Gold Coast - Mooloolaba 18/5 - 24/5

Leaving "Bums Bay and the Gold Coast.

Our first anchorage on the Gold Coast gave us pleasure from a number of perspectives. First, was that although officially termed “The Stadium”, its common tag, “Bums Bay” referred to the fact that budget conscious mariners preferred to anchor there for free, compared with paying $60 a night in one of the up-market marinas upstream from Sea World. We warmed to Bums Bay from the start! Being just around the corner from the Gold Coast Seaway, having excellent holding (anchoring qualities); protection from weathers, and a short duck ride in and access to transport were added bonuses. By night we had water reflections of the multi-colours of the high rises, and soon after “dropping the pick” Ann and Cran, reunited with friend Roy – who had earlier joined Lettin’ Go as a third crew member for the challenging Great Australian Bight Leg of their oz circumnavigation – soon had us headed for the Mirage Markets, and a café breakfast to celebrate our arrival. Later we returned to ship to watch the marvellous welcome for Jessica Watson into Sydney. Although your crew on Calista are hardened seafaring types, as this remarkable young woman stepped ashore, and Sydney turned on a welcome that only Sydney can, there was not a dry eye to be seen on this ship. ‘Onya Jess!

After being out on the blue expanses for extended hours, we have felt detached and disconnected at times when we step ashore to traffic, retail hoopla, and the frenetic nature of it all. Even crossing roads can see us in some peril as we are still somewhere else. We stand in a mall and we sway like drunks in recovery. We can only imagine how Jessica feels!

If all the glam of the Gold Coast draws travellers from near and far, the truth is that it did little for us. We wandered through some shops in retail denial and sought solace in a plunge in the surf to re-connect ourselves with the sea. From Bums Bay we just strolled across the dunes to the ocean.

Back on board, Cran shared with us a Google derived plan to cruise up the waterways to the Coomera River, from where we would have ringside seats and ease of entry to the Sanctury Cove Boat Show, a marine event that draws honest saline folk through to the seriously heeled from across Australia and from overseas. It is apparently the biggest marine show in the Southern Hemisphere, and we were really keen to check it out.


A new house under construction on Sovereign Island


For us, getting to the Coomera was an event in itself. Following our wonderful guides on Lettin’ Go we puttered upstream abreast of the glamour of Sovereign Island to the world of millionaires and mangroves. It was hard to comprehend that, as we headed upstream, on the one hand there were the most extravagant mansions where owners seemed to have only one mission in life – to out splurge their neighbour in built and floating ostentation - and directly opposite there were oozing everglades with marine backwaters and marshlands with crabs, mudskippers and even sea eagles wheeling overhead. Sir David Attenborough emerging from the mire with a film crew from the BBC would not have surprised. By mid afternoon we were agreeably nestled along the banks of the Coomera, with a park and middling suburbia on one hand and impenetrable stands of native wilderness on the other.


Wilderness on the left side, ritzy houses on the other!


A reconnoitre the next day would prove the adroit nature of Cran’s Google sleuthing, for while other patrons heading to the Boat Show arrived florid faced through battling traffic and distant car parks, we “ducked” ashore and had a pleasant stroll across the golf course to the event. Soon after anchoring however, Cran and Ann took us to see the Gold Coast City Marina and Gold Coast Marine Centre, just upstream on the Coomera. At these marinas, travel lifts, like ancient Stegosaurs, towered over us gobbling up 40’cats as though they were gadflies and depositing them in “garages” for marine work, that each might have housed a 747. The scale of these operations had us suggesting to Ann that we felt we lived in the land of Lilliput by comparison in all things marine. We were gob smacked. Nearby we met Kerry Mason the friendly captain of a 74’ luxury cruiser, Adagio that had newly arrived from New Zealand for the Boat Show. Getting on board this luxury vessel at the Boat Show would be by appointment, but through Kerry’s generosity we had a personal tour from stem to stern, of this truly remarkable vessel. This is how the other 0.001% live!


Massive travel lift about to put a 40' Cat in the shed.




Colin ( top right ) Ann & Cran on board Adagio.

That eve the crew of Lettin Go assembled on Calista for a sub-continental repast with Cookie’s pappadums, and Raita de la Coomera acting as precursor to Lamb Rogan Josh (that had simmered to succulence on the journey upstream), pan fried eggplant, tomato and capsicum masala, and mixed roast vegetables oven tossed in tomato and dusted spices. With chilled offerings from the good Dr Cooper of Leabrook, plus selected vintages to lubricate, by mid evening we were internally and externally ready for rest and then to tackle the Boat Show.


Relaxing after an Indian Feast on board Calista.


The delightful anchorage on the Coomera River.

Cran had cautioned us that a visit to the Sanctury Cove Boat Show needed to be planned as a full-day affair, and again Cran was spot on. With three yawning pavilions, numberless landed displays and representation from every company derived from Archimedes, there was enough to sate the appetite of the most committed of seafarers. Then there were the on-water exhibits. They were genuinely spectacular, providing floating access to the very latest, and the very best, powered by wind and by motor. And what manner of ships they were, particularly the floating mansions that are the luxury cruisers of today. We had entered the event at 9.00am, and departed at the 5.00 close with hours having flown by as if they were nanoseconds. It had been an eye-opening and exhausting day, but strangely, having recently emerged from such glamour, we were perfectly contented to step back on board our comfortable older-style cruiser. Calista feels like home.
The sea of boats at Sanctuary Cove. The new 65' Fleming in foreground.

