Eden to Ulladulla Thursday 22/4 to Friday 23/4

Ulladulla 23/4 to Wednesday 28/4

Having reached port in Eden, and after an extensive breakfast, there were things to do. The most pressing was refuelling, and some reprovisioning. That done, we became latte tourists and examined the admittedly modest retail offerings to be found at this southern port. It is surreal to be in the cosy, predictable and secure surrounds of town life after being out at sea. Seeing teens strolling the streets with attention glued to mobiles and i-pods made us even more aware of the value of our journey on Calista. Later we were back on board following an evening repast at the Fisherman's Co -Op Club, examining the latest forecasts for coastal NSW. There were some cold fronts on the way, and if we delayed our departure from Eden we would be likely to be held there for several days at least. Friday morning saw us planning, not a day as a tourist in Eden, but our next move, an overnight passage to Ulladulla to beat the cold front now marching across the Great Australian Bight. At 10.30am we cleared the harbour, advising Marine Rescue, who would inform Ulladulla of our departure and eta in Ulladulla, heading on a bearing to pass between Montague Is and the mainland by about 8.00pm. It was an agreeable passage apart from some contrary airs around Montague, and we drew abeam of the lead lights into Ulladulla Harbour on the new dawn. We slid into the delightful boat harbour and tied up alongside the historic ex Navy survey vessel Sir Joseph Banks at 7.45am. We were now only an full day at sea from Sydney, but we were looking forward to some shore time in Ulladulla.

Calista dwarfed by MV Banks

20 laps of the ocean pool

Our delay at Ulladulla has been due to NW tending weather which has worked against a passage to Sydney, and our hope that we might have been able to break up this passage with a call in at Jervis Bay to visit an anchorage called Hole in the Wall. We have been working towards entering Sydney Harbour by daylight, just so we can take in the surrounds of this majestic harbour. To sail into Sydney is something that we dreamed of doing, and it is not far away now. It is a pity that the winds had hung in the NW because we would be in Sydney now.

In Ulladulla we took the chance to go on extensive walks to nearby beaches and headlands, inclding the picturesque Mollymook Beach to the north. We have a saltwater pool nearby - unheated- and have used its availability (it is free) to churn out some laps. We get to stay in the harbour, courtesy of the local Fishing Co-Op at $25 a night. We have the best view in town.

Celebrating Colin's 60th birthday at Dao's Thai Restuarant

Colin (reluctantly) celebrated his 60th birthday on the 26th and in the eve we enjoyed a stellar meal at a local Thai eatery. It was a night of extensive bonhomie! The food was sensational and we hope to return to this gastronomic gem before we depart for Sydney.

Wilson's Promontory (Refuge cove) to Eden (NSW) Tues 20/4 -Thurs 22/4

One of the many oil rigs, Eastern Bass Strait.

In our planning for this voyage at home, the fabled eastern Bass Strait, with its fearful reputation as a sea of storms, made us respectful of the dangers that lurked there for small ships like ours. For us departing Refuge Cove, however, apart from the thundery weather and the possibility of a squall, conditions were light. Forecast winds were to be light, but with us at last.

We soon settled into night routines of harnesses on when in the cockpit and whilst one of stayed snug on watch and monitored our electronics, the other rested in the passage bunk below. Thus we motored through the night. Although a deep darkness prevailed, broken only by the odd lightning flash to the north, Calista plunged on in a sea illuminated by phosphorescence that was amazing to behold. It was as though the sea had become a grasshopper cocktail as our bow wave turned over furrows of luminescent green. When a pod of dolphins joined us at the bow they danced and cavorted as though bedecked in rivers of green. Fairy lights at Christmas could not have held a candle to this. It was the best of nature, and unforgettable to see. The dawn brought a sunrise of exceptional hues and Cookie, being on watch, took the snap that we have included, from the cockpit. Stunning!

With the new day came the calm and the knowledge that we were to be treated to a Bass Strait passage that we could simply relax and enjoy. From Cliffy Is, some 12nm from Refuge, it was 150nm across the wide expanse of the Strait and we would not see land again until we closed Point Hicks, the promontory first spotted by Midshipman Hicks from the yards of Endeavour way back in 1770. For us, apart from keeping clear of the gas and oil platforms we might as well relax and enjoy the passage. There were still things to do and because the new day was light and sunny we... wait for this.... did a load of ships washing and hung it out on the rails. In remote Bass Strait! Unreal.

Bass Strait Laundromat!

We include here some pics of life on board by night and by day for your delectation.

After rounding Point Hicks we headed for Gabo Is and at 2.20 am on Thursday 22nd April we drew abeam of the Gabo light and completed our crossing of Bass Strait. Cookie was supposed to be off watch but refused to go below until Calista bore away to the north and we had officially entered New South Wales waters. After Green Cape we made for Eden, and after alerting Eden Marine Rescue of our arrival we came alongside the wharf at 8.00am. We had taken a touch under 37hrs to cover the 220.5nm from the 'Prom and we stepped ashore, trying to take in the fact that we actually, really, truly were here! Eden, you beauty! Show us thy garden.

