Manly - Moreton Bay

Hello, First Mate here.

The Captain has his mind on many other things including short order cooking gourmet breakfast for 5 and making sure Arjuna doesn't run aground. So I have decided to update our current meanderings as we are falling behind with the Leaky Blog.

We are currently at Mooloolaba, but here is a quick summary of our 5 weeks at Manly/Moreton Bay. My apologies in advance - I can not match the delightful writing style of the captain. So I will try to make up for it with lots of pictures . . .




Reading you loud and clear Cap'n Barnacle

First Mate, Third Mate and Ship's Monkey rejoined Arjuna on the 21st February from their mountain retreat. By then distance education was in full swing and by happy chance the Third Mate was doing a history unit on the Settlement of Moreton  Bay. The Second Mate (recently demoted from Acting First Mate) was covering the Changing Status of Women in the 20th century, also of course extremely topical. The crew barely recognised the tanned Captain, now sporting a salty dog beard, and somewhat thinner after the vicissitudes of the sea and having to do so much short order cooking.

We stayed at East Coast Marina at Manly, a very friendly and well located marina. Manly Harbour is massive with 4 separate marinas. The Captain was grateful for an easy berth J8 right on the end of the marina which meant we could bring Arjuna in and out with ease. However it also meant a 900m walk there and back to the showers, toilets and washing machines which dramatically improved our daily step count and bladder/bowel control. The crew, to their credit, did not grumble, as there was plenty of interesting marine (as well as marina) life to observe along the great toilet trek. We were able to pick all sorts of interesting tidbits of information from some of the salty dogs at the marina and the boys were able to play with and walk an actual salty dog, Mambo. We were also able to use the position at the end of the marina to use the kayaks and zodiac to do our shopping.

Marina Lassitude

Marina Lassitude soon set in despite the many lovely visitors from Brisbane who came out to greet us. So on Tuesday 25th we decided it was time to test the sea legs with a voyage out on Moreton Bay. We anchored at Horsehoe Bay, Peel Island for 2 days and then another 2 nights at Lucinda Bay (South Tangalooma Road) at Moreton Island. The water was a balmy 29 degrees and both anchorages were pristine and sandy. It was hard to believe we could see Brisbane CBD 30km away in the distance, while we had miles of beach to ourselves. The water was teeming with marine life including turtles, dolphins, crabs, tuna, starfish, sharks, but frustratingly no eating fish were caught. Again we questioned whether we needed head on to tropical islands when this had been on our doorstep all along.



Horseshoe Bay, Peel Island

On returning to the marina, we discovered someone had backed over the front of our car in the marina car park without leaving their details. The next couple of weeks were taken up with  mundane tasks like organising for the car to be repaired, replacing a phone that had been submerged in the marina when the First Mate fell in rescuing errant children and a kayak, and assembling the long awaited autopilot parts which had finally arrived. But the boring bits were brightened by visits from many lovely friends in Brisbane, a quick reunion with our dog (who had so far not eaten any guinea pigs), going to soccer, and celebrating the First Mate's 40th birthday in style in a flash hotel with hot running water.

A further trip out onto the Bay for another 6 days helped break this time up, as the weeks were ticking by and Marina Fever had taken hold. This time due to the stronger southeast wind we anchored off the western side of Peel Island near the old Lazaret or leprosarium. Peel Island has a fascinating history. It was the site initially of a quarantine station (when ships were still coming through between Moreton and North Stradbroke Islands), then an asylum for the mentally ill and "inebriates", and later until 1953 a leprosarium. Many of the buildings still stand.

We had planned to head to Blaksley's anchorage off North Stradbroke Island for the night but after our depth sounder read 0.0 on the falling tide we cut our losses and headed back to anchor at Deanbilla Bay at Dunwich for the night. The crew were keen to return to Lucinda Bay to see if the structural works they had started on the beach were still standing and to complete further work on it, so a course was plotted north by northwest (and then a bit of east).



Redevelopment Lucinda Bay (awaiting DA approval)

On the way out we hit a 30 knot squall. As it approached the Captain ordered the crew on deck to reef the sails. However the crew seemed tardy to respond to his commands.  Possibly they were busy below assembling their wet weather gear (maybe they were playing Minecraft) but the Captain is still struggling to make sense of it all. Anyhoo, the sails were reefed, amid the Captain's recriminations and grumbling.

Unfortunately the Third Mate came a cropper when he slipped on the wet deck and cracked his chin open. When we were finally safely anchored at Lucinda Bay, the bow cabin was transformed into a minor ops room and the First Mate had her first (and hopefully last opportunity) to perform surgery on a boat. Thanks to the wonderful people at Kenmore, you'll be pleased to know we were well equipped to deal with our first medical mishap. The Third Mate held up extremely well (it was his first time having a local anaesthetic and sutures) and now has quite a Story to Tell.



The Third Mate recuperates from his ordeal

The wind dropped below 10 knots on the weekend and every man and his dog ventured out. We watched in bemusement as group of large motor cruisers dropped anchor virtually on top of us and each other so that we might clearly overhear all of their fascinating conversations and witty repartee. At night we basked in the gentle glow of their spotlights trained on our boat and their blue neon underwater lights. As the tide dropped the consequences of anchoring on top of each other became apparent as one of the boats swung into another and much shenanigans ensued.



"We shall fight on the beaches . . ."
The invading army storm the beaches of  Normandy.