photo - Sara
Oct 6 1550. We depart Broome for our second Kimberley expedition of 10 days with 10 people on board. I am keen to explore the southern Kimberley, which we had largely missed on the previous voyage. My brother Graeme, who had been involved in the construction and design of Pelican, and his partner Gilda are on board as mate and deckhand. Andrew once again rounds out the crew as cook/deckhand. Our guests are Sara, Mat, James, Sally, Ben and Lisa, and a more enthusiastic positive bunch of people would be hard to find. We steam out of Broome in choppy uncomfortable conditions caused by wind against BroomeÕs legendary tide. Our guests far from being intimidated by the conditions are riding up forward on the tramp holding on to the seagull striker and whooping at the top of their lungs every time a wave soaks them. That pretty much sets the tone for the rest of the trip.
GraemeÕs fishing expertise proves a great source of support for the guests who are keen to try their hand. We are rewarded the next morning when amongst other assorted fish, Ben hauls in a beautiful yellowfin tuna of around 8 kilos. Our menu suddenly starts looking very good indeed. Sashimi, tuna steaks, fish curriesÉYum. The seafood keeps coming for the entire trip. In combination with AndrewÕs catering, featuring fresh organic salads, freshly baked breads and treats, suffice to say we eat extremely well.
Oct 8 0140. Sailing, and motor sailing we arrive on the second night at Dunvert Island. This is on the northeastern side of King Sound. It has tides and currents of up to 10 knots (equal to PelicanÕs top speed under motors). On a pitch black, moonless night we manoeuvre Pelican through the maze of small islands and channels and come to anchor. The technology (radar, chart plotter, GPS, sounder etc) to facilitate this in an unfamiliar place with unreliable charts is quite remarkable. At sunrise the following morning we are greeted with a classic Kimberley scene. Blue sky, red rocks and glassy green water, exhibiting a variety of large swirls and disturbances caused by unknown creatures. In this wilderness our minds give the unseen creatures teeth and worse. The only large creatures we have sighted however are the numerous humpback whales and dolphins.
We decide to use the opportunity provided by neap tide (minimum tidal range in this area is still about 4 metres), and slack water to negotiate the infamous whirlpool pass. I remember reading an account somewhere, (I think it may have been from the journal of Phillip King who was responsible for many of the early charts of northern Australia) of a ride through the pass where their whale boat was spun out of control and nearly capsized by whirlpools, overflows and turbulence (hence the name). Pelican by contrast motors through in totally calm conditions with a minimum of current. We spend that night at anchor in Coppermine creek. Our crew take a walk ashore and manage to make good catches of Golden Snapper and other fish to restock the fridge. Around this time they start taking regular swims. I warn them of the dangers of crocodiles. Perhaps not having seen any at this stage they are able to convince themselves of the safety of the clear blue water or perhaps the heat is too much to bear in the presence of so much of it. At any rate the swims start as a quick dive in and out but grow longer. I decide to get them to somewhere where they can swim in safety so we head next day to Crocodile Creek.
Photo Ð Sara, The Bonaparte Archipelago, Coppermine Creek
The Bonaparte Archipelago, is a maze of islands, inlets, peninsulas and rivers. Its colour and scale conspire to take ones breath away. Staggering quantities of water flood it, and empty from it, twice daily with the tides. In the wet season the land is awash and teeming with life. ItÕs an awesome wilderness and no description can do it justice. Distance and size are hard to judge here, as are the colours to comprehend. I frequently find myself anchoring too far from places we intend to visit. What was meant to be a short dinghy ride becomes a marathon as the landscape swallows Pelican in the wake of the inflatable. Our destination crawls closer with agonising slowness and morphs into a giant version of what we thought it was. I am reminded of stories of skydivers, jumping over Antarctica and failing to open their chutes in time because they were unable to judge scale and distance correctly in the clear Antarctic air. Fortunately for us the stakes are not so high.
Crocodile Creek consists of a remarkable series of permanent freshwater pools and waterfalls. It meets the Kimberley coast in one of those freakishly beautiful combinations of the arid, the luscious and the spectacular. Next to the second pool is a rough shelter where visitors from yachts and tour boats have left mementos of their visit. Very much like the ÒA FrameÓ at Middle Percy Island in Qld a vast array of nick knacks, flotsam, discarded, created and found objects decorate the shelter. In another reality this would be an eyesore and a desecration of an amazing place. But somehow here it is perfectly acceptable. Perhaps the history of visitation over many decades has made it so.
When we arrive we jump straight into the pool. There appears to be an inversion or layering caused by the influx of salt water. During spring tides at high water the waterfall drops straight into the inlet. This is followed by weeks of isolation, during neaps (minimum tidal variation), with the pool suspended in the rocks out of reach of the salt water.
photo Ð Sara, A memento from a vessel called The Flying Cow?
When we arrive the heavier salt water is lying at the bottom of the pool while the fresh water, continually falling into it from the waterfall, sits on top. Diving into the deep water underneath the waterfall I am amazed to find hundreds of jellyfish and salt water fish sharing the same pool with fresh water species. Estuarine species such as mangrove jacks seem able to handle both the fresh and the salt. This remarkable phenomenon also occasionally allows crocodiles to be resident in the pool if they
photo - Sara, Crocodile Creek
become trapped by the falling tide. Perhaps this is where the creek gets its name. In any event the lower pool needs to be checked carefully before swimming.
