Tuesday 17th July 2018

We have arrived at Thursday Island at the very most northern point of Australia. Towards the end of the week we will check out at customs and head for Indonesia, our Australian East Coast adventure completed.

You can find our track at http://my.yb.tl/sailrayatracking/

The anchorage at TI, as Thursday Island is known, is rather bumpy, so the fleet of the sail2Indonesia rally have congregated a mile or so southeast off Horn Island. As soon as we stepped ashore we knew we were back to Island life. The dodgy dock was crowded, the roads and pavements were full of pot holes and the supermarket, well let’s just say we need to reset our expectations.

Getting the shopping into the dingy was a bit of a challenge for us and the guys on Alexandra.

The last few days of sailing up the coast continued to be good, although with the ever narrowing shipping channels winding their way through the reefs and islands, a good look out was required at all times and with the frequent changes of direction, sail changes made for a busy trip.

On the first night we stopped at a recommended anchorage off Morris Island. Just a tiny speck on the chart and not much bigger in real life, we were doubtful that it could give us any protection and prepared ourselves mentally to sail on through the night. Little more than a long sand spit about half a kilometre long, with just one palm tree and a bit of scrub there was no let up in the SE wind but surrounded by a large reef the swell disappeared, so we dropped anchor and got some rest. We had caught a large Spanish Mackerel in the morning but all plans of sharing a fish supper with our fellow cruisers was quashed, the wind deterring us from lowering our dinghies.

The next day, Wednesday, we set off on the 24hr sail up to Adolphus Island, just off of Cape York it was a good launching point to time our arrival through the tide driven currents of the Torres Straight.

Anchored in splendid isolation in Blackwood Bay, Adolphus Island

We still had no internet so I still had no Navionics on my iPad, I was dependant on the guys on True Blue and Matt on his computer in the U.K. to work out the tide times for us. With their help Raya was whisked along by a 3kt current into the anchorage at Horn Island.

Anchored with the rally fleet off Horn Island

The promise of a bigger supermarket and a couple of restaurants, meant yesterday we took the ferry to Thursday Island. It’s a great system with the ferry Captain also being the bus driver. Once the ferry docks, everyone moves to a mini bus and is dropped around the small town and island as required. To return, you just call for the bus who picks you up and delivers you back to the ferry. With the security of the driver of both being the same person you know the ferry can’t leave without you.

Being only 10 degrees South of the equator we are deffinatly back in the tropics and we had to remind ourselves to slow down in the humid heat. With only one main street and the sea front, we easily found our way around and although bigger and a bit smarter than Horn Island, it still felt a very long way away from the Australia we had left behind in Cairns.

Harry the local croc lounging on the banks of the anchorage

Sunday 1st July 2018

We don’t really feel we are seeing Cairns at its best, unbelievably it is still raining. We dash around, heads down, trying to get from one place to another without becoming too wet.

Today, to escape cabin fever, I risked the drizzle and went out to stretch my legs on the waterfront boardwalk. When we arrived last week, we had one day of sunshine, this area was teaming with people, visitors and local families wandered along the paths entertained by buskers and street performers, today the paths were almost deserted. The attractive artificial lagoon sat empty and forlorn, a few groups of backpacking kids huddled under trees damp and dazed from the previous nights revelries, rain coated Chinese tourists shelter under umbrellas putting on a brave face determinedly continuing to snap photos, even the pelicans seem to have had enough of the weather.

Pelicans on a rainy Cairns beach

Despite the rain we carried on with our plans to hire a car. Tuesday we used it for a last scout around the chandleries and for a final stock up on provisions for our trip to Indonesia. Every locker onboard now groans with goodies.

Wednesday we treated ourselves to a day out, driving up the coast to Mossman Gorge and the Daintree River. The coast road sweeps dramatically around bays and over headlands but the normally blue sea looked green and murky under the grey skies and the beaches damp and windswept in the drizzle.

On the upside the weather had kept many people away, so our visit to Mossman Gorge was relatively uncrowded. The gorge sits in the southern end of the Daintree Forest, one of the Worlds oldest continuing forests. Having escaped ice ages and volcanic destruction it is thought to have been around for 135 million years. A few of the plants are of ancient origin and found uniquely in this area.

The atmosphere inside the forest is extremely humid, creating a marvellous earthy scent, the sound of cascading water and an intense green surrounds you. Despite all evidence to the contrary this is the dry season and the Mossman River flowed gently through the boulders, tumbling over small waterfalls. All around however, signs and markers warned of the rivers potential power, after torrential summer downpours it becomes a dangerous raging torrent whisking away everything in its path and frequently breaking its banks.

Mossman River

In the afternoon we travelled further north to a much more tranquil River, the Daintree. We had a river trip booked for 4pm in one of the smaller tourist boats. Boatman Daintree River Tours run trips at dawn and dusk when the birds and animals are more easily spotted along the banks. Unfortunately so dismal were the conditions I think most of the wildlife were sitting sheltering inside the densely forested banks looking out at us instead. However our prime objective was to see a crocodile and luckily Scarface, a large male, was obligingly sitting on his favourite patch of low tide sand.

At 4 1/2 m Scarface is possibly the largest Salty on the river

Being a small craft we were able to meander up narrower creeks, Murray our extremely knowledgable guide filling the void left by the lack of animals with fascinating information about the passing trees and shrubs. Who knew that the mangroves here survive their tidal salty homes by growing vertical aerial roots that act a bit like snorkels helping with the uptake of oxygen as the tide ebbs and floods. To cope with the excess salt, as well as filtering as much salt as possible through their roots, they sacrifice a proportion of their leaves to gather salt, the leaves turn brown and drop off taking the salt with them.

Aerial roots of the Mangrove trees

As we rejoined the river, Murray spotted a giant billed heron flying near by. A secretive bird, a sighting is much sort after by the birding community, which explained the excitement from our fellow passenger who set his camera, bedecked with a huge telephoto lens, into action. The heron settled on a nearby tree and we moved in for a closer look, to our surprise it let out a croaky growl, a sound as far away from bird song as you could imagine. Over a meter tall they spear fish in the shallows but have been known to eat small snakes and even baby crocodiles.

A rather damp and ruffled giant billed heron

Back at the marina it was time for the Indonesian Rally briefing, the blue sea and skies of our destinations, looking even more alluring against the backdrop of rain out of the window. The presentation was followed by a pirates party and the Indonesian Rally participants were joined in the Cairns Yacht Squadron bar by the crews from the Oyster Rally. Feeling rather betwixt and between, we wandered from one group to another and had a very enjoyable evening.

Swashbuckling with Oyster friends Heather and Bob

There are signs in the forecast for less rain next week, we plan to leave Thursday, it would be nice to see Cairns in the sunshine before we go..

Sunday 24th June 2018

All us girls know that dark chocolate with a nice class of red wine is a sublime combination but enjoying them with the backdrop of a burnt sienna sky, the black silhouettes of a mountainous coast and Venus twinkling above, while anchored off a small island in calm seas, well that makes for a very special moment. Regrettably with the highs come the lows, a few hours later, in the depths of the night, the wind changed, a lively fetch developed, sleeping was difficult and life onboard became much less appealing.

Looking back at the mainland from Orpheus Island.

We had picked up the pace slightly to arrive at the Marlin Marina in Cairns a few days earlier than planned. Our Bimini has started to collapse, any small pressure on it is causing it to split. Rick had put on a couple of patches to try and make it last a bit longer but we have a new rip and another area threatening to give way at any moment. As our main protection from the sun, it’s an essential piece of kit, so we took the decision to try and get a new one made in Cairns.

So for the 150 miles, from Magnetic Island, we decided to continue with day sails but instead of sailing one day, then enjoying the island the next, we are just stopping to sleep each night. Our first stopover in Pioneer Bay on Orpheus Island turned out to be not only bouncy but chilly too. We read that Tuesday night it fell to 6C in Townsville, less than 60 miles to the South of us, the coldest night they’d had since 1995!

Consequently it was a cold start to our next stage and we were very pleased, as the morning progressed, for the sun to start warming us up.

Warming up in the sunshine as we continue to sail north

It’s a very striking coastline, with the high mountains of the Great Dividing Range dropping dramatically down to the sea. A lot of the land here is managed by Aboriginal communities and for the past couple of weeks we have seen numerous controlled fires in the hills. A method used for thousands of years, it clears the land of scrub encouraging a variety of grasses to grow, this in turn attracts Kangeroos a traditional food source. It turns out however that this ancient knowledge of when and where to burn is also invaluable in discouraging wild fires and increasing diversity of all the flora and fauna in the area.

Our next anchorage was in Brammo Bay on the NE corner of Dunk Island. Yet another deserted resort sat perched on the beach, one more victim of cyclone damage and lack of investment. There is however still a regular ferry service bringing day trippers and campers from the mainland to enjoy the beautiful beaches and trails that crisscross the island.

Thursday after ten hours of motor sailing we arrived in Cairns. The Bimini is on order and as this will be our last marina for quite a few months, preparations for the onward trip to Indonesia are in full swing. Unfortunately the weather has turned cloudy and wet, dodging showers has been the order of the day.

Street art in the rain, at the Lagoon on the Cairns waterfront

And we are not alone, the Oyster World Rally is gradually arriving, Raya’s sister vessels surround us.

Oyster World Rally arrive in Cairns

Monday 18th June 2018

Splendid Isolation of Bona Bay

This past week we have been slowly making our way northwards between the Whitsundays and Townsville. We have managed to find quiet anchorages inside the deeply indented mainland and off the dramatic coastal islands that are close enough together to avoid tiring one night passages. Magnificent giant boulders still feature all along the coast, some so precariously balanced they look as if just a small puff of wind would send them tumbling down the hillside. Luckily the weather has been very calm, the lack of wind often producing exquisite, undulating, glassy seas.

Windless days and glassy seas

As we sail we are continuously reminded of just how huge Australia is, with towns and small communities dotted sparsely amongst the miles of empty countryside. Our first stop, just ten miles north of Airlie Beach was one such place, in the large eastern lobe of Double Bay we were surrounded on three sides by a vast uninhabited forest, with only the one other yacht anchored deeper into the bay and the couple of bars of 3G evidence we were only a few miles from civilisation.

We moved on to Bona Bay, in the lea of Gloucester Island, a resort was located a couple of miles south on the mainland but again we sat in splendid isolation. There was a great beach here and the low tide revealed a large expanse of sand and a huge field of pebbles.

Pebble beach at Bona Bay

Thursday found us, after another calm passage, tucked behind the daunting mass of Cape Upstart in Shark Bay. The whole 4 mile length of the bay was lined, behind the trees, with shacks, rough and ready telegraph poles running an electric supply to each. However there was no sign of any occupants.

The water in these bays is murky and in combination with its name we are not tempted in, but again we enjoyed exploring the beaches. Getting ashore at low tide, with a rocky boundary proved difficult but after a bit of searching we spotted a small creek cutting through the sand and guessed correctly that there would be a sand spit at its end to beach the dingy. We wandered up the creeks length to where it disappeared into the mangroves, but the pressence of biting sandflies (or was it the muddy banked possible crocodile country) put us off exploring further.