Refuge Cove (Wilson's Promontory) Sunday18/4 to Tuesday 20/4

Anchored in Refuge Cove

You'd have thought that after the trevails of the previous night and the long hours at sea, we would have slept well into the day. Nothing could be less so, because with the dawn we arose with heavy eyes to assess our situation. In the light of the new day the natural grandeur of the cove was genuinely something to behold, and several boats had used the relative calm of the preceeding day to make the 20 or so miles from Welshpool or Port Albert to sup on the cove's delights. Surrounded by luxurious temperate forest, the cove has two beaches and hence anchorages, giving it protection from almost all quadrants of wind. Where we had anchored, however, lay narrowly exposed to the east, and we were rolling uneasily on the chain. We would need to shift to the calmer southerly section of the cove, and with weekend visitors departing we would soon have the best spots available to us. We reported in to Allan on the HF and soon were at work on the things that needed attention. Sleep would have to wait.

Our narrative of the previous night deliberately omitted one other issue of concern that we knew could wait for the new day. It was an issue to do with fuel. When planning this voyage we resolved that it would be essential to have a reliable motor of sufficient power to deal with conditions that we were likely to meet. The instillation of a new 40hp Yanmar marine diesel (replacing the ship's original and tired 28hp motor) on Calista was an expense that we knew we would have to bear, and already the motor had well and truly proven its worth. We were mindful of the experience of other crusing folk who had proffered to us the conclusion that a couple going cruising would do a lot of motoring. Take the wind in your sails when you get it, but (especially in our climes) there would be lots of occasions when there was little wind, it blew from the wrong direction, or you just needed to get to the next destination to beat the tide, closing weather or something of the like. We hoped for more constant, and user friendly winds in the trades to the north.

Linked to the new motor - literally - was fuel supply and range. When installing the new Yanmar we had consulted with Paul Webb our marine mechanic about increasing our on board fuel capacity to manage the really long leg between Port Fary / Portland in Victoria and Eden in NSW in the event that we would have to motor a good portion of it. We achieved this by having two supplementary stainless steel fuel tanks fabricated and installed in locker space on either side of the motor. This system gave us three fuel tanks, with the original primary one, deep in the bilge, pumping up to the others, for passage making and day use. In the process we had more than doubled storage capacity on board, and with jerry cans in the back locker we now carried about 300lt on board, more than enough for our likely needs. Our immediate concern at Refuge Cove was that the pump lifting the fuel from the primary storage to replenish the side tanks appeared not to be working, and there was not enough left in the side tanks to hope to get to Eden. Although neither of us came from a background of overalls and grease, this was a good time to get really interested in a mechanical problem. There were no marine mechanical services for miles, and without the pump working it was hard to see how we would be able to get access to the fuel in the bottom tank that we needed, to head on the long passage east.

It seemed to us that the pump was powering ok but that something was impeding its function. We suspected that the culprit might be linked to a really curious thing about diesel fuel tanks that we already had some knowledge about. On a prevous trip to Port Lincoln we had the unnerving experience of our original motor failing, and having to manage a night approach to the local marina under sail alone and with winds rising. Luckily our friends Andy Haldane and Graham Daniels (Graham and son Tom had SAILED (!) Calista from Mooloolaba on the Sunshine Coast in Qld after we has purchased her in early 2007) came down to the wharf to catch our mooring lines as we negotiated the tricky "luff up" approach to the tie-up area. The motor failure was traced to a dirty fuel tank and algae. As unlikely as it seems, moisture in diesel fuel tanks (from condensation, normally) creates a film between the fuel and the tank walls where, incredibly, algae thrive. The demise of these organisms - they must live cheerless, auditor like lives - leaves a black tarry goop in the bottom which can dislodge and foul fuel pumps and systems. On that occasion we were forced to dismantle a goodly portion of the cabin sole and the galley superstructure in searing heat, to get to the inspection lid of the fuel tank, whereapon we used disposable nappies to remove the offending goo. It was amazing to behold, and we learnt a lot from the experience. Now, at the 'Prom, we suspected that, in spite of fuel additives and other preventative measures, the black gunk had struck again. Sure enough, when we removed the tank-side fuel line to the lift pump there were tell tale signs of our algae-advesary. The fuel pump was clogged and strangled. We could remove and clean the pump, but we somehow needed to purge the fuel line that disappeared into the bowels of the boat. We are proud of what came next, considering our novice status!

Fuel pump surgery!

