Wednesday November 17th
S34.43m E135.52m
Port Lincon, South Australia
If the romance of a yacht delivery ever beckoned you to pack a bag and submit to the wanderlust for ports unknown beware. More often–than-not these adventures hark back to the ancient mariner’s chart where the unknown parts were often designated with the warnings of “Here Be Dragons”.
Our ‘dragons’, friends and loved ones; are not of the scaley fire breathing types, nor the slimy wide eyed multi tentacled denizens of the deep, but the monsters forged in metal wire, fuses, pumps, switches and conflicting LED read-outs, all vaguely wrangled by $85 per hour tradesmen.
Thursday the 10th of November, Peter, Hugh and Detlef meet at Adelaide airport around midday fully understanding that our delivery yacht a 60’ Bestevaer: “Last Chapter” would be on a hard stand awaiting our arrival with just the final touches to be completed. Perhaps the weather that day was fortuitous – dark, stormy, bitterly cold and blowing a tempest – less than hospitable.
(OK, perhaps I’m being somewhat melodramatic)
Never-the-less, she was on a hard stand in the Northern Adelaide coastal boondocks (better known as North Haven) and on our arrival in our hired Tarrago discovered that she not only awaited antifouling and top side painting but her air-conditioning unit was nowhere to be seen. Apparently it hadn’t ‘arrived’. It turns out that said unit was somewhere in transit – which could mean anywhere between North Haven and the USA in some container on a ship or in the back of a delivery van having a guided tour of the Barossa.
So off to our accommodation we go, the Largs Pier Hotel. For the Aust. music history buffs amongst you the “Laaaargs” once spewed forth the early sounds of the likes of Barnsey in Cold Chisel and a young clean skinned Bon Scott fronting The Valentines before he inked up and led Acka Dacka. Yes folks we were to be sleeping amidst the ghostly memories of beer stained brawlers, vomiting recently post-pubescent groupies and the long past echoes of West End Bitter bottles as they hit cement, tile or head in the gleeful self expression of the early 70’s.
But I digress.
Like all romantic notions based on fond memories – most are best left as just that, and though perfectly adequate, The Largs Pier Hotel suffered from just a bit too much ‘character’. Or perhaps it was just that the locals insisted on playing, with monotonous regularity “The Coward of the County”! Bon should rise from the grave and thump those infidels.
Friday the 11th of November and a-shopping we go. To North Adelaide where we fill shopping trolleys with all manner of non perishables. (We know better than to spend up on milk, eggs bread etc until the very last moment of departure) A short trip around the corner to store our groceries we meet the highly hospitable and beaming wife of the owner, Christine Mercer who insists (even though we’ve just had breakfast) on feeding us enormous portions of Cheese cake and chilled mugs of Bundeberg Ginger beer. She’s about to leave the house but insists we eat up and avail ourselves to the pool and any luxury we feel like in her million dollar plus blue stone renovated cottage. We smile politely as she exits happily asking us to just lock the door behind us when we feel like going. As the door closes the three of us exchange glances, wait the polite beat or two to make sure she isn’t going to return and push our barely touched cheese cake servings aside with Peter looking for a plastic bag that we can smuggle the stuff out of the house and dispose of it so it looks like we’ve been good boys and ate it all up.
Back to the boat we go. At least the weather has cleared up and some progress is made on the anti-foul but still no sign of the air con unit. So it’s back to the Largs to waste time until tomorrow.
Saturday the 12th of November we meet with Englishman Paul Mercer, owner of Last Chapter, his son Paul Jr. and friend of the family, the vacationing British Senior Inspector Joe. Peter does the ‘professional skipper’ thing – asking all the right questions, not saying “fuck” too much whilst Hugh and I look suitably interested. Attempting to make conversation with the owner’s son and the guvner proves to be futile. They’re either incredibly shy, overtly suspicious of our intentions or brain dead. Happily we find out later that they fall into the ‘shy’ category and are in fact, quite pleasant “chaps’.
The word is that the air conditioning unit has arrived in Adelaide this morning but sits on a truck not to be unloaded until Monday morning. Optimistically Peter hopes for a Monday midday departure, I on the other hand have bets on late Tuesday night. With nothing to do but kill time we head back to the Largs Hotel and more “Coward of the County” (Where’s a suicide bomber when you really need one?). We have to vacate on Saturday morning due to a wedding party having booked the hotel out. (No further comment required here)
We decide the seaside town of Glenelg is as good as any to stay and find a moderately priced best Western and check ourselves in then it’s off to a pub for a few cold ones amidst the bustle of tourists and weekend revelers. Against all expectations the three of us awake Sunday morning without hangovers and do breakfast. With another day of mooching about with our only (highly optimistic) shopping expedition for fruit and veg which we store in our mini bar fridges being the highlight, we find a beachside hotel and settle in for the afternoon.
