather curious family of 4 metre Grey-nurse
or Tawny sharks (not sure which) and a very large hammerhead. They liked us,
and kept nuzzling the hull as they swam around and round us. It may be because
we had a 12kg Spanish Mackrel hanging over the stern as we arrived. The
Hammerhead took the head and shoulders off the mackrel before we realised, but he still left too much
fresh fish for just the three of us.
So it all
feels very far away from ‘anywhere’, wherever that is. I suppose by that I
mean/feesl far from where friends and family and (my) important people are.
In
Freshwater Bay we spoke briefly to a couple who arrived shortly after we did.
They were in a lovely, old, wooden, extremely practical Queensland style family
cruiser. Apart from being impressed with the setup of their boat, I was also
aware of their self-containment. I refer not just to the fact that this 38’
boat carried 1400 ltrs of diesel and 1600 ltrs of water, but to the fact that
they were seemingly relaxed and ‘complete’. They were together in that place, they were (I
extrapolate) not as far ‘away’ as we are from family and friends.
I couldn’t
afford the kind of Ark that would take all of my family and friends anyway
(Anyway?). It would have to be very big
and have lots of separate spaces for all of you very different people. All
strong personalities too, come to think of it. Not a good idea. Did Noah have
these worries?
I have two
brilliant crew with me on this part of the trip.
Greg Jackson
has already sailed (it was his first ever sail) with me on a delivery from the
Solomon Islands to Darwin. Later he sailed on “Anyway” from the Bay of Islands
to Noumea and Cairns, and he now says that he feels as if he is in his second
home. He cooks and even polishes the interior and oils the teak when not
helming. When I make the autopilot steer
he gets jealous!
Bruce Garnet
has not been on such a prolonged trip or a large sailing boat before, but is
taking to it with the characteristic gusto with which he approaches anything he
does. He is also an enthusiastic cook, we are eating well! The new (crocodile
repellent) aluminium dinghy is very well secured on deck in a cradle of Bruce’s
design and construction. And come to think of it, there’s another 3kg of curry
in the freezer that he cooked before we left Darwin. The fish he caught was too
big, we’ll never get around to the curry!
Another reason to have Whanau on board.
Day 11,
Sunday 14th September.
A day of
rest. The fact that it Sunday is coincidental. The fact that this anchorage is
called ‘Shelter bay’ is appropriate. There’s no significant wind or swell to be
concerned about, but if there were then this bay would be as good as it gets.
We are offshore, between East and West Purdue Islets, where the channel between
them hooks around and crates a space surrounded by walls made from crumbling
rectilinear blocks of red sandstone. We anchored last night and saw reef sharks
(roast lamb offcuts seem to be to their taste) and a turtle. Frigate birds are
visible high above. Strangely, there seem to be a lot of Coucal Pheasants on
the islands. Considering what crap fliers they are it seems surprising that
they are here at all. But I
love the noises they make.
We have no
more than ten days to get to Broome if we are to keep to our schedule. There is
so much to explore here! Our chosen strategy will be to let the winds decide.
Sail when we can and explore where the winds take us. Its as good a discernment
as any. The West Australian Cruising Guide does not know it all, and has led us
into at least one unwise decision. The Mitchell river was a waste of a day and
several litres of fuel. Too far off
track and not rewarding enough really. To have got more out of that visit would
have consumed more effort and time than we felt we had. Do it properly or not
at all? Diesel is an issue as well. By planning to get to places there is
pressure to produce the result. We have been caught sometimes with a dying wind
and strengthening adverse current…and then had to use the diesel. Food and
water is plentiful in the Kimberley. Wind and diesel is not. Serendipity has always been rewarding
for me, so allow that freedom? Part of adopting that attitude led us to hoist
the spinnaker yesterday. It was a good (not very) ‘dry’ run for us. The last
time it was out of the bag was before New Caledonia, in very strong winds that
eventually blew the head fastening out of the big colourful balloon. Now I
remember how to use it we will do it again, hopefully with more wind next time.
I think the reason that the spinnaker filled at all yesterday was because we
were travelling backwards with the current, and it was the apparent wind that
filled the sail!
Oh, and
yesterday we got good footage of playful dolphins at the bow, and a large whale
tail that did its iconic wave at us as it disappeared, before we could get the
cameras out.
Monday 15th.
Lovely
sailing now.
A turquoise sea and dusty
blue sky, with only a few shredded cumulus over the land to the east. We tried
to sail out of the bay but, despite hoisting the spinnaker again, like a huge
impotent flag, we had to use the engine to get away from the reefs. But only
for an hour or so….then sails hoisted again, close hauled on the moderate sea
breeze, to just make our rhumb line. We should be anchored in the north of the
Coronation Islands shortly after the tide turns against us.
