The Battle North Continues

Our next hop North was a relatively mild(?) distance of 68nm (again). As usual, the wind, swell, sea and fish were all the wrong direction. Most of the crew dutifully arose at first bell for yoga and pilates on the foredeck before their breakfast of eggs benedict and fresh expresso coffee.
The Acting First Mate was asleep in the bow stateroom once more as we left Coffs Harbour and had to be awakened to be inserted into a life jacket as we crossed the bar.

The glassy, thong friendly waters of Coffs Harbour

The waters North of Coffs Harbour are full of rocks and small islands as well as a confusing array of marine zones. In some areas, trolling is off limits. In others, line fishing. The Rear Admiral was keen to get the new fishing tackle off the back to see if we could hook an early whale or two but the complexities of the marine zones soon triggered heated discussion as to when we could fish. As is typical on the sea, discussions soon escalated with rum bottles smashing against bollards and various side characters swinging from the rigging. Smart phones were pulled and various conflicting web sites consulted. Eventually, we argued our way out of the marine park and the line could go in. No fish were caught that day.

The Acting First Mate, disturbed from his slumber that morning prematurely again and without much more than a salt biscuit for breakfast, was too sick for school and passed the time re-reading all the books on board instead.

We made good time towards our chosen destination of Yamba. The crew, easily excited, were captivated by a small quantity of pumice floating past. The Captain shivered hoping to avoid exfoliating the shiny gelcoat off the boat.

Our progress was so good that we were off Angourie at 1400 hours. Angourie, as the Rear Admiral will point out to whoever he can, is where surf legend Nat Young grew up. Or still lives. The Captain often tunes out at these times and is slightly loose on the actual details. The reader is directed to the internet or the Rear Admiral for more information on this thrilling subject.

We dialled in to VMR Yamba to inform them of our rapid approach and to consult them on the state of the bar given that it was approaching the very bottom of the tide. We felt confident that all would be well given the light winds and low swell. VMR Yamba was shocked at our early arrival but advised that the entrance to the mighty Clarence was clear so we battened down the hatches in preparation for a triumphant entry.

Although conditions were calm, there was still a reasonable tidal swell running directly out off the entrance so we snuck Arjuna around in tight on the Southern side and into the river.

It was now just on low tide although the Clarence River keeps running out for some time after low tide. We nosed out of the main channel and in through a tiny gap on the Yamba side of the Clarence known as the Hole-in-the-Wall. At this point, depth started dropping off dramatically. We had studied old Al Lucas and were aware that the channel into Yamba Harbour was shallow and narrow so we kept the yacht close to the leads and watched the depth drop further.

There is a turn around a small island to get into the "harbour" and as we entered this very narrow channel Arjuna's depth sounder went to zero and the helmsman hit reverse. With a still falling tide we didn't want to beach on a sandbar. We motored back up the channel and dropped anchor off Whiting Beach to await some more water and wonder how you could have a harbour that boats can't get into.

To avert boredom and cannibalism we tossed a few lines in the water to pass the time. It seemed like a good thing with tinnies at strategic points around us and people fishing off the beach and the sea wall. However, watching the fish lubbers at Crowdy Head sitting on the sea wall catching absolutely nothing had made us conscious that not even the presence of a million fish in a small area was a guarantee of a catch.

Battling a river monster

However, thirty minutes in the Acting First Mate had a mighty strike, his rod bent in two and we almost lost him overboard. A mighty struggle ensued and he eventually pulled in what turned out to be quite a fine looking catfish. Not a muddy, repulsive Oxley Creek catfish but a magnificent Clarence River catfish. We assisted the Acting First Mate to remove the hook and the catfish grunted its thanks as it was released. The Captain is not sure if fish grunt much - most of the fish the Captain has ever caught are either deadly poisonous or extremely spikey but in all cases have been completely mute.

River monster

Around two hours later, it was felt that we should have a few more centimetres of water to help us into the harbour so we up anchored and returned to the channel. The depth was still at a level of concern if one was to preserve the pristine level of paint on one's keel bottom. Nonetheless, we proceeded at walking pace around the twists and turns keeping the cardinal markers close. The depth sounder dropped again to zero and 0.1 and other alarming levels before we finally sighted the Yamba Marina and pulled into our nominated berth. We observed the trawlers and various other deep keeled yachts and wondered how often they could actually leave the harbour.

A couple of people a few boats up were going about their business as we walked to the marina office. In brief conversation, we expressed our amazement at the tricky channel entrance. The salty dogs laughed heartily at our incompetence and followed this up with an "easy if you know the way" type rejoiner. Just the sort of support sailors offer each other. Their advice was to follow the ferry out or if that didn't work to sail up the beach and across the island watching out for trees. Useless.

Fishing trawlers laying about in Yamba....trapped

Yamba is a nice town. It is, after all, an easy ten minute drive up the road from where Nat Young surfs.

Whiting Beach, Yamba

We ended up spending two nights nestled in the welcoming arms of Yamba Marina. The day after we arrived, the wind blew up and the bar became rather unfriendly. We elected to ride it out in port - as did the fishing fleet. To fill the time, the Rear Admiral set about trying to catch dinner and the rest of the crew assembled our folding bike and scooter and headed in to town.

Yamba surf beach, sea wall and river entrance

Later, we also managed a surf.

Arjuna...at rest