A small creek entering Shark Bay

Returning to the dingy we took advantage of the flat sea to go out of the bay and around the head of the Cape. Normally pounded by ocean swell it was a rare treat to be able to explore around the massive rocks and crevasses that drop down steeply into clear water and visit the small beaches tucked away near the Capes end.

Enjoying the calm waters, exploring in the dingy.

We now find ourselves in Horseshoe Bay on the north side of Magnetic Island. Named, as many of the places are here, by Captain Cook as he sailed up this same coast in 1770, due to the effect the island had on their compasses. We kept a keen eye on ours as we approached but didn’t have any similar issues. However the journey was marred, not by us getting misdirected but by the loss of two of Ricks favourite fishing lures. The first was taken by what must have been a very big fish, who bending the rod almost double, pulled out most of the 200m of line on the reel before chomping through it to get free. The second loss was more irritating. A small fast tinny crewed by a couple of local idiots drove straight towards us and despite my best efforts jumping up and down miming the fact we were trolling a line out the stern of the boat, they crossed behind us way too close taking our hook, lure and line with them.

Magnetic Island being just off the coast of Townsville and a tourist destination, is much busier than our last few stops, however that does mean bars, restaurants and a grocery store. It also has a few trails, one of which leads a short way through the forest to a lagoon apparently home to a range of different birds. Unfortunately all we found along the path, was yet more large spiders, a flighty kangaroo who made us jump out of our skins as he bounded through the undergrowth and a very boggy end as the trail petered out, the lagoon sitting tantalisingly close just through the trees.

A trail to nowhere

Tomorrow we continue our island hopping, arriving in Cairns at the end of the week. Where hopefully we will find our passports stamped with our Indonesian visas and the rally information packs. The next adventure begins.

Saturday 9th June 2018

We are lounging in the cockpit trying to take a bit of downtime. We are berthed in the very swish Abel Point Marina in Airlie Beach and all around us is a hive of activity, we feel rather lazy. The boats either side of us are being cleaned and polished to within an inch of their lives, a continuous stream of people are being shepherded along our pontoon on to the various day trip crafts moored at the end, a fun run is taking place on the harbour boardwalk and behind us a small army of crew members work flat out on the 230ft Super Yacht Felix, keeping it in a perpetual state of perfection and readiness.

Super Yacht Felix , they had been polishing the hull all day

Yesterday we had waved Eric and Roz off to the airport, pleased that for the past week the sun had come out and the wind dropped enough for them to experience some of the high moments that a cruising life can provide.

Sunday we continued our journey around Hook Island arriving in Stonehaven Anchorage in time for lunch. There were a few more boats here but we easily found a mooring buoy even if it did mean sharing the musical tastes of our neighbours. We escaped ashore, again clambering around the amazing boulders, Rick climbing high and back into the island.

The volcanic past of these islands is evident everywhere in the rocks. Some are obviously solidified lava, dark in colour they are pocked with air holes and full of stones and debris picked up as the molten flow ran down the hillside. Many are striped with Ferrous reds and oranges, others having been eroded by the sea reminded us of giant apple cores or, as in the case below, giant waves frozen in time.

The rocks at Stonehaven Beach

Luckily the partying crew next door allowed us a quiet night and early the next morning, in our continuing search for good snorkelling, we moved the short distance out to tiny Langford Island. We were again greeted by a dozen or so bat fish but sadly even from the boat we could see that most of the coral was gone, we debated whether it was worth going in to investigate further. The arrival of a dozen jet skis made our decision easy, we moved on to Blue Pearl Bay on Hayman Island.

Another beautiful bay lined with stunning rocks we took the dingy out to enjoy them close up. Castle rock that forms a small headland is a renowned snorkelling spot but yet again most of the coral was gone. Despite this we did have an interesting snorkel, a few patches of coral on the shore side of the boulders, presumably protected from Debbie’s onslaught, survive, small reef fish clinging on in what remains of their home. There were plenty of larger fish too, including a large grouper and a generous amount of parrot fish. Nearer the shoreside rocks we came across a massive shoal of schooling three inch long silver fish. It’s amazing swimming through the mass of beady eyes all intently watching, a million individuals that swoop back and forward in unison, all the time somehow managing to avoid touching you.

Our next stop was, for contrast, deep inside the 2.5nm long Nara inlet, at only half a km wide we were encased by the high green hills.We couldn’t have wanted for a more tranquil spot, in fact Rick took advantage of the calm conditions, and the extra hands onboard, to drop the main sail and inspect the inmast furler.

Looking down the length of Nara Inlet

At the end of the inlet, off a small pretty beach, a track leads up to a cave that contains aboriginal paintings possibly 2000yrs old. Artefacts found in the cave floor show that it has been used for at least that long by the Ngaro people who have lived in the area for at around 9000 years. On the side of the track and on the platform outside the cave information boards explain the details and the importance of the simple designs and the stories that accompanied them to spread the history and culture of their people.

Aboriginal cave paintings in Nara Inlet.

After a final night back in Cid Harbour, we headed to Airlie Beach and the Abel Point Marina. The wind was, for a change, in the perfect direction, so Eric and Roz took turns at the helm sailing us across the Whitsunday passage on a broad reach at nearly nine knots. A fitting finale to an all too brief return to these lovey Islands.

Wednesday 31st May 2018

Late Friday as we stood shivering on a dark night, soaked to the skin, with the wind howling, lightening flashing and thunder crashing all around us, we hoped this was a final fling for the bad weather we’d had for the past fortnight. After hours of heavy rain with the dingy slowly filling we had to face the enevitable drenching to raise it before it was completely submerged.

Although in the marina we have unusually been using the dingy to get around. Being on an outer pontoon the dingy dock at the supermarket and the ferry wharf at the airport are much more convenient than using our feet. And, joining Raya by dingy is far more exciting than catching a taxi, our friends Eric and Roz were arriving in the morning. Having flown half way around the World, leaving the glourious English spring sunshine behind them, this cool, wet and windy period was not what we had wanted them to be greeted with.

Unfortunately the elements continued to be unsettled for the next few days, brusque, cool winds and frequent showers keeping our eyes skyward watching for breaks in the clouds because as soon as the sunshine did break through, it was lovely. We enjoyed a stroll on the beach, a sunny lunch or two at the resort and a few walks.

Roz admiring the view

On the high tide Tuesday we filled up at the fuel dock and left the marina. As we rounded the northern end of the island, losing its protection, we motored straight into washing machine seas. Luckily it was only an hour or so before we entered the Solway Passage, here were much smaller waves but the water was lively in other ways. As the tide rushed through its narrow gap, a strong current helped us reach over 10kts of boat speed. As other streams of water joined the system, strange calm patches amongst areas of overalls and ominous whirls pools formed. A bit scary to look at but not really a problem for Raya to pass through.

We headed to the famous Whitehaven beach. On our first visit to this beach, over thirty years ago, this expanse of fine white sand blew us away, the many photos we still have keeping our memories fresh. This time, with our level of beach appreciation somewhat higher and with the advent of the day tripper, it didn’t seem quite so special. However as we walked away from the crowds and five miles of white sand, with grains so fine they squeaked beneath our feet, spread out before us, it’s beauty was more evident. A ray darted from our path in the shallows, helicopters and seaplanes buzzed over our heads and now protected from the wind the late afternoon sun felt pleasantly warm and on our faces.

Five miles of white sand on Whitehaven Beach

At the top of the beach a ghostly barrier of bleached and broken trees marked the start of the interior woodland, presumably damaged by the onslaught of Cyclone Debbie last year, they appear to have been bulldozed off the beach to maintain the picture perfect vista that has become the ‘poster boy’ image of the Whitsundays.

Piles of dead trees lined the top of the beach

With yet another blast of wind forecast today we have moved on. We poked our nose into Tongue Bay but again it was quite crowded, the freshening winds were gusting down the hill in front of us and despite looking protected on the chart a swell was creeping around the headland.

We sailed on and have found a beautiful spot in Cateran Bay on the north shore of Border Island. The sky is finally cloudless and we have, currently at least, evaded the wind and swell, two beaches and a snorkelling spot beckon.

Anchored in Cateran Bay, Border Island

Friday 25th May 2018

As we rounded Hughes Point in Cid Harbour and motored into Sawmill Bay, suddenly and for the first time in six days, the wind dropped. The stillness and quiet was wonderful, even the sun was making an appearance.

Anchor down in calm Sawmill Bay, Cid Harbour

The calm conditions were fickle however, any slight change in direction of the wind allowed it to edge around the peaks and down the valleys hitting us with lively gusts and sporadically longer periods of blustery weather. But the sun stayed with us and our surroundings were beautiful.

Beautiful Cid Harbour

With the sea finally flat enough we dropped the dingy and headed for the beach. A short 1.5km trail led over the hill to Dugong inlet. Starting with a set of ramshackle steps at the northern end of the beach it led up into the wooded shoreline. Large Hoop Pines and tall White Cheesewoods dominated the rainforest canopy above us and bright orange fungi, growing on decaying fallen branches decorated the floor. Butterflies fluttered in the air and tiny lizards skittered across the path.

As we began to descend down the other side of the hill the bird song and the rustling from the forest floor, the sounds that had accompanied us for the first half of the walk, gave way to the incongruous thump of Rap music. On Dugong beach a group of young backpackers were enjoying a few days camping. After a brief stroll on the sand we left them to their partying and returned back to quiet of Sawmill Bay.

There is another trail from this beach, leading up to the Whitsunday Peak but with an estimated 4hrs to complete the 5km distance we guessed it was a little steep for us.

Bright orange fungi grow on the wood that litters the forest floor.

Tuesday it was time to move on to Hamilton Island Marina to prepare for the arrival of our friends. This required us to sail south for a change, heading straight into the 25kts of wind, luckily it was only 5miles away. As we poked our nose out from the protection of Whitsunday Island the wind hit us like a brick wall and the choppy sea crashed over our bows, we were glad of Raya’s 30tons and hefty engine. As soon as we cleared the headland we tucked into the coast as close as possible and an hour later were happily tied up in our berth.

We have been enjoying the restaurants, drank Mojitos by a pretty but rather chilly pool and browsed the resort shops. The atypical weather persists but there is a glimmer of hope with an improvement in the forecast for next week. We are looking forward to sharing a sunny exploration of more of the islands and even a bit of snorkelling, so fingers crossed.

Main pool at Hamilton Island Resort

Friday 18th June 2018

Thirty one years ago we made our first trip to Australia and for part of that holiday, with a friend, we chartered a bareboat in the Whitsunday Islands. Our first sailing holiday it remains in our memories as a very special time and ever since we started our sail north up the Australian Coast we have been eagerly awaiting our return. However the cool 30kt winds, messy seas and rain that greeted us was not what quite how we remembered things.

Cold wet arrival in the Whitsundays.