We are unable to get Pelican to the base of the waterfall due to the neap tides so we anchor at the mouth of Crocodile Creek and use the inflatable to commute to the pool, about a mile inland. We share the place with a two other boats. A small (25 ft) sloop belongs to a couple sailing across the top end, and an ex pearl lease workboat (giant tinny with large outboards) to a mob of people from one of the local aboriginal communities. One young girl is delighted to discover that she can stop the waterfall for a time by jamming her body between the rocks at the top. It is quite surreal for the sound of running water that had been a constant for hours to suddenly stop. In fact the waterfall completely ceased and I am quite alarmed until I hear the sounds of running water resume as she sits up, laughing, freeing the small stream once more.
Oct 10 1100. Next day we depart and head for Silver Gull Ck. I am hoping to meet a couple that set up residence there some years previously. Silver Gull Creek is another Amazing Kimberly gem. Its entrance is set with great red boulders, and an expansive deserted coastline. Numerous small inlets make it hard initially to identify which is the mouth of the creek. A little more than a mile after entering the creek proper, (more like a fjord really), a wide bend accommodates an anchorage with a number of boats. On a ridge overlooking the whole area is a permanent camp set among lush gardens watered by a spring that is briefly held in an old water tank before falling into the inlet (Silver Gull Creek). As we anchor Pelican in the inlet we canÕt help noticing a crocodile eyeing us from a bank about 50 metres away. This at last gives some credence to my concern about people swimming. We launch the inflatable and make our way to the camp. Sadly Phill and Marion are not at home, apparently enjoying their honeymoon in Indonesia but we are welcomed by Robin and Ian and invited to take a dip in the swimming pool (tank). Sadly we cannot stay long as our anchorage below is drying out rapidly. Promising to return in coming years we head out once more.
Oct 10 1615. We round the northwest end of Koolan Island and set a course to the east for Raft Point. Pelican is sailing beautifully at 6-8 knots with both Genoas set and the wind on the port quarter.
photo - Sara, Raft point Looking towards Steep Island
We can see humpback whales breaching sending huge amounts of water into the air as their bodies crash back to the surface.
Oct 11 0130 We find a sheltered anchorage in a bay to the south east of Raft Point. Once again we come in blind on a moonless night with the aid of instruments and anchor behind two small islands. Next morning several crocodiles are eyeing us as we eat breakfast on deck. Despite the heat no one is swimming. We decide to take a look at an aboriginal painting site closer to raft point so relocate to the bay immediately to the east of Raft Point. Raft point takes its name from the fact that local aboriginal people used it as a place to launch rafts on which they would travel to Montgomery Reef more than 10 miles to the northwest (out to sea) to hunt dugong, rafting them back to the mainland. Looking at the prevailing conditions I regard that as an amazing feat and certainly a risky one for people on a flimsy raft with no means of propulsion. I assume they relied on the tide and wind to bring them home again. We anchor Pelican and I deliver people ashore in the inflatable . We then hike to the painting site and sit spellbound under the ledge, trying to imagine the lives that the painters and their community must have lived.
photo - Sara, Rock paintings Raft Point
When we get back to Pelican she is high and dry. I had left her in five metres of water expecting only 3 metres maximum of tidal fall as per the tables. Unfortunately the tables do not match the reality on this occasion. We are lucky that Pelican dried on a relatively flat area of mud bank and not over the channel, which is steep sided. We wade the last 50 metres through thigh deep mud to get back on board. Mat, Sally, James and Ben take the opportunity to indulge in a full tilt mud bath and are soon cavorting naked and having mud fights. It is hilarious to see adults playing in the mud like toddlers. Eventually they tire of these games and while awaiting the return of the tide that will allow them to wash the mud off before getting back aboard Pelican they decide to go for a walk and disappear into the mangroves. Several hours later as it is getting dark I start to worry. Four of my guests are wandering naked in a crocodile infested, mangrove wilderness, on a rising tide. As soon as we can float the inflatable Graeme and I take off in search of them. We find them on the other side of the estuary well out of harms way waiting patiently for us. Thank you lord.
photo - Garry, They wander off into the mangroves
Oct 12 0600 We had relocated Pelican into deeper water the night before and in the morning we raise anchor and set a course under motor for Adele Island. We are hoping that the island being nearly 50 miles off shore will have clear water and coral reefs. Several of our party, myself included, are keen to do some diving. We have timed our departure to take advantage of the tides which are by this time heading back into springs. However, as so often happens in the Kimberly after six or seven hours, the tide turns and instead of giving us 2 or 3 knots it is taking them off us. We stop at Mackay Island to sit out the flood tide. While we are waiting we go ashore to collect oysters off the rocks. Others walk and find amazing landscapes and beaches where the stones are neatly divided into lines of colour. It seems as though everywhere the Kimberley is waiting to surprise and amaze us.