Sucking on diesel fuel lines is incredibly dangerous and by mouth we had no hope of blowing in the tiny fuel dipping hole in the cabin to force fuel back and out of the line. In a stroke of inspiration (derperation begets inspiration) we remembered that before leaving home we had made a last moment decision to bring along a bike pump, for the possible need to inflate the bladder on the ship's accumulator (in the water pump). By fashioning a rubber seal for the mouth of the inspection port, constructing a "joiner" to connect the pump to the seal, and by tape sealing the outside "breather" to the fuel tank we were now ready to test our invention (see the pic of this device!). With one gently pumping and the other deploying a fuel catcher at the end of the line, we soon had gunk purged from the line, and the system clear to run again. Soon our side tanks were filling and Eden was back on the agenda! Yay!

Flushed with success of the mechanical variety, the panelling at the back of the AIS wiring was dismantled and with some adroit tweaking by madame admiral all lights on the AIS unit were back on and functioning. A flick of the chartplotter in the cockpit soon identified 20 ships at sea in our vicinity, one as far away as the east as Bass Strait. Wow! We were back in action. Strike two to us!

AIS surgery!

It was now time to up anchor and move to the snug part of the cove. Having anchored in deepish water overnight, it was going to be a bit of a task for the anchor winch, but it had been working well as late as January and we foresaw no difficulties in managing the retrieve. Soon however, it seemed that the winch was struggling and the depth, combined with a couple of hitches made things worse. Hoping that we could complete the retrieve, and sort out the winch ailments later turned out to be both inadvisable, and wishful thinking. An urgent cry from the helm came as a result of smoke issuing from the winch wiring at the switch, below. The wiring had overheated and the winch could not be used to complete the anchor retrieve. That left us with a manual winch retrieve, after dismantling the inner forestay on the foredeck. Ultimately we laboured with success to retrieve the anchor, re-anchored in the southern section of the cove, checked the wiring and switch and spent the fading light disassembling and greasing the winch and most importantly cleaning and reinstalling the leads to the winch motor. This device lives in the anchor locker which is one of the most hostile of environments that one could imagine for wiring and connections. When all was reassembled it seemed to function well, and would, with a bit of luck see us to the East Coast. We had been lucky, and maybe that was it for the day.

Anchor winch surgery!

From below, however came the news that in the process of reviving the AIS, the AM/FM Radio/CD (entertainment system), that had been working well, and coincidentally shared the same recess as the AIS, was now on the blink and showed no glimmer of activity. It retained its electronically precious status despite all entreaties to the contrary. As day faded and we ignited our anchor light, we counted the cost - WIN, AIS and fuel, LOSS, entertainment and possibly the anchor winch. It had been a hard day in paradise.

A roast in the oven below and a glance around at the wonder of our surrounds lifted our spirits and we resolved that on the morrow we would dedicate some time to enjoying the unique place that is Refuge Cove. We slept well.

Monday dawned fine and it dawned on us that technically, this was our first day of leave. So, in an awful moment of effrontery we both rang in well to our worksites and described the lotus land that we were now lounging in. We selectively excluded anything to do with winches, pumps, electonics and so on, and our colleagues accepted our calls in good grace. Eschewing anything that was connected to spanners, we launched the ship's duck, and were soon wending our way along fern clad paths to Hersop Peak, which beetles over Refuge Cove. The surrounding hills were shrouded in mist, but from the top the view to Waterloo Bay, to the South and back over Refuge in the North made it worth the climb. We returned to join Mike Smith and his son-in -law Adam for some execllent coffee and Adam's hand-crafted rum balls on board Second Wind, a 44' Morgan Centre Cockpit cruiser, also bound east to Eden. Mike's internet analysis suggested that late tomorrow afternoon would be good to go.

Hersop Peak

Our Tues PM departure was timed to have us arrive on the other side of eastern Bass Strait on Thursday morning, two nights and a day away. We celebrated our last day in Refuge with a trip to the north beach and a crisp swim in the ocean of the beach abeam of Calista. In reality, in spite of the beauty of Refuge and were keen to go. Prior to departure a 36' South Coast Yacht Kool Sid dropped anchor in the cove, a craft well known to us when it was for sale on internet yacht sales sites. we knew more about Kool Sid than Tremain and Sue, the new masters would have guessed. All that was needed was a hassle free anchor haul and with Second Wind somewhere within cooee we would be on our way. Happily, with a merry rattle of the chain the anchor was secure and with a lap around Kool Sid to bid them farewell we made heading for the way to sea. it was then that we realised that there was something seriously amiss. The engine was more throaty than normal and a quick inspection showed no water coming from the exhaust. AHHHH! Continue and we cook the motor!! With a rapid turn of Calista's head back into the Cove we turned the motor off and glided back to re-anchor next to Kool Sid. To our chagrin, a few moments later Second Wind slid by, wishing us well in our mechanical malaise and sliding out of the harbour.