After leaving Mackay our first stop was the twin islands of Keswick and St Bees, in the far south of the group, both islands are surrounded by reportedly excellent diving and snorkelling spots. After an uncomfortable few hours sail we headed for what we hoped would be an anchorage sheltered from the wind. There was slight protection but it was really bouncy, we moved around to the channel between the two islands only to discover the tide racing at about three knots and the wind still howling. Conditions were not going to be good for snorkelling even if we did put up with the bad conditions in the anchorages we decided to move on. A couple of hours later and ten miles north we were much more comfortably anchored off Bampton Island.

A combination of a drop in visitors after the 2008 economic downturn and a procession of destructive cyclones has taken its toll on the Whitsunday Resorts and many stand empty and disintegrating. Bampton Island Resort was like a ghost town, ragged tape and boards blocking entry beyond the beach. One villa was obviously occupied by squatters or perhaps a caretaker but they didn’t come out to talk. It was a beautiful spot but with just the occasional yacht passing through it must be a lonely existence.

Derelict Bampton Island Resort

Decaying alongside the villas, was an aircraft runway, a once lovely beachside pool and a small overgrown fresh water lake. As we stood absorbing the desolation here we got the feeling of being watched. We were, and our observer was a large kangaroo well camouflaged in the long grass, Seemingly unperturbed by our presence he stood about 100m away just staring. Could they have had a small zoo here, he looked healthy enough, we hoped he wasn’t alone on the island.

Kangeroo watching our every move

With no let up in the weather and the threat of rain Wednesday we moved on. After studying the chart and cruising guide the next sheltered spot was in the lee of Shaw Island. A few other yachts sat hunkered down in the bay but the island itself appeared uninhabited. The only sign of life were a group of buildings on the opposite shore, on Lindeman Island, as darkness fell no lights came on, no boats had been and gone, this was obviously another deserted resort.

I’m sure in better conditions it would be lovely here occasionally the sun broke through turning the slate grey sea to turquoise and the dull hills bright green but the wind was relentless, the water too choppy and the showers too frequent for us to be tempted to launch the dingy to explore. We read, cooked, played games, watched movies while the weather continued to bash us. Another high pressure ridge is stuck sitting over the North Queensland coast and however many times I look hopefully at the forecast, the winds appear to be here to stay for quite a while yet.

A ray of sunshine creeps through the clouds highlighting Yellow Rock off Shaw Island

Sunday 13th May 2018

Middle Percy Island, confusingly north of not just South but also Northeast Percy Islands, has a long history as a safe anchorage for cruisers heading north up the Australian East Coast. An A frame hut, complete with BBQ facilities and tables and chairs, sits at the back of the beach in West Bay and stands testament to the friendly welcome extended by the Island to visiting yachts. Absolutely every available space on the walls, ceiling and rafters is home to momentos left by previous sailors.

Every inch of Percy Island Yacht Club is covered in mementos from passing yachts.

Having had a good look around we returned to Raya, Rick itching to add a board to the collection, me unfortunately itching from the dozen or so sandfly bites I had accumulated. Delighting in having an excuse to work with wood instead of engines and plumbing for a while, he quickly produced a fitting record of Raya’s visit. It was especially poignant as we hung it in the A frame on Thursday 10th May, exactly three years since we let go the lines and left the dock in Southampton.

Marking our stay in West Bay

Another interesting feature of West Bay is its secluded lagoon. Only accessible by shallow draft boats at high tide, it sits hidden amongst the rocky shoreline a completely protected haven for those boats that can get in and then take the ground at low tide. We took the dingy in and found not only a catamaran happily sitting on the sand but also a working boat precariously tired to a dock. Part of the Barrier Reef National Park, the Island is managed by it’s only inhabitants, the occupants of the homestead sitting up amongst the wooded hills. The boat is their connection with the rest of the world and the lagoon offers perfect protection from all extremes of weather.

Homestead transport hidden within the protection of the West Bay Lagoon.

The Homestead is attempting to be as self sufficient as possible, raising goats and chickens, growing their own fruit and vegetables, producing honey and generating their own power. If they have any excess produce they are happy to sell it to yachties. We started off on the track that lead across the island towards the house but about halfway, not really needing any supplies, we got lured down a more intriguing, smaller path. The ground around us was covered in ferns and scrubby hebes and the canopy above our heads full of squawking crows, through the trees could be glimpsed inviting blue sea. Our intrepid adventure however, was easily stopped by a large web stretching across the path, it’s brightly coloured creator very much at home and only millimetres from Ricks head.

Giant Golden Orb spider

Early Friday morning, we headed to Mackay. The large tidal range here, at over 6m during spring tide, doesn’t just enable boats to enter secluded lagoons, it also means there are strong currents helping or hindering each passage and anchoring requires some mathematical juggling. In the marina even the provisioning needs to be timed with the tide, full trolleys and steep ramps don’t go together well. Still after three years each new place surprises us with its own unique challenges.

Pontoon ramp at low tide

Thursday 3rd May 2018

We have spent the last week at the friendly Keppel Bay Marina in the appropriately named Rosslyn Bay Harbour. I did suggest that the name similarity deserved a discount but none was forthcoming. A discount would have been welcome, as we approach the popular cruising area of the Whitsundays, marina fees are creeping up and in this part of the world staying anywhere other than a marina is often not an option.

The island anchorages are sometimes protected from the wind but it is very difficult to find anywhere that escapes the Pacific swell. This swell also plagues the mainland beaches. Add in the difficulties of crossing bars to enter the few creeks and rivers, the struggle of finding somewhere to get ashore that has access to services and the problems we have with everywhere being rather shallow for our 2.4m draft and marinas have become our safe havens.

Life in a marina is not all bad, especially one as nice as Keppel Bay. At 3am last Friday morning, as we motored away from Lady Musgrave, we crossed latitude 23.50 S, the Tropic of Capricorn. Arriving in the marina a few hours later we rejected the traditional ‘got here beer’ for a slap up ‘got here breakfast’ at the cafe and it really did feel like we’d arrived in the tropics. The birds all appeared to have gained a new set of colourful feathers and exotic voices and bright tropical flowers lined the waterfront path. Even the air felt and smelt differently.

Looking out from Double Head across the marina to a Rosslyn Bay

To add to its charms the marina also has a nearby beach, a few local walking trails and a courtesy car for short provisioning trips to Yeppoon and a visit to the farmers market. This far away from the big cities and hordes of tourists, gone were the containers of olives and feta marinated a dozen different ways, there were no stalls of artisan bread and displays of rather dubious local art were conspicuous by their absence. Yeppoon’s Saturday market, the local town’s farmers market, had just local farmers selling cheap and seasonal fruit and veg.

Yeppoon in fact had all the facilities we needed including a very helpful post office where Wednesday we very reluctantly posted of our passports, to go in with our visa applications to the Indonesian Consul.

Looming over the marina and the nearby beach, is Double Head. Through the bush and ferns are two steep, but luckily short, paths to follow. One took me up to a look out with in one direction a great view out to sea and the surrounding islands, in the other across a crevasse, an exposed 60 million year old geological phenomena. Fan Rock was created by magma escaping through weak spots in the earths surface, the molten lava slowly cooled from the outside inwards, causing the rock to crack into hexagonal tubes that fan out from its centre producing a structure that looks almost manmade.

Fan Rock

As we have travelled north my walks have become increasingly deserted and on occasion I have begun to feel slightly vulnerable. Vulnerable to what I’m unsure, wandering muggers, deadly spiders, rambling rapists, venomous snakes,? What I was not expecting, as I rejoined the steps down from the look out, was to be accosted by a band of Jehovah Witnesses smiling and eagerly thrusting out their pamphlets towards me. Who exactly they thought they would find to convert on this lonely hill was a mystery but they were always going to draw a blank with me.

Deserted Kemp Beach

With a few days of calm weather in prospect, today we have moved out to Keppel Island. There is a bit of swell rocking Raya to and fro, lines of squally rain track across us and there is only minimal phone signal. However in between downpours the water is blue, on the pretty islands around us, numerous beaches beckon and the forecast is for plenty of sun tomorrow.

Friday 27th April 2018

Raya anchored in Lady Musgrave Lagoon

The turquoise that is produced by shallow, clear water, over white sand, under a tropical sun, is bewitchingly beautiful and after spending the summer in the coastal waters, rivers and creeks of Eastern Australia, Tuesday entering the lagoon off Lady Musgrave Island on the southern tip of the Barrier Reef, felt like coming home.

It had been a good trip over, the brown water of the Burnett river magically changing to blue as we headed out to sea. There was, the now normal, beam swell setting us rocking but it was calm enough for us to feel that we could, between us, land a fish if we caught one, so we put out a line to troll behind us. We weren’t however expecting our catch to be quite this big, it did take quite a while to land this giant!

Fishcakes for supper for the next three weeks.

Just after midday Lady Musgrave Island appeared as a dark slither on the horizon, then we spotted the white of breaking waves on the outer reef and as we neared, the wonderful turquoise of the inner lagoon.

The pass through the reef was narrow but clearly marked. Its been a while since we have navigated through areas of coral so we entered slowly and carefully motored around anything we spotted on the seabed until we found a large enough space of clear sand to anchor. There were a surprising number of other boats anchored but the lagoon is over a mile long and there was plenty of room for everyone.

Lady Musgrave Reef on Google Earth, a jewel in the dark ocean

Early the next day we took the dingy ashore to have a look around the island before it got too warm and the tourist boats arrived. We were glad we had put on our sand skippers, the beach was strewn with fragments of coral. As we strolled along the water edge we spotted oyster catchers, egrets and some small green turtles. Pretty Australian firs and screw pines marked the edge of the beach and protected the Pisonia trees that grow in the interior of the island. The Pisonia tree has very broad leaves that are a favourite nesting location for Black Noddies. When we rounded the corner onto the western side of the island the extent of their numbers here was revealed. Suddenly what must have been a thousand birds burst from the trees filling the sky, creating a noisy natural spectacle above our heads.

Thousands of Black Noddies take to the air.

We returned to the boat and cooled off in the calm sea. With the only ripples coming from our own movements we floated gently and let the warm turquoise sea envelope us. Looking back Raya floated resplendent, reflecting in the glassy surface.

Then as the sun became higher in the sky we went over to the southeastern reef to snorkel on a couple of bommies. The visibility, was surprisingly, a little murky but we were just happy to be back amongst the colourful fish and varied corals.

Even the tiny Damsel Fish added to the days turquoise colour scheme.

As we dined on steak from the bbq, with a salad of ripe Australian tomatoes and a glass of full bodied Australian red wine, we agreed it had been a very special day.

Unfortunately the weather again dictated that we leave before we were really ready. As we left the next day through the pass, the water was crystal clear and we realised we should have been snorkelling this side of the reef, but too late, we had a night passage to contend with. Keppel Bay Marina in the aptly named Rosslyn Harbour, about 110nm NW and back on the mainland, will be our shelter from the strong winds forecast for the next few days.

Monday 23rd April 2018

We lie anchored a couple of miles up the Burnett river watchful of the depth gauge. It’s high tide and reading 2.3m under the keel. If this were a spring tide we would be on the bottom at low water but today we have a neap tide and in theory we shouldn’t drop below a metre. We are inexperienced at playing the tidal range rather than using the absolute chart datum, we wait with baited breath as the river gently ebbs.