Oct 13 0130 I have slept in and lost an hour or two of tide. I know we will pay for that at the other end of the morning but we raise anchor and resume our course for Adele Island once again. Sure enough the last three or four hours of the trip are spent labouring against the tide but we finally drop anchor in the lagoon (Fraser Inlet) at Adele Island at 11.30. I attempt to take people ashore but the tide gets the better of us once more and I am forced to take people back to the boat after the briefest of walks, before we are stranded. The water appears to be full of turtles mating. Graeme takes people diving in the lagoon and despite the murky conditions they see heaps of fish and coral. The place is abundant with fish, although every time we catch one it is a race to get it into the boat before a shark makes a meal of it. On one occasion someone has a nice Golden Snapper mid air on the way to the deck when a shark who has been following it up comes right
photo Ð Sara, Adele Island
out of the water and swallows three quarters of it in a single bite, leaving the head still twitching on the hook.
The other thing of note about Adele lagoon is an abundance of Boobies. A booby is a sociable bird but these ones were down right friendly. One takes a particular liking to Ben and sits on his arm and allowed Ben to pat him. Another sits on MatÕs shoulder.
photo Ð Sara, Adele Island booby
Oct 14 1030 The next morning as we set off for the Lacepede Islands they follow us for many miles eventually turning back reluctantly for their remote island paradise We have a superb days sailing. With everything up, on a close reach, sitting between 6 and 9 knots all day, we arrive at 0130 and drop anchor on the north side of the islands in choppy conditions.
photo - Sara The Boobies followed us for miles
Oct 15 1100 I take everyone ashore, where we land with some difficulty, through waves breaking directly onto the steeply shelving island. Once again the water is dotted with pairs of turtles mating just off the beach and flocks of Boobies taking great interest in everything we do. The islands are literally alive with birds and would make a great place to spend some serious.
time. Sadly ours is up and about fours later we raise anchor and head for Broome
Oct 16 0130 We anchor in Roebuck Bay that night and the next morning, when the tide allows, we relocate to the channel near BroomeÕs town centre (Chinatown), to off load at StreeterÕs Jetty. Here we say our goodbyes to guests and crew with whom we have shared a remarkable journey. Andrew and myself are left to clean and re provision for the long trip south to Fremantle and Melbourne. My friends Peter and Kay from Melbourne have relocated to Broome and are running a fishing charter business. They turn up with their own private fuel barge and generously offer their help. This makes the task of re fuelling infinitely easier than the two-day marathon with jerry cans, inflatable dingy and hire car we endured the first time. Broome takes the prize for the least amount of boating facilities per head of population in the whole of Australia, and that includes inland towns. It is definitely not a boat friendly place, which is strange given its history and its image.
BROOME TO FREEMANTLE
I am joined by Samantha Boger and Adam Leggitt as crew for the long haul south to Fremantle. They have kindly agreed to assist me on what promises to be the most difficult leg of the whole circumnavigation. Twelve hundred nautical miles against the wind. The West Australian coast south of Broome is famous for strong winds that blow from the southern sector, all year round.
photo - Garry, Roebuck bay Broome Jetty
They seem to vary between 10 and 30 knots most of the time and predominantly run parallel to the coast. In sailing terms that means Òdirectly on the bowÓ. There is a saying , Ògentlemen (and I assume ladies) never sail to windwardÓ I wonder, is that because any person doing so for any length of time is unlikely to maintain the same standards of behaviour and morale, that can be described as gentlemanly? (ladylike?). Or is it because according to the British definition ÒgentlemenÓ can afford to make other arrangements for their transport and that of their vessel. If they are smart thatÕs what they will do here.
Certainly the uncomfortable and strenuous motion of the boat, the repeated falling off waves, the slow progress and the discomfort of the apparent wind in your face for days and weeks on end can drive you to less than your best behaviour. In a sustained wind of 25 knots a vessel sailing at 6 or 7 knots 45 degrees off the true wind will cross a wave every few seconds. Each wave will be around 3 metres or higher. In translation this means that for every mile you gain towards your destination you will basically climb, descend and detour another mile. Imagine living for weeks on end confined to a lift that effectively rises a floor and returns every 7 seconds, while simultaneously attempting to throw you off your feet by moving sideways and tilting. The computer control device is malfunctioning so sometimes it stops gently but is equally likely to stop dead with sufficient force to throw you to the floor if you are not holding on. Outside the lift is a dozen stroppy teenagers bashing on the walls and making loud noises as if they are hacking through the lift cable with blunt axes. One of them has found a high-pressure fire hose and is directing it, into any crack or fissure in an attempt to fill the lift with water.
All of the above is on a day of moderate conditions and assumes that the vessel performs well to windward and is capable of making 45 degrees off the true wind. Pelican with its relatively higher windage has been set up as a research vessel not a weekend racer so to achieve the same results up wind we have to motor sail. This she will do very efficiently on a single engine at around 2,300 revs, using around 4.5 litres per hour, but you can perhaps get a picture of what the experience is like. We spend an inordinate amount of time trying to second- guess the wind. The weather report tells us that in the morning we will experience winds from the S to SE followed by a S to SW change in the afternoon. In response we tack SSW on the port tack (wind over the port side) in the morning and SSE on the starboard tack after the change arrives. If we are lucky this will result in us holding a course not too many degrees different from that of our destination. Doing this day after day will tend to make you very sensitive to changes in the weather and to inaccuracies in the weather reporting. Often the forecast and the actual conditions are very different. Our other option of course is to power up both engines and punch into the weather on a direct course at around 7 to 8 knots. Pelican will do this if required but any vessel of her size is going to be uncomfortable in these conditions. The sails have a stabilizing effect on the vessel resulting in a more pleasant motion when compared with motoring alone. The other issue is one of fuel consumption. Using both engines motoring up wind into a steep 3 metre sea at 7 to 8 knots Pelican will consume around 8 or 9 litres of fuel per hour and for an unpaid delivery voyage of 1,200 nautical miles this is beyond our budget.
