Middle Percy to Mackay

What with the endless tasks on a working sailing vessel it is difficult to find time to put pen to paper and update this journal. The First Mate sagely advised that the Captain should spend less time with the pen and paper and more time with a computer keyboard. It is this sort of insubordination that has seen many a mutiny and grounding of vessels.

We have learned previously of the catch of many fish at South Percy and our arrival at Middle Percy. The First Mate failed to mention that one of the crew reacted poorly after eating the BBQ fish. In fact, quite a serious allergic type reaction appeared that had us reviewing our distance from medical support. Arjuna carries a medical kit to rival that of many a hospital but in this case we lacked the sort of syringe full of potion that that one might stab into an ailing crew member's chest. The Captain prepared a traditional homeopathic remedy by dipping the bones of the offending fish into water and then diluting the solution 10000 times. By the time this was available however, the Second Mate had made some progress towards recovery. All in all, the episode simply provided further evidence that the Captain tends to catch either a) no fish, b) small fish or c) poisonous or dangerous fish.

West Bay, Middle Percy. The Gathering of the Fleet

We had arrived fairly late into West Bay at Middle Percy Island and stayed on the boat. This bay and beach is spiritual home base of the Grey Navy that patrols these parts and we were slightly nervous that we might encounter a veritable flotilla of anchored cruising couples. As it was, there were only a handful of yachts in the bay - all soaking up the enjoyable rolling swell that permeates the bay continually. The next morning - perhaps orders had been issued on some encrypted naval frequency not open to us - all boats in the bay departed leaving us lolling in the sunshine on our own. We deployed the Zodiac and made haste to visit this popular shore.

The beach at West Bay is delightfully tropical with its fringing line of palm trees and sandy beach piled with coconuts. The focal point at Middle Percy is the two storey "shack" in which cruising yachts have for decades placed memorabilia from their boats. This is also a social gathering place - although we had no one to socialise with with the bay empty. The visitors book recorded numerous vessels that we had met thus far on our travels. In keeping with tradition, the crew of Arjuna left a mighty boulder painted with our details on the second floor where there was a skerrick of space left - we only pray that the shack is structurally sound enough to prevent the rock from dropping through the floor boards into a gathering of jolly sailors below.

Mosquito Mansion, Middle Percy

It is apparently considered poor form to publish photos of the interior of the shack at Middle Percy - but we can warn future travellers that this structure is also home to one of eastern Australia's greatest concentrations of sandfly and other biting insect. Hard liquor, goat stew and smoke apparently insulates the frequent evening visitors here but the innocent crew of the Arjuna were completely unprepared for the onslaught. The First Mate and Third Mate had to be physically dragged from the building onto the nearby beach while the Captain muttered ancient incantations and curses to cover the retreat.

Ship's Monkey preparing pina coladas

At the northern end of the bay is a small land bound lagoon entered through a narrow channel and surrounded by mangroves. This may be an appropriate time to inform the reader that the Captain has a lifelong hatred of mangrove: a weed that blights our waterways and provides haven to biting creatures, escaped convicts and stagnant mud. Interestingly, at one end of the Percy beach is a plaque commemorating Flinders and his visit to the island. The plaque vindicates the Captain's radical opinion with words from

Amen to that brother

Matthew Flinder's journal when he entered the lagoon to discover more of the "tiresome mangrove". If Matt F. hadn't been encumbered with the diplomacy required of a great navigator no doubt similarly strong words would have been chosen.

We departed Middle Percy around lunch time, turning our bow towards the very distant

Escaping the tiresome mangroves, Middle Percy lagoon

mainland for the first time in some days. We set a course for Curlew Island in the interesting sounding Guardfish Cluster of islands. On the way, we marveled at the number of islands in this area. Most of them looking well worth a visit although none of them providing much cover from the swell when the wind is up. The sail to Curlew was uneventful but directly downwind which always plays havoc with the chain of command; some crew members want the gybe preventer rigged. Some want to goose wing. Some want to pole out the jib. In the end, the Captain issued orders for all crew to go below decks and play computer games and all begrudgingly obeyed leaving the old sea captain to single hand the mighty Arjuna and stare whistfully upon the vast seas.

We arrived at Curlew with some alarming discrepancies arising between the charts and the chartplotter. Normally this is a cause for alarm, however, as we pulled around on the sheltered western side, the crew spotted another yacht known to us: the even more mighty

Keep an eye on your depth sounder: old jungle saying

Dilligaf. Conveniently we also knew that Dilligaf drew almost another half a metre on top of us so we barrelled into the anchorage with gay abandon. Curlew Island was begging for us to explore it. This island may have actually been the inspiration for the Phantom, Ghost who Walks, Man Who Can Not Die, Comic which The Crew Likes Reading - with a mountain not unlike Phantom Head Peak rising from its midst. However, once more, we had arrived on dusk so a shore party was not on the agenda. We did however cast our eyes to the North and they alighted on a disturbing glow beginning to flicker behind what we gathered was distant Digby Island.