We are here because tomorrow we are off to Lady Musgrave Island and her surrounding reef and hopefully back to clear turquoise water. Needing to enter the atoll in good light we require an early start. All the motor sailing we have done lately means we were low on diesel. Not wanting to fuel up at five in the morning we left the marina for the fuel dock at lunchtime and now sit ready to go.

Last week continued with a flurry of maintenance jobs and more cleaning, if we say it ourselves Raya is feeling very spick and span. For the time being at least, Rick’s ‘to do list’ is nearly fully ticked off.

Besides all the hard work, one thing that will stay in our memories of Bundaberg is its incredible skies. The combination of flat surroundings and changeable weather has led to dramatic vistas day and night. Wednesday around midnight, woken by the light coming through the hatch above him, Rick was treated to a spectacular display as distant lightening illuminating far off clouds . The next day as I walked out along the coastal path, with rain threatening, I think almost every type and colour of cloud was present in the huge sky above me.

Dramatic Bundaberg skies

And streaked with the last of the morning haze and dotted with building fine weather clouds, across an intense blue, again Friday the sky was amazing. We had hired a car for the day and driven a short way down the coast to Elliot’s Heads. After the dark reddish beaches around Port Bundaberg it was refreshing to suddenly find some white sand. At the estuary of Elliot’s river extensive sand banks are exposed at low tide, stretching right across the wide river mouth. Clear, warm streams of sea water run in the tangle of gullies that form between them. It made for a perfect hour or so of walking and paddling.

Paddling at Elliots Heads

Invigorated from our beach walk, we shunned the normal tourist stops at the Rum Distillery and the Hinkler Aviation museum and instead opted for a stroll through the Botanical Gardens. In delightful contrast to the coast, a shady boardwalk wound us through stately palms and across large ponds full of water birds. It seems that even in the smaller towns Australia does an extremely good job with these gardens.

Back onboard a flock of noisy kookaburras arrive to perch up in the rigging and the tide continues to recede, we play a game of Mexican train as the setting sun turns the sky a burnt orange. Still we have half an eye on the dropping depth, but less worried as our decent slows. As the tide turns we still have the theoretical 1m below the keel, we take to our bed, we have an early start in the morning.

Wednesday 18th April 2018

The moment we walked up the steep marina ramp we knew we were somewhere different. The sweet perfume of grass confronts us, a smell previously so familiar but rare to us now. In front of us are neat fields of uncut grass, the seed heads shimmer and wave in the breezy sunshine. And it was not just the scent of our surroundings that felt foreign, it dawns on us that here for the first time in a long time, the land is completely flat. Even the normal hills and mountains, that are forever on the horizon, have gone.

The occupants of the marina are different also, instead of being almost exclusively full of local boats there are plenty of cruisers here, including one Irish and three UK yachts. It is back to sundowners and ‘where to next’ conversations.

Having arrived in Bundaberg a week or two earlier than planned, we have no pressure to achieve anything in particular. So when we discover that the chandeliers can organise to get our rusty anchor delivered to the hot dip galvanising unit, we jump at the opportunity.

That looks a bit better.

Rick settles in, with relish, to potter around the boat, fixing all the little things he has been meaning to get around to for ages and in some cases since we left Southampton. He boxes in the new freezer compressor, services the Davits, washes the sails, properly wires the nav lights, cleans and sorts the dingy………

I tackle the ever present paperwork, work on the navigation for the next part of our trip and clean. How is it there is always so much cleaning to do?

The marina runs a courtesy bus the 15km into town each day, so Monday we hop on and head for downtown Bundaberg. The road in reminds us of a tidy Fiji, fields and fields of sugar cane line each side of the road. This is the sugar capital of Australia and famous for its large distillery producing Bundaberg Rum. In recent years crops have diversified, what at first glance we assume is a vineyard turns out to be rows of tomatoes vines, we spot a field of melons but not the macadamia trees that are also in abundance here.

Bundaberg City was mostly just an urban sprawl, with most buildings being of indifferent late twentieth century architecture, we search in vain to find any character. We wander uninspired for a while before abandoning our quest and heading for the supermarket. The branch of Coles here is large and as always full to bursting with fresh food. We stock up and take a taxi back to the boat.

I have continued to ‘power’ walk each day when I can. I’ve been enjoying the exercise as well as the side effect of getting to explore the local area. Leading from the marina there is a riverside path that run’s out towards the sea. Unlike the pathways I have been using all the way up the coast from Sydney, here I am alone in my lycra and trainers, just meeting the odd dog walker or angler.

On the surface it’s rather a featureless walk with the wide brown Burnett river one side and the dead flat meadow like fields the other. However, of course, the more you look the more you see, the sky is huge and ever changing, the river has small bays of dark sand and at low tide there are mudflats full of birds.

Dark beach at the mouth of the Burnett River

Around our pontoon are the normal groups of cormorants and flocks of gulls, on the mud flats I spot a tall elegant white heron, which google tells me was probably a Great Egret and perched on the marker above him what I think is a type of Kite.

Amongst all of these are the huge, ever present pelicans. We took the dingy for a run up the river and while on a crocodile hunt amongst the mangroves on the far bank, (probably still a little south for crocodiles but thought it was never too early to get some practice in) overhead a flock of pelicans, Jurassic like with their oversized beaks, gave us a magnificent demonstration of formation flying.

A flock of Pelicans always remind us of pterodactyls.

Thursday 12th April 2018

We wake this morning after 12hrs of solid sleep, a little further north than expected. The decks are covered in salt, damp clothes fill the laundry basket and two shattered plates languish in the bin. Our attempts to enter over the bar of our planned destination of Mooloolaba thwarted, we sailed through the night and all the next day in uncomfortable and tiring conditions to reach the Marina at Port Bundaberg.

Still at last, lovely sunrise over Bundaberg marina

Tuesday had started with us happily wending our way through the sand banks that litter Moreton Bay, the sun was shinning and the sea was calm. We were taking advantage of a small window of good weather to move 35 miles north to Mooloolaba. We had been looking forward to a few days in Mooloolaba and not just because it has such a brilliant name, other cruisers reports had all been good, the town was close by and it had a great beach just a stroll from the marina. Also it was to be our gateway to explore the Sunshine Coast and the Noosa Everglades.

The entrance to the river and it’s marinas has another of the notorious East Coast bars and is currently being dredged to try and combat the effects of shifting sand across the river entrance. We spoke with the marina, who assured us it would be fine and we downloaded the map that charted the new depths that had recently been posted in the Notices to Marinas published by the Queensland authorities, we timed our entrance towards the end of the rising tide. However we hadn’t reckoned with the swell. As we approached what the charts had as the beginning of the shallows, with an apparent high tide depth of 4m, the swell picked us up and then dropped us with a thump onto the bottom, we ventured a bit further this time we stayed on the sand long enough for another wave to hit us and cause Raya to give a loud, rig rattling, shudder. We reversed quickly and spoke to the dredge master working in the channel, a lot of sucked teeth, he seemed very unsure about our 2.4m draft, depths were obviously not as reported. Probably with a bit of local knowledge or at least some lat/long calibration which strangely was not on the downloaded new Mooloolaba bar chart, we might have tried again. But after a bit of deliberation and watching other boats with much less draft than us struggle, we decided to push on.

Unfortunately pushing on meant an over 200nm sail further north to Bundaberg.

It felt like a long trek north around Fraser Island

I quickly put together a new passage plan, there was another entrance about 6hrs on but we would arrive after dark and it was quickly rejected. The weather forecast was for winds to strengthen and with it the seas to get rougher, not a delightful prospect. And this is the problem with sailing in this part of the world, with weather windows so tight and safe havens so far apart, often needing critical timings and conditions for entry, Plan B’s are always going to be difficult.

The first few hours were fine as we sailed away from Mooloolaba. We smiled in response to a surprise comment on sailraya.com, received from someone who spotted us sailing past. However as the winds steadily increased in strength it turned into a laborious 24hrs, in troubled, often beam seas. Sleeping, eating and everything in between became hard work and the cockpit began to be splashed enough to make everything damp and salty. At least it was warm and not raining we kept telling ourselves. With the odd gust up to 40kts, Rick gradually reefed and further reefed the sails until, still sailing fast, we only had up a small amount of main sail and a reefed stay sail. To add to the fun I was kept entertained during my 11-2 night watch by a dozen or so fishing boats, some with AIS, some without. At one stage one came so quickly towards us I was concerned he hadn’t seen us . Luckily we have good deck lights that light up the sails and make us very obvious. I flicked them on and he turned away.

With such messy seas we had to sail right the way around the 25nm long sand spit at the end of Fraser Island, so for a frustrating few hours we were actually sailing away from our destination. We arrived at the marina just minutes before they left for the day, two very tired and happy sailors. Our traditional ‘got here beer’ was enough to knock us out and by 7.30 we could stay awake no longer.

On the upside we are now far north enough to be in the region termed the Southern Barrier Reef which is rather exciting and after spending yet more money on our continually ailing freezer, that would normally give out after such a bouncy sail, I am pleased to report it is still working, hooray!

Freezer cold – hooray

Friday 6th April 2018

For a few hours on Tuesday afternoon, it felt almost like we were back in the Pacific Islands. The sun was shinning, the sea was calm and turquoise, two large turtles swam around the boat, it was deliciously quiet. We realised that we were well and truly ready to be back tropical island hopping. However we have at least another month to wait before the cyclone season clears, as was well demonstrated by Cyclone Iris, that last week reformed and continues to hang around the Central Queensland coast.

Last weeks forecast for the Whitsunday Islands five hundred miles to our north

Easter weekend in the Broadway continued to be manic, despite the showery weather everyone was determined to make the best of the holiday. We did brave the choppy waters to go ashore and stretch our legs but plans to cross the narrow wooded South Stradbroke Island were thwarted firstly by the lack of a clear pathway and tales of snakes buried in the sand but mostly by the sight of our anchored dingy being swamped by the wake of every large motor boat that stormed past.

The beach at South Stradbroke Island with the Gold Coast high rises in the distance.

The East Coast of Australia is constantly at the mercy of the Pacific Ocean swell. This makes for the great surfing conditions it is famous for but also makes entering rivers and ports difficult. Entry and exit across the shallow bars that form at these openings has to be timed carefully, especially in the rough conditions that are around at present. So it was that 3.30 am Tuesday morning found us, with the dangerous surf warning cancelled and slack low tide upon us, heading for the Gold Coast seaway and open ocean. Conditions were still rather lumpy and with up to 3kts of current against us we were yet again having to motor sail to keep speeds high enough for us to enter Moreton Bay at high tide. At least the forecast showers held off.

We rounded the top of Moreton Island and headed for the Inner Freeman Channel. At first the sea calmed, the shallower waters turned to hues of turquoise and the tall dunes of this sand island, shone white in the sunshine. However the nerves were jangling, we knew we had a shallow area to cross and although every chart I could lay my hands on said at high tide we would have no less than 2m under our keel, the sight of white, churning choppy waters ahead was frightening. Luckily a small local fishing boat was in front of us and led the way through the narrow channel of deeper water and with a huge sigh of relief we were in Moreton Bay.

