This was the view of my office building as I came in to Victoria Harbour under the Bolte Bridge yesterday morning … Cheaper and more relaxing than catching the train!
My work clothes are in the gym locker, the boat is stocked with muesli, dog food and sauv blanc and I’m getting used to living aboard (and so are the pooches).
I’ve decided I’d rather spend 45 minutes motoring up the river on my boat than 25 minutes in the train jam-packed with other commuters… so here begins a bit of an experiment. How lucky am I? I get to test out whether I really want to live on a boat (this boat in particular, if that’s the choice I have) before I make any life-changing decisions…
The people at Victoria Harbour – Melbourne City Marina are great; turn up, grab a free berth, let them know… thanks guys. Curling up with a book last night, I decided a cruising boat must have bookshelves!
I slept well, woke up early-ish… loving that Melbourne’s winter is finally coming to an end and the days are getting a bit longer. I don’t cope well with starting and finishing the day in the dark. Up to my locker at 700B to shower and change into ‘corporate mode’ – I’ve also decided I like being able to walk to work in my Ozi Yoti track pants and runners…
Coming home tonight was a character-defining moment I’d rather not repeat. Sailing safely is all about preparation and motoring is no different. Sailing or motoring single-handed is all about preparation, preparation, preparation and still more preparation. Springers off – check. Motor started – reluctantly but check. Dogs below – check. Dusk is falling so nav lights on – check. I check the wind strength and decide the half boom tent can stay on – it will protect me from the drizzle that is threatening and it’s not windy enough for it to be an issue. A quick chat to the family in the neighboring berth on Dionysius, cast off and I’m away. It’s foggy; very foggy. There are rowers out, but I can just make out their lights, so I think I can avoid them. I’ll go slowly just in case. I momentarily wonder if I would be better to stay here the night and avoid going home in the fog, but quickly decide that I’ll save the $50 berthing fee tonight and go home. Going under the Bolte the fog is thickening, so I put the autohelm on so I can stand at the companionway to steer using the control head, rather than sitting at the stern steering by tiller. From the stern I can only see a little way in front of the bow; from the companionway I can see further. No problem; follow the channel markers. They’re well-lit; I just have to hug the right hand side, following the red ones. I glance up and realise my masthead light is on, as is the stern light, but the tricolour running light isn’t… mustn’t have re-wired it properly after the mast was put back in the boat in June. Damn… shouldn’t really be navigating at night without it. Not far to go; it’ll be ok. There are no other boats on the river. Approaching the Westgate the fog gets worse and I’m trying to remember if there are pylons in the middle of the river like the Bolte or if the bridge spans the river with pylons on each side. Under and through and the fog starts to lift; I breathe a sigh of relief… it will be easier to put the boat away in the pen without it.
But I sighed too soon; coming to the end of the channel the fog sets in so thickly I can only see one foot each side of the boat and can only just see the bow. I’m steering by Navionics on my iPhone but the GPS keeps cutting out so I’m not confident in it. Added to that I’ve got low battery warning on the phone. Every so often the GPS kicks in again so I think I know where I am, approaching the end of the jetty at Royals, but then I notice I’ve got 0.1 metres under the keel; I’m somewhere really shallow and that means I’m definitely not in the vicinity of the jetty at Royals. I cut the motor right back; I don’t want to run aground or head-butt anything with any speed up. I can see channel markers, so I can tell I’m not in the Channel. I must be in the middle of Hobsons Bay, near Parsons, which means I’m in the middle of a bunch of boats on moorings that I can’t see. There are a few nervous minutes as I make my way back to the Channel to head further down to Royals and the dark shadows of moored boats appear in the blackness right beside me. The GPS decides to kick in properly again, I take a compass bearing while I can see that I’m pointing straight at the entrance to the marina in case it drops out again (which it does) and I keep nudging my way forwards. A police boat is waiting at the entrance flashing a light at me, which confuses me until I’m close enough to see what it is, as I know there’s no light like that where I’m supposed to be. They yell at me as I approach, asking where my running lights are – I shamefully admit they’re not working but that I hadn’t known that when I’d set off in daylight. Not a good excuse.
I eventually manage to get the boat back in the pen. A 45 minute trip has taken an hour and a half and I’ve put my boat at risk with poor preparation. The $50 mooring fee for the night is looking like the cheaper of many potential scenarios that could have occurred… I feel lucky to have learnt that lesson without the expense.
So Phoenix will stay in her pen tomorrow… day trips only until the running lights are fixed. I managed to re-wire the radio and get it working again last night, so hopefully my electronics skills are improving and I’ll be able to fix the running lights as well.
Preparation, preparation, preparation and more preparation… and making cautious, sensible decisions. I hope I’ve learnt my lesson!
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