The next day, Friday 21/5 started with the patter of rain drops on the Coomera, but in no time we were experiencing a deluge that, to us would have had Noah heading for the boat shed, and in his spare time collecting pairs of animals. It must have been moist at the Boat Show. Huddled below on Calista we had Cran, who is a dab hand at technology; help us make sense of Sail Mail and other systems that we would link to HF Radio, and to Sat Phone, for communication, information and safety when we were eventually beyond the range of Telstra and the internet. His help to us has been invaluable.
The entrance to the boat show behind us as we head North.

While the Boat Show played to a full house, under clear skies the next day, we slid past the flags and carnival, bound for the Broadwater and the myriad of waterways between the Gold Coast, Moreton Bay and the sandy islands of North and South Stradbroke. With Lettin’ Go leading the way we were again glad to be on the move. By mid morn the palatial world of the islands was behind us and in its place was a natural world of national parks and waterways, separated from the roaring ocean by a finger of sand, a little like our own Coorong in SA. Soon we were abeam of the original sea-entry to the waterways at Jumpin’ Pin Bar (love the name!) and had anchored for an excursion across South Stradbroke Island to the sea. With the sniff of the ocean in our nostrils, and having been becalmed in sedentary activities for the last three days, we felt like kelpies unclipped from the farm ‘ute. We plunged into the surf like otters into a rapid. Looking up and down the long beaches of Stradbroke was, apart from the smudge of the high rises on the horizon to the south, akin to being on a remote part of the Coorong’s ocean beach. What a contrast to the glitz of previous days.

Toys at anchor on the inside of South Stradbroke Island

Ocean Beach, South Stradbroke before our swim. Note Gold Coast highrise in background.

Back on board, with Lettin’Go calling shallows in the channel, we made our way to Canipa Passage and an anchorage with cliffs beetling overhead, and a waterway that became glass at night, and oozed vapour as the crispness of evening descended. Our plans to spend a day or two in this idyllic environment before seeing Ann and Cran head across Moreton Bay to complete their circumnavigation were foreshortened by the latest forecast that had northerlies coming in and therefore we only had time to make for the intriguing Tangaloola anchorage on Moreton Island before Lettin’ Go headed home and we made for Mooloolaba.

Lovely anchorage, North Stradbroke.

Bound for Tangalooma.

Accordingly, with a forecast scheduled to see southerlies become sou’ easterlies, we left the Stradbroke waterways and made our way across the wide waters of Moreton Bay as the wind freshened, but held on to the south. Tangaloola is a resort anchorage with a line of sunken vessels making an aquatic reserve that has must see qualities. For us though, the angle of the wind, combined with an opposing current made Tangaloola uncomfortable, and doubtful, to say the least. By mid afternoon our predicament could only be resolved by a dash across Moreton Bay to Scarborough, and reaching shelter under the lee of the headland near Newport. With light fading Calista set off across the bay with heavy airs that gusted to 30kn, and our ship romping along under reefed sails doing 7-8knots.

Scarborough in the distance. Ann & Cran nearly home!

We were relieved to follow Ann and Cran to a snug anchorage, and delighted to be the first to congratulate them on completing their remarkable circumnavigation, just seaward of the leads into Scarborough. What a wonderful effort! There are lots of people who talk about sailing their yachts around Australia. Ann and Cran McLean have actually done it, and we congratulate them!! Ann had promised to have us on board for a fish curry for our last night at sea together, and after the difficulties of the day she was still about to conjure a delightful repast to cap a memorable day.

Next morning we felt more than a tinge of sadness as we departed across Moreton Bay for Mooloolaba, leaving our good friends to complete the short journey to the Newport Marina to pick up life ashore. We wondered how they would feel after so many months at sea. Soon however we were at work negotiating waypoints around Bribie Island as the Glasshouse Mountains became distinct features to the Northwest. As we neared Caloundra there was a pointed reminder of the need to be ultra careful at sea, as on the last finger of the Bribie Is beach lay the wreck of a large catamaran which had foundered in the conditions of the previous evening, and the hopes and dreams of the owners lay in sad disarray on the beach. They were on the opening stanza of a dream voyage from Brisbane to Darwin, and now all that they owned was scattering in the surf. There was little for us to do but glass the scene from out at sea, and get back to negotiating the reefs and ship channel abeam of Caloundra. By 2pm we had rounded Point Cartwright, and after clearing in with Mooloolaba VMR, we entered the Mooloolaba harbour. February 2007 had seen us fly to Mooloolaba to complete the purchase of Calista, and now, after promising her former owners Derek and Bella Reinemer that one day we would bring her back to Queensland, here we were making good our word. As we eased up to Lawrie’s Marina, there were Derek and Bella to grab our lines! It was a wonderful “homecoming”! Welcome back Calista.

Entering the Mooloolah River, Mooloolaba. Calista returns!

