Longing for the Sea

When we last met, our intrepid party was meeting the new yacht and much cleaning and repairing was being undertaken. While the boat was berthed on the visitor wharf at Kirribilli we were visited by friends from Radelaide and we were able to subject the vessel to an additional payload of children - just to be certain that dials and knobs would hold up to the strain.

Prior to our arrival in Sydney, the Rear Admiral had spent most of his waking hours (when not assembling boating task lists) calling around marinas, waterways officials and other random contacts to try and secure some easily accessible marina or swing moorings where we could clean and work on the boat before departure. Within two days at Kirribilli we shifted the boat to its next port of call at Pulpit Point - on a progressive tour of the Sydney waterfront.

At Pulpit Point we got a good picture of the logistics associated with maneuvering a sizeable sailing vessel amongst high priced nautical real estate. Our yacht turned out to be too big for the planned berth and as a result we were assigned a spot on the visitor's wharf. A moderate southerly was blowing as we pulled in. With the wind directly against the hull it was all but impossible to fend the boat off the marina. All available fenders were deployed to try and protect the hull. The boat spent an uncomfortable time pushing against the marina until the southerly died off the next day. At Pulpit, we unloaded the contents of our land based transport into the boat, taking onboard a full library for the second mate and IT equipment to rival that of a small business.

After our brief stop at Pulpit, the next destination was Woolwich - only several hundred metres away as the bream swims. At Woolwich, we had a lined up a swing mooring but the evening before our arrival we learnt that this had been allocated to someone else. The marina manager at Woolwich was extremely accommodating and simply allocated us in a marina berth instead .. hinting at a suggested beer exchange rate. The captain, ever wise to the vagueries of the weather and the play of the tides (and particularly alarmed by the berthing exercise at Puplit) had inspected the marina the night before and as a result was fully aware of the parking spot (as land dwellers would know it) requirements. So, armed with this information, we departed Pulpit under slow engine for Woolwich. Before arriving, we practiced a variety of reverse parking maneuvres with the idea of reversing into the berth. As they say, preparation is the key and our preparation paid off with a perfectly executed reverse park into our marina berth.

Woolwich marina is only small. The marina manager had mentioned that they experienced a few knots of tide across the marina arms but left us to find out that the very regular Sydney ferries and random party boats and uber cruisers would send out decent bow waves that set the vessels in the marina tossing and turning. We spent our first night on the boat at Woolwich on a Saturday night and also discovered that the sea wall next to the marina was a popular Saturday night party fishing location. Fisherfolk enjoyed shouting at each other and waving glow sticks until the wee hours of the morning - much like they would in a night club except with a lower cover charge.

On our next trip out we took along some friends from Brisbane who were passing through town and set sail for Manly. Being a fine Sunday on the Harbour, the water was awash with boats of all sizes and a fine time was had by all as we wove our way amongst the traffic, everyone on the water was obviously adhering to the International regulations for preventing collisions at sea 1972 so there was no confusion at all. We ended up dropping our anchor amongst the super yachts at Athol Bay. This being a formative moment for the third mate who suddenly found our not terribly small yacht terribly small in comparison and lacking in a certain amount of chrome.

Preparation is not the key, as They now say. On our return to Woolwich with the noreaster up and several knots of tide doing something and the contents of Sydney Harbour motoring past us at high speed - our initial perfect reverse park into Woolwich was exposed for what it was: lucky. We attempted the same reverse parking method 9 or 10 times with a full deployment of fenders and children to buffer any knocks. We discovered at this point that our boat's response in reverse, particularly with wind against the bow, was minimal. However, delicate use of the helm and the throttle enabled us to jiggle around the marina to avoid insurance claims. Those watching from afar would have recognised many similarites with Austen Powers doing a 20 point turn in a golf buggy. We exited the marina and dropped anchor. The captain cursed under his breath, knowing that all the salty dogs at Woolwich were laughing at his poor seapersonship.

After taking stock of the situation over dinner, the somewhat ridiculous suggestion of driving in forwards was advanced and thus we proceeded happily into the marina. Our valued guests dropped to the ground to kiss the sweet solid earth.