There was nothing to do but to work on solving the problem. What was stopping the water - essential for cooling - from reaching the motor? After a check of the intake raw water strainer, that left an impeller problem in the water pump, or something blocking the intake. As the afternoon faded and grumbly clouds gathered about there was nothing to do but go over the side and check if something was blocking the intake. It was not what one wanted to do and after a shivery examination, nothing sinister was found. That left the water pump and soon Tremain from Kool Sid and Paul Webb via phone soon joined us to lend a hand. Eventually the impediment was traced to something in the pipe between the intake and the strainer, but how to get to this near inaccessible conduit to free it?! The solution was another inventive stroke born of necessity. Blowing in the pipe proved useless, so the inflating pump for the duck was brought to bear, connected to the pipe, and with several hearty pumps and an ominous gastric-like gurgle, the item in the pipe, animal, mineral, or piscatorial, was purged into the bay. We were free, and free to go. At a later reflective moment, we considered that this method might have a medical application for bound patients, although we suspect that clinical trials are a way off yet!

As night drew in, so did the gathering storm, and it might have been tempting to snug in to the warmth of below decks for the night, and reassess in the morn. In an hour or so, however, the flashing and crashing seemed to be sliding to the north, so at 7.30pm we eased from the cosy confines of Refuge Cove into the wide expanse of eastern Bass Strait beyond. As we headed east we were reminded of what Geoff Gowing had to say about cruising - "you go from port to port fixing your boat" !!

Second Wind & Calista secure in beautiful Refuge Cove.

Port Fairy to Wilson's Promontory (Refuge Cove) Fri 16/4 - Sun 18/4


Friday saw us up and keen to go on one of the really long legs, two nights and then some to the 'Prom. We had been in Refuge Cove twice before, once via the long sweat as backpackers, and the other as crew aboard Leda, a wonderful Swan 42, helping good friends Tess McGrath and Geoff Gowing complete a Sydney - Adelaide delivery. On that occasion we sat out a real Southern Ocean blow at the Cove, so were well aware of what a wonderful haven it was for small ships. If ever a place was aptly named.

Our new friend Anton called by as we readied the ship for sea, and that just left a stroll to the nearby knoll to glass the sea toward Warrnambool and Cape Otway. Our course to Otway was roughly SE and the breeze looked NNE and finally gave us some prospect of hoisting canvas (sailmaker Ray Brown would be appalled at our loose reference to our new Genoa [headsail], and main as "canvas") on the passage. Soon we were sliding out of the Moyne River with fond memories of our time in Port Fairy.


Colin "on watch",Tim (the autopilot) at the helm.

As we cleared the harbour and set course for Otway, our bouyant hopes of a rollicking sail proved to be an illusion. The main set well but the headsail was unable to hold the angle of the breeze and had to be re-furled. It was back to the motor and main, and thus it proved for hour after hour. The huge swell that had been the offspring of the recent dispute between Neptune and Boreas was still there, and as the grand cliffs of the Great Ocean Road came up on our starboard side we were sliding up and down over blue mountains. Go below to make a sandwich, or brew a cuppa, and out of the galley window there were alternatively walls of blue or cliffs of gold that were majestic in the soft afternoon light. It was clear to us the those who drive the Great Ocean Road only get to see a portion of this remarkable coastline. Although we were steaming a safe distance from shore - the line from PF to Otway runs parallel to the coast - the white fans of spray dashing up the cliffs was a reminder of exactly where we were and how the beauty and danger of this area are inseparable twins. By mid evening as the lights of Port Campell drew abeam, the wind had drifted onto our bow and as we made for Cape Otway, it was under motor alone.
Spot Colin "off watch " at night central Bass Strait.

Calista rounded this notorious cape at 12.08 am (by the ship's log) in a bumpy but non malevolant sea. What was concerning us however, was that one of our primary defence mechanisms, the wonderful AIS, had seemingly gone on the blink. We were able to identify large ships out of and bound for Melbourne on the radar but come up as AIS hits giving their course and direction relative to us, and most importantly, whether they posed a risk to us, they would not. We resolved to attack that problem later, and with neither of us being "technos" of even modest acclaim, we tried to put concerns about this in the background as we ploughed on through the night with the loom of the lights of Melbourne far away to the north.

The new day saw us do a radio connect with coast guard Melbourne on VHF and with our great friend Allan (and Carol) at American River VMR on the 4metre band HF for our position report and weather update. The morning once more gave us optimism about sails, but with the head and main aloft we found that to sail the angle we were heading for King Is and not the prom. With regret we put aside thoughts of Brie and filtered coffee on King, accepted the verdict on sails and settled for a day with no land in sight as we motorsailed under main alone over central Bass Straight.

Cookie updating her illustrated diary-note the Derwent pencils!