Coffs Harbour - Gold Coast Mon 10/5 - Sat 16/5

Inspecting the Yamba Bar after a successful crossing!

“When you get up the New South Wales coast, make sure that you take care around the bars!” Sounds like parental advice to a son or daughter about to backpack through Europe. This advice, given often to us before our departure from SA, had nothing to do with us being in peril in local pubs, but rather the unique problem of seafarers entering NSW ports via the many rivers that flow from the Great Divide to the sea.

Many port - river entrances have rapidly changing conditions where depending on swell, tide and weather, entrance can be easy and comfortable, down to totally dangerous. Whilst all entrances are clearly marked, navigationally, both by day and night, most have sand bars that guard the entrance, and often swells rear up and break, making passage for cruising yachts like ours a potentially hazardous process. Down through the years many mariners, both experienced and not have lost their lives transiting the bar entrances.

The best time to enter these rivers is on the flood tide, as it nears its peak. The incoming tide plus increasing depth reduces wave activity on bars, but still there are no guarantees. Local knowledge is invaluable, and although Marine Rescue personnel maintain stations at most to the entrances, they are restricted in the amount of prescriptive information and advice that they can give, given the legal world that we now live in. It is not quite as easy as checking the tide and swell info, and coming on in. As we planned a move from Coffs Harbour to the bar entrance at Yamba, there was something else to consider, and that has to do with the tides and how to tell when the tide is fullest and flowing back in. The huge Clarence River flows out at Yamba and when the river system and its many lakes are full it takes hours for them to empty on the ebbing tide, before the rising tide outside sees water flow back in. There is a science in calculating this, but simply, the published “low tide” may be delayed by up to 2-4 hours by the river system emptying, and if one is planning a passage to a river entrance like Yamba, and keen to time the approach to get the best conditions likely before sunset; the departure time from the port you are in, the distance to travel and likely passage time are key sums to do. For us, having spent a day at Coffs refuelling, resupplying and doing an enjoyable tourist stroll through town, the wind, tidal and swell information was telling us that if we wanted to do a day-passage to Yamba and cross the bar before dark, then a dawn departure from Coffs was the smart thing to do. Beyond the following day, the swell was rising.

With Ann and Cran on Lettin’Go in company we slid out of harbour at 6.00am, found some breeze for a time but the angle was too close hauled for our genoa (headsail), and we were back to our regular configuration of motoring with mainsail. This made for relaxing passage and we were able to settle back and take in the sweeping coastal vistas as we made northing on the charts. We arrived outside Yamba at a touch after 4pm, and after a careful check of conditions we made our way in to the anchorage through the mouth of the Clarence with no fuss at all. Although our first bar-crossing was uneventful we remained as wary as does a cat around grandma’s rocking chair.

The mouth of the Clarence divides the low-key town of Iluka from its more bustling and prosperous neighbour Yamba. We had anchored off the Fishing Coop at Iluka because of its ease of approach before moving the next morning and negotiating the narrow channel leading to the Yamba Marina. The marina has been home to celebrated yachtswoman, boat designer and entrepreneur, Kay Cottee, and a stroll to the marina office revealed that in her life beyond First Lady she has turned her hand to art and sculpture, with some items on display in a gallery.

The view from the Pacific Hotel

Yamba had been highly recommended to us, and it did not disappoint. Although the growth of the locale has led to it now possessing a shopping centre, as predictable as any other, the older, central part of Yamba is a total delight. Some natty shops, interesting browsing, a couple of excellent bakeries and street-side cafes made Yamba a really comfortable place to pass some hours. It was a challenge selecting the best place to get a treat for lunch; such was the culinary array on offer. And, there was more. Down through the years we could be classified as being hopelessly addicted “surf shopaholics”. In recent times, however our addiction has waned. Surf Shops have become so predictable – flat screen tv’s, endless hoodies with skull logos, rows of Roxy pastel, and the full wall pics of surfie chicks with their perfect smiles, perfect tans and not a hair out of place. All with a 10% Sale to go! Occasionally there is a gem to be found, that reminds us how surf shops used to be. So far we have found these surviving relics in Port Fairy, Coffs Harbour, and now Yamba. In this case, on the hill overlooking the town, not far from the lighthouse we found a shop that time forgot. Inside we found an owner with a local tale to tell, with some wonderful memorabilia bedecking the wall, and with some retail offerings that were local, and not just from the big surf brands from Torquay. Our search uncovered a pair of Golden Breed boardies with no skull logos, and at the sale price of $20 they were quickly snapped up. Not far away was a selection of beaches for a swim and body surf, a 30m open air rock pool and from the panoramic balcony of the Pacific Hotel we reunited with old friend Ron McKeoun from the Wollongong Surf Club. You could wile away some time in Yamba!

About to go for a bodysurf.

Back at the boat however, after getting some invaluable help from Cran in setting up e-mail, weather forecasting, and blogging options via our HF Radio and Satphone for our planned journey to the Louisiade Archipelago, across the Coral Sea, the news came in from the net that in this area, dangerous swell conditions were building. Although we had a mind to linger a little in Yamba, the forecast had us revising our plans as a rising swell might prevent us leaving Yamba and might prevent us getting in to the Gold Coast waterways via the Gold Coast Seaway.

