Into Brisbane

If, dear reader, you have followed this web log in chronological order then you will be aware that the fridge on Arjuna was by this time bursting at the sikaflex with fish fillets from a variety of massive pelagic monsters. So, wakened from our slumber by the sounds of departing jet skis and curses from a neighbouring yacht we breakfasted on fish. The chef sensed mutiny and resolved that the next meal would have to be either red meat or vegan.

In Which We Cross Time Zones

Some time after departing Sydney, we finally experienced a wind not from the North East. Excitement was in the air and the sense that finally some sails might be trimmed. We arose very early lapped by the shallow waters of Yamba Harbour. The tide was exceptionally low but by ignoring the advice of the crusty old sea salts on the marina two days earlier we felt confident that we could navigate the channel. We made a call into VMR Yamba to log in and check how the bar was running after the strong winds of the previous day. No one was home at VMR Yamba but we exited the marina and cautiously maneuvered back through the harbour and out into the river - hugging the sand banks here, skirting the mooring marks there; all the while reading loudly from the Book of Lucas and quoting from his Soundings.