Undoubtedly the best way to make such passages is to have the luxury of being able to wait for the right winds to carry you home. In the case of a southern passage down the Western Australian coast you could be waiting a very long time. The conventional wisdom from talking to people that have made this passage is grit your teeth, put your head down for as long as it takes and go for it. This advice seems to apply to all manner of smaller vessels whether they are sailing or power or whatever.
Having outlined these concerns to Samantha and Adam I was surprised and pleased that they offered to take the time to assist me with the passage. There is an up side to it of course
photo - Adam, Heading west
which is that the WA coast is also one of the most remarkable and beautiful stretches of water you will find anywhere. It has great fishing, great surf and a variety of pristine environments to explore and enjoy.
Sam and Adam arrived with a huge amount of luggage. Including three surfboards (one for me), dive gear, fishing gear, and even some of their own kitchen gear although they needn't have bothered with the latter as Pelican is well set up in that regard. We were on a bit of a timetable so after discussing where we might like to stop we decided on the MontebelloÕs.
Oct 18 0530 After taking on supplies and cleaning and preparing Pelican for the voyage we raise anchor and set a course for the Montebello Islands four hundred miles WSW. We head west, encounter wind against tide and spend an uncomfortable first morning punching into a nasty short chop. By afternoon conditions had swung into our favour. The wind was northerly and we were sailing with everything up at close to 10 knots. To my surprise we had excellent sailing conditions on and off for the first couple of days and made good progress. After that the wind backed slowly from the north into the west and we were forced to motor sail in order to stay on course.
There is a lot of activity in the water with numerous bait balls and diving birds. Early on the third day we catch a nice spotted mackerel and three or four bluefin tuna. The first couple I return to the water thinking they are a little on the small side, but the next two I keep because they are not getting any bigger and we are craving sashimi. I have found that sashimi seems to improve after a day in the fridge so we resist the temptation to consume it immediately. We also catch several mackerel tuna, which we return to the water keeping one smaller one for bait.
Oct 21 0630 After a three day passage we anchor off the northern end of Trimouille Island in the MontebelloÕs and fall into bed for a well earned rest. That afternoon after a very civilised lunch of sashimi, King Island brie, dips salad and bread we raise anchor and go to see if the surf is rideable off the northern end of North West Island. Unfortunately we cannot get close enough to the break due to shoals and reef but decide on balance that it does not look good enough to persevere. Instead we head south through the heart of the MontebelloÕs .
photo - Adam, Montebello Islands
The islands were used in the 1950Õs for British nuclear weapons testing. Three sites are marked in the WA cruising guide as ground zero for nuclear detonations. Looking at them now I am amazed at such decisions being taken, especially in such a delicate and vulnerable environment. In stark contrast, current regulations prohibit firearms, pets or open fires. They also impose strict quarantine procedures for the protection of local wildlife. We feel decidedly uneasy as we sail within metres of AustraliaÕs largest weapon test site at Alpha Island. Despite catching several fish we return them to the water after scanning them for deformities.
We spend that night at anchor in the lee of Crocus Island near the western entrance to the island group. Sitting on deck I scan my surroundings in an attempt to discern where bomb damage might be visible. The landscape gives an impression of consisting predominantly of rock with little or no vegetation. Even walking on much of it would be difficult. There are however numerous good anchorages, clear blue waters, sea grass beds, sheltered bays and sandy beaches. The group is sheltered to seaward by an extensive coral fringing reef. As with so many parts of WA the only drawback is the seemingly endless oyster (pearl) leases which are often positioned right across inlets and sheltered waters without regard for the navigation of small vessels. This can make it impossible to transit some areas at night and I believe will become a source of conflict between the pearl farms and other users of these areas as they become more popular.
Oct 22 0930. Raise anchor and head for the western entrance to the MontebelloÕs on the western side of Crocus Island. We encounter extensive shallows here and despite PelicanÕs draft of only 1.3 metres have considerable difficulty negotiating the area at low tide. We scrape over several sandbars leaving trails of sand in our wake. The charts and sailing guides are extremely inaccurate here and I am grateful we have waited till daylight to make the passage. Routes clearly marked in the guide would leave us stranded on the sand and fouled in oyster leases. Fortunately visibility is good. We negotiate a passage through the fringing reef without incident, head into the Indian Ocean and set a course for North West Cape. I favour a seaward route in the hope of gaining some advantage from the Leeuwin Current. Throughout the afternoon we motor at 6 knots on both engines into 15 knot (T) winds and 3 metre seas. As the afternoon wears on we drop back to 2000 revs, to prevent ourselves launching off waves. Eventually the Leeuwin current kicks in around the 200 metre (depth) line giving us better than a half knot advantage. The seas continue to build and we drop engine revs back to about 1900 still making about 6 knots with 15 knots of wind dead on the nose. We decide to bypass NW Cape and head for Ningaloo Reef.
