The turning point of the trip has come, in more ways than one. As we start heading south again, it’s been a good time to reflect on the last four weeks.
From Tin Can Bay we did another straight and shallow expedition; this time through the Great Sandy Straights up inside Frazer Island to Hervey Bay. Wanting to see some of the island, we took our time, anchoring off Maaroom , then Southern Whitecliffs and then Northern Whitecliffs. ‘Le bilan’, as they say in French:
- Maaroom – uncomfortable, unprotected anchorage…
- Southern Whitecliffs – a beach that turns to quicksand at low tide – literally sinking to your waist with each step, the tide going out faster than you can tug your rubber dinghy out to the receding water. Eaten alive by sand flies, covered in bites that would itch madly for the next 10 days…
- Northern Whitecliffs – lovely resort (Kingfisher Bay) but weird anchoring; your boat lies in the direction of the tides not the wind, so in a flood tide and southerly wind you’re stern-to, with waves slapping under the stern for six hours, waiting for the tide to turn!
We were happy to get through to Hervey Bay and had a glorious sail up to Bundaberg to spend a weekend visiting Richard’s brother Marty. One of the essential parts of the trip was keeping in touch with family, and it was great to be able to spend some time with him not long after losing Flo. It was more shorts and T-shirt weather, pretty much every day in a lovely marina tucked just inside the river. Marty shouted us to a lovely dinner at the local club, watching forlornly as the Wallabies downed the All Blacks. A visit to the Hinkler Hall of Aviation gave me an insight into a renowned Australian adventurer (whom I had previously never heard of…). We had coffee at the riverside, met a curious local and wandered through the Botanical Gardens (nearly getting clobbered by a falling palm frond).
After the loan of his car for the weekend, we enjoyed another BBQ meal together on Sunday evening at the Marina using the facilities opened there this year for cruisers. After dinner it was a bit of an emotional farewell for the two brothers, then Richard and I thought we’d do an overnight motor sail with a calm forecast to get to the bottom of Hervey Bay and the Sandy Straights again at high tide overnight, ready to head for Bundaberg the next morning. It wasn’t to be; casting off and motoring down the river we found a fair chop at the entrance then out in the channel discovered the autopilot had gone on strike. Not keen for manual steering all night in what was turning out to be uncomfortable conditions, we turned around and headed back to the Marina, fixing the autopilot on the way but sticking to our decision for an early morning departure instead.
In the end we made it down Hervey Bay in good time, getting through Sandy Straights in the evening with tide assistance all the way and anchoring just inside Wide Bay Harbour again for the night. Richard decided to trawl a line as we came back through the straights and there was high excitement as it spun out behind the boat off Stuart Island. A large Mackerel justified the presence of the fishing lines for the previous 10 weeks, which Richard filleted and prepared to perfection for dinner the following night. Another dawn departure saw us across the ‘Mad Mile’ again with fairly easy conditions, although we did take one breaking wave over the bow and yours truly had a salt water shower standing in the companion way. When Coast Guard tells you to steer 50 metres west and 50 metres north of Waypoint B, make it 100 metres and you should be fine. We had everything from too much wind to nothing on the way to Mooloolaba, but made it into the Marina easily by 4:00pm. An attempted team meeting conference call along the way off Double Island Point was abandoned with Telstra’s coverage being uncharacteristically poor in the area.
We’ve sat for a few days in Mooloolaba as winds howl through masts from various directions, waiting for favourable conditions to do the last leg back to Manly (QLD). As the end of our time away draws near, we’ve both been making the most of spare hours to pursue various activities we had planned; Richard has been trying his hand at making leather sheaths for a stunning, hand-crafted knife he picked up at the Forge Festival. I’ve managed to finish a wood carving, churn through some uni assignments, write some chapters on my novel and put in quite a few hours to support my team at work. We’re both feeling really happy with our time away, and convinced more than ever that this is a lifestyle we want. We’ve both proven that we can tolerate (ok, enjoy, appreciate, … I’ll stop before I get soppy) each other’s company in such close confines and also that we have enough hobbies and interests to keep us occupied in the down time. I’ve also proven (to myself at least) that I can work efficiently whilst living on a boat – less so when actually sailing it, and working isn’t the same as earning an income. But it’s given me confidence that it’s do-able. In other ways, we’re no closer to a permanently becoming Blue Nomads until both our boats sell. Neither of us have any idea what the next six to twelve months will bring, other than it’s likely that more options will open up. We’re both feeling comfortable with the uncertainty, and in many ways excited and curious to see how it pans out.