With night approaching, so did the 'Prom. It is a notoriously tricky feature for mariners with scattered islands, two "ship separation" channels for the volume of large ships that round the 'Prom bound east or west, a mix of navigation lights, and weather and currents that are invariably obtuse. Our designated path would see us squeeze between the ominously tagged Skull Rock of the Anser group of islands and the ship channel for west-bound shipping, before finding a less taxing seaway after we rounded SE Cape on the foot of the 'Prom. That was at least the theory and plan, after meticulous examination of the charts of the area. For us however, it was our first "rounding", we were fatigued after many hours at sea, and our radar, that had served us so nobly in the blue expanses, now threw up confusing signals that blurred the difference between land and sea objects as we neared the oceanic confusion off the 'Prom. It was also an unrelentingly starless and black night. We yearned for our AIS and ruminated on technology in general. It would be really handy, no essential, to identify ships in our path. As midnight closed we gave way to a large ship crossing our path, out of Melboure, making for the east-bound channel. Then as we neared Skull Rock in the first hour of Sunday (18th) the wind lifted from the East and in the confused sea it became difficult for us - by cockpit head torch - to consult the manual about how to adjust the radar screen and maintain connection to all that was happening aroud us. In the end we went back to the GPS, chart, and eyes to get us through (later in the cold light of day and a stable examination of the Radar Manual we found the adjustment easy to make, and we learned much from the experience!).

There is something about closing land at night after the broad blue horizons out at sea. Give this land the name of Skull Rock, see it loom out of the gloom to port, and only the stoutest of souls could resist veering a little to starboard to give this melancholy landmark a little more berth. This is what your faint-hearted correspondents in fact did. However, in doing so it drew us closer to the west-bound ship channel, not a problem at all if the way is clear ahead. Predictably, at this juncture, out through the spray smattered windscreen could be observed the lights of a ship heading, it seemed, directly for us and closing fast. This ship was snugging the near side of the channel and we needed to act in haste. We corrected to port and peered ahead into the night to see if this move ensured our safety or placed us in peril. We were no longer sleepy(!), and stared forward, yearning to pick out the ship's starboard light to confirm that, indeed, we would pass starboard to starboard, and that all was well. An anxious minute or so passed with desperate eyes trying to get a clear sight on the ship and its lighting configuration. We were bobbing and lurching, binoculars were useless in these conditions and try as we did, nothing seemed clear - apart from the certainty that the ship was headed our way and getting closer. Eventually, a green light (the starboard running [navigation] light) could be seen on the ship and we knew that we were in the clear.

After we rounded SE Cape we left the ships behind us and prepared to negotiate the narrow entrance to Refuge Cove, to anchor and get some welcome rest. In our planning for this voyage we sourced and purchased a good quality spotlight, and now as we reached the jaws of the cove, this item of ship's equipment came into its own. The wink of the cove entrance light certainly helped, but distances are so hard to judge on a black night, and using the spot we were able to light both sides of the entrance and pilot a secure path into the anchorage. It was 3.45 am when the rattle of our anchor chain marked our arrival at Refuge Cove. It felt good to slump into a bunk and to try and get some sleep. We had covered 215nms in nearly 41 hours at sea from Port Fairy.

Port Fairy......Calista tied up left of centre.

Port Fairy Wednesday 14 /4/10

The howling winds of last weekend - it blew a consistent 40-50knots here on Sunday - have happily dissipated but in their train has come a huge and frustrating swell. We would like to be on our way, but before us stands the buttress of Cape Otway and local salts have spoken about this area and large swells in unflattering terms, so we are having to be patient. The problem is that fronts passing to the south of Tasmania are continuing to feed the swell and it may not be until early Friday that we set off for Wilson's Promontory and ultimately to Gabo Is and Eden on the Eastern side of Bass St. This passage is a full four-day exercise with a delicate balance of sea and wind conditions driving our decisions in this notoriously challenging waterway. The only realistic break in the journey is at the 'Prom and that is two sea days from here. Meanwhile we have had a wonderful opportunity to experience the delights of this remarkable little port.

One of the first things that we did was to brave the elements and to embark on the coast walk around Griffith Island, the Shearwater colony with lighthouse that guards the entrance to Port Fairy. Our good friend Andy Haldane, whose family we have got to know at Port Lincoln, had shared with us the remarkable story of the Haldanes at Port Fairy. Andy's grandfather Hugh was the lighthouse keeper on Griffith Island from the 1930's to 1951. He was an outstanding boatbuilder and when not tending the light, built at least two sizeable vessels on the island and launched them on the sandy beach in the lee of the light. By the end of WW2 Hugh saw a need to move on for the future of the family, and so the Haldanes constructed the wooden hulled Tacoma, and when it was finished the entire family steamed away to Port lincoln on board where the Tacoma became the pioneering tuna boat in its new home. Tacoma is in fine fettle to this day and remains a tribute to the master craftsmanship of the Haldanes. Andy has recently shared with us the the Tacoma will soon revisit Port Fairy on a special trip to Port Fairy. It should prove a marvellous homecoming. Sadly nothing remains of the keeper's cottages, although the Lighthouse still stands stoically on the point and tourist info boards pay homage to Hugh Haldane and his family. As we made our way back to Calisata in the buffeting winds, there was one more Haldane legacy to admire. Hugh Haldane when not nautically engaged planted Norflok Island pines. Now they adorn the town and happily are heritage listed. An avenue of these giants stood between us, the tempest, and our anchorage, and these marvellous trees lent their arboreal shoulders into the gale and softened it to a zephyr by the time it reached our halyards. Thank you Hugh Haldane.

