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.

The Battle North Continues

Our next hop North was a relatively mild(?) distance of 68nm (again). As usual, the wind, swell, sea and fish were all the wrong direction. Most of the crew dutifully arose at first bell for yoga and pilates on the foredeck before their breakfast of eggs benedict and fresh expresso coffee.

Inconceivable

Our next hop up the coast was another mighty day's jump of 68 (or more depending on whether you take the northern route or the slightly longer northern route) nautical miles into another predicted nor'easter. Our destination was Coffs Harbour. North of Port Macquarie there was only one real other possible anchorage at Trial Bay but with a nor'easter there would be no shelter from the wind or the swell.

And on to Port Macquarie

Pulling in to Crowdy Head threw our finely tuned navigational strategm into complete disarray. There aren't that many places north of Sydney where a vessel of healthy draft can pull in safely. This leaves one either having to sail overnight, pull in to one of the semi-exposed locations or covering large distances in one day. The next obvious port of call from Crowdy Head based on distance was now Port Macquarie. Port Macquarie was not on the original plan. In fact, the Captain eyed it suspiciously having never been there on any of his many landlubbing trips between Brisbane and Sydney. It was off the highway by more than a McDonald's drive-through length and seemed only to be promoted as a location where kids could swim in a porpoise pool. This did not seem like a destination where some increasingly salty dogs could chew tobacco and demonstrate their prowess in some raucous tavern or RSL by tying bowlines and whittling driftwood.

Port Macquarie ho!

Nonetheless, Port Macquarie was where we reported our intended plan for VMR for the day as we fired up the trusty diesel to run out through the seawall at Crowdy. Looking to the left, or the West, or the portside, or leeward as we departed we noted a single car on the beach north of Crowdy. There is absolutely no shortage of beach in NSW. The beach north of Crowdy Head is probably called Nine Mile Beach. Then there is a small headland before you continue onto 79 Mile Beach. South of Crowdy is 1132 Mile Beach. The beach north of Crowdy is probably not called Nine Mile Beach. But the point is: there is a lot of beach. A lot of them are named after miles. From the sea side, it is constant conjecture as to where you are because there is very little to distinguish the coast after the cliffs of Sydney are left behind other than non-stop beach, the odd light house and rock until you run your boat into Stradbroke Island.

Not far out of Crowdy Head, we passed some submerged shoals. Finally, after several days of fruitless trolling the Rear Admiral's fishing reel leapt off the deck with gusto. In the space of not many minutes, several decent fish were hauled aboard. Because we were also trying to cover many miles, it was a case of cleaning the fish on the swim deck while sailing. Our tender attaches to the stern with snap davits which means the dinghy is on its side across the back of the transom. This provides some protection from falling off the back and also makes it difficult for sharks to snatch the unwitting and unskilled fish filleter off the swim deck while sliding around in a pool of fish slime.

The rear of the Rear Admiral (fishing)

At this juncture, it is timely to point out that the Acting First Mate was actively involved in the Queensland school system via distance education. Each morning, he would dutifully put down Harry Potter or whichever other book he was reading for the 20th time and connect into his English lesson via the internet. On many of these mornings, the boat would be heeling over or pushing through nor'easterly swell while he calmly answered questions on character development and plot devices. This morning out of Crowdy Head, the Acting First Mate was tuned in with his class, equipped as usual with life jacket and headset and oblivious as fish guts and fillets flew back and forth behind him but surely creating a fine sense of occasion on the video link to Brisbane.

Another tough day at school

Lunch today was, not surprisingly, fish. Done in a bbq style over a barbeque.

Post BBQ, on a routine check of the various bilge areas of the yacht (those sort of places which you don't really want to be exploring while rolling around at sea) a reasonably quantity of oil was observed under the engine. From time to time, we had been getting some knocking from the exhaust pipe. Oil under the engine and strange exhaust noises add up to possible engine cooling problems. Or would do if anyone on board knew anything about engines. Obviously, the Specialist Sail Trimmer knew something about engines. Obvious because he was a jack of all trades however in this instance he wasn't talking. The Acting First Mate knew a lot about engines because he had read it in a book and Bear Grylls had cooked something on an engine once. The Rear Admiral had taught the Captain everything he knew about engines. As a result, the Captain knew next to nothing about engines. He was pretty clear that oil was something to dip your ciabata into not something you wanted swimming around under the floor boards while at sea. A trip to a diesel mechanics was put on the to do list when reaching Port Macquarie.

Dolphins. Many more dolphins

Port Macquarie has a river bar where the mighty Hastings River foams into the sea. When the tide comes in this reverses and the sea foams into the river. Once again, through fine planning, we had timed our arrival into the Hastings for the rising tide. We also checked the live video feed off the NSW Maritime bar camera (http://www.maritime.nsw.gov.au/webcams/portmacquarie/index.html) and confirmed that our eyes were becoming quite cataracted but gained little insight into the bar state.

