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.
Wednesday, 26 March 2014
Monday, 24 March 2014
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.
Tuesday, 18 March 2014
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.
Sunday, 9 March 2014
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.
Saturday, 1 March 2014
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 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.
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