Drifting up the East coast; migrating with the whales

Actually it hasn't all been entirely laid back. Certainly we have had some enjoyable lazy days of slowly drifting along, hoping an offshore breeze might pick up later. But we have also had some stonking southerlies that have slalomed us up the coast.

The general run of the weather has tended to be against passage north, until, with some ferocity, a southerly change arrives. After an initial surge, the wind drops, dies and changes then the system repeats.

The trick lies in not being out when it howls with antarctic shrill nor still being out when the lumpy seas remain but all traces of wind have gone. Suffice to say our timing still leaves a little to be desired, but so, for that matter does the forecasting...

Kangaroo grazing with a seaview near Iluka

We see whales almost every day as they too migrate north, but have given up on trying to capture their feats on camera and have resolved to enjoy their displays instead. Sometimes they even come over after we've anchored and have a nosey around like snuffling huge but slow dogs.

We were sad to leave Sydney in our wake. Its a fantastic city which suits the sailor. We had made various friends in Tasmania and further afield who we could now meet on their home turf.  The anchorages and public moorings are all over the city and free. Right at the end of our stay we found some amazing free hot showers laid on for the swimmers of Balmoral. If only we'd found them sooner the tourists at the fishmarket would have had less of an eyeful of us showering in the cockpit.

It's hard to explain what was so lovely about Sydney.  Everything seemed to work and feel positive.  Getting around to far flung suburbs for engine parts and services (boring fuel injection pump) was easy, speedy and affordable between google and our opal card (prepaid transport card).  There was more cultural diversity than other parts of Australia and we felt welcome, interested and at home. Plus of course it's a stunning harbour where there is almost always some wind for a sail.

Whilst there we also splashed out on three very different treats.  The first was a fancy feathering propeller which we'd heard about whilst at the wooden boat festival in Tasmania.  George the boss had sent his apprentice Jake down to do a little touting and he managed to talk us round.

Since grinding our original fixed blade prop off on a reef in Fiji we have thought that this would be a good opportunity to buy either a feathering or folding propeller. When researching from Fiji however we couldn't find one that we liked which would fit in the  space between our hull and rudder, so at the time we ordered a replacement fixed blade from New Zealand in order to get moving again.

We were therefore ripe for persuasion when Jake showed us their design which fits, is simple requiring little maintenance, adjustable in pitch and affordable. We are delighted with our find, made locally in Sydney by JBC engineering; the Hydralign. They were extremely friendly, helpful and knowledgeable and whilst there we were able to introduce Ravi to the untold delights of engineering shops being shown around by guys who genuinely loved their jobs and were thrilled when we all showed interest.

The next came from a seed sewn whilst Sally was visiting us.  She happened to mention the number of British acts on bill boards and that she'd even seen a poster with Billy Bragg on it.  A few weeks after she'd left us that thought crossed my mind so we had a look at what was on... there he was, Billy Bragg was playing the main theatre at the Opera house and in just a couple days time.  How could we pass that up? We urgently went on a baby ear defender chase since the ones we'd used in Hobart had been inadequate.

The third was not to be available in Sydney but we ordered ourselves an inflatable kayak online and had it delivered to our friends in the hills above Brisbane.

Just a stones throw up the coast and a gentle drift for us was the inlet of Broken bay, a confluence of estuaries, many surrounded by native bush. Quite the antidote to the city life we had been leading.

After a day of chundering crew, a stop in Port Stephens seemed a logical but unplanned choice. It also gave me the opportunity to catch up with an old friend I had gone to school with decades ago. Surrounded by our children, its sobering to reflect that some of the offspring were only a little younger than we had been when we first met.

After a brief pitstop in a horribly rolly Coffs harbour we pushed on principally under motor to arrive at the delightful Clarence river prior to another northerly change.

What has made these passages so pleasant has been the ever positive charm of the Australians; many like us making their passage north to the tropics as antipodean winter takes hold. Indeed we have always; since arriving eight months ago; been  5°C too far south.

Bolstered by wine cheaper than anywhere we have known it, everywhere we go it is easy to find good anchorages with water available and when we need them, easy to find shops a nice walk away. In every mainland destination there has been another playground we can take Ravi to and now it's getting warmer the waterparks abound.

Brisbane offered us the opportunity to catch up with our friends from Fiji who had taken delivery of some books, toilet and gas parts and our lovely new kayak. They were pleased to show us their unusual and beautiful self built hilltop home so we spent a rare night ashore. We also met not one but two previous Alajuela owners; one having bought his when they were new years ago before setting off across the Pacific.