Port Fairy Lighthouse

When the GL created Port Fairy as an example of how coastal hamlets might be, He got it just about right. PF is a treasure. For the mariner sliding up the Moyne river to tie up its charms are already evident. A mix of quaint weatherboard of the numerous cottages blends with the heavy stone of the commercial, civic and faith derived buildings, above, beyond and entwined around the port infrastructure. Then as you glide to throw a line the unerring waft of a premier wharfside fish and chippery is torment to the olfactory after a long night at sea. Its allure is overwhelming to dietry commonsense, and the fresh flake with home made tartare, proved to be up to its promise.

The story of our journey really started at Port Fairy, at the spot where we tied up, a number of years ago and it involved a cruising yacht by the name of Koshka - we will share this later. Meanwhile, we found that the town, just a small walk away, has just about all that the weary mariner could desire. A couple of creditable bakeries, bookshops, browseries, a picture theatre and a quaint slatted surf shop head the bill. There are four pubs and one, the presupposing Star of the West has a salad and vegie bar to vault over. Rebecca's Cafe in Port Fairy central has just about the finest coffee and baked delights that one could imagine. Across from Rebecca's, in PF's epicentre stands the imposing Lecture Hall, an impressive and imposing testament to a 19th Century fondness for public learning in the Arts, Sciences and the Natural World. Fashioned to last in the 1880's by the Christian Temperance & Philharmonic Society, it was probable that the song was easier to promote than abstinence, given the rich Irish heritage found in these parts (PF was once named Dublin), the presence of a brewery, the aforementioned licenced premises, and the fact that sailors stepping ashore were unlikely to yearn for lectures. Nonetheless, the Hall has been nicely preserved, and at least acted as a prominent shelter for the market that attracted a throng on Sat last. For cultural variation in town there are a couple of Asian eateries, maybe reflecting the distinctive mandarin connection that local ports once had to the goldfields, once just a day or so by horse from here. They even have a successful footy team - the Port Fairy Seagulls - who, in spite of their purple and gold colours, got the local season away in fine style on Saturday by beheading the South Warrnambool Roosters to the tune of 51 pts. As a result all's well in Port Fairy.

Returning to our tethered ship we have a premier position nestled securely on a walkway in the stream, with all manner of craft, including some charming wooden yachts and 'couta boats offset by the odd visiting commercial craft of the trawling, netting and prawning variety. Not far down the road lies the Port Fairy Sailing Club, and last Saturday on the edge of the tempest we saw a handful of seriously appointed sailing craft head out to sea with clear intentions of mortal combat. One of the PF fleet, Monkey Puzzle has performed with great credit in recent Adelaide - Port Lincoln Classics. The locals can sail. Late the same day we sauntered down to the PFSC with the intention to meet some sea minded souls and we were not disappointed. Trevor off Kelly Down, his trim and spacious 33 footer and Mary and Anton, off their much loved wooden long-keeler Ranger soon had us feeling at home. Mary and Anton have a close connection to Jim Shepherd and Alibi who share berths on B row back at Wirrina. We found it easy to slip into a very comfortable lifestyle at Port Fairy and at $16/night with showers, toilets kitchen and laundry facilities thrown in, it has to be the best value this side of Paris. And, as Anton reminded us, Port Fairy is now a mecca for the well to do of the SW of Victoria, and the well-heeled souls in the apartments across the way would be shelling out over $200/night for the same view and position that we have on Calista.

New friends on Calista

For aquatic souls like us there was just one other must-do before we departed Port Fairy, and that was of course to go for a swim in the sea. Happily for us the Moyne River on which we are snugged curves back parallel to the coast so from our mooring it is only a short stroll across the foredune to East Beach where the Surf club patrols. We are able to report that the ocean at this time and place lacks heat. Then to our surprise, a stroll to the visitor centre revealed that Port Fairy has a heated indoor swimming pool, and a jolly fine 25m one at that. After a lap-session in this really excellent pool we discovered that up the road in Portland, they have one too. We were left wondering why PF can be so well appointed in this area, with a population of 2,500, and why Victor Harbor which proudly struts its City status, can't muster more than a puddle to swim in.