We ended up spending some weeks in Sydney. Over the course of these weeks we were able to successfully deplete our bank balance in a variety of ways: screwing the boom onto the mast after discovering it was held on by an elaborate system of fake rivets, having our life raft condemned when it was sent in for service, sending Trevor up the mast a few times to rejoin wires and endless trips to Whitworths to buy extremely specialised cleaning substances. Every different surface in a boat requires a particular chemical and reacts badly otherwise. Bleach, left on stainless steel, causes pitting and corrosion. Acetone on fibreglass cuts the gloss. Cleaning clear plastic windows on the dodger must be undertaken with a product developed by the US Airforce - any other cleaner will cause the top of the boat to explode into flames and burn to the waterline.

Arjuna with figurehead

One major task in Sydney was the renaming of the vessel. It wasn't that the boat had a bad name. However, given that we intended to make this our home for a year it was felt that we should personalise it. The search for a new name started before we left Brisbane and we settled on one that had something to do with our surname and conveniently also the name of our dog: Archer was left with friends in Brisbane while we sail and now guards their guinea pigs (if by guarding one means 'has them in his mouth'). The name we ended up with was Arjuna. Happily this wasn't on 10000 Boat Names.com - which is like coming up with a crazy baby name that no one else has used.

There are procedures in renaming a boat. These generally involve much drinking and splashing around of champagne and as it turned out - a large range of cleaning fluids - because the toughest task is getting the old name physically off the hull. A variety of
knowledgeable personnel including the internet provided input into removing adhesive from gelcoat. As expected, the advice varied - so the captain hung over the bow with acetone, turps, Goof Off and eucalyptus oil trying each in turn. For the record, the answer was turps and a fingernail.

Woolwich is a convenient place to access Sydney and as a result we had numerous visitors come aboard while in port and the pub was a short stroll up the grass. Friends with vastly more fishing experience than us presented us with a gift of 100 pound line and some lures with guaranteed catching powers. This boosted our tackle gear from goldfish to whale in one fell swoop. Windsurfing legend and previous circumnavigator of Australia, Mark, took time off from work to size up Arjuna. While the Captain pointed out interesting features like our cup holders and fold up table Mark eyed off our sails, engine and hull before carefully pronouncing the boat at least fit enough for afternoon cocktails but not suitable for rescuing passengers from Russian icebreakers.

As the time went by on the marina, it soon became clear that there were no laughing salty dogs at Woolwich. Entering and exiting the marina struck fear into all but the most experienced pilot and helmsperson or for those vessels with thrusters on every corner. Most boats entering or leaving appreciated a fend off or someone to catch a rope. On more than a few occasions hearty thanks were delivered for helping a boat in. One boat owner exclaimed "thank goodness you were here" before dropping to kiss the sweet solid earth. It turned out that the 52 foot behemoth yacht with bow thrusters would stand off awaiting better conditions rather than park in uncertain winds.

On Australia Day, our journey was almost cut short before it started when a sleek motor cruiser attempting to exit the marina managed to slam both engines on full and drive up and onto the boat next to us and split its bow in two. We were saved when the boat deflected off the mooring pole towards our neighbour instead of us. The neighbouring boat was put out of action for an expected 3 months.

1st mate aloft

Australia Day was further marred when our flag, proudly hoisted up a halyard with another sheet to bring it down, ripped leaving the flag marooned at the top of the mast.
Never adverse to some complex rope work, both the second and third mates offered their services ascending the mast via bosun's chair. The first mate (and technically the boatswain - although never officially certified) overruled on safety grounds and was thus hoisted into the sky to retrieve the colours.

Excavations commence at Store Beach

On our final weekend in Sydney, we took the fair ship Arjuna up to Manly and overnighted at Little Manly Cove. We took the tender into Store Beach in the morning. With the kids digging in the sand and swimming in clear Sydney Harbour water we looked at each other and scratched our heads why anyone would need to go sailing to islands with this so accessible. We also managed to travel to the opposite end of the harbour the next night and anchored off Abbotsford after passing (narrowly) under the Gladesville Bridge. This is somewhat muddy and one would be less inclined to decide not to sail up the East coast of Australia after mooring here - however this area of the harbour / Parramatta River also has its charms...and many fisherfolk parked around us all night.


And so, hopefully, we come closer to actually writing something about sailing.