And so it came to pass that the fair vessel Arjuna rode the somewhat lumpy waters of the Hastings River through the seawall and into Port Macquarie. We estimated that the current was probably running 3 knots with us and even in relatively calm sea and wind conditions it was hard to miss the general choppiness of the waters. Timing an arrival or departure for a less than ideal time would make travel uncomfortable.

Still life with pine trees and rocks

We had actually arrived not long after low tide. It was fortunately only mid afternoon so we could see the narrowness of the channel as we motored the two or so miles up the river to the Port Macquarie marina. With our draft and a channel barely two Arjunas wide in places at this time of the tide we had to watch our depth all the way. Being so narrow, the odd salty dog on shore was able to advise us to favour the left or right as we passed them by not a few metres away. The river was good looking with clear water and sandy bottom. The town itself, what we could see from the river, looked attractive.

We hooked a marina swing mooring for the night. The Captain and Acting First Mate made an immediate Zodiac Assault on the marina to enlist the assistance of a diesel mechanic. The diesel mechanic at Port Macquarie didn't have any suggestions regarding the problem. He scratched his head a few times and concurred with the Captain's assessment that oil leaking from the engine was a bad thing. A trusting land lubber - he leant us his oil squirter and a container of oil so we could top the boat up ourselves. A decent chap and he accepted nothing more than double the market rate for the oil we used for his trouble.

Port Mac marina. Spot the Arjuna tender.

The Zodiac had a busy time ferrying to and fro from the marina facilities. On one return trip at dusk, a trickle of fruit bats in the sky grew in numbers until the entire sky from horizon to horizon was filled with them. This was an immense mind bogglingly large cloud of flying foxes - not your run of the mill East coast summer evening fruit bat migration but something else again. This is apparently a commonplace occurrence in the lovely Port Macquarie. A time to celebrate the glory of nature and pull in the washing. 

Late Breaking Updates:

Eagle eyed readers may notice the transition to the spelling of draft as 'draft', previously spelt as draught in an earlier revision. Apparently, the draft spelling still dates to the 16th century and in Australia is 'preferred by professionals in the nautical sense'. We strive on these pages to make professional nautical sense.

The Good Wife of the Rear Admiral, and also by pure coincidence, the mother of the Captain, has queried how the Captain has no knowledge of engines after completing a degree in mechanical engineering. The Captain wishes to point out that he spent most of his time at university pining for the sea and might have missed that bit.

Port Stephens to Camden Haven...no wait, Crowdy Head

Looking ahead at the adverse wind directions up the coast we estimated that it was time to top up the tank with diesel. The tank had been filled up in Pittwater before bringing the boat down to Sydney the first time but our engine hour meter was not working; we had being doing a lot of stopping and starting and we didn't really have a good handle on our per hour or per mile consumption anyway. The internet, always an accurate source of information, suggested that we should be doing somewhere between two and six litres per vertical kilopascal.

On the morning of the 10th of February, we dropped our public mooring and coasted into the tranquil sun drenched aquarium-like waters of the Nelson Bay Marina. This is generally regarded as the best time and environment in which to pay $1.92 a litre for fuel. From this point forward, we logged our engine start and end times and approximate revs. From time to time, the engine hour metre would stop rolling around like a poker machine and we would get an updated engine figure off it for cross checking.

Later in the day after returning to the mooring, we made a new Zodiac Assault on Nelson Bay in order to provision. Under the influence of the Acting First Mate, we also scheduled a visit the second hand book shop. A lucky visit - because we were able to pick up a copy of the Whitsunday cruising bible "100 Magic Miles" for next to nothing. These cruising books tend to hold their value and are hard to pick up cheaply anywhere - even second hand. So this was quite the find - except that being the sixth edition, it was 97 editions out of date. This placed it after the World War II mustard gas experiments but before significant plate tectonics had shifted the orientation of some of the islands. None the less, in the words of the First Mate's father: "good buying".

The Rear Admiral putting new crew member to the test

With the arrival of the 4pm coach from Newcastle (at a jaw shattering $4.60), our newest crew member disenbussed to join the voyage North. Specialist Sail Trimmer Richard brought with him his considerable yacht racing experience. The Rear Admiral, never one to accept things on face value, grilled the Specialist Sail Trimmer for some time - querying his experience and popping taxing questions on asymmetrical sails before stepping back satisfied that someone else on board knew how to pole out a headsail.

The next morning dawned very early. Finally, timing on the yacht had adjusted to the need to get going early. With an unfortunate daylight saving conversion, the Specialist Sail Trimmer found himself arising at 4am in his home timezone. A disturbing start but rewarded

Sunrise off Hawks Nest

with the sight of the sun rising briefly between the horizon and clouds out past the islands off Port Stephens as we pulled out through the heads. This area of the coast has just been established as a major great white shark breeding ground and there was a noticeable tendency for the crew to remain safely within the cockpit area for the first few hours.