Thursday afternoon, then had us planning an imminent departure for Queensland’s Gold Coast, a little over 100nm away, and possibly 18 hours at sea. Taking the late afternoon tide, we cleared the Yamba breakwater and made for the open sea. Then, just as we thought we were clear of the danger zone, it was clear that we were not. A set of larger waves emerged from nowhere and the largest of these had us steaming up,up,up before crashing down on the other side. Wow! Just like in a surfboat!

Successful exit (over a big one!) from the Clarence Bar.

Soon however we had set a stabilising main, and were flying along at 6.5 – 7knots, and getting the ship and crew ready for night passage. This involves setting up navigation lights, checking our course and waypoints, harnesses on, trimming sails, and then one of us going below for a master chef session in the rolling kitchen below. There was no sign of our nemesis, the ECC. In mid evening we made an HF radio connect with Allan at American River, at 6 then 8 metres bandwidth; it was really incredible to make such a clear contact, over such a distance. Later, as we neared Ballina we were enthralled as, finally we could see the Byron Bay light off our port bow. Cape Byron, Australia’s most easterly point! We remembered the first time that we had seen the Cape Byron lighthouse, as we crested the Great Divide in the Escort on our “Coastal Lap” as we shared last blog. We were excited then and were just the same now. We remembered standing alongside the Cape Bryon Lighthouse then lost in a moment of wonder, trying to imagine what it would be like to sail past this iconic landfall. Now, here we were, sailing past Cape Byron!

Another gourmet meal on our night passage.

With a span of illumination of 26 nm, the Cape Byron light held us in her rhythmic embrace for hours, and at midnight we drew level with the Cape just as the nocturnal revellers onshore were reaching third gear. Our celebration was nothing like the full-scale partying in the Byron nightspots, as whilst we are at sea we are a strictly “dry” boat. For us it was a curious celebration of sorts – a bowl of Weetbix and Sports Plus from the ship’s larder. It was just the thing between watches, late at night. The warming gleam from Cape Byron stayed with us all night, and remained as a regular loom in the south as we rounded Point Danger and before us, like a string of coloured jewels, lay the high rises of the Gold Coast.

Calista at dawn off Surfers.. Great photo from Cran.

As dawn approached we marvelled at Surfers from the sea, but had to keep our wits about us as at one stage a trawler towing a net approached us and then cut across our bows. It was clear that he has not seen us. Soon there were pleasure craft to be seen through the gloom, including a tinny with a couple of guys, and not a nav light to be seen. It was clear by now that the lifting swell had not eventuated, and that all manner of craft might be encountered exiting the Seaway on a Saturday morning. As we neared the entrance there was a last delight to take in; the sight of the sunrise on the tall towers of the Gold Coast – it was as though they were aflame, like so many tall trees on fire.

Dawn sunlight as we pass the Gold Coast highrise.

As we left the blue water beyond and entered the Gold Coast Seaway, Lettin’Go, just ahead of us, came up on the radio to warn us of a final, unforseen obstacle before were were in; that of surfers and bodyboarders making the dash across the Seaway to the beaches of South Stradbroke amongst the motorboats and yachts, like wildebeast before crocodiles in an African river. In no time though, we had entered the broadway and were at anchor in “The Stadium” or, as we were later to find, known locally as “Bum’s Bay”. Welcome to the Gold Coast - it was hard to believe that really we were here.

Following Lettin' Go into Bums Bay! What a view.

Pittwater - Coffs Harbor 7/5 to 11/5

Anchored tankers fill the horizon en route to Newcastle.

Leaving the tall masts and bright lights of Pittwater behind us, we were hopeful of clearing Barrenjoey and using a souwester to fill some canvas. This seemed likely for a while, but before too many nautical miles the breeze, and our hopes faded and it was back to mainsil and motor to keep us underway. By Lake Macquarie our chart plotter was lighting up with AIS triangles, showing ships ahead. Soon the horizon was dotted with them, all coal ships at anchor awaiting loading instructions at Newcastle. As we drew near them our count listed 25 ships at anchor, from horizon to horizon. What the crew do whilst at anchor waiting for their ship to come in was something that occupied our thoughts as we closed on our destination. Not much of a life compared with ours on our "ship" we thought. We now knew that Newcastle by nightfall was improbable, but hoped to be in at the new marina's facilities there before the Newcastle Yacht Club hospitality staff closed their doors. At sea the mind can drift toward wedges and something with foam on top. Cappuccino? It is always difficult approaching port at night, and especially so where city lights meld with the navigation lights that must be correctly read to ensure safe passage into harbour. As we closed Newcastle's Nobbys Island which guards the entrance to the ship channel, there was something else to consider. Earlier, our courtesy call to Newcastle Marine Rescue had alerted us that a large tanker was soon due to leave port, but that for the moment the "coast" was clear. Now, as we rounded Nobbys and entered the channel, our AIS lit up with multiple targets, dead ahead. Sure enough, the tanker with a clutch of fussing tugs - two at the bow, and one astern - had chosen this exact moment to join us in the channel, putting out to sea. At this point the channel which had appeared commodious to a 36' yacht, seemed to shrink to the dimension of a roadside culvert. At this, madam helmsperson, noting the looming monster ahead, retorted "what do we do now!!?". Co-crew and forward observor, peering forward, thought for a moment before offering the following appraisal and advice......"miss the tanker". What else could one say? In the end we snugged the port side of the channel, inhaled deeply, and held our breaths as the steel walls of the behemoth, plus its attendants, slid by. By the time we had tied up and established our bona fides at the NYC this in-channel experience had both whetted our appetites and deepened our thirst. The NYC we found, agreeably reflected the bue collar roots of the city, and it was comfortable to settle back and enjoy the relaxed atmosphere that shone through at the club. The NYC is doing well we hear. Later, as an unexpected bonus, we found that the visiting yachtie facilities included five en-suite bathrooms for discerning clients. Privacy! Almost unheard of at sea and we were not quite sure to do with it. Before retiring to our forepeak berth we had a chance to take in, if that is possible, the opulence and majesty of a superyacht that was tied up opposite, but somewhat ingloriously adjacent the massive structure of Newcastle's floating ship-dock. This statement vessel, the superyacht, seemed to be the epitomy of opulence with masts that went up forever, so high that aero-navigation lights were required at the masthead. Again we felt that we had shrunk to the dimension of the dinghy that conveyed Ratty and Moley in the much loved fable. However, for us seafarers we had been messing about in our boat since sun-up and now felt like some slumber.