Monday morning we check out, and head back to the boat which now has been slipped and sits awaiting our arrival. Sadly though, she’s nowhere ready to go. There be Gremlins! Air-conditioning isn’t working properly and parts won’t be ready until Tuesday morning so we unload all our gear and begin to stow it below decks where we’re confronted with the most unsightly, un-seaworthy god awful mess reminiscent of a 14 year old boy’s bedroom we’ve seen. As the tradesmen and technicians are all over the boat we leave it until tomorrow. A few beers at the local marina bar and we’re tucked up in bed relatively early aboard Last Chapter albeit still firmly secured to the shores of Adelaide.
Tuesday Nov 12th. Things are looking better, marginally. The air-conditioning is still causing grief and now the refrigeration is playing up. Peter, Hugh and I are itching to get moving so we assign ourselves some tasks to make life onboard more livable. We sort out, and scrub the galley, store as much as we can and try to get the boat ship shape. We are astounded at the general mess below decks and spend the majority of time trying to secure things so that should we get bad weather to Port Lincon, everything won’t suddenly become airborne and kill someone. We’ve realized that it’s not the tradesmen but the owner and his crew that have presented such a poorly maintained interior.
Eventually things begin to look a bit better, but as the owner and his 2 companions will be on board for the first leg we can’t really change too much. Through polite smiles we suffer the situation and lo-and- behold we are less than an hour away from leaving, with hasty instructions from assorted plumbers, electricians etc. Paul the owner takes the helm as we have to go to the next jetty to refuel before we go and proceeds to broadside the freshly painted yacht against the refueling jetty. You could nearly hear the “I’m so glad I didn’t do that” emanating from Peter’s thoughts.
1930hrs and we push off, hastily prepared and full of anticipation. After clearing the break wall start beating into a nasty little sou’wester, no way to start a voyage. Within a few hours the first to go green is the British copper who proceeds to redecorate the windward railing. (Down wind son, down wind!!) Hugh goes below and comes up looking less than perfect, but suffers the hints of the mal-de-mere with stoic determination. Even after 10mg each of Phenergan tablets we’re all feeling somewhat average. Owner and the guvner plant themselves at the wheel (we’re under auto helm) Owner Jr. goes to sleep in the coach house (and stays there asleep for close on 12hrs!) whilst Peter Hugh and I get into our regular shifts. The only moment of the night came when one of the galley drawers full of cutlery decided to throw itself out onto the floor making a hell of a racket – Hugh got up to see what the problems was, saw that I had totally ignored it and went back to bed leaving the slovenly culprit to clean up their own mess. Unfortunately it was Peter who last used the drawer, though not his fault – the catch was faulty another chore to see to in the daylight hours.
Have I mentioned how cold it is??? Even our hardy skipper claims the night a complete and utter discomfort and we virtually drop to our knees and salute the rising of the sun leaving pools of salted water under our arses as we defrost.
Wednesday Nov 16th and we are now motor sailing at 8knt as we need to be in Port Lincon in time to jettison the owner and his entourage in time to catch their 1925hrs plane back to Adelaide. We make it into the marina without incident and amid their empty discarded ‘crisps’ packets and assorted non nautical detritus strewn over the boat we do our goodbyes. Now we can really clean up, sort out the coach house and make this boat truly ship shape. But first a shower, shave and a meal and some well earned sleep.
We love a country town. The meals at the marina bar are cheap and huge and on this night, entertainment is by way of the world cup qualifier between Australia and Uruguay of which everyone in the bar (including ourselves are experts on). Peter makes a half hearted suggestion to go into town for a few more beers and receives absolutely no support from Hugh or myself. Back to the boat by 2300hrs and our illustrious skipper begins snoring even before the glow of his bunk side light has completely faded to black.
Thursday Nov 17th
We wake bright and early ready to set sail as soon as possible, some breakfast a bit of rearranging inside and out and we’ll be underway before midday. WRONG!!! Not only do we discover that the freezer has packed up but the batteries, although having been charged under motor all day yesterday and connected to shore power over night, haven’t charged. Peter begins the laborious task of trying to resolve the problems thwarted constantly by the fact that the wiring is not Australian compatible. We decide that another priority is to save the food so I get in the galley to cook as much of the meat as possible, making a variety of curries, casseroles and the ubiquitous Bolognese sauce, vacuum bag it all and store it in the fridge. At least we’ll eat.
Hugh wants to prepare some dishes and in the process of doing so sets off the gas alarms with monotonous regularity. No batteries, no freezer and now the ear piercing din of the alarms make as all so very optimistically cheery. On top of that, our weather window is narrowing as we wait. Predicted for the next few days are kindly winds, ideal for us to get a good headway into the Southern Ocean. We now have our second local marine electrician on board whilst we hope for a departure a.s.a.p. Perhaps tomorrow, but we’ll see if we can cast off and begin the journey proper or if there be any more dragons.
Detlef Bauer. 1830hrs CSDT Port Lincon SA.