Vast Distances Are Covered

What the ?

The Rock left us in Cairns. Older, wiser, more suntanned and anxious to join the Hakluyt Society for original travel journal enthusiasts. The Second Mate also left us in Cairns with urgent business to attend to down south. We turned back out of Cairns in a few days after replenishing our stores and finally refilling our water casks. We left with memories and, in return we left behind our stamp on the marina: a spatula here, a pair of glasses there - claimed by the bottomless mud lurking at the bottom of the estuary.

The way ahead was South. Many, many miles of South. And some East. But mainly South. Our plans at this stage were mildly indistinct. There were friends to pick up further down the coast at specific dates vast distances away and beyond that a vague plan was forming to reach Brisbane by December. In either case, we needed to make like the black marlin and get moving in case we were caught in Cairns.

The place to go when you are heading out for a weekend in Cairns is Fitzroy Island - about ten nautical miles from the city. We intended on making an overnight stay here but were otherwise diverted by the presence of a number of other vessels and activities. The bay at Fitzroy Island started out quite empty but as the afternoon progressed it started to fill rapidly. We managed to grab a mooring buoy thanks to the efforts of the crew of the Wet Bar, last seen powering out of Cooktown. This was a fine arrangement as shortly after our arrival a constant stream of kayaks carrying kids started ferrying back and forward between the two boats and the beach later followed by a period of swinging off the halyards and jumping off the fly bridge. The finely finished lines of the cat Kirra Kirra also pulled in to anchor. We

Pondering how to retrieve the crew's swinging halyard...and
how many floggings would be appropriate

bumped into another yacht, Gailforce, carrying a family we had met at the Cairns Esplanade bouldering wall. The bay kept filling with boats - it turned out this was the finish line for the Cairns to Fitzroy yacht race. Various other southward moving vessels appeared including the omnipresent Annacol from Lizard Island. Soon there was barely room to swing with tenders running around, the Fitzroy ferry moving in and out and racing boats dragging their anchors through the moorings. Racing boats don't stop very often so the mechanics of actually tethering one's yacht to the bottom are a distant second to the glory of line honours. As a result, various racers, imbibed with amber fluids would bang into the next boat and immediately go on the offensive: "you're drifting". "No, you're drifting". Etc.

Fitzroy Light. An example of
the nouveau public toilet movement

It turned out that Mick on Gailforce was, among other things, the son of a light house keeper and had spent his formative years living on many of the light houses we had seen on the trip - including the one on Fitzroy. So the next morning we all hiked up to the light as Mick pointed out his initials in the concrete and kicked the brickwork. We also sighted the grave of the beloved Rastus.

One fine morning at 0500 or so, we cast off from the buoy, farewelling our Cairns based compatriots and turned southwards once again. We ran beside the odd morning Westerlies south of Cairns towards our destination of distant Russell Island, which we had passed at speed on the way up on the passage from Mourilyan to Cairns. We spent the night here - visiting the unusual tidal pool known to the Able Ship's Monkey as the "Slug Pool". And he was correct - it was full to the brim with sea slugs, or "Beche de Mer" if you are trying to open up new marketing opportunities, as well as other surprising creatures including a lone giant clam, some green turtles and a small shark like fish, possibly a baby jaguar shark. The First Mate struggled to reach the lighthouse on the hill but was pushed back by heavy undergrowth.

Russell Island. Wild, untamed, sea slugged

From Russell Island, the miles started ticking by quickly. We pulled back in at Dunk Island. The First Mate had arranged with the resort to have a look at E.J Banfield's grave. The Captain was hoping to have prawns served in a clamshell at the bar. The First Mate discovered that Ted's grave was in a reasonable state of neglect - in keeping with the resort itself. The Captain failed to turn up on a day when the bar was open - in keeping with his organisational abilities.

Customs on our six. On the lookout for Beche de Mer smugglers

A view down the beach at Zoe Bay.

The next day we left early for Hinchinbrook. The waters were boiling with feeding tuna and mackerel

A crew member despairs at the ongoing lack of fish

which duly parted and disappeared as we trolled through each school. Because the conditions were calm we headed down the outside of Hinchinbrook to pull in at Zoe Bay. It is fair to say that Arjuna has not travelled particularly widely in this country, being somewhat tied to the presence of water, but the mountains on Hinchinbrook are definitely a sight to behold and very different from other Australian "mountain" ranges. Zoe Bay affords a spectacular look at them with the additional benefit that the sandfly count is several billion lower than the western side of the island. We walked up to the waterfall here to swim with some freshwater perch and a freshwater German
tourist who was hiking the Thorsborne Track and who hadn't seen anyone the whole time he had been on the island.

The freshwater pool above Zoe Bay.

We stopped in at Orpheus Island with a booking to visit the research station - however the landlubbers from James Cook Uni on the mainland were over for a meeting and we had to miss this. The water quality in Pioneer Bay was not as fine as last visit and as a result the mighty giant clam garden was almost invisible in the haze.