Maybe it was the feel of the warmth of the Port Fairy pool that reminded us that our trip was really in search of warmer waters, and that hence it was time to embark on the challenge of Bass Strait, and thence to turn the corner of the continent and head north. Winter in these parts is clearly on its way.

Night Lights Port Fairy

Port Fairy

Hi Everyone, Just a quick message to let you know we are still in Port Fairy, waiting for 5-6 metre swells to settle. We will probably leave early on Friday morning to catch a falling swell and North/ Northeasterly winds. Colin & Cookie

Robe to Port Fairy

Thursday 8/4 - Friday 9/4

There were lots of things to think about as we departed Robe. The first was to clear the harbour and to get safely out to sea. This was negotiated after giving way to a returning cray boat in the channel and avoiding a trawler manoevuring in the basin to go up on the travel lift. We set a course of 210 degrees to gain distance to seaward and to get us along our track to Port MacDonnell. Typically, as one nears winter in these latitudes there are blows and calms and not much between. The puff of the weak front had given way to soft airs wafting over a lumpy but declining sea. Again we were looking at converting diesel to distance. We found that our new Yanmar 40hp motor gave us a comfortable 6 to 6.2 knots at a smooth and fuel friendly 2050 rpms. Apart from a need to brace when moving about the ship and to keep a sharp eye out for pots it was comfortable going. We set up the autopilot and headed out to sea. Our neighbour on Onawa at Wirrina, Barry Leverington had shared an experience off Robe that we did not want to repeat. When delivering Onawa from NSW they ran foul of a cray pot rope off the SE coast and had to limp in to Robe for damage assessment & repairs. When a pot rope wraps around the prop shaft with the engine engaged the motor gets strangled and sometimes something mechanical -propshaft/gearbox etc - has to give. The news in Robe was that lots of cray boats were still struggling to reach their annual catch quota, so they were setting pots deeper and further out to sea - out toward the continental shelf. So we headed out.

As land reduced to a horizon sliver we were in over 200ft of water and apart from the dodging buoys of deep set shark nets we hoped that the waters ahead would be clear. Later, however, in the soft light of the fading day there was a tap and knock on the hull, and, as we glanced astern, there they were, a string of cray buoys! They had slid underneath us with no harm. They had to have come from a lost pot or were ropes that had broken free, for we were in 310ft of water. As night fell and before setting up our overnight watch system we were treated to a fairy light display from the navigation lights atop the forest of wind generators that dot the far SE coast. It was just like Christmas in April.

Through the night the loom of the distant lights of Mount Gambier faded and we could detect the distant hint of Portland in the sky to the East. We were now in the commercial shipping channels and soon had company that was large, unforgiving, and difficult to see at night. A notion that a large ship at night would be brightly illuminated is entirely incorrect, unless it is a P&O liner and life aboard is in full swing. An advancing tanker or container ship is minimally lit with a forward steaming light, port & starboard light and not much else. They come over the horizon at a rapid rate, and although we carry all of our night nav lights, the chance of them seeing us or even caring about us being there is remote. It is up to us to see them and to keep well out of their way. One of our best tools of security is AIS which identifies these marine monsters on our GPS screen and we can steer to avoid them. It is harder when there is more than one of them and you are not entirely sure of the course that they are planning to keep. Off Discovery Bay in the early hours, ships headed both east and west kept us from slumber on watch.

Dawn broke for us over Bridgewater Bay near Portland, and with rain forecast and pending we decided to push on and cover the additional 30 or so nautical miles and make for Port Fairy via Julia Percy Island. By the time we were abeam of the island, rain had set in, it was cold and clammy and we were just keen to get in and tie up. There was a further incentive - foul weather was forecast to hit the SW coast by Sunday with gales and storm condititions due to sweep the region. The entrance to Port Fairy is a little tricky - cut the corner on approach and you run the risk of fetching up on the reef abeam the lighthouse as a local yacht had the previous week. So with a triple check of the chart we rounded the entrance buoy and slid into the secure confines of the Moyne River after 30 hours and 182 sea miles. We had reached Port Fairy, a place that we held dear in our nautical hearts, and with the help of Max the welcoming Harbour Master we tied up at 1,30pm SA time. With the glass falling under leaden skies, it felt great to be in. We will post some more re this nautical heaven before again putting to sea. Departure from PF will be a few days from now.

Cape Jaffa to Robe

Cape Jaffa Marina Berths

Tuesday 6th April

After our tiring passage from Wirrina we intended to take it easy, but Mark Hayward the sales and marketing manager for the Cape Jaffa development had other ideas. he offered to take us to Robe so we could stroll around in SE latte land while he did some work in his office. There are grand plans for the Cape Jaffa development and it's an impressive place with extensive sandstone marina walls and a huge area for waterfront housing. We wish them well. Mark has a strong sailing background and sailed with Peter Page and other yachts out of the CYC. It was great to visit Robe and we sussed out the marina there. Despite rumours about the expense and non welcoming nature of the marina ,we found the opposite. For $39 we were able to access a first-class facility with access to the showers at the Yacht Club included. We met the marina manager, dog catcher, general inspector, Michael Wilkin who was very welcoming. We returned to Cape Jaffa and retired early after a repast of fresh flake we'd bought in Robe. The rain and strong winds have settled and tomorrow will be ok to make some progress south to Robe.