The following morning in calm conditions after fouling the port propeller with fishing line during the night I stop to dive and clear the mess. As I enter the water my breath is taken away by its colour and clarity. Pelican appears to be floating in an endless, impossible, deep
photo Ð Adam/Garry Dolphins Indian Ocean
turquoise blue. Its nature is emphasised by the crystal clarity of the bow more than 20 metres away as I float behind the stern. I estimated that the visibility is at least 40 metres but it is hard to tell, being in open ocean in over 200 metres of water and having no other reference points. What strikes me most is the colour, which is unrepeatable except in the ocean. I feel quite vulnerable silhouetted against the hull as I disengage the 100 lb line from the propeller.
Oct 23 1540 Drop anchor 2 miles south of Yardi Creek behind Ningaloo Reef. We take some time to rest up, walk on the beach, fish and explore Yardi Creek. If the Daintree in North Queensland is where the rainforest meets the reef then Ningaloo is where the reef meets the
photo - Adam Yardie Creek looking inland
desert. Standing above the beach at the top of the first sand dune with your back to the sea you could be forgiven for believing yourself to be in Central Australia. In fact the arid landscape which confronts you continues unbroken, not counting Exmouth Gulf, clear through to the Central Australian deserts. Yardi creek is an impressive gorge which could likewise be lifted directly out of the McDonald ranges near Alice Springs were it not for the stunning blue of Ningaloo Reef and the Indian Ocean lapping at its mouth. Later that day we meet a family anchored nearby. They are travelling south in a small catamaran and as we exchange stories they kindly offer us a beautiful Golden Snapper freshly caught and flapping in the bottom of their tinny. We gratefully accept having had no luck that morning. They are also sheltering from strong winds and elect to make their way south inside the reef.
Oct 25 0940 We raise anchor and depart Yardi Creek for Carnarvon in shark Bay. We tack out to sea in uncomfortable conditions. The wind rises steadily through the day and by 1900 we are struggling under motors into 30 knot winds and 4 metre seas dead on the bow. It is uncomfortable work and we are making little more than 4.5 knots at 2300 revs. We decide to return, for shelter behind Ningaloo Reef. Raising sail once more we head for MaudÕs Landing. On a beam reach under double reefed mizzen, single reefed main and staysail Pelican handles the big seas beautifully. We have an exhilarating sail back to the coast and cover the 25 miles in just over two hours. The following morning with the wind at 25 knots we decide to stay at anchor for a day of rest. We are unlucky not to encounter better conditions at Ningaloo as we are keen to dive and see the famed reef for ourselves. Sadly in the windy conditions visibility is down to 3 metres and bed with a book seems far more inviting than the grey water covered in white horses.
Oct 27 0615 Raising anchor we head for Carnarvon once more. The wind is S to SSE between 10 and 12 knots and we are making around 6 knots under main sail and port engine. We sight our first albatross asleep on the water. I yell to wake him before we run him over and he seems a bit irritable as he flies off. Later the wind freshens but we manage to hold course and speed, motor sailing at around 25 degrees off the apparent wind.
Oct 28 0800 Arrive Carnarvon. Refuel. Restock. Depart Carnarvon heading for South Passage at the southern end of Shark Bay. Big winds are forecast for the next two days and we make our way under engines to anchor at the aptly named Shelter Bay just west of KellÕs Rock in the passage. Here we spend the next few days snorkelling, walking and resting up. We make the acquaintance of Stefano and his brother Roberto two brothers sailing south in a cat named Capella. They work the boat in Broome for the winter and Fremantle for the summer. Because of the timing of their annual voyages north and south up and down the WA coast they almost invariably sail up wind, both ways. We sympathise with their plight. It is nice not to be the only vessel struggling south against seemingly endless head winds.
Nov 1 0600 With the winds moderating we up anchor and head south once more for the Abolish Islands. We are motor sailing at 25 degrees off the apparent wind on main and a single engine at 2300 revs. By carefully planning our tacks with the expected wind shifts we manage to make an average speed over ground of around 6 knots while maintaining a course within 15 or 20 degrees of our destination bearing. The wind strength hovers between 8 and 15 knots (T). This makes little difference to our speed over ground (SOG) due to the fact that as the wind and waves increase, effectively slowing us down, so too does the help we get from the sail. We also endeavour to make use of the Leeuwin Current by navigating where possible along the edge of the continental shelf in around 200 metres of water. This gives us about point 3 of a knot advantage but also puts us in the most uncomfortable zone. This is due to the ocean floor rising sharply and influencing the water in motion at the surface. The resulting increased turbulence contributes to a confused sea state. The water on either side of this zone is invariably calmer but we stay on figuring that the extra speed is worth it. In storm conditions sailors would do well to stay clear of this zone. I have heard of large ocean storm swells breaking on the edge of the shelf in similar depths creating serious hazard for small craft and even potentially larger ships.
photo - Sam, Flying fish landed on deck during the night
Nov 2 1230 Arrive Turtle Bay on the north side of East Wallabi Island in the Houtman Abrolhos archipelago and anchor in 2.7 metres of water. It is a relief to be free of the huge tides of the Kimberley where at times even 10 metres of water is insufficient at anchor. The Abrolhos comprise 122 low-lying, wind swept islands. They are most widely known for the wreck of the Batavia in 1629 and the nightmare of murder and mayhem, which followed. Our anchorage is deserted and serene. I try to imagine the horror of being stranded here as a 17th century European, in an alien landscape, with a bunch of lunatic mutineers, bent on murder, rape and the exercise of unlimited power. The islands rise little more than a couple of metres above sea level and support only the barest vegetation. The outlying coral reefs afford a certain amount of shelter from the Indian Ocean swells but there is little relief from the relentless southerly winds or the burning sun reflected on the surrounding ocean. The water appears clear and clean and full of fish. Despite this we have little luck catching anything. I suspect a little local knowledge here would go a long way.