From Orpheus, it was a day of sailing through the fabulous mackerel grounds of Halifax Bay, catching nothing, into Townsville - capital of the North. The stay in Townsville was a bustle of activity. The crew managed to solicit lollies from strangers on Halloween. The Captain managed to complete a navigation of the remaining taps at the Townsville Brewery. In

Another mistake in the internet shopping order

Townsville, we offloaded the entire crew - all with important business down South and in order to complete the next leg of the voyage, a specialist boat delivery crew member was brought on board. The Specialist Boat Deliverer had previous experience on the fair ship Arjuna, having brought the vessel down from Pittwater to Sydney at the start of the year. He was very familiar with its layout and where to stand when one was Expecting a Visit from Voldemort. He was also aware of the poor fish catch rate on board and arrived with a mission to correct the statistics.

Arrr..there be the finest sea going vessel I've ever seen

On the morning of our departure from Townville, the wind had moved to the Northeast and was expected to remain in that direction for several days - an ideal scenario to head out of Townsville which requires an easterly course in order to round Cape Cleveland followed by a long direct southeasterlyish course back towards the Whitsunday Group. The alarm on Arjuna rang at 0400 hours. The Specialist Boat Deliverer was very disoriented - having never woken up this early in his life he had always assumed that a standard clock started at 10am and ran on from there. We drifted silently out of the marina and through the Townsville Duck Pond with the paucity of water under us that the Captain had come to expect in this area. The Captain prodded the Specialist Boat Deliverer with the boat hook from time to time to keep him alert. Once clear of the breakwater, though, the Specialist Boat Deliverer jumped into the role he has made his own. Three trolling lines were deployed off the stern. The Specialist Boat Deliverer playing each nylon line like a violin string - minutely tuning each rig for the optimum fish catching power. From time to time, a slight nod or gesture would indicate a fish school off the bow and the Captain would duly alter course at the request - deferring to his fishing knowledge. We passed a fleet of tinnies off Cape Cleveland, all out waiting for the catch of the day. Arjuna ploughed through the middle of them like a fishing trawler on autopilot, searching out the mackerel schools.

The Specialist Boat Deliverer: watching the lines like a hawk

And so this passed for several days. The Specialist Boat Deliverer quickly tired of this dangerous game of cat and mouse, realising, like the Captain before him that there are few, if any, fish left in the sea and those that are there are most likely vegetarians or protein intolerant. A small fish was landed one day. It was so small it hadn't tripped any of our elaborate warning systems designed to alert us when a fish strikes. Because we were motor sailing at some knots, it was some time before we noticed it trailing behind the boat, some feet off the water like a kite or a small paraglider.

It was a quick run to the Whitsundays. The two members on Arjuna, freed from the responsibilities of keeping an active crew under control and disciplined, put over a hundred nautical miles on the clock and broke through the shallow Gloucester Passage before bursting forth into the sloppiness of the Whitsunday Passage where we cruised across to Blue Pearl Bay on Hayman Island. A leisurely few days were spent bobbing around the Whitsundays prior to the pre-arranged rendezvous with the crew at Hamilton Island including a stop at Whitehaven in perfect conditions. We saw a number of boats we knew - all joining the building exodus south under the influence of no southeasterly winds. The Captain jumped aboard Kirra Kirra one afternoon to bum a beverage and learn of their ongoing series of fish catches. The photos were there to prove it - leaving the Captain scratching his head as to where these pelagic monsters were lurking.

The journey to Hamilton took us through the Solway Passage. There was no wind. The tide was with us and only just starting to move. It is a very, very eerie place with pools of deep water suspiciously welling up from the depths, eddies spinning slowly off in other directions. At one point, the mighty 44 foot Arjuna was twisted sideways in the invisible current. Still, a better transit than flying through the air off the peaks of the swell with our electrical system on fire like on a previous trip.

Hamilton. The Greeks called this Valhalla

At Hamilton, the Specialist Boat Deliverer said his farewells to Arjuna - his duty discharged, his fishing reputation in tatters. The First, Second, Third Mates and Able Seamonkey flew back in and rejoined the vessel. We stayed overnight at Hamilton, basking in Earthly Paradise at genuine 2018 prices. The next morning we disenlanded two new visitors to the S.V. Arjuna. The first, the Bear: cool, calm, collected. The second, Special K: cool, calm, acrobat. This required some consideration of housing so many parties on board at once. In fact, prior to their arrival, we emptied the contents of our third bathroom and distributed its contents around the vessel. The three younger crew members gave up their rooms in anticipation of a week of sleeping in boom bags, the bilges or suspended from the rigging.

Arjuna drinks deeply from the font of diesel, Hamilton Island

Another trip out through the ominous Solway Passage saw us back in the bays off Whitehaven and we spent several more lazy days wending our way around the islands. We laughed, we cried, we lost an oar, our dear Zodiac - "Baby Tuna" - developed a leak, we almost lost a guest. We tried out Haslewood Island which was surprisingly empty of charter boats. This probably had something to do with choosing Windy Bay as our anchorage. We spent another night at Cataran Bay on Border Island and finished with an evening at Whitehaven before yet another trip through the Ominous Solway Passage.