We dropped the hook off of South Tangalooma and despite a few other yachts, after the industry of Boatworks and the bustle of the Broadway, it was incredibly peaceful. The sea wasn’t crystal clear but after the inner waterways and muddy creeks it looked lovely. Sitting in the cockpit, behind me I heard a familiar sound, the hufffff of a turtle surfacing for air. We had two large loggerhead turtles feeding around the boat. It was as if they had come to say welcome back.

Moreton Bay is nearly 75miles long and twenty miles wide and separated from the ocean by North Stradbroke and Moreton Island to South and East and by numerous sand banks to the north. It is a shallow area of water and is not only home to turtles but dugongs, dolphins and visiting whales.

Unfortunately it was just a one day break in the weather so the next morning we had to head back into a marina, promising ourselves that as the weather improves, hopefully next week, we would return. A cracking sail took across the bay to the Manly Boat Harbour. On the Western coast of Moreton Bay just south of Brisbane, a convenient place to visit the city.

Sitting on the muddy, meandering Brisbane river, the city is a vibrant combination of a glass clad high rise business district and fun green spaces. The South Bank Parklands with its big wheel, Pagoda and jungle walk and the fantastic man made city beach was buzzing with visitors, many here for the Commonwealth Games being held close by on the Gold Coast. We jumped on the City Hopper Ferry and zigzagged down the river before walking through the crowded central district into the quieter Botanical gardens.

Brisbane ferries and Highrises.

While we wait for the finer weather, it’s back to the marina for the last few bits of boat maintenance. Nearly ready for the next stage of our journey, tropical Queensland and the Great Barrier Reef.

Friday 23rd February 2018

We are feeling rather frustrated. After we and the antifoul crew have worked our socks off, dodging showers and running from pillar to post, to ensure Raya is ready to return to the water at 3pm today, we have just been told that they have messed up and our berth in the marina is not available. So here we are stuck high and dry, 15ft in the air until Tuesday.

Ready to be lifted back onto the water

I think it’s fair to say it’s not been one of our most restful weeks. Things started well with a drama free overnight passage up from Coffs Harbour. There was little wind, the large swell, lingering from last weeks storm, undulated gently across a calm sea. Stars shone brightly in the dark moonless sky and as we are gradually creeping back north, the night watches have become pleasantly warm.

The easterly swell did make the Gold Coast Seaway entrance a little lively however and things were not helped by having to share the constricted space with a fleet of racing sailing dinghies, several returning small fishing boats and a group of mad jet skiers. We headed expectantly into the calm of the inner channel – the Broadway, only to find it full of more jet skiers and dozens of fast motor boats. It was Saturday and everyone and their dog was out enjoying the sunshine. The anchorage, just north of Southport Marina where we five months ago had checked in to Australia, is charmingly known as Bums Bay. It was also very busy, especially the blue buoyed area directly in front of us, that turned out to be a jet ski practice course!

We were tired from our trip, we put on the anchor alarm, turned on the cabin fans to block the noise outside and went to sleep. We only had to cope with all the activity until Monday morning when on the high tide we would make our way up the Coomera river to Boatworks, Raya was to be hauled out for her yearly once over.

Sunday morning dawned fine and bright and soon the crowds began to reappear. We had anchored next to our friends from Paw Paw and decided to go ashore together to escape the noise and increasingly choppy waters for a few hours. It’s nice in our transient life to revisit places occasionally, having a bit of local knowledge from our previous stop in the area. We returned to the waterfront Thai restaurant for lunch and walked back along the expansive Main Beach.

Walking on Main Beach with Elaine and Roy from Paw Paw

At seven the next morning while doing his normal pre-trip engine check, Rick noticed a leaking coolant pipe. While lifting the anchor I discovered the anchor down switch wasn’t working and with a very tight schedule on the tidal river we had the potential of the perfect storm – an overheating engine, no ability to anchor and quickly swallowing waters. Our normal cautious selves nearly abandoned the trip but we really wanted to make our hard won appointment with Boatworks. With the judicious use of tape to slow the leak, I steered us through the shallows of the river while Rick worked to sort out emergency use of the windless so if necessary we could drop the anchor. Two hours later with a sigh of relief we tied up to the dock and prepared Raya to be lifted.

We were last antifouled, just over a year ago and were hoping the hull might be in decent condition but it was definitely in need of redoing.

Dirty hull!

Our time on the hard was tight, particularly with plenty of rain in the forecast, it was full speed ahead. As Rick fixed the leaking coolant pipe, checked the seacocks, replacing one, greased the prop and investigated the windlass. Complete Antifoul services, cleaned and repainted the bottom, cut and polished the top sides and replaced the cutlass bearings. I organised for the life raft to be serviced, battled to keep the water cooled fridges from over heating, started filling the numerous forms required for entry into Indonesia and ordered new lenses for my damaged varifocal sunglasses – who knew that eyelashes could be so abrasive.

Watching the life raft being checked

So here we are clean, shiny and ready to go back into the water but with no berth to go into it looks like it’s going to be a further few days of washing up in a bucket, lovely.

Tuesday 20th February 2018

With our time in Western Australia rapidly coming to an end, Friday we took a day to visit Fremantle. In the south of the Perth Metropolitan Area, at the mouth of the Swan River, it has been a main port for nearly 200 years and retains much of its original 19th century architecture. We found an eclectic mix of historic buildings, museums, craft markets, art galleries, trendy bars and restaurants.

As we entered the city we noticed the clocktower of the townhall had squares of yellow paint near its top, at first we thought it must be having some renovations done but as we walked down High Street we saw more seemingly random yellow daubs and then stripes curling up from the pavement and onto the buildings. Slightly perplexed we walked on until up the steps of the roundhouse at the end of the street we turned and all was revealed. It is the work of Swiss artist Felice Varini who creates 3D optical illusions in public places all around the world. Designed to be viewed from just this one spot, the yellow lines and squares come together to form a set of eliptical rings that appear to float miraculously above the street. It is mind boggling to imagine how the artist could even conceive such an amazing idea and impressive that the Fremantle council took the risk with one of its prime tourist spots to allow it to happen.

Amazing street art in Fremantle

Still glancing back over our shoulders we wandered into an art gallery at the top of the steps displaying beautiful underwater photos, the photographer had done some wonderful things with his images of coral, tropical fish, sharks and rays. Not having the ability to paint whole streets but thinking that we had, maybe not quite of the same quality, but very similar photos, perhaps we could create some of our own Freo inspired artworks.

In complete contrast we then spent an enjoyable hour at the shipwreck museum learning about the early Dutch explorers and more specifically the story of the Batavia. Part of the Dutch East India Company she was wrecked off the WA coast in 1629 amid tales of mutiny and murder. The museum has on display a large section of her hull, salvaged in the early 1970’s along with many arifacts, including cannons, domestic items and part of her cargo, a large stone arch destined for Jakarta.

The next day we were lucky enough to be included in a gathering of Taryn and Greg’s friends for a Peeking duck night. Greg and friend Pete had spent the previous evening preparing the duck. Part of this preparation required the skin of the raw duck being unstuck from the carcass to allow it to crisp more easily. An ingenious solution to this problem led to the bizarre sight of Greg inflating the duck using his scuba tank and regulator. The technique proved its worth the next evening when, after a fun few hours decorating the terrace, we all sat down to delicious Peking duck.

Peking Duck night

And then before we knew it it was our last day, we opted, before we started our packing, for one last swim in the Indian Ocean.. The surf was relatively small, the water warm and the colours as incredible as always.

Thanks Taryn and Greg for a great break

Yesterday evening we flew back to Sydney and this morning its back to business on Raya. Rick has his head in the engine room replacing the alternator with a new one sourced in Perth and I’ve just returned from the supermarket with some basic supplies. In my bags there is a heavy emphasis on healthy foods, our stay in Perth did nothing for our already expanding waistlines. However all the walking and swimming we enjoyed has motivated us to start eating less and exercising more. Watch this space……….

Friday 17th February 2018

What a startlingly beautiful stretch of coastline. We have spent the last week exploring the Margaret River Region in the far South West of Western Australia. Under wide clear skies and impossibly bright sunshine, the colours are breathtakingly vivid. Long white sand beaches, blue and turquoise seas, rocky outcrops and rolling surf.

The stunning beach at Injidup

The area is sparsely populated so these stunnng bays are often deserted even though they are less than an hours drive from the charming seaside town of Dunsborough, where Taryn and Greg have a beach house. The only crowds are seen at the calm town beaches and at the many surf breaks along the shore.

Surfers Point near the mouth of Margaret river is home to pro surfing competitions and attracts surfers from all over the world. Kite surfing is also hugely popular, with the reliable afternoon sea breezes often providing perfect conditions. It is entertaining to stand and watch their antics as they ride the waves with ease, professing how if we were just a bit younger we would, of course, be out there with them.

Watching the kite surfers at Yallingup

Resisting the temptation to jump in we instead went rock climbing, enjoying the smooth granite boulders and the pretty oranges of the sandstone. We have always loved watching waves crashing onto to rocks and it’s been a while, our sailing life has us searching out much calmer seas.

Our favourite spot was Canal Rocks where the granite has eroded to produce ‘canals’ that fill and empty with a cascade of white water from each ocean wave. A large Ray, defying the strong currents, swam into the whirling water, as did, rather worryingly, a young girl, who without the rays swimming ability was washed violently back and forth before managing to grab the side and climb to safety. We chose an easier route using a bridge and some stepping stones to cross the canals and then clambered as high and as far out onto the rocks as we could to take in as close as possible the exhilarating view.

Taryn out on the edge of the Canal Rocks.

Another great place is the natural spa near Injidup. Here you can scramble over giant boulders to reach a protected rock pool where it is safe to enjoy the power of the crashing waves. All is tranquil until a large wave hits the outer rocks, this sends gallons of water gushing over and through the crevasses between the boulders, creating power showers and turning the calm water into a bubbling whirlpool.

Taryn and Rick enjoying the natural spa bath

This region is not just about beaches however, running the length of the coast are numerous vineyards all plying for your trade at their cellar doors. Taryn and Greg took us to their favourite, Vasse Felix. Set in green manicured gardens, modern sculptures greet you on the lawns and between the trees, the modern art theme continuing with a small gallery inside. At the tasting bar we tried eight of their wines, we resisted the $80/bottle of delicious Chardonnay and plumped for a more economical full bodied red to accompany our lunch. The wine was good, the views delightful and the food, exceptional.

A few days later we ventured a bit further south to Boranup Forest. The day was unusually cloudy and as we entered the forest there was a short shower. With the rain came a burst of smells, the scent of eucalyptus, mixed with the tang of damp moss and rich earthy leaf litter. The forest is full of giant Karri trees reaching 90ft tall, they regularly shed their bark in long narrow strips revealing striking trunks of orange, salmon and greys. We were surprised to discover these giants were members of the Eucalyptus family. We are coming to the conclusion that all the trees in Australia, whatever shape or size seem actually to be eucalyptus trees.