I take the opportunity to service the engines while we sit out yet another spell of strong winds coming directly out of where we want to go. Adam and Sam take several walks ashore to explore and snorkel in the bay. I watch a small, single engined plane land on the airstrip that occupies much of the island. From it appear a Japanese couple with huge hike packs as if for an extended stay. I think to myself wow what an interesting thing to do. Be dropped on a remote island for a month or so. They are guided by the pilot in navy shorts, long socks and epaulettes, who has no luggage whatsoever. They walk once around the island, and return to their plane. They then take off and disappear towards the mainland. I am unsure if they are disappointed and fly off to seek greener pastures or if their short stay has enabled them to tick off another list item, thus fulfilling their mission and their whole reason for being here. Perhaps they are just road testing their packs. The strange event leaves me pondering the related mysteries of time, distance, and identity as I replace the fuel filters and change the oil in the main engines.
Nov 4 1240 Raise anchor and depart Turtle Bay for Pigeon Island. Pigeon is one of the many locations in the Abrolhos and and in fact on the south coast of WA that has been colonised by lobster fisherman. It is totally deserted when we arrive but the fishermanÕs shacks standing side by side, as though leaning against each other for support, leave little room for anything else.
photo - Adam, Pidgeon island
A wagon wheel of rickety jetties radiate outwards on all sides of the island. The highest point of rock cannot be more that a metre and a half above the high water mark. There is virtually no vegetation. It looks like an Asian coastal ghetto. When the fishermen arrive for the Cray season a thriving community exists here complete with school, local store, pub, and fuel depot. Three or four months later when the season is over it is as deserted as we find it now. You canÕt buy a shack here unless you own a Cray license. I heard of one guy who bought a licence (a million bucks or two) just so he could come here and impress his mates or his girlfriend. He flattened the shack that came with the licence and built a concrete monstrosity complete with satellite dish and remote security system monitoring. Or so the legend goes. But the history of fishing shanty towns in WA goes back way before the explosion of the lobster export market and license prices that spiralled out of control. They can be as different as the fishermen and their families who inhabit them . We turn Pelican around without landing and head to the other side of the Wallabi group intending to make for Fremantle.
By the time we get to the other side of the wallaby group the wind has come up again and we decide to stop and shelter overnight at Beacon Island. This is where the mutineers murdered many of BataviaÕs passengers and crew. It is a low coral quay little more than a metre clear of the high water mark. Today a handful of modest fishermanÕs huts take up most of the island. Like Pidgeon Island it is deserted. We anchor Pelican well out in the bay to the north and take the inflatable in to the jetty. Diving just off the beach we are confronted by an amazing array of staghorn corals of deepest blue. They seem in remarkably good condition considering the relatively heavy traffic in the area.
photo Ð Adam, Pidgeon Island lizard
I imagine myself as one of the Batavia survivors dragging myself ashore here after the shipwreck and getting cut to pieces on the coral in the process. Having gained the relative safety of the island, many others and myself are nursing our wounds. Some of my companions are suffering from septic coral cuts which without medical aid can be fatal. A more pressing need is water. The captain having failed to retrieve much water from the wreck decides to take the long boat to the mainland in search for it but does not return. We are then attacked and brutally murdered by our former shipmates. Using swords, knives, rocks, strangulation or drowning, not forgetting the odd bit of rape and torture, they account for at least 40 to 50 people on this barren piece of coral alone. In all about 200 people perished before the survivors made it safely to Java.
Standing on the coral rubble of the beach today I wonder is it my knowledge of these events that infuses the place with a bleak sadness. Or am I sensing the suffering of the men, women and children murdered so cruelly here and absorbed into the coral sand and low scrubby beach. On the other hand, perhaps my melancholy mood is explained by the relentless southerly winds, grey skies and the anticipation of many difficult miles ahead.