Ever conscious of the days ahead when we wont have shops close to hand, we stocked up from the Indian shops that we found within the city. We think this should last a while, semolina and dal being some of Ravi's favorite dishes, though to be honest he chomps on everything we feed him. Clearly a product of his parents.

Fortunately though we are now past Brisbane so with luck have returned to the trade wind belt. All whiffs of baby vomit have been vanquished from our pillows and bedding. We're looking forward to a return to trade wind sailing whilst nestled behind the great barrier reef.

We have pressed on up the coast visiting various anchorages behind the sand islands of both Moreton and Fraser. As well as Mooloolaba where we missed another friend from Fiji and her two children by a few days, they had returned to their floating home.

Wild dingos at Fraser island

Then it was on to the slightly odd sugar farming town of Bundaberg with it's wild west feel. One of the tasks we had set ourselves was to have our chain re-galvanised so it would no longer drop its rusting debris on to our foredeck. Getting it off the boat, ashore and in to the back of a hire car was the first task; fortunately its return was easy enough, everything being that bit nearer.

Google helps us to track down farmers markets at each stop. Plenty of pesto since Bundaberg!

For some reason our fishing in the colder climbs had been less successful but once more our freezer and bellies are full. In the last few weeks we've caught 5 tuna, one of them a prized yellowfin.

Next we commenced our barrier reef crawl at Lady Musgrave island which is a coral atol. Quiet, isolated and beautiful, though slightly busy with boats... until that is strong winds were forecast.  Then we knew our two remaining neighbours were more our kind of people.

Lady Musgrave with our brilliant new inflatable kayak

Since then we've been creeping up and up and are now at the edge of the Whitsunday islands.  Fringed by coral with sandy beaches these national park islands offer plenty to explore.

We are enjoying Australia so much we have extended our visas giving us plenty of time to explore just a small amount of the barrier reef and to get the boat more ship shape before pressing on. Ravi continues to thrive, develop and keep us highly entertained though we're determined to be stricter with ourselves and get some more boat jobs done whilst amongst the beautiful Whitsunday islands.      

Travelling with boxes part 2...

It was with heavy heart that we had to finally succumb to our plan to leave Impetuous in New Zealand. We'd put it off for the last five months but now the weather was getting wintry and our visas were on the cusp of expiration.  Once we'd chosen our place and yard we set to; getting Impetuous ready for immanent abandonment.  Most of the windows got rebedded and all manner of varnished teak prettiness got covered in rosy red jackets.  Impetuous is now adorned with multiple Fez'.

Though she's mostly stood up extremely well to what we've thrown at her this last 15 months, the interior oiled walls were looking rather forlorn.  The problem started whilst crossing from Panama when not having any sprayhood (dodger) meant that whilst we were thundering along at 8 or 9 knots the occasional wave would break over the boat and soak the interior which was left open for ventilation. This then got much worse when we hit colder climes and suffered from condensation.  Both these things will be resolved in time.  We plan to make a sprayhood on our return to Impetuous next year and improve our insulation and add a heat source before we go to the next cold country.

We've still got three more windows to pull out and rebed when we get back.  

The Marlborough sounds was a pretty area to stop and do some work.  We still moved every few days.  A short sail, a little fish and a change of scenery is a great refresher.  The walking and foraging was brilliant too.  We managed to find a few dry days and so gave the mast a light sand and two more coats of varnish.  It was very pleasing to see how well the varnish has held up.  Keeping on top of it this way should mean that a strip down won't be necessary any time soon.

So then it was time.

We raised our anchor for the last time, got pulled out by the Waikawa marina travel lift and put up the road in Clint's yard.

We managed to get our rental down through negotiation to half price and we think she'll be nice and safe there.

Then it was time to set off again, travelling with boxes.  Of course we still don't have any proper cases or bags for the plane.  The bits and pieces we want to work on and fix from the boat, and tools to use on the boat in England all got crammed into cardboard and wrapped up in tape.

We hitched a ride to Picton where we caught the ferry across to the North island.  Then we hopped on to an overnight bus to Auckland.  We just had time to visit our one remaining friend in Auckland whilst most had already headed North towards Fiji or Tonga then got the bus to the airport.  Then it was just a matter of a flight to San Fransisco, then another onwards to London before a bus to Bath.