Boranup Forest

On our final day we drove down to Smiths Beach, where feeling the name was telling us something, we finally braved the surf. We ate a picnic amongst the colourful dune plants and then went for a swim. The water was surprisingly warm and although we had picked a calm spot, the waves were fun and still strong enough to dump Rick as he stood knee deep taking photos. As he tumbled concentrating on holding tight to the camera, he was stripped of his expensive and vital prescription sunglasses, luckily they miraculously ended up at my feet.

The Smiths at Smith Beach

With a final farewell to this beautiful coast, yesterday we returned to Perth. A few more days to enjoy before our flight back to Sydney.

Friday 9th February 2018

A five hour flight across this huge continent and we arrived in Perth to the welcoming faces of Taryn and Greg. It feels fantastic to shower in a spacious bathroom, with limitless hot water, it’s novel to cook in a proper oven and prepare a meal on the large work tops and most of all go to bed without the responsibility of thinking about the weather, the anchor or whatever else might cause us to sink in the night.

Our stay in Perth seemed to immediately become centred around interesting conversations while drinking great local wine and delicious food. All keen cooks we are having good fun creating meals, sourcing the ingredients from the plethora of specialist butchers and farmers markets that appear to be everywhere here.

The whole of this area, stretched as it is along the coast, is dominated by the Ocean. On our first morning we drove from Taryn and Greg’s house in leafy Wembley the ten minutes to City beach. A brisk SW sea breeze created copious white horses in the deep blue of the sea and with the beach stretching seemingly forever in both directions, we walked down to dip our toes for the first time in many years in the Indian Ocean.

City Beach, Perth

The daily arrival in summer of this cooling sea breeze is nicknamed the Fremantle Doctor relieving everyone from the often uncomfortably hot weather. Temperatures in Perth can regularly sore over 40C, luckily for us Western Australia is experiencing a mild summer with temperatures nearer to 30 C. The use of the word mild in this context sounds very odd to us, in England it is used to describe warm winter conditions. However, which ever word is used, we were glad of the perfect temperatures and enjoyed a lovely lunch of fresh ingredients deliciously combined, while admiring the views.

The following day Taryn and I went to visit the Botanical Gardens in Kings Park. High on a hill it provides excellent views of the city centre and the Swan River. Full of native plants, we wandered chatting, enjoying the calm as we followed a pathway through the trees and shrubs. Our favourite tree in the whole park had to be the beautiful Weeping Variegated Peppermint tree, but also impressive was the famous Boab tree. At 750 years old and right in the middle of a new highway project it has been carefully rescued and transported over 2000 miles south to its current position in the park. I was also rather taken by the grass trees, common to this part of Australia, but strange to us.

Trees in the Botanical Gardens in Kings Park, Perth

In complete contrast to our peaceful day was our evening at the Perth Fringe Festival. Staged each year in February, we joined the throng in the centre of town to enjoy some street food and then a show. Club Swizzle is a slightly outrageous cabaret group, performing comedy, music and acrobatics, we had a thoroughly entertaining and sensational evening.

We had arrived in Perth with one complaint, we had been in Australia for three months now but had not seen one kangaroo! Greg born and bred in Perth sorted that out for us, sending us off to Pinnaroo Memorial Park, a large cemetery planted with native plants and attracting local wildlife.

Kangaroos in Pinnaroo Park

Kangaroos ticked off we repacked our bags, we are off on holiday from our holiday, heading 3hrs south to Taryn and Greg’s beach house in Dunsborough.

Sunday 4th February 2018

Rick has spent much of the past week working in a variety of confined spaces, contorting his stiff joints around corners, down steps and inside small holes, undoing tight bolts and jammed screws, sealing leaks and changing oil, pulling out rusted in impellers and testing batteries. We are tied up back at the Cruising Yacht Club Marina and working our way through a long list of jobs before we leave for Perth tomorrow.

Fixing a fuel leak on the generator

With the generator oil changed and a drip from the fuel pipe sealed, next on the list was changing the engine impeller, unusually for Rick this job defeated him, not able to squeeze into the right position to apply all his strength he just couldn’t get it to budge. What was needed was an engineer who knew all the tricks of the trade and someone perhaps, dare I say, a little younger and more flexible. Fortunately we found one such person that could pop in that day and after much huffing and straining he finally freed it and put in a new one,

Not wanting Rick to suffer his aches and pains alone, Thursday I somehow managed to trip on the pontoon. My fall was particularly ungainly as my main concern was to ensure the backpack I was wearing, that contained as well as groceries a years worth of contact lenses, didn’t end up in the water. Gratefully no one was around and I could escape with, if not my body, at least my pride intact.

So it was that Friday morning found us hobbling up the hill to the station, Rick with tired knees and a stiff back, me with grazed knees and bruised ribs. We were off to catch the train for the 2 hour journey out to the Blue Mountains. Near the top of my list of things to do in Sydney it had been pencilled in for a while, so despite the jobs still to be completed and our rather battered bodies, we decided to carry on with our plans.

The views were incredible. The high plain of sandstone has been eroded over millions of years to create a large canyon like valley. Cracks in the rock and intermittent layers of claystone, coal and shale, that are more easily washed away, have caused the sandstone sides to collapse forming vertical cliffs and striking pillars.

Pillars of rock known as the Three Sisters

We made the mistake of starting our day at the crowded Scenic World. A tourist attraction offering cable cars, skyways and the steepest railway in the world. It would have been a good introduction to the area had it not been full to bursting with coachloads of tour groups. It wasn’t until we escaped along the Prince Henry Cliff Walk that we could really appreciate the full grandeur of the views and the tranquility of the eucalyptus forests. If we were to do this trip again we would start with this dramatic walk giving ourselves more time to enjoy the waterfalls, cascades and trails further along the escarpment.

Walking along the Prince Henry Cliff

However as we had paid for the tickets we returned to Scenic World and took the small train, descending almost vertically into the valley. Protected by the surrounding cliffs from the harsh drying winds and extremes of hot and cold, the valley has its own unique microclimate and is home to a rain forest. We wandered along a boardwalk through tall trees, thick vines and thousands of wonderful large tree ferns, peering up through the canopy to the sheer rock above us. Thankfully there is a cable car back to the top and a hop on hop off bus to return you to Katoomba and the train home.

Wonderful tops of the tree ferns

Back onboard it was back to work. When sailing towards the marina last week the starboard primary winch suddenly started to make a horrible screeching noise. Rick, happy that he could work in the open and especially not on his knees, carefully took it apart, cleaned each of the 27 components, regreassed and oiled as appropriate and put it all back together again. Still the winch screeched. With stoney face and a certain amount of muttering, off it all came again, eventually he traced the noise to the gear coupling to the motor. He was in for another afternoon working in a tiny space, balancing on one leg, bending around the toilet and stretching past cables to remove first the ceiling panels, then the motor. The motor is very heavy and unfortunately his assistant has more brains than brawn and couldn’t reliably take the weight while he battled with the bolts. As luck would have it, in between being engineers mate, I was defrosting the freezer and with the available freezer baskets and books of varying thicknesses we managed to construct a tower to support the motor as it was removed and reattached. After a top up of oil and a thorough clean of the coupling, thankfully it ran perfectly.

Servicing the primary winch motor

Today’s big task was to take down all the canvas work, so it could be sent to the trimmer for a few bits of repair and two zip replacements. We are so use to being cocooned by the sprayhood that it is very odd to sit with a 360 degree view totally exposed to the elements. Luckily the day is pleasant and with just the watermaker to pickle, the bathrooms and kitchen to clean, the decks to tidy, etc. etc….. tomorrow we off on holiday.

Sunday 21st January 2018

Nooooo! Was the plaintive cry, as clambering from the kayak to the swim deck, our beloved much used camera slipped from Ricks shorts into the water and sank almost immediately out of sight. Being too deep to dive down after it and with the evening sun low in the sky, too dark to scuba, our hearts sank too. Why hadn’t we invested in one of those snazzy strap flotation devises, why hadn’t I downloaded all last weeks photos, why hadn’t we passed the camera up by hand as usual!?!?

We pulled ourselves together and swung into action. With the boat swinging back and forth in the brisk breeze I tried to keep my eye on the spot it went in, Rick dug out our marker bouy and dropped it at our best guess of the cameras location. With nothing more to be done until we had more light the next day, we consoled ourselves with a gin and tonic trying hard to enjoy the setting sun.

The next morning we were glad to see the orange buoy still bobbing nearby. Rick kitted up in his scuba gear and descended through the murky water, miraculously after just five minutes he was back camera in hand.. It is waterproof and rated for depths of up to ten metres we were anchored in about nine, but was that ten metres for just an hour or could it survive being at that depth overnight? Apparently yes it could, it seems to have suffered no damage at all from its extended visit to the seabed.

Well done Rick, operation rescue camera completed successfully.

We continue to spend our time criss crossing Sydney Harbour as weather, provisioning and activities dictate. We started this week in Blackwattle Bay. The southerlies from the weekend continued to keep the temperatures cool, so being in the city centre we took the opportunity to be tourists for a couple of days.

We wandered around the maritime museum which displays Australia’s rich maritime history. Then went outside to look around the 1970’s submarine they have on display. Basically just one long corridor from front to back with bunks squeezed in between a maze of piping, pressure gauges, pumps and engines. The mind boggles as to how 69 men lived so dreadfully cramped together for so long. We had first visited the HMAS Onslow about 15 years ago, now ocean going sailors ourselves different questions come to mind; How did they cope with all the heat from the massive engines? How did they make water and how on earth did they manage to fix that joint buried behind a metre deep tangle of pipes?

Not much more spacious were the conditions on the Endevour, the ship that in 1770 James Cook first sailed to Australia but at least the crew onboard her could escape on deck. The ship in Sydney is a replica of the original and actually still sails, in fact she is off to New Zealand next month, we’re certainly glad we don’t have all that rigging to contend with.

The Endeavour moored in Darling Harbour.

Wednesday we walked to the Rocks, an historical area with many original sandstone buildings and cottages from the first development of Sydney by the early settlers. Historically it was a rough area occupied by convicts and run by gangs, even up until the 1970’s it was so run down it was nearly demolished. Now properties are snapped up by wealthy Sydneyites and being next to the cruise liner dock, it is a busy tourist area full of museums, old pubs and art shops. Luckily there was no ship in the day we were there and we found plenty of room to sit, enjoy views of the harbour and eat a very nice lunch.

The promised improved weather moved in on Thursday and we moved out to Manly. We were there to pick up a friends daughter and a couple of her friends for a day on the boat. We filled up with goodies for lunch and picked them up from the ferry terminal.

We love the Push-me Pull-you ferries that run every half an hour between Manly and Central quay in the city.

We all had a great day, chatting, eating and drinking, in fact so pleasant were the beach anchorages. Rick and I decided to spend the weekend off Store Beach. A very popular spot but the crowds don’t seem to appear until around midday and all disappear again around 6pm and so even at the weekends there is plenty of time and space to enjoy a swim, take out the kayak or lose a camera.

Anchored off Store Beach

Monday 15th January 2018

With Sydney’s record breaking temperatures hitting the World news last week, here on the ground, we are surprised not so much by the hight of the mercury but by just how changeable the weather is. One moment we are baking at over 30C the next day the thermometer is struggling to break 20C and winds go from nonexistence to blowing a gale within hours but we are beginning to see a pattern emerging.