In fact we
didn’t make it to the Coronation Anchorage, but found our own anchorage in a bay on the east side of
Desfontaines island.
The next day
we deliberately sailed close to Bernoulli island, three engineless aviators
paying tribute to one of the several souls whose scientific observations have
been invoked to explain heavier-than-air flight. Not that Bernoulli knew this,
neither do I expect that he was aware of this remote and uninhabited island
named in his honour. Good on yer Bernoulli, I feel I should apologise for
promoting Coander as well as you!
The
conundrum described earlier, of sailing against the tide in the afternoon sea
breezes, is getting less problematic now. The tides are changing one hour later
every day, and moving toward neaps as well.
Today we
will have several hours of daylight after dropping the anchor. There are
reportedly a lot of whales around here. Hopefully they are not as shy as the
last one.
And on
Tuesday we saw a whale!
In fact a
mother and calf played just beside
‘Anyway’ as we sailed along in very calm water.
We are
getting to understand the patterns of this strange land a bit better. What does
that mean? It means that we are used to surprises and dramatic changes in
topography, both above and below water. It means that the tides and their
dramatic effect are less alarming and better respected, and that we are working
out an almost predictable daily weather pattern. That in turn means that we are
freeing ourselves from the Freemantle sailing club Kimberley cruising Guide.
Its an amazingly good and useful volume, but, like Alan Lucas’ Guides, it does
not cover all the good anchorages and places. In fact that would be impossible.
The further west we sail the wilder and more convoluted the coast becomes.
On Thursday
18th we were foxed by the complex Kimberley tidal patterns again. We
planned to get near to the vast Montgomery reef and watch the waterfalls pour
off it as the tide fell. But the tide was so neap that the water never got
below the reef! I think that this is a rare event, but unfortunately not a
spectacular one. We sailed past instead, down to Raft Point, doing 6 to 7 knots
through the water. Lovely.
Friday 19th.
Not a drop of wind! No horizon…just blue sea and sky. The (beautiful) monotony
and silence punctuated several times by huge splashes and waving whale tails,
and our shouts of excitement to see them. The cameras are never ready though!
The makeshift tiller/monitor steering device does well, again, in these calms,
leaving the crew free to do boatwork and write crap like this. Bruce mended
some of the teak cockpit seating. Greg continued his Ukelele studies. We should
get to Koolan Island before the tide turns and hope to buy diesel and take on
water in Dog Leg Creek and Silver Gull Creek respectively.
And we
did…..
First we
motored into Dog Leg Creek, just south of Koolan Island, where we found a
somewhat bemused and isolated Kiwi living on a large rusted out old barge and
selling fuel. It reminded me of those science fiction space movies where huge
rusting structures float in the middle of nowhere. But it didn’t feel sinister
and I couldn’t see Sigourney Weaver anywhere (a pity) so we approached with
confidence. As with the next “facility”
there was as much rust as substance in the structure. Diesel was $3 a litre,
but hugely easy to obtain in comparison with Broome, and worth taking on board.
The lonely Kiwi seemed as if he didn’t know how he had got there, and didn’t
know when he might be replaced, but was typically pleasant and humorous
nonetheless.
Then back
round the appropriately named Dog Leg and into Silver Gull Creek.
Marion and
Phil had retired from sailing some fifteen or more years ago to create a very
improbable camp at the head of this small and again twisty creek. They made a
bushy but beautiful open-air home where BHP had put in some water tanks in the
1950’s. Needless to say, the tanks were well rusted! However they still
contained the most beautiful tasting fresh water that continuously poured in
and out of them. It never stops. One was now a swimming tank. Luxury! From inside
the tank you could look out and down to the saltwater and mangroves (and
crocodiles) to where “Anyway” was moored. Marion and Phil left last year. Now
Shelley and Mal live there and welcome visitors. Shelley still sells some
jewellery that Marion had made when she was there. We gingerly approached the
fantastically rusted remaining structure that was once a dock (vertical steel
like a skinny Giacommetti sculpture, but weaker) and filled the boat with that
beautiful water from the pipe that was permanently running into the sea. Greg
and Bruce bought T shirts and I became a
member of the ‘Squatters Arms Boat
Club”. This was a very enjoyable visit.
Then the fun
stopped for a few days. I anticipated a pleasant sail past Cape Leveque and
down to Broome, but it was not to be. We found ourselves constrained by oyster
leases and reefs, forced out to the west of the Lacipede Islands (reefs) and
battling 30kt headwinds and 3 to 4 metre waves. Instead of two days and one
night we took three days and two nights, and even then had to approach Broome
in the dark. Not a pleasant passage. And Broome is a very difficult place for
keelboats. More on that later….. "
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