Leaving Newcastle with the incoming tanker astern.

Murphy, it seems is a regular crew member on board, and sure enough, as we got under way next morn on the long haul to Coffs (186nm /about 34hrs), our entry into the ship channel was greeted by another tanker, this time incoming, and again with tugs like goslings around Mother Goose. This time though, in daylight we found the passing easy, and wondered why last eve our heartbeats had lifted. Managing things at night, at sea, is a different creature. Again we found flukey airs, and again we motor sailed. Our route north snugged the coast, and we had a seabird's view of the beaches, headlands, and wilderness areas as we settled back and simply took it all in. A feature of the NSW coast is the amount of space given to nature, and apart from towns and river entrances there appeared to be mile after mile of wild places where few footprints are to be found. It was heartening, and beautiful to see. We had been concerned about meeting contrary sea-currents as we headed north - remember "its the ECC [the East Coast Current]" from Finding Nemo but so far we were doing 6-7kn and a good time into Coffs was looking promising. In early afternoon, as we drew abeam of Seal Rocks, all that changed. We noted is at first as swirling disturbed water ahead, with fish leaping and seabirds diving. Then it hit us, gripped our little ship in a shudder and our speed plunged back to 4kn although our instruments suggested that we were doing nearly seven. Welcome to the ECC!

For the rest of our trip north we battled the ECC, and we were again grateful that our Yanmar 40 was there to lend its shoulder into the contrary stream. Through the night and into the next day our current affair lingered and it was not until we approached the imposing ramparts of Smoky Cape with its striking lighthouse that it finally loosened its grip. On board Calista our thoughts returned with great fondness to our visit to this cape as part of our "coastal lap" that we had done years ago in Cookie's Escort panel van. Like Wicked backpackers before our time planning for that trip was easy - we headed from across land via such destinations as Wilcannia and Cobar to Australia's most easterly point, Byron Bay. From there, with wave-skis on top and a tent in the back we planned on seeing as many beaches as we could, keeping the land on the right and the sea on our left, back to SA. What a trip! Now we were doing a "coastal lap" in reverse, keeping the land on our port and heading north. Abeam of Smoky Cape - one of our favourites on our land lap - we thought fondly of this stunning location. We never dreamed that we would see it from the sea.

Entering Coffs on sunset.

As the ECC released us a little from its insidious grip, our speed returned and as afternoon shadows lengthened we gratefully entered the harbour at Coffs, and made our way to our berth where we were pleased to see good friend Cran there to catch our lines and hand us our marina key. He informed us that that Ann had been at work on a smoked fish pasta, there were cold offerings in the fridge, and that if it pleased, we could make our way to Lettin' Go once we had settled. Ann and Cran, you legends. We could not think of a finer way to celebrate our arrival at Coffs Harbour. Our journey to Coffs had taken 32 1/4hrs. Next day we would start looking for palm trees.

Safely through the entrance at Coffs Harbour.

Pic - Courtesy Cran McLean Lettin'Go

Sydney to Pittwater - Monday 3/5 to Thursday 6/5.