photo - Adam, Samantha Turtle Bay West Wallibi Island
Nov 5 0600 Raise anchor and depart Beacon Island for Fremantle. I choose an inland route as we are expecting SE winds. We spend much of the morning motor sailing but by 1400 we kill the engine and are sailing happily at 7 kts. By 1600 we are making better than 10 kts with the wind still rising. We have everything up except the genoa's and we take a reef in both the main and mizzen. By 1700 the wind is rising past 35 kts true wind speed. We take a second reef in both sails as well as a few wraps on the staysail furler. 1900 the wind is still blowing mid 30Õs almost on the bow and the sea conditions are becoming very uncomfortable. By nightfall Pelican is battling 4 metre breaking seas and horizontal driving rain and spray. There is no convenient shelter or port nearby so we decide to press on. The temptation is to turn around and run with the weather. This would be very comfortable but I am reluctant to relinquish our hard won miles to the south. Nearing the coast with the wind on the starboard side we are unable to tack Pelican through the wind on the first attempt so I decide to give her a little help with the engines. I fail to notice in the dark however that the anchor bridle had been dislodged from the Sampson post on the bow during the constant submerging and is now streaming down the inside of PelicanÕs starboard hull. The Starboard engine stops suddenly as we attempt to tack for the second time. Although I cannot hear it above the wind noise the warning lights on the panel in front of me tell the story. Amid the noise and confusion I find myself staring at the lights and alarms trying to decipher what it all means. The effects of fatigue and sleep deprivation can slow thought processes almost to a standstill at times. Fortunately the port engine is sufficient to assist Pelican through the wind and we settle on the port tack. The engines have never stalled before except by fuel starvation and I know there is no shortage of fuel. The possibilities tumble through my mind in slow motion. Wet electrics, leaking fuel line, water in the fuel, engine failure, seizure. We have sailed quite close to the lee shore and now the thought that we are one engine down in difficult conditions combined with my disorientation is causing me some anxiety. Adam and Sam are both on deck awaiting instructions. Suddenly it clicks. The anchor bridle. I had made a mental note earlier to stow the line properly but had forgotten in the excitement. A quick trip forward confirms the theory. The bridle is tight down the inside of the hull and I cannot free it by pulling. The 25 mm nylon line has tangled the starboard prop and stopped the engine dead. Adam and Sam shorten sail even further and we sail in a semi hove to fashion at about 2 to 3 knots for the rest of the night. Adam and Sam share the watches while I sleep. We only make about 20 miles during the night but the boat is far more comfortable.
Nov 6 0600 In the morning conditions have abated and the sea state settles down enough for me to get in the water and clear the prop. There is no damage to either bridle or saildrive. We shake out the reefs and get going. By mid morning with the wind on the bow we are motor sailing again.
Nov 7 1130 Tie up at Fremantle Sailing Club. The next week is spent wandering the streets of Fremantle, watching cinema, drinking coffee, and doing odd maintenance tasks on Pelican. This is my first taste of city life since we departed Darwin at the beginning of September. Adam and Sam fly out for Melbourne. They have been great company and I am grateful for their assistance with the difficult passage from Broome. I am hoping that the wind will be more kind on the next leg to Melbourne and have every right to expect that it will. Huh !..
I notice that many of the commercial boats working out of Broome while we were there have relocated to Fremantle for the summer and their annual slipping. Several days after we arrive in Freeo Capella limps in. She has been dismasted due to a problem with part of her rig. Stefano however remained in good spirits and it is not long before they are back on the water again for the summer season working out of Fremantle.
FREEMANTLE TO MELBOURNE
Nov 15 0530 Depart Fremantle. Rejoining me for this leg is Colin Fry, as mate who had gotten off in Cairns. Doug Bell and Jim Gilchrist sign on as Deckhands. I expect us to ride home on the cold fronts associated with the winter high-pressure systems that move eastwards across the Great Australian Bight at this time of the year. These are centred at around 25Ð30 degrees south and bring west to southwest winds for days at a time. Sometimes a string of troughs and depressions bring stronger, often gale force winds for up to a week blowing NW to SW. This would give us a fast if lively ride back to Melbourne. In a casual phone call, my mate Peter Gill who studies blue whales out of Portland in SW Victoria, mentions that the South Easterlies have started in the second week of November. This means that the summer pattern of highs moving across the bight centred at 30-40 degrees has begun early. The prevailing winds are now likely to be south easterlies. This is good news for the whale research. The resultant up welling of krill creates a feeding paradise for numerous ocean mammals, birds and fish on Victoria's southwest coast. But it is bad news for PelicanÕs crew who now face a much more difficult sail eastwards. Such turns out to be the case.
The first day out of Fremantle starts well with Pelican moving nicely in a SSE wind of 12 kts. By 1400 however the wind has moved to the SSW pretty much on the bow until we can round Cape Leeuwin. We motor sail until 0600 the following morning when the wind finally turns west as we round Cape Naturaliste.
Nov 16 0600 We tack and raise all sail making 8Ð9 knots in 11Ð12 knots of wind. By midday with the wind NW at 16 kts we furl the staysail and set the starboard genoa on the port staysail traveller. By 1600 we are off Cape Leeuwin. In 25 knots we put a single reef in the main and a double reef in the mizzen and swap the genoa for the staysail. By 2015 the wind is westerly at 18-30 knots. We swap the staysail for the windward Genoa once more, sailing very comfortably between 10 and 12 knots, and surfing the southern ocean swells of around 4 metres at up to 18 knots.