A little dazed and confused after 65 hours travelling we staggered off the bus and round the back of the train station with our boxes to be met by our good friends Nic and Becs.  It took a little while for the news to filter down into our addled brains that the 8 month old baby Becs was holding was in fact theirs.  They had kept his whole existence a secret from us and everyone had been sworn to secrecy.  What great news to be welcomed back with!  And just the start of learning what has been going on and what has changed since we've been away.

We bought return flights from New Zealand so we are booked to return to our Impetuous voyages in March 2016.  Our plan in March is to do some minor work on her including building the said Sprayhood, explore the Marlborough Sounds a little more and visit the Abel Tasman and Nelson.  We will head North when the cyclone season is over around May towards Tonga, Fiji, New Caledonia, Vanuatu, Papau New Guinea and then on to South East asia.  There is a lot of sailing to look forward to.  

Until then our main priority here is to finish fitting out our narrowboat 'Seth' so that he can be a) a more comfortable home for us whilst in England working and b) hopefully be rented out so that someone else can enjoy him when we go away again next March.  In the mean time we will also seek remunerated employment, though with the beautiful British summer breaking out all around us, we're in no rush!

We plan to carry on writing the blog whilst we're here in the UK, though we're going to be busy so it won't be too often.  If you'd like to hear whenever we post an update rather than having to check the site, you can enter your email address in the space on the right.  As far as I know you won't get any spam from this; blogger will just send you an email of any new posts we publish and you can unsubscribe easily by following the link at the bottom of the email.

We have plenty of stories we never managed to get around to telling from our travels and we may also write a bit about our lives here in England.  If you'd like to hear more, feel free to get in touch. It's always nice to find out that we're not just talking to ourselves!

Through the forties to Fiordland...

We'd first glimpsed a sight of land around two in the afternoon when it was still over forty miles away. The sky cleared more comprehensively around six eliciting exclamations from us both. I don't know what I'd expected but the sight surpassed anything we'd imagined.

As darkness fell we still had at least fifteen miles to go. Duncan shivered with excitement,

'a clear night, almost full moon... it'll be amazing!'

I love night time arrivals too but truth be told only because of the reflected glow of Duncan's confidence and excitement. Seeing in the dark in unfamiliar teritory is not my forte.

As we approached, the wall of towering rock disclosed ridges and fissures. A silvery stripe of waterfall here, then there; 'they're everywhere!' The surf crashed on the rocks around the point and across Anita's bay. We rolled on in.

Navigation wasn't hard once we started to benefit from the shelter of the imposing granite.  The crags tumble down from thousands of metres above the mast to hundreds of metres below the keel here, the igneous formations gorged out by glaciers.

We spied the bay we'd planned to check first; it was vast, calm and in that silvery half light breathtakingly beautiful. We slept soundly for the rest of the night and awoke to blissfull flat calm, then had a gentle sail in to the deep harbour, a far cry from the previous few days. 

Pacific passage

We were tearing along; rather than reefing we dropped the mainsail altogether. Slewing about at 8 to 9 knots was not how we wanted to catch our first glimpses of land. Once the main was tied up Beryl (our Aries wind vane) was able to bear off on to a dead run.

Ruth went off to sleep and I got the kettle on. A couple of hours later Hiva Oa crawled out of the dawn like a slumbering dinosaur. Her high rocky craggs becoming visible; Land for the first time in five weeks.

We left Isla Mogo Mogo (Las Perlas, Panama) on Saturday evening, the 14^th June delighted to be heading out into the big blue. There were no nerves; just the exhilarating feeling that finally we were doing what we've wanted to do for a very long time.

We had a beautifully auspicious start; reaching along at 5 knots. Only half an hour out a whale sounded near our boat three or four times. We put two fishing lines out and caught Mackerel on each within an hour; yum... When the wind died down later that evening we were barely drifting along, we were pleased to see that we were still going in the right direction at 1-2 knots, the current was wafting us out.

We were expecting the first leg of our trip to be arduous however, and we weren't disappointed. The sea between Panama and the Galapagos islands is characterised by fickle winds and calms. There is talk of this year being the beginning of an El Nino which may explain why there was even less wind than expected.

Our first two weeks were hard work getting nowhere slowly and at times working pretty hard to stem Impetuous going North or backwards. For two weeks we averaged only 60 miles a day with one memorable day tacking into a light head wind with occasional squalls; out one way and then back, reefing and shaking them out frequently, making a net gain of 10 miles over 24 hours! Not entirely disheartened we gradually edged our way into the Pacific and slipped further in to the enjoyment of ocean passage making, despite the unreliable wind.