The planned course today was to make our way up to the Camden Haven River and moor for the night at Dunbogan or Lauriton behind the river bar. This was a significant number of miles and with low winds early on we motored under engine for several hours. As the winds rose and with some distance out to sea to help our approach angle, we hoisted the sails on a close reach to try and pick up some boat speed or cut the engines. With the sails up, the Rear Admiral and Specialist Sail Trimmer both had important tasks to fulfill. The

Untidy sail bag

Specialist Sail Trimmer examined the shapes of the sails, the angle of the boom, the position of the telltales and various other indicators and explained that he was not happy with the trim. This was music to the ears of the Rear Admiral. These were precisely the issues he had and had been trying to communicate to the Captain for weeks.

Despite the apparent looseness of our leechlines, good progress was being made late in the afternoon and we radioed in to Marine Rescue as we passed some miles off Crowdy Head confirming that we were on track for Camden Haven. Marine Rescue holds a mobile phone number for contact on board as a back up and the vessel was surprised not long after by a call from a rather nice gentlemen at VMR (Marine Rescue) Camden Haven. VMR Camden Haven was monitoring our progress and was just calling to discuss a few matters concerning the bar crossing, the depth of the river, the winding nature of the river, the impending fall of night and generally to just have a chat.

A word should be said here about river bars. River bars like Camden Haven or the Hastings or for that matter, the Regatta or Storey Bridge, can be turbulent meeting places. There are special regulations in both NSW and Queensland about crossing bars - it is a legal requirement to wear a life jacket when crossing a bar. There are also strong recommendations - generally the bars should only be crossed on a rising tide or at happy hour in the case of the Regatta. With a falling tide and any significant sea or swell, the bars become turbulent and can launch, roll or generally mishandle boats.

There were no particular indications that the Camden Haven River bar was going to be too difficult to cross - what with a relatively low sea, wind and swell. The timing was good for the earlier stages of the flood tide. However, our friend at VMR Camden Haven was keen to point out that with our draft and coming in at night and the timing of our arrival and the uncertain nature of the channel if one had not negotiated it before in the dark...well no direct advice was given but a strong suggestion was made that the entry would be difficult. With Crowdy Head less than four nautical miles off and considered a very good all weather anchorage with no bar, we elected to run in for Crowdy Harbour instead.

We dropped the main and furled the headsail and made a triumphant entry through the seawall into Crowdy Harbour under the mighty growl of the diesel so all might know of our magnificent arrival into port.

All certainly did know of our arrival into port. This was for several reasons. Firstly, most of the population of Crowdy Head was either fishing in or swimming in the not particularly massive harbour area. Visiting vessels are required to tie up alongside the public jetty at Crowdy Head. The harbour is not big enough for swing moorings. The public jetty was bristling with fishing rods and lines stretching out into the only maneuvering area. Our presence was noted - although no one moved their lines or swam out of the way. Secondly, as we pulled in through the seawall attempting to steer through the "Entrapment" style net of fishing lines while still maintaining our depth we let out a number of loud unsavourable sailing curses as we realised that the depths in the harbour were much less than indicated on our charts. Everyone looked on wondering what the reason was for our uncouthness. Thirdly, there were basically only two boats in the harbour. One of them was us, and the other one was sitting on its side at least 30 metres from the water.

Strangely, the only people who didn't know of our arrival were Marine Rescue Crowdy Head who inexplicably did not have a view of the harbour. They seem perplexed when we raised certain questions about where one was supposed to park without adequate water depth and without dragging several locals into our cooling water intake. We eventually solved the

Arjuna (background) fighting for space in Crowdy Harbour

problem using ingenuity and a process of elimination by simply pulling into the trawler jetty. Not particularly deep, but not particularly busy either.

It was at Crowdy Head that we noted the big difference between an Alan Lucas cruising guide published in 1995 and a more recent copy. The online update to "Cruising the NSW Coast" simply points out that the co-op at Crowdy Head was closed as of 2010. The coop being the only occupant of Crowdy Harbour. Happily, it was also where one used to pay $15 to tie up at the public jetty. Unhappily for the public jetty, the lack of $15 fees has resulted in a somewhat derelict jetty in a degrading state of affair. Potentially, it also explains why the harbour depths were lower without regular dredging.

Crowdy Harbour is absolutely dense with bait fish. The Specialist Sail Trimmer explained that as a child he use to net fish like this - the Specialist Sail Trimmer being a jack of all trades in addition to a specialist in sail trimming. The Rear Admiral and Acting First Mate dropped lines over the side - but the task was hopeless, not even the hungriest predatory fish would have found their hooks amongst the teaming water. Well fed pelicans sauntered around simply opening their mouths briefly to eat. The odd dolphin pod wandered in through the seawall to coral the fish into bait balls.

Crowdy Head lighthouse 1879

So all in all, Crowdy Head being somewhat in the decline as a boating harbour, was also very lovely, protected and serene. Except if you were a bait fish.