Nov 17 0500 Course 120 degrees True. Wind SW 25-40 knots. Barometer 1000 MB and falling. Position 130 miles southeast of Cape Leeuwin. Seas rising. We are sailing and surfing comfortably between 10 and 20 knots. By 1030 we have a second reef in the main and furl the genoa to 20 %. By 1145 the wind is SW at 40-50 knots, the seas are in excess of 6 metres, and we are surfing sometimes for minutes at a time in excess of 20 knots. Pelican is handling the conditions beautifully. At around 1250 I notice a particularly nasty looking squall approaching from the SW. We are already sailing in a steady 50 knots and I am doubtful if we can reduce sail before the squall arrives. At these wind strengths I would be happy with bare poles and I am worried that we are carrying too much sail. However there is little we can do in the time we have despite our reefing system, which Colin and I have developed to a fine art. We have two winches on the main mast. One is set up with the luff reefing line while the other is set up with the leech reefing line (i.e. the leading and trailing edges of the main sail). Both winches are set for the next reef when we do the previous one and are ready to go. A single deck hand can winch both simultaneously. Reefing can happen very quickly with a single crew member on deck and a second at the wheel. On this occasion however I am not game to turn Pelican up wind to reef. I figure we are better off running before what looks like a very heavy squall. As it approaches it becomes quite dark and I watch the wind taking the tops off the waves, converting mountains of water to flat topped ridges under the foreboding sky. The air is full of water. I glance over at the instruments which are registering 64 knots True wind speed, then up at the main sail, expecting it to shred itself or to carry away the mast. Pelican takes off at over 20 knots effectively reducing the wind on deck to less than 50 and despite my fears absolutely nothing happens. Pelican is surfing the large breaking waves at speeds up to 24 knots but she remains totally controllable and can easily be steered or even zig zagged down the faces. Looking forward I wonder will she plunge her bows into the trough and continue down putting herself at risk of pitch poling but at no stage does she show any tendency to bury her bows and I never see green water on the foredeck or the aft decks. All this gives me great confidence in PelicanÕs abilities. We have however sustained minor damage to the central deck area with water shooting up between the hulls damaging some of the slats. This area becomes a no mans land in these conditions with water bouncing off the underside of the roof and drenching anyone unlucky enough to be crossing the central deck. All of this will require a degree of redesign and modification but for the moment I am happy to see Pelican sailing so well in the conditions. Years of thought, theory, preparation and construction can be obliterated in a single moment in conditions like these. On this occasion however, it seems to have paid off and as my confidence grows, I find myself enjoying the conditions. Doug who has come along on the trip for the express purpose of getting an ocean sailing experience is handling the situation well as is Jim. Both of them contribute as part of the crew and serve watches at all times of the night and day. We have covered 240 nautical miles in 24 hours and despite a slow first day our average is 200 miles per day. After three days we are still on track for a 9 day trip to Melbourne.
This is where our luck runs out. The wind gradually moderates over the next couple of days and moves into the southeast. I resume my West Australian sailing posture. Head down, jaw set and hanging on for a slow, humiliating, pounding grind, up wind. We have been making directly for the western entrance of Bass Strait and are nearly three hundred miles off shore. Now motor sailing once more we are forced to turn northwards by freshening headwinds and ultimately decide to make for Port Lincoln in South Australia to re provision and refuel. Around this time we pass numerous sperm whales, metal gray, travelling west like submarines. They are swimming continuously on the surface, without porpoising or diving, in groups of up to five or six quite close to the boat. One seems particularly curious and passes just metres from the starboard side having a good look at us. I estimate about thirty or forty individuals pass within an hour or so. They have a certain presence, an air of community and self-sufficiency about them. As they continue on their business I cant help thinking how happy they seem.
Nov 23 2030 Arrive Port Lincoln eight and a half days after leaving Fremantle. We have covered a total of 1,380 nautical miles, or 160 miles per day at an average speed of 6.75 knots but have sailed many extra miles tacking into head winds. We have consumed 520 litres of diesel fuel or 1 litre for every 2.65 nautical miles covered. Doug and Jim elected to get off as they had commitments in Melbourne. Colin and I were sad to see them go and would miss the political debates that had kept the wheelhouse lively over the last 10 days.
Nov 25 0350 Depart Port Lincoln in time to catch the ebb tide out of St VincentÕs Gulf and head for Portland via the western end of Kangaroo Island. Our sail back into Victorian waters is relatively uneventful. Just off Cape Bridgewater Colin and I celebrate with a glass of Coopers Ale. We had been working here with Pete Gill and the blue whales in May prior to returning to Melbourne before heading north, so cape Bridgewater effectively marks the completion of the circumnavigation. Pete is waiting to welcome us into Portland and we enjoy a quiet meal of fish freshly caught by Colin, a bottle of wine, and the easy conversation of catch up with close friends as Pelican lay once again in the familiar waters of Portland Harbour.
Nov 29 1200 Depart Portland for Apollo Bay. The next morning after a pleasant sail we berth in Apollo Bay Harbour to pick up Natalie Davey one of the Pelican shareholders and support team, her daughter Aurora aged 2 and Kate Daddo another Pelican supporter and keen sailor. They sign on as crew for the final leg into Melbourne. Sadly the fair winds that have been so elusive since Broome elude us yet again and we motor sail most of the distance to Port Phillip Heads. We anchor for the night inside the heads at Quarantine near Portsea. Around 0100 a strong wind, about 30 knots, comes up from the southwest. In collaboration with 5 knots of flood tide and loose sand over rock bottom it conspires with Pelican to drag the anchor some distance toward the shipping channel. Eventually we give in, raise anchor and sail once more and making use of the favourable wind arrive in Me“…ƒ‚†¢‚D–ÙÜÔÊÑ·Í•\\cpvjjdnv{„‰ƒw”¦²¬Ÿ³Ê˽»ÎÏÉÀ·Â½¶²®²¸²¼‡í¯