Wednesday 7/4

Departed for Robe at 8.30am in light conditions before a change due later in the day. Had to clear North Rock and Margaret Brock Rocks and the gamut of craypots on the way out. Very light winds so Mr Yanmar will get another workout. The only significant landfall on the way to Robe is Baudin Rocks and it seemed to us that the name of this great navigator in our waters could have been applied to a far more significant feature than this modest outcrop. It is always enticing approaching a new port destination with checks on navigation, hazards, tides and entrance details keeping us busy. Robe can be shallow at the entrance, and once in the lee of the breakwater, there is a need to snug the curve of the breakwater to avoid the shallow ground to port. Nature has given a narrow, waif-like entrance and adding to the squeeze was commercial trawlers from King Is and Geelong. We were pleased not to encounter another craft on the way out. In the early evening the "front" sputtered through, and the clean evening skies that followed gave hope that we could leave for Portland or Port Fairy in the morning. If we could not clear Robe in the morning we ran the risk of being stuck in port until next week as a heavy weather system was due to sweep across SA/VIC border waters over the weekend. Thursday's dawn broke fine, the forecast looked good so we got set to go. We then realised that the Council still had our Insurance documents so Cookie the resourceful grabbed an unsuspecting early morning fisher on the wharf and convinced him that driving her to the Council Office (and return after waiting for her!) would qualify as his good deed for the day. Where the need is great... In gentle conditions, after giving way to a returning cray fisher in the entrance, we cleared Robe for Victorian waters.

The "Karratta Mooring"

Leaving Robe Harbour

Our First Leg

On Monday the 5th April at 9am we (finally!) departed from Wirrina. We had the most memorable departure thanks to our wonderful friends. On the eve of our sailing good friends Renate, Davo and the irrepressible Alistair Wood had gathered to sup with us at the Normanville Hotel, from whence a final check of the weather with our sailmaker Ray Brown on board led us to a fitful sleep in spite of our exhaustion.

A huge team of people gathered to wish us well at 6am, then we changed it to 9am! After photos and well wishes they cast off our bowlines. We even had streamers thrown and a round of applause as we rounded the end of B row. The pilot boat RD Onowa (rubber duck from Onowa with Captain Barry & Laurel) escorted us from the marina. It was the best send off and we thank everyone for their well wishes. As we rounded Cape Jervis there was Derek & Sue on Absolutely taking photos and farewelling us. As we sailed away towards Cape Willoughby towards the blue horizon, we felt very humbled by everyones amazing support for our adventure...as Derek said in his card to us, " Just remember you are living the Dream for all of us left behind. "

As familiar landscapes disappeared.. Kangaroo Island, the Fleurieu Peninsula including the Bluff and the hills behind our home at Port Elliot, we suddenly realised the enormity of what we were doing!

For Cookie it was a vista in reverse - how often had she stared at the great blue expanse whilst cresting the hills beyond the hills at Pt Elliot whilst returning from work at Mt Compass. For Colin a glance to starboard saw the craggy ramparts of Cape Hart beyond Willoughby - seas that had seen seen his father Joe with Nigel Buick pioneer crayfishing on this remote coast in the 1950's. Old Joe would have been a supporter of Calista's voyage. Of that it is certain. But soon as afternoon light turned to the gloom of our first night at sea, the breeze had fluked to a contrary quadrant and there was much to do. It would be a night of darkness with no horizon to behold.

It was a night both long and wearisome. We motor sailed under main, and after a NW squall and rain hit us about 3am it was clear that ther might be more to the "trough" than the forecasters had estimated. As a cheerless dawn broke on the low-slung coast of Cape Jaffa, it was spattering with rain and the wind was building. As we nervously sought the entrance to the new marina the sky astern lay dark and ominous, like a pallbearer's shroud. We were grateful to tie up at 7.45 as squalls hit and the marina was lashed with rain. The ABC news told of storms and mayhem in the metropolis, and at Cape Jaffa two modest seafarers were just relieved to have completed leg 1. Our intended destination felt as distant as Saturn. We await a favourable window for the next leg and at the moment, after weeks of calms, it's not looking promising for the next day or so.... but who cares we're on holidays!

Departure day

It's Monday 5th April and we are leaving! We'll go to Cape Jaffa, wait for some strong winds to pass through and then go on to Portland. It's been a very busy time getting ready and we will be glad to cast off the bowlines and sail away from the safe harbour. We'll give updates along the way, so stay tuned! Cheers Colin, Cookie, Calista