Sydney to Pittwater Waterways Monday 3/5 to Thursday 6/5


Anchored at Halletts Beach, Cowan Creek

Our departure out of Sydney Harbour on Monday morning was comfortable and uneventful, and soon we had rounded North Head and under full sail enjoyed a different view of Sydney's famed northern beaches from Manly in the south to Palm Beach next to Barrenjoey Head in the north. After the overwhelming experience that is Sydney Harbour we were seeking some natural peace in the Pittwater area, and especially in the glorious tree-lined bays and anchorages to be found in Kuring-Gai Chase National Park. When we glided into the expansive Cowan Creek, a branch of the Hawkesbury River system it was hard to comprehend that literally, just over the hill was the metropolis of Sydney, whereas here in Halletts Beach where we picked up a mooring, was solitude and wilderness. A place little changed in human time. In Halletts beach we re-connected with Ann and Cran McLean on their 50'catamaran Lettin' Go, a couple we had first met by chance on the Australia Day long weekend in Januray when they had called into Antechamber Bay, Kangaroo Island on their anti-clockwise circumnavigation of Australia from their home port near Brisbane. We were keen to hear more about their travels, especially their recent experiences in Tasmania. Next day we moved with Lettin' Go to Refuge and American Bays where you can swim, bushwalk and even shower in a beachside waterfall in this pristine marine-bush setting. It was a great interlude and now we know why cruising sailors regard the area so highly.

A swim in the warm water (23 degrees) and then a rinse under the waterfall shower.


In the new day Lettin' Go headed north whilst we bore to starboard to enter the Pittwater sound, a mecca for boating in NSW. Our new Yanmar 40 had given yeoman service since leaving home waters, and having clocked up more than 250 hrs of operation it was due for attention. Given the importance of our power plant to our journey we wanted a service undertaken by a Yanmar dealership, in this case Lucas Marine at the Royal Prince Alfred Yacht Club, one of Australia's most credentialed sailking institutions. entering Pittwater, bound for its southern reaches, was, for us another of those eye-opening experiences on our journey. With a level of disbelief we took in the myriad of floating craft on show around us and amongst a forest of masts, one belonging to famous Sydney Hobart maxi Wild Oats, we slid into to the works area of the RPAYC. Our noble 36' craft seemed to us reduced to dinghy status until a local yacht owner appeared out of his companionway and called out, "hi guys, nice yacht!" It was reassuring to us and set a tone that we found common to all of those we met at the RPAYC. A noble institution without quite the hoi and the polloi, we found the RPAYC welcoming, accommodating and altogether a fine place to visit.


A sea of masts in Pittwater.

In no time, it seemed, Cameron, from Lucas Marine, and Phill, from Riggtech were checking out the things that needed doing, and that were giving us concern. Cameron soon emerged from the bowels of the engine bay with the disturbing news that the exhaust fitting that has fractured in January at Port Lincoln on our motor shakedown cruise, had again cracked and needed urgent attention. As it was, such a fissure would let dangerous gases into the cabin and there was a risk that an off-watch member of our crew in the lee-cloth berth at night might succumb to asphyxiation(!). Cameron's diagnosis led to a remedy plan that saw him disappear to his workshop to re-weld the fitting and to fabricate a stainless brace that hopefully would put an end to the problem, and not the end to one of us! Meanwhile, Phill, up on deck was concerned at the age of the turnbuckles that held up the sidestays, and hence the mast. Whilst appearing sound, they were original fittings (Calista was launched in 1990) and he was concerned about their reliability on the journey that, for us, lay ahead. Stainless fittings can become brittle in time and in one of our first passages to Kangaroo Island on Calista we had the experience of a fitting holding up our genoa (headsail) giving way with a bang and the huge sail ending up alongside us in the sea. In the end we decided it wise to replace the turnbuckles, even if this meant a delay in heading north, and more expense. What is the price of safety?

Wild Oats.... Sydney Hobart race boat at RPAYC

The delay in sailing gave us a chance to refuel, reprovision and to check out the exclusive northern beach and bay suburb of Newport where retail tags read like moblie phone numbers. By Friday morning all had been remedied and we were off on the near 60 mile haul to Newcastle. A fine pattern of weather was emerging and this would give us a chance to make some distance up the north coast of NSW. Ann and Cran were planning to attend the Sanctury Cove Boat Show from the 21st of May and suggested that we might join them. We had heard a lot about this amazing marine event, and thought that if we if we could get there it would a really good thing to do. For the moment, for us, we hoped to reach the Newcastle ship channel before nightfall. From Newcastle, an overnight passage at sea would see us at Coffs Harbor, and within a sniff of the tropics. Bring on the palms!

Sydney - Friday 30/4 to Sunday 2/5

Entering Syney Harbour for us had more than a pinch of Holy Grail in nautical status, but weary as we were from a long night at sea with little sleep, it was not a time to relax and enjoy the moment, because the harbour has a myriad of navigational beacons, the first of which guided craft around the Sow and Pigs submerged reef, just inside South Head. Then there is the bustle of commercial craft, Ferries busily plying their trade and always a bevvy of pleasure craft just out and about on one of the world's most renown waterways. We are simpler folk and we just yearned to see the Sydney Harbour Bridge and Opera House, just to confirm that we were actually here. Of more pressing need was to find somewhere to tie up, settle, and work our our plan for a couple of days in the harbour city. Fortunately we had an immediate destination, and knew where to go to get there

Given the length of time that we had spent at the Royal SA Yacht Squadron, both on the slip, and at the maintenance berth getting an endless list of marine works completed to ready Calista for this voyage, it had become prudent for us to take out a Country Membership at the RSAYS, to validate our use of Club facilities. We soon discovered that one of the potential benefits of RSAYS membership was reciprocal linkage to interstate Yacht Clubs, in this instance the Royal Sydney Yacht Squadron, possibly the land's most prestigious sailing institution. The RSYS is nestled in the lee of the headland at Kirribilli, just around the corner from The Lodge and Admiralty House, the residences of our PM and the Governor General, when they are not out of town saving the world. The dictionary meaning of Kirribilli is, we think, "possessing class, privilege, status, and standing". It was to this august and elevated postcode that your modest seafarers were now headed. We called into the RSYS dock office and gained authority to tie up, and to immediately present ourselves to the Office to complete the formalities. In the RSYS there are always formalities.