As a high pressure system sets in, warm northerly winds that are enhanced by afternoon sea breezes lead to pleasant clear days. When the temperatures rise and a low trough threatens, thunder storms break out. These can be quite violent with high winds, hail and dramatic lightening. As the low passes through it drags in southerlies which having come up from the Antarctic are cool and can often be very strong. Then it’s back to high pressure and the cycle starts over.

This week we have been anchored in a Cove in Middle Harbour. Middle Harbour is a branch of waterways to the north of the main harbour that is similar to those at Pittwater and Cowan Creek. Hidden away up a creek we had until yesterday been mostly protected from these vagaries of the weather.

To enter the inner part of the harbour you have to pass through a lifting bridge. The Spit bridge carries one of Sydney’s busy routes north and opens briefly at four or five set times each day. Promptly at 1.15pm last Monday afternoon we squeezed through the surprisingly narrow gap and motored upstream to find a quiet anchorage.

Passing through Spit Bridge

A couple of miles on we found a great spot off Sugarloaf Bay in Castle Cove and settled in. After two days anchored off the busy Manly beaches and a few rather rocky nights at the marina, it was bliss to be absolutely still. The scent of eucalyptus trees that covered the banks wafted in the air and the drone of cicadas filled our ears. We planned to spend a few days here, carrying on with maintenance jobs, catching up with some admin and just enjoying the calm.

On our first evening however we discovered we had some noisy neighbours living in the hills. Just before dusk and around dawn each day, we’d be deafened by an cocophony of squawking. Large white birds were fighting and flapping in the trees above us, we took out the binoculars, they had lemon coloured crests and markings on their wings. A few taps later and a Google search revealed them to be Sulphur Crested Cockatoos and all the fuss was as they jostled for the best roosting spots in the hollows that form in the older eucalyptus trees.

Unfortunately the cockatoos were too far away, especially in the fading light to get a photo, unlike this Pied Cormorant, who not wanting to give up his place in the sun, let us very slowly approach within a few metres.

Pied Cormorant sunning himself

With such flat water we could break out the kayak and in the dingy go quite a way to explore. About two and a half miles further on we discovered tiny Echo Point Marina and decided to stop for lunch. In a perfect location surrounded by parkland with views over the water, the food was excellent and the service friendly. However as seems to be becoming a theme in Australia, getting ashore was not as straight forward as it first appeared. A dingy dock sat right outside the restaurant but as soon as we arrived, an agitated waiter appeared to warn us that the marina would charge us $30 to tie up the dingy and it would be better to go across to the beach and walk around. No big deal but just another small signal that even at a marina, with money to spend, visiting yachties aren’t particularly welcome.

Castle cove has just a few houses that overlook it high in the hills. But the harbour itself is more crowded and a popular city suburb. The houses are all built on the almost vertical banks on three or sometimes four levels. Running up to the road above or the shore below they have very steep steps, some have installed small lifts. As in Pittwater each shoreside property has its own jetty and pretty boathouse, in fact the boathouses are often nicer than the large properties above them.

Pretty boat house in Powder Hulk Bay

Back onboard Raya we slowly ticked off more jobs. Flags, charts and generator spares ordered; tick, tax returns filed; big tick, hot water tank coil replaced; hooray and raw water filters cleaned; urgh! The engine raw water filter was full of jellyfish!

Jelly fish swimming in the engine raw water filter!

After a pleasant week hiding from the worst of the winds and watching the thunders storms in the distance, the weather cycles finally caught up with us. A band of strong chilly southerly winds has been passing over New South Wales and Sunday blustery gusts started to blast into the cove, as our anchor chain stretched out, our picturesque spot began to feel rather small and the rocky edges rather close. We moved out into the bay only to have our anchor chain wrap around something on the bottom. This drastically reduced our swing and bought us far too close to a large motor yacht. Accompanied by horrible shudderers and graunching we slowly and as carefully as possible lifted the anchor back in. We returned to the centre of Castle Cove and spent a unsettled night with a close eye on the anchor alarm.

This morning we decided to stick to our plan of returning to the city and motored back through a very rough Sydney Harbour to Blackwattle Bay. It is still blowing a gale but one of the good things about cycles is that you can rely on them to keep turning, calmer conditions and warmer northerlies are forecast to return Wednesday or Thursday.

Monday 8th January 2018

With the outskirts of Sydney peaking at 47C yesterday we have finally been for a swim in Australia. We seem to have been in marinas, up muddy creeks or surrounded by jelly fish. The winds have often been chilly, the sea rough or the water full of other craft. The forecast for a heatwave on Sunday persuaded us to head out of the city to the beaches just south of Manly Harbour. Here the temperatures were a cooler 32C but hot enough to persuade us in. And fantastic it felt too, why we asked ourselves had we been putting it off so long.

First dip for a while

We had started the week anchored off this very same beach , not swimming, a chilly southerly was lowering the temperatures and creating a lively chop. We were here instead to say farewell to our friends from Moonshadow who in the morning were sailing north to Brisbane from where they are shipping the boat back to Mexico. We have had a lot of fun together over the last few months, we will miss them.

In time honoured tradition the New Year has brought our thoughts around to the year ahead. In the hope of beginning to tick a few things off the “while in Australia’ list we booked in for a few days in the marina at the famous Cruising Yacht Club of Australia.

The CYCA organise the Sydney to Hobart yacht race and is the home to many of the racing yachts we watched leaving the Harbour on Boxing Day. With top speeds of 25kts some are already back and with each boat protected from the sun by a tent shaped canvas awning it felt a little like been moored in a campsite.

Raked masts and protective awnings of the CYC racing fleet.

With our port of registration, Southampton, clearly printed on the transom and the British ensign flying, here halfway around the world we are use to ‘pontoon voyeurs’ coming up to look at Raya. This time however nobody had eyes for us, they were all coming to view our neighbour – Ichi Ban, the star and overall winner of this year’s race.

Getting back to the tasks in hand we launched into the long screed of jobs that need doing before we set off from Australia later in the year. As is always the way with new places the first few days can be frustrating, the chandlery seemed very expensive, cooking gas refill appeared impossible, potential repairs to the sprayhood zips unsatisfactory……… At over $120 a night we wanted to keep this visit brief but we will be back in February to leave Raya tied up while we fly to Perth. Hopefully by then the research we have done and the leads we have secured this time will start coming together.

One benefit to being in marina is that we can tell people exactly where we are, it was lovely to have had visits from three sets of friends and family. And, being in a marina full of racing yachts that have no antifoul on their keels means that divers equipped with cleaning tools are every where. We slipped out of our berth with two months of barnacles and growth scraped from our bottom.

Ashley comes to tea

Christmas trees are everywhere, decorations adorn the streets and the presents are wrapped but however hard we try it’s just all wrong. With temperatures in the 30’s, light summer evenings and no turkey to cook, our brains can’t except it’s Christmas.

Unseasonal as it may feel, Sydney remains in every other way a wonderful city. As we have explored the sights and wandered the local area we have been struck again, despite the crowds, how clean and well laid out everywhere is. The modern shiny glass towers sit comfortably amongst the few remaining grand red brick Victorian buildings. One moment you are in a busy tourist spot, the next in a quiet square surrounded by tall trees and traditional houses. Small islands of green sneak in wherever possible and the harbour shoreline is omnipresent.

As I think I have mentioned before we are not very good tourists, we tend to avoid the crowds but we couldn’t be in Sydney without a visit to the Opera House. Built over 14 yrs and opening in 1973 it’s sculptural elegance is as good close up as it is from afar. We were glad to see that the powers that be haven’t been tempted to overwhelm it with tacky restaurants and shops, the empty space around it acting to set it off to full effect.

The Opera House from the land.

Darling Harbour on the other hand has been completely built up since our last visit, every square inch given over in the pursuit of tourist dollars. We have eaten in the crowded restaurants here twice now and unfortunately both times the food has been average, the service poor and the bill exorbitant.

Also full to bursting was the shopping district around George Street, harassed but mostly smiling Christmas shoppers rushing to buy last minute gifts. In the middle of this mayhem we were struck by how easily people of all nationalities mingle together here, an amicable acceptance of each other rarely seen in other large cities. At the entrance to Darling Harbour near the wharf where for hundreds of years, thousands of ships arrived with peoples from across the World, is a celebration of their diversity, the Welcome Wall. Nearly 30,000 names, picked out in bronze, are listed so far and anyone who themselves or who’s ancestors immigrated here can apply to have their names added and a short history of their lives stored in the archives.

While Rick joined the throng to finish his Christmas shopping, I went to see the Cathedral. It’s 100 yr old architecture is surrounded by modern high rises and it’s Christmas tree, bathed in warm sunshine, is surrounded by summer flowers. Happy Down Under Christmas everybody.

Sydney Cathedral with its modern backdrop and it’s Christmas tree surrounded by summer flowers.

Iconic View from the cockpit

Saturday 16th December 2017

It had felt like an impossible dream, the chance to sail into Sydney Harbour. About a thousand miles south of the traditional Around the World route it had looked too far out of our way. However by spending an extra winter in the Pacific Islands we have another cyclone season to fill south of the tropics, so here we are. Tuesday afternoon we droped our anchor just metres from the opera house, the harbour bridge looming in the background.

An hour earlier we had excitedly turned into Port Jackson the entrance to Sydney Harbour and were met by a scene of frenetic activity. As we tried to concentrate on finding the channel, distractions were everywhere. Two beautiful 90ft racing boats came past, impossibly heeled over, well trained crew sitting on the rail, an international regatta of a hundred or so sailing dinghies filled the waters to our left, power boats, sailing boats, fishing launches came from behind and towards us and powering through it all, keeping determinedly to their course, were numerous large and fast ferries. We cautiously made our way through the chaos, camera poised ready to capture the first view of the city centre.

First glimpse of the centre of Sydney

We motored into Farm Cove right next to the Opera House, dropped the anchor and drank a very special “got here beer”. Unfortunately unprotected from the busy harbour it was far too bouncy to stay for long, so after taking the compulsory Opera House and Bridge shots we moved under the bridge and into Balls Bay further upstream.

Celebratory “got here beer”

Balls Bay was protected from the worst of the harbour chop but had no obvious place to leave the dingy. Determined to enjoy our first night out on the town, with our friends from Moonshadow we tied the dingy to a steep ladder on the waterfront. We climbed with difficulty on to the wharf only to find ourselves in a gated apartment complex. With no clear way out it took us a while but eventually we found the road and took a taxi to Darling Harbour for dinner. On our return, with a falling tide, the ladder was even more precarious and the now revealed bottom rungs encrusted with razor sharp Oyster shells, not exactly an ideal place for a rubber dingy. This was not going to be the place to restock.

Fantastic as it is to be in the middle of such a great city, Sydney turns out to be rather difficult for cruising yachts. The marinas are expensive and, at least until the Sydney to Hobart racing boats leave Boxing Day, all are completely full. Anchorages are few and far between and getting ashore for groceries and to enjoy the sights is proving difficult. To complicate things further the water upstream of the bridge is full of diesel from the ferries and too dirty for our watermaker.

