Friday November 18 1330hrs,
Port Lincon SA and after 24 hrs of sublime weather, we cast off and motor out of the marina in a stiffening Southerly. Further visits from the local electrical boffins during the morning do little to encourage us as to the state of our battery charging scenario. With the hours and days wasting away it’s time to get some miles under us. With an incoming tide, wind on the nose and cloud covered sky we anticipate a less than comfortable ride. Although the LED readout on the electrical panel tells us we are low on power, tests on the batteries say the opposite. It’s Peter’s theory that when the air-conditioning and fridge was being worked on, the charging readout may have been re-set and now tells us in negative figures what we have used rather than what we have stored! It’s not a big leap of faith to accept that theory given the previous technicians had negated to switch on the battery charger in the first place and a particular ‘strum’ box which had supposedly gone missing (we were asked constantly if we’d seen it) turned out to be in it’s box right next to where it was supposed to be installed!
At 1530 we round Donnington Reef and meet a Sou’wester hitting us at 22 to 27 knots, the sea is choppy, the swell is confused and we’re diving for the Phenergan. Peter has us start our shifts pretty much straight away. One and a half hours on, three hours off and we quietly congratulate ourselves on having prepared at least 8 days of evening meals in advance.
Saturday November 19.
A bitterly cold night heralds in a grey sea, grey sky and grey moods. Hard to be excited about swaying palms, azure seas, balmy nights and dusky maidens when all around you is beige, lifeless, bitterly cold and smelly unshaven men.
Hugh is knocking back the Phenergan like they’re E’s and he’s got 20 night clubs to visit, I’m feeling a bit like death warmed up, well short of sea sickness but very, very plain indeed and our illustrious skipper even looks less than his usual jolly self. They day goes by in a haze, everyone rigidly sticking to their appointed shifts trying to get in as much sleep as possible.
We are though visited by the occasional pod of dolphin and maybe it’s just me but even they don’t look all that happy to be here, just going through the motions as it were. (read dead-pan) “Hello welcome to our waters, this is Warren he’ll be your tour guide for the next nautical mile. By the way don’t expect any overt aquatic displays, it’s too damn cold, they sky and sea are grey the wind and swell are contrary and we haven’t seen a fish in days”
With the evening rolling around and the wind and sea abating, the swell begins to line up making the boat’s attitude somewhat more tolerable. Last Chapter maybe 60’ long but she’s quite narrow and suffers in the confused seas pitching and rolling mercilessly. Now that the conditions have ‘improved’ life onboard becomes some what more tolerable and by late night we’re all sleeping much better.
Sunday November 20. 1400hrs – S35.00 E13135 (South of Ceduna)
A long slow swell mainly from the South and glassy seas, no wind (well certainly not enough to move this baby) and we’re motoring at just over 6kts. We have in fact been motoring on and off now for nearly 20 hours. Luckily she’s has a huge fuel capacity 1,500 litres. Giving us plenty to motor all the way to Perth if we have to, though the owner has never bothered to find out her fuel consumption and range, so it’s a guesstimate.
It seems that Duane’s weather forecasts have been pretty accurate (well done!) though a ‘heads up” on how cold it may be would have been helpful, dammed if we weren’t all clamoring for our thermals over the past 2 nights. Either we’re over the shock of it or it is in fact milder, but today seems somewhat more tolerable.
It’s a ‘boy’ thing isn’t it, Peter discovered the joy stick for the boat’s navigation system and in the process inadvertently has us doing 360’s in the middle of the ocean. We just wish he’d told us first before he fired the thing up. Motoring along merrily suddenly the boat begins a steady turn to starboard and just keeps right on turning. My first thoughts were “oh shit the auto-helm has shat itself and we’ll be hand steering for the rest of the voyage (for joy for joy)”. I politely let Peter know of the situation (my idea of polite is more “oh shit Pete, the helm is possessed!” and he’s sitting in the coach house with a bemused look on his face, trying to work out how to turn the thing back to course. Never mind we’ll just chuck a couple of donuts and away we go.
The rest of the day passes without incident and the routine continues.
Monday November 22. Wind from the south east, glassy seas and we continue to motor.
Highlight of the chilly overcast day is our first showers, a pleasant respite from the burgeoning body odours. No sign of life save the occasional gull, a certainly not another vessel to be seen. At 1000hrs CST (E129.00) we officially entered Western Australian waters, a minor (nautical) mile-stone. We turn on the satellite phone at 1600hrs and like a mini lonely hearts club sit waiting for it to ring.
And wait.
Nothing!
I don’t know what possessed us to think we’d be inundated with calls but knowing the link is there seems to tease us into a false sense of optimism. I fear that in a few weeks time We’d even get excited if some Indian telemarketing guy called Brian from Mumbai replete with fake Aussie accent calls wanting to speak to the head of the household in the hope of changing us to a different telecommunication carrier. I think just for sport (and the horrendous phone bill they’d eventually get) I’d try and keep him talking for at least an hour. “So tell me again Brian, how exactly does your sliding rate scale differ from Optus and can you find out from your supervisor if she can throw in a set of free steak knives and baseball caps for little Peter and Hugh, if I sign up the whole family to your obviously tempting 24 month mobile plan?”
Eventually the wind begins to pick up moving steadily to east and as night settles, we kill the motor and get in some down wind sailing. 10 – 15 knot Easterlies giving around 7 knots of boat speed. We get another cold night with nothing to be seen, save the occasional stars as the cloud breaks. Peter is seriously contemplating turning on the heaters, the whimp; though I’d stand with him next to one just to keep him company.
Tuesday November 23.
Though the chilly 10-15 knot Easterly winds continue, we have sunshine at last. Coffee on the deck in the mid morning is pleasantly interrupted by Peter exclaiming simply, “Ship!” Like demented school children we crane our necks on tippy-toes and sure enough way in the distance to our starboard is at last another vessel! (I can just about hear your gasps of mutual excitement as you read this).
Having turned on our radar system the other day and with nothing to see we really weren’t sure if the thing worked. Now we have confirmation. Yes indeed it works!
In addition to spying said vessel with the naked eye, through binoculars and now seeing it’s blip on the radar we can absolutely confirm that contrary to our initial fears we are definitely NOT alone.
Ok contain your selves, you can all take a deep breath and relax – that’s as much excitement for this installment as anyone could cope with.
Detlef Bauer 1300hrs CSDT Tuesday Nov. 23