Tied up at visitors pontoon, RSYC. ( In background)


The Royal Sydney Yacht Squadron occupies real estate beyond imagination and you make your way to this epicentre of Sydney Society past lawns that Gillette might be proud to have manicured. Passing through the hallowed portals of this institution one rapidly gains perspective. To starboard is the the heavy panelling depicting the Patrons and Hon Patrons of this institution. The former includes the names Packer and Fairfax, and the latter an assemblage of the Nation's Governors General, way back beyond those we gave idolatrous status when we Honoured the Queen at assemblies under the probing eye of the Head Master back at primary school. Still, we supposed that as they lived just around the corner, it was nothing to pop in to cut the odd ribbon, or perhaps to indulge in a small libation or two if you held the post in the mid 1970's. Through the door and to port is found a tattered flag in a glass frame. A bit daggy we thought until we noted the inscription -"Burgee flown by Sir Francis Chichester on Gypsy Moth Four in his Historic Circumnavigation of the World -1967. Personally presented to the RSYS". The real flag if you please. Then next to it a large pic of a Naval Gentleman in his No 1 Uniform bearing the simple signed title "Philip, 1954". As you do.
Beyond these statement items and salutation registers lay a scattering of encased tropies that might have shamed an Aristocrat returning from an Assam tiger hunt during the Raj. It was past this belittling collection that your Port Elliot seafarers made their way, dutifully, respectfully, and cap in hand to the RSYS office. The inner sanctum.

Chichester's flag and the Boat Boy to take us to our boat.











The Hon Sec RSYS raised his eyes to assay us as we presented to the desk. We introduced ourselves but he did not do likewise. Saline encrusted, tousled headed, and possibly piquant from our endeavours at sea we strove to easablish our bona fides. He suspected that our lineage did not include a Packer or a Fairfax. "You will need to present a Letter of Introduction to gain entry to the Club" he observed drily, as one who claims Mate in chess. "We believe that you will find a letter from the secretary of the RSAYS in relation to our arrival, in your file" was our dispassionate response. At this, the office lass sprung from her duties claiming "ah, I think that came in yesterday" and produced the said document from the in-tray. Checkmate to us. We were in! In no time we were allocated mooring 56 complete with a Boat Boy to ferry us around, to and from the Club.

Given the absence of slumber that had marked our previous night, you'd have thought a nap would be in order, but with some things on our agenda, we were soon off to catch a train to Boat Books, Sydney where we hoped to access some marine charts for later in our journey. We are fortunate that neither our economic status - the Hon Sec was right - or space on Calista would permit us to splurge on the outstanding marine book offerings available at Boat Books. With a couple of selected volumes and the charts that we needed, it was back into the efficient bustle that is Sydney, and on board to plan our next couple of days in Sydney.

Saturday, we decided, would be a good day to use the $20/head, ride ferry/bus/train deal to check out Sydney. We started by hailing the boat boy (!) and sauntering out of the Royal & Ancient Club, around the corner to the ferry wharf at Kirribilli. What a little gem this proved to be. An enterprising mum and daughter have set up a cafe on the wharf and in between ferries patrons partake in excellent coffees, home baked produce, and graze upon a selection of magazines and dailies. They do pre-packed meals for the office returnees at the end of the day, and from the animated conversations and repartee, it was clear that patrons came for more than the comestibles. It was a comfy place where you could settle in for an hour or two, with the view to the Opera house thrown in. We were a bit sorry to see our ferry chug in and for us to leave Cafe Kirribilli for Greater Sydney.


Playing tourist on the Manly Ferry

For the next few hours we did the Manly Ferry tourist thing, found our way to Whitworth's Brookvale Store (confession here - at home we get his and hers Whitworth's [marine stores] catalogues to avoid nautical disputation), strolled the Manly promenade, ferried our way to the buzz of Darling Harbour, and took in some highly acceptable Indian Cafe fare before harbouring our way back to Kirribilli.



About to go under Sydney Harbour Bridge!

Sunday morn saw us depart the Hallowed Club, and set out on an activity that we always thought would be fabulous to do - a harbour cruise on our own yacht! What's more, Sydney turned on a day that would befit any tourist brochure. Whereas two days earlier we regarded Harbour traffic with a bit of trepidation, we found that the boating smorgasboard that is Sydney on a sunday, simply melds and flows with a minimum of anxiety. You almost literally go with the flow. For us we HAD to sweep past Quentin and Kev's on Kirribilli Head, slide past the Opera House, and then gaze up in wonder as the Harbour Bridge pased above. Wow. Then we did Darling Harbour by water before making our way to Sydney's famed Fish Markets in Blackwattle Bay. We were lucky to pinch a tie-up before disappearing into the piscatorial madness that is the Fish Markets at sunday lunch. The Fish Markets is more than a place to buy a mackerel or a prawn: it is seafood cafe heaven , and it seemed that half of Sydney had turned up to check out the action. Tables in the sun groaned under the weight of seafood platters and liquid bon homie. We eventually escaped with some splendid snapper fillets and enough of a fix of people to last us weeks at sea. Our day afloat continued with us circumnavigating Cockatoo Island (a modest feat), checking out the motor cruisers in millionaires row, and, finally by seeking relative peace and quiet in the tree-lined anchorage at Balls Head Bay.