After much googling we found a marina where for $30 we could tie up to the shopping pontoon for a few hours and visit the grocery store. We made the best of our time, I managed to get to the hairdressers, Rick took a taxi to the Chandlers and we stocked up with food but there was no fresh water. With the water tanks almost empty we motored back under the bridge and out to Rose Bay. It wasn’t the most comfortable of anchorages, Raya being rocked continuously by the harbour traffic but it had a nice beach for stretching our legs, a dock for the dingy and clean water. However with the weather deteriorating we decided a wet and bouncy trip ashore could wait and instead were entertained by a stream of motor yachts that anchored close by full to bursting with Christmas revellers. We watched as the storm approached and the sky darkened, a fleet of yachts appeared around the headland, undeterred by the lightening they raced around a mark just a few hundred metres behind us. We sat in the cockpit enjoying the action and the peculiarly atmospheric light.

Turneresque scene as the storm closes in

We have now returned to the inner harbour and are currently anchored in Blackwattle Bay right in the centre of town, there are no less than two dingy docks, shops and sights are close by and it is calm. It does have a few downsides, it sits next to a noisy flyover, it is rather shallow for us, at low tide we have just a metre to spare under our keel and the water is too contaminated for the watermaker. But with our water tanks full from our trip to Rose Bay we can at last take some time to enjoy the city.

Sunday 10th December 2017

We are cocooned far up the aptly named Smiths Creek. It is very, very still, the mirror like water reflecting the trees and slabs of rock that cover the almost vertical sides of this waterway. The sun, yet to be high enough to appear above the steep hills, highlights their tops in a magical yellow glow, bird song and the incessant high pitched drone of the cicadas fills the air. I love this early morning tranquility, despite and possibly because of its fleeting nature.

A large passenger jet crosses the sky, it’s noisy engines breaking the spell and reminding me that regardless of the appearance of being deep inside the bush, we are in fact only twenty or so miles from one of the Worlds major cities and just around the corner from busy Pittwater.

We left the RMYC marina Wednesday morning and headed out of Pittwater back into Broken Bay and then down into Cowan Creek, a seven mile narrow tidal creek with a dozen or so bays and inlets joining it. Our first stop was Jerusalem Bay, where near it’s deserted head we dropped the anchor and took in the scenery. The water was deep and dark, flourishing but spindly trees appeared to grow straight from bare stone, dramatic striated outcrops of limestone rock and vertical cliff faces line the shore.

Raya anchored in Jerusalem Bay

A white breasted sea eagle, sits on nearby branches, king of all he surveys but we see few other birds. The odd splash and the success of a group of local boys with their rod, suggests the presence of fish but in the rather murky water all we see are large plump jelly fish. A few boats come and go, the attraction is a rope that hangs down the cliff face on the opposite bank, once climbed the youngsters jump the 30ft from a rocky overhang back into the water. We guess this means the jelly fish are harmless but the green water doesn’t tempt us in.

Sea Eagle takes flight

Frday morning the still water, overcast skies and light wind, instead,were perfect conditions for a trip up the mast to check the fittings, do some cleaning and a get great picture of Raya.

Raya from the top of the mast

At dusk as the angle of the sun lengthens and the light changes we appear worryingly close to the stone walls that surround us and with the dragging of our anchor a few weeks ago, even a small amount of wind keeps us nervously fixated on the anchor alarm. Our canyon like setting funnels the breeze along its length, but luckily it’s protected location amongst the complex of waterways that make up this area means that even as an infamous East Coast Low came in the winds were never too high. Our two position tracks have had us holding steady at both anchorages.

The low did however disrupt lunch with our friends from Moonshadow. Luckily we had opted not to have a BBQ, but just a few mouthfuls into our meal we were scuttling quickly below with our plates and glasses as what proved to be torrential rain started to encroached into the cockpit. Soon the downpour was accompanied by thunder and then, for a time, by marble sized hail.

Stormy weather

With the sunshine back and the weekend in full flow the hordes have arrived, Smiths Creek appears to be a popular spot. The local boats definitely prefer to tie up to moorings, with the few available buoys snapped up early, all around us boats jostle for a space with shallow enough water for there rarely used anchors and shortish chains. Hopefully things will quieten down by nightfall. Then for us it’s on to Sydney.

Jelly Fish the size of basket balls

Monday 4th December 2017

Early morning tea – Leaving Port Stephens

At first light last Tuesday morning we upped the anchor and left Fingal Bay for the 70nm trip to Pittwater. The decks were still soaked from the previous afternoons storm but the humid air of the past couple of days had gone and the sky was clear and bright. The wind hardly rose into double figures so yet again we were motoring, still the sea was calm and the temperature pleasant. As with the last trip we saw plenty of dolphins, many of whom joined us for the ride.

Dolphins riding our bow wave

We were a little anxious about our arrival in Pittwater as we had been warned that the bays were stuffed with boats on moorings and that finding a spot to anchor might be difficult. Pittwater is one of four waterways that radiate from Broken Bay, the deep protected estuary of the Hawskbury River. Just 25miles north from the centre of Sydney it is an extremely popular spot. I don’t think we have ever seen so many boats in one place, sailing yachts, motor yachts, work boats, racing dinghies, jet skis, kayaks, every sort of watercraft imaginable, all jostling for space.

A forest of masts fills our view south

Knowing we couldn’t be choosy, we picked what seemed like a clear spot behind the large mooring field in Careel Bay and dropped the anchor. Surrounding us were steep wooded slopes full of upmarket houses, the properties fronting the water all boasted extensive views, numerous balconies and private jetties. Instead of wildlife spotting, our dingy safari took us real estate viewing, a very picturesque place to live but we suspect most were just holiday homes, besides the gardeners and maintenance men there were little signs of life. Surprisingly, there was a bit of an English West Country seaside feel to it, the tangy seaweed aroma, the call of the seagulls, the enclosing high hills, we couldn’t quite put our finger on it.

Foreshore in Careel Bay, Pittwater

With permission we tied the dingy to the sea plane dock, crossed the small beach and made our way through the houses. This was the first time we had set foot ashore since we left Southport, it felt good to stretch our legs, we found a small cafe and sat down for a coffee. However this was a residential area and there was nothing else but houses, not a shop in sight, with supplies getting low and a forecast for more storms we took out the phone and found ourselves a marina berth a few miles further into the Pittwater inlet.

For the past four days we have been tied up to the outer dock of the friendly Royal Motor Yacht Club, the fridge is now full but the weather is still very changeable. Today we are sitting out a second band of wet and windy weather, a chilly south wind blowing in through the hatches, with not much improvement expected tomorrow we have extended our stay for another couple of days.

Yesterday, on the other hand, it was lovely and taking advantage of the convenient yacht club curtesy bus, we went to the local beach. The sunshine had bought out the Sunday crowds, surfers shared the waves with a small pod of dolphins, groups of youngsters practiced their lifesaving skills and families picnicked on the orange coloured sand. As we walked down the beach, the hot surface burning our feet, taking in the happy scene in front of us we wished we’d thought to bring our swimmers. Until that was, we dipped our toes into the sea – it was freezing!

Besides the warm tropical waters, something we are beginning to miss from our Pacific island life is that nobody cared or even noticed what you are wearing. Everyone was far more interested in your journey so far, your best tips for snorkelling spots, what type of watermaker you have……. Now, however, back in the real world of shopping centres, restaurants and swish yacht clubs, the island cruiser look of crumpled clothes, home cut, sun bleached hair, bare feet and grazed shins has began to feel rather scruffy. Having arrived in Pittwater, there is a distinct possibility, that we will be shamed into breaking out the iron.

Monday 27th November 2017

‘Hang on, I’ll just get the phone out of the oven’ is not a phase one uses every day, nor luckily is ‘Rick come quick we are dragging’. Port Stephens has not been one of our best stops.

The sail down from Southport was really enjoyable, we could have done with a bit more wind but the days were warm and sunny and the nights starlit. Dolphins, birds and the beaches and mountains of the New South Wales coast provided distraction. Also keeping us on our toes, whisking us southwards at occasionally over 4kts, was the Australian East Coast current. Unfortunately, this was not part of the passage plan, we were aiming to get to the entrance to Port Stephens on slack tide at first light on Saturday. We needed to slow down but still had to keep just enough boat speed through the water to give us steerage, so sails were reefed within an inch of their lives and when motoring the revs were kept as low as the engine would run. Our efforts were not in vain, after two days of fine tuning we arrived exactly as planned at 8am but we were left with the worrying thought of the more difficult job we will have when trying to get back North in the spring.

Four knots of current as we sailed south down the Australian East Coast.

Friday afternoon the sky had been streaked with high clouds, these horse tails may be beautiful but are a sure sign that the bright, calm weather, brought by a large high pressure system lingering over the Tasman sea, would soon be coming to an end.

And indeed the next day the wind began to increase as did the cloud. The combination of strong north easterly winds and shallow water made Port Stephens, with its predominantly north facing anchorages, difficult for our deep drafted boat. We had been told of a small secluded bay, that looked as if it would be protected, unfortunately it too was a bit shallow for us to anchor in very close and we remained in the outer bay exposed to the winds. However it was nice enough and we settled down for the day. We took the dingy around the wooded shore and spotted reef herons, a cormorant and oyster catchers, we ate a nice lunch and then went below to read. I couldn’t quite explain it but I began to feel something was wrong and went to investigate, shocked I realised we were dragging our anchor, slowly drifting out of the bay. Why our anchor, which has not let us down even once right across the Pacific, would suddenly after five hours holding us steady in the 20kt winds, start to drag is a mystery. Suspecting weed or a soft muddy bottom we inched into the bay as far as we dared and re-anchored putting out an absurd amount of chain, set the anchor alarm and enjoyed sundowners with our friends on Moonshadow.

As is our habit before going to bed we checked the stern light to see what it might have attracted. Sunday night we were delighted to find a large pelican lurking around our stern. With his ludicrously long beak, the fish, star struck by the light, were easy pickings.

Pelican fishing around the back of the boat

This morning the change in the weather continued, the sky was overcast and the air humid, we took Raya to look at a couple of other anchorages. We motored laboriously through the shallow channels that run between the sand banks that fill Port Stephens, but didn’t really feel happy in any of the targeted spots. Once the north winds on the back edge of the high pressure pass by, southerly winds will arrive, trapping us inside the Port for possibly a week, we decided to move on while we still could.

We lifted the dingy and in pouring rain, with thunder and lightening threatening in the distance, moved out of Port Stephens to Fingal Bay. Fingal Bay lies just outside the entrance, deep and protected it will give us a fast get away in the morning for the seventy mile trip down to our next stop Pittwater. As the storm moved off, we rescued the small electronics from the oven, where they had been put, in the hope that the oven, working as a Faraday Cage, would save them if lightening did hit and were treated to a fabulous sunset. It was a stunning spot and it was a real treat to have such a bright end to a rather dull day.

Moonshadow bathed in the amazing light of the setting sun