Here is Arjuna

In April 2014, while Arjuna sat down at Sheridan Flats in the Great Sandy Straits thinking we were having strong winds, Cyclone Ita sat over Lizard Island for around eleven hours and ripped the place to shreds. However, not having seen the place before, the clear surrounding waters were obvious even from a distance although the island itself looked barren. When the southeaster blows, which it does often, 400-450 days a year on average in fact, Watson's Bay on the northern side is the place to drop your plow. There were about ten boats in the bay when we arrived which we understand is on the empty side. Being a marine park A area we saw the obligatory batfish wander up at our arrival. A few reef sharks also swam over to check the newcomer out. The water was the clearest we had seen since Lady Musgrave Island so the bottom was clearly visible through the depths. In fact, it was the first time on the trip we could swim along the anchor chain and see our trusty hunk of iron embedded in the sand.

This be a  fine island

Conditions deteriorating, Lizard Island

A full deployment of snorkelling apparel was requested from the quartermaster for immediate use. Soon, the sea weary crew of Arjuna were frolicking like baitfish around the vessel and out into the coral along the side of Watson's Bay. The coral here has been partly destroyed by the very fist of the cyclone but there is still more than enough to get your hit of tridacna crocea and various other latin invertebrates. The Able Seamonkey, now dangerously overfamiliar with off-the-boat swimming, spent many of the following afternoons on deck yelling out "shark" before plunging directly into the water just to be certain. His habit of continuing to talk underwater through his snorkel both endearing and a good way of monitoring his vital life signs. 

A trick camera angle makes it look like we are all alone at Lizard Island

The beach at Watsons Bay is more than enough to satisfy anyone's tropical island crystal clear water requirements - explaining why some boats choose to make this their home for vast parts of the year. Each afternoon, at some mysterious signal, possibly the popping of a cork or the gentle swish of a blade through a wheel of brie, the occupants of the bay assemble in an enormous Zodiac Assault (or various other brands of dinghy) on the shores to discuss the rigours of anchoring in these harsh conditions and the terrible state of the foreshore after being denuded by the cyclone.

There's bore water on Lizard. Ever since we had managed to dump almost 500 litres of fresh water into the bay at Dunk Island (the culprit still yet unknown) the electric water pump on the boat had been switched off by Order of the Captain. The only method of obtaining   

Ye olde hand pump

fresh water was now via the manual foot pump in the galley or by putting a plastic bag around a tree branch. As a result, the vessel's water consumption rates had reduced to a trickle.  Those crew wishing to rinse their socks now had to use salt water, Jamaican rum - or go without foot coverings entirely. Lizard Island has a supply of bore water on shore which further assisted in our water usage. The bore can be pumped though a late industrial revolution style hand pump that simultaneously fills your bottles and provides massive upper body development for the wasting seafarer. We used this water for washing up and this saved a lot of freshwater. The pump is not always operational. We later heard the story of some Dutch campers who had run out of water at the campsite when the pump was out of action.

We met the rescuers of the Dutch campers later in our voyage and can confirm a happy outcome, unlike that of the eponymous Mary Watson originally of Watsons Bay. Since we write this entry somewhat in hindsight we can confirm that we encountered Mary Watson stories several times in the weeks to come. Her historical claim to fame was as an inspiring woman who embodied the pioneering spirit but mainly because she escaped aboriginal attack at Watsons Bay by setting to sea in a beche-de-mer boiling tub with her baby and servant Ah Sam. Her husband was out on the mer productively looking for sea slugs at the time. Unfortunately, she met an untimely end in the Howick Island Group, all three dying of thirst some weeks later.

The supposed ruins of Mary Watson's house sit behind the beach at Watsons Bay. There is some conjecture that this is not actually her house - not matching her diary descriptions in

A historic ruin in the middle of prime kite flying grounds

size or construction. We hope this is true because we accidently crashed our kite into the middle of it on the second day and would not like to be seen to tarnish the image.