It was a welcome juxtaposition from preparing Impetuous for a long passage. Endless provisioning and checks upon the various yacht systems. Stark contrast of the serenity of actually being gone. We read, tidied and relaxed between sail changes and steering adjustments. It did get increasingly frustrating however; after nights and days of rocking on the oceans wave with the sails down, sometimes loosing the hard won miles by drifting up and back; we occasionally decided to motor a little. Slowly, but at least in the right direction.

This lasted until we were a few hundred miles north and to the east of the Galapagos. Little by little a southerly wind developed; the sails went up, the engine silenced for good and we slipped away in to the second part of our crossing; the trade winds.

For the first few days we alternated between one and two reefs in the main, staysail and yankee, our daily runs smashed through their previous poor averages. We expected the pacific to be, well, pacifying, relaxing, steady wind, rolling ocean waves, puffy trade wind clouds and weeks of comfortable steady sailing. We'd pulled in the second reef and still roared along over 7 knots. For almost the next two weeks the reefs were never let out. The yankee was furled at times partially, at others fully as we bouldered along; the lee rail awash as we rolled in the excited sea. We stayed dry, if a little hot inside as the occasional breaking wave would break into the cockpit partially filling it.

As we got closer to the equator we benefited from a favourable current. Our daily averages increased beyond what we thought possible; our record was 192 miles in 24 hours noon to noon. For most of the two weeks we were rarely below the 170 mark. Our tactic of waiting later in the season for the trade winds to fully develop had certainly been effective, if not a little too so.

I'd started peering into the toilet bowl with great interest. We were soon to cross the equator, where upon the water would swill the opposite way on route back to the ocean. For a dyslexic such as myself it takes some remembering which way it swills usually so that one can truly appreciate the change. I even thought of a sentence to help me remember; 'Antipodeans go backwards down the toilet.' As we drew closer I would spend time just curiously flushing away. Well you can imagine my delight and slight surprise when about four miles north of the equator the direction changed. As we edged closer still, I woke Ruth not wanting her to miss out on the celebration. 'We're almost at the equator,' I whispered as I gently rocked her to consciousness, 'and the toilet is already swirling the opposite way!'

Though the first two weeks were frustrating, these next two weeks of tearing along with all sails reefed, were odd. We'd look at each other, 'this is not what I expected'. We'd say. Cowering inside, trusting Beryl to keep us going the right way as another huge wave smashed down on our cabin top. A bit would inevitably find it's way in through the companion way. Our watches were fulfilled by keeping an eye on how things were going from inside. Peeking out to check occasionally, then quickly diving back inside.

With little more than 1000 miles left, there was a gradual slowing. We finally shook out our reefs, opened a few windows to allow some air to circulate and relaxed in to the final stage. We managed to put up the sunshade and sprawled out in the cockpit without fear of frequent drenchings. The sea calmed a little and puffy clouds appeared on the horizon. Our fishing luck changed somewhat too. We had lost several lures to the giants of the deep as well as having some hooks bent straight before we managed to bring our first Mahi mahi on board. With our new ingredient, calmer seas and so boat, we launched with relish into a variety of new meals. Sushi being the first.

Also with the calming of the weather our attitude to the crossing relaxed once more in to the enjoyment of the passage. Days spent relaxing in the shade as the gentle trade wind graced us. No longer pounding along, all the sails were out. We rolled on the left over waves and made a steady 6 knots. As the final days slipped away I slowly realised that I hadn't done any of the tasks I had set myself for the long ocean crossing. I am still only on tape three of French lessons. The Trumpet notes and fingering which I specially downloaded before departure remain on the hard drive of a broken computer as the ocean roll has not been condusive to taking said computer to bits to retrieve the hard drive, broken or not. The list of blog ideas has remained a list. In truth we spent almost all the time doing one of four things; cooking, eating, sleeping and reading.

So here we are. After 35 days at sea we have arrived. Stepping back into the world at the stunningly mountainous and beautifully remote island of Hiva Oa in the Marquesas. We dropped the anchor in the bay and are told the Gendarme doesn't work weekends so there's no hurry to check in yet. We'll make our way in tomorrow, relishing the miles potter in to the village to check our legs still work. 

Another country, a new flag, this time we've got the French flag with the French Polynesian flag below it.  There is a Marquesan flag too but we thought making three would be excessive.