After monitoring the situation for fifteen minutes or so, it looked like the island was actually alight so we made a call into VMR Thirsty Sound to raise the alarm. Thirsty Sound leapt into action indicating vaguely that they might call someone else, maybe Mackay. We called them back several minutes later but gathered that a raging fire visible 12 nautical miles away was not of maritime safety concern. As it turned out, we later encountered the miscreant fire bugs who lit the Digby Island fire when we anchored at Brampton Island. When confronted and asked to explain their actions, the callow looking youths also admitted that they had set fire to Curlew Island - our very anchorage - the next night. Marine Parks - a shady organisation indeed.

When we awoke the next morning at Curlew Island, our boat batteries gave up the ghost and refused to power up - a sure sign that they were finally 'end of life'. This had been predicted by our soothsayer / marine surveyor when we bought the boat so it was not entirely unexpected. The demands of trying to keep a full onboard IT server room running had probably helped to twist the dagger. Unfortunately, our course for the day involved a tortuous tour through the various shoals and shallows between Curlew and Mackay - also taking in the industrial magnificence of Hay Point and Dalrymple Bay. Any wrong turn would mean certain enkeelment or a collision with a super tanker. Executing a course like this with no electronic systems would be difficult - doubly so while trying to keep the salsa on our crackers. With the engine running, we could run our navigation instruments but just in case, we pulled out the hand compass and ouija board in the event that the chart plotter died en route.

Starboard. Starboard damn you

As it turned out, the trip was largely uneventful - possibly due to superb navigational skills and yacht handling but more than likely not. As we approached Dalrymple Bay, the wind died off leaving Arjuna wallowing on the engine alone in the gauntlet formed between rows and rows of coal ships. Between 40 and 50 ships were at anchor or moving in the area and spread out in all directions. From time to time, one of them would forge ahead bound for the coal loader or return to sea. We kept our sail up in a vain attempt to convince everyone we had right of way and wove in and out calling for sea room and blowing five blasts on our horn every so often to indicate that we were not sure of everyone's intentions. Adrenaline levels began to lower again as we finally cleared the last ship and we could adjust course for Mackay.

Ahhh Mackay. City of the high visibility work outfit. The Captain has no particular objection to people wearing hi-vis clothing; after all, it helps keep people safe in the work place and it helps keep armies of health and safety staff employed on mine sites developing new and interesting safety procedures that inevitably involve more high visibility clothing. On the other hand, the unfortunate outcome in many areas of Australia is that otherwise normal people believe it is acceptable to wear high visibility clothing while flying around on domestic aircraft. At Mackay however, people have taken it to the extent that they drive around in their boats in high visibility clothing and regularly head out fishing in it as well. There is so

Arjuna stops for a well earned shot of diesel

much hi-vis in the Mackay marina that it is only people wearing low vis clothing that you notice.

The marina at Mackay is relatively new and is surrounded by a massively high break water over which the wind still finds its way. It is extremely large with marina fingers named down to "Z". We were allocated a spot in the narrow "W" finger - clearly where the design engineers were struggling to meet the brief - and were startled when committed to the turn on final approach to find a dinghy tethered in our berth. This necessitated some advanced throttle control not witnessed since Sydney combined with some polite requests to the neighbouring berth holder to relocate said dinghy.

The marina office staff were very happy to see us given the size of the pile of mail and packages that were piled up like a treasure pile waiting for our arrival. Being nominally homeless, receiving mail is a case of constantly updating one's forwarding address and advising hapless marina offices to expect a few envelopes on our behalf. When we reached Mackay, the good people of Sunstone Lodge had read this blog and realised that Arjuna was in dire straits and had thus sent a mighty tin of coffee to sustain the crew, but mainly the Captain, through the arduous miles ahead.

As is our habit, we ended up staying for longer than planned. In this instance, this was mainly due to the amount of electrical work required to replace our six house batteries as well as wire in our new solar panels and regulator. We wanted to get the regulator installed near the navigation table so it was easy to see how much power we were generating and using. To make this happen required pulling new cables from the stern down through the hull. This proved extremely difficult with the limited cable room available. All up, it took three days, some angle grinding, some marital stress and a lot of lithium grease to get the solar panels cabled in and through the bowels of the boat. A handy marine trimmer managed to sew the flexible solar panels onto the bimini over one night - although they left muddy foot prints on the underside of our magnificent mooloolabarbarian bimini.

We also managed to replace our manual bilge pump in Mackay. Repairing this required sending the Second Mate into the skin of the boat to clamp the back of the bolts holding the pump together while we unscrewed from the cockpit. It is handy having very small crew members even if their muffled complaining from behind the fibreglass becomes a little annoying sometimes.

The South Passage. Last seen in a hard fought tacking duel in Moreton Bay

There was a lot of colour and life around the marina. We caught the bus into town to see the delights of the mighty Caneland shopping complex. We sampled the delights of the tavern at the marina where the craft beer was cheaper than the XXXX Gold. The fine South Passage out of Manly was in the harbour and the crew inspected her sheets and rigging and yarned with the captain. A fun run was held on the weekend and we watched the runners streak past in their hi-vis overalls. However, eventually we began to feel out of place in our ridiculously hard to see clothing and our thoughts turned once more to the sea.