As we journeyed further North, we, like many voyagers before us, became more and more impressed with Cook and what he had to deal with. Lizard Island features heavily in Cook's 1770 voyage and the mountain on Lizard is named "Cooks Look". We made a summit attempt on this fine peak early one morning when the tropical sun was still low in the sky because it is three to four hour return walk depending of course on your level of fitness and the frequency of goanna attack. The summit is extremely windy with a steep cairn to mark the spot. It is here that

The terrible sight facing Cook from the summit

Cook climbed, in despair at the reef network he had found himself trapped in and not knowing which way to navigate next and finally sighted clear passages out of the reef to the east - uttering the famous words "Banksy... Parko... back to the ship and let us exit stage East". The Endeavour did exit the reef to the northeast of Lizard Island. Unfortunately, the poor bugger was immediately faced with massive Pacific swells and almost no wind which forced him to reenter the reef further to the north for protection.

With the sun belting down on the windy peak, we spied an eye watering sight: a female climber wearing nothing but a bikini. Sure, this is a tropical island. Perhaps it is years of sun education awareness in Australia, but seeing a scantily clad woman roasting herself several hours away from shade at the top of a mountain - this was an odd thing to witness. The following morning we gained more insight.

Apart from the rear starboard cabin on Arjuna, there are four scientific research stations on the Great Barrier Reef. The most northern one is at Lizard Island and is run by the Australian Museum. We booked on to a tour of the research facility - as did perhaps thirty

Land assault on Lizard airport. Some sort of Victorian in foreground

other people from the boats building up in the harbour and mid the next morning we assembled on the beach to start the forty minute trudge across the island, through the queue of jumbos on the tarmac at the international airport and over the sand tracks to the research facility. Walking into the buildings we realised that the near naked figure seen on the peak the day before was a post-grad or doctoral student. There were more of them peering into vats of salt water with tiny fish in them, wearing the research facility uniform of next-to-nothing.

We met Lyle, the Director and twenty five year veteran of Lizard Island. He gave us a very generous hour long presentation on the facility and its work. He showed us a video of the scientific studies being performed and many watching also observed that one of the pre-requisites for working here was a certain comfort wearing board shorts or a swim suit while performing complicated research at a high scientific level. Lyle opened up for questions: always a mistake with the crew of Arjuna around. He had to acknowledge the similarity between a coral polyp and a 3D printer when queried by the Second Mate. The Able Seamonkey asked an uncomfortable question concerning the spawning habits of diurnal creatures and then started an argument with Dr Lyle over the exact date of the last ice age.

After the video and this altercation, Lyle shoved a few air brushed post-grads out of the way, all wired into their iPhones and flashing their rippling abs, and showed off a delightful

Cyclone Ita rattles the anemometer, April 2014 winds at Lizard

looking crown of thorns starfish. Apparently, the crown of thorns is not just a hazard to coral reefs, it also wields a highly painful sting when somebody gets close enough to be spiked. The Captain, a specialist in getting stung by poisonous marine creatures, got interested at this point and took a step back as Lyle casually waved the beast around with his BBQ tongs.

We spent several days at Lizard Island: an attractive anchorage but constantly raked by the full force of the south east trade winds. There may also be some sort of venturi effect going on here because the waters around Lizard didn't appear to be as windy as the bay itself. We maintained our nightly procedure of tethering "Baby Arjuna" (formerly known as the Zodiac) to the back of the mothership using two ropes. Alas, a dinghy was lost from a neighbouring boat one evening when their rope snapped, disappearing at several knots towards the Torres Strait into the dark.

Somebody grab that dinghy

Our time at Lizard presently came close to an end. On the final evening, we gathered around the tables on the beach yakkin' about boats, making yoghurt and types of cheese with many others gathered there. A very proud gentleman with some sort of ketch, a ridiculous Tshirt and some martinis on board queried the Captain on why anyone would buy a Beneteau. An interesting query to ponder, but was this the time, the place, the right setting ? Despite trying to change the subject, the line of questioning persisted: who had the most diesel, the biggest sails, the largest water tanks, coffee reserves and number of back up autopilots. Fortunately, a team of sailors forceably restrained the Captain when he stood to flip the table over and before he smashed the end off his cheese biscuit and crackered the idiot.

At the very cracker of dawn, we set a course west by north west and departed the fair waters of Watson's Bay, pausing only to correct our course to something more sensible, raising the mighty sails of the sailing vessel Arjuna and deploying our faithful but useless fishing lines from the stern as we left the fish filled waters of Lizard Island in our wake.

Life just gets plain terrible, Lizard Island