Hoopla at the Sydney Fish Markets.








There, by arrangement we re-connected with Doug and Mary on their yacht Cartref, a WA couple who we had first met a few years ago in Port Lincoln, and who are well known to our good friends Rod and Sal and the gang at SA's Cruising Yacht Club. Nestled alongside, however was a yacht that has for us the warmest and happiest memories. Until recently Tibia (a Swanson 38 - Calista is a Swanson 36) has been owned by many times sailing companions Bill and Pauline Lunn, and to see her here with new owners Pete and Lorraine held a lot of mixed emotions for us both. It was with Bill and Pauline that the idea of this voyage was born, but when opportunities arose in their life, they cruised the East Coast in 2009 before moving to Melbourne. Tibia's nautical charts are here with us on Calista, and have been invaluable to us on our journey.


Anchoring at Balls Head Bay with our dear friend Tibia.















Tomorrow we leave Sydney Harbour for the tranquility of Pittwater and the Hawkesbury waterways.

Ulladulla - Sydney Thurs 29/4 to Friday 30/4

Ulladulla Boat Harbour, Calista centre left.

One of the destinations that we dreamt of on our voyage was the day that we entered Sydney Harbour. You can catch a cheap flight from home or drive it in a (long) day, but to enter the harbour through the heads after having sailed there on our own boat was to be for us, sooooo good. Whether it would be like this in practice, we were about to find out, because on Wednesday 28th April at Ulladulla, an inspection of the weather suggested that finally winds would shift out of the NW, courtesy of the cold fronts that had swept the ocean to the south of the continent, and thrown up huge seas at Port Elliot according to our online correspondents. We had spared many a thought for Jessica Watson, slugging it out in mountainous conditions west of Tasmania. Southern seas can be cruel and relentless, and we just hoped that she would be ok and would get through this incredible trial. Fill the Harbour with boats when she gets in, and any boss who sacks someone because they were out there to see her home .... is a mug! What an inspiration she is. Go kid, go.

For us it was time to head north out of the cosy confines of Ulladulla. We thought that if we left in the afternoon, the 16-20 hour passage would see us in Sydney Harbour on Friday morning. We doubted that there would be much of a media pack there when we went through the heads (!), but for us to actually get there would be enough. At 2.05pm we slid out of a tranquil harbour, cleared with Marine Rescue Ulladulla (who informed MR Sydney of our projected eta in Sydney for reporting in as per our Offshore Tracking Sheet), and set a course for Point Perpendicular, off Jervis Bay. We had always hoped to overnight in Jervis Bay, but trip planning on a yacht is nothing like the predictability of camping or caravaning. With the winds as they had been, JB would have to be missed. At sea, one needs a sense of humour, and for us, once we got going we needed it, because instead of us sailing on winds to the W of NW, the wind had backed to the NE and was on our nose again. It was light enough though, and we started the motor.

Sailing at last off Jervis Bay!

By nightfall we had a triple treat: we watched in awe as a full moon rose rose over the Tasman sea, we saw it shed its soft hue on the vertical walls of Point Perpendicular, and as a Cookie vegie pasta gained momentum in the oven the wind finally softened, moved to the NW, and became the westerly that the forecast had predicted. We hoisted sail and settled into the night. Off Jervis Bay our VHF Radio crackled to life with the Navy informing all ships that a high velocity firing at a parachute flate would take place near our area. We seemed to be the only other "ship" in the area, so we settled back to watch, hoping that a myopic gunner would not mistake our nav lights atop our mast as a flare falling to sea. In the end we saw and heard nothing, until later the outline of a frigate stole past us to the East, silhouetted against the moonlight on the horizon. They do not come up on AIS.

By mid evening the wind shifted to our port quarter, and stiffened significantly. Off Crookhaven, and Shoalhaven we were forced to reduce sail, and as it filled in to 30knots - possibly due to some funnelling through the hills to the west - we were reduced to hand steering under headsail alone, in a sea confused by wind against the south setting current. Our trip to Sydney had become a tiring and uncomfortable slog. Adding to the challenge was an accumulation of ship traffic that occurred off Port Kembla, a port that is illuminated by fires from the steelworks, that became a beacon for us all along the Illawarra coast.

Surfing our way to Sydney in a kaleidoscope of colours!

In the grey light of the new day our much anticipated sighting of the famous surfing beaches of Cronulla, Wanda, Tamarama, and Bondi, the fabled mecca of those who do sand between the toes, was shrouded in gloom as rain showers swept in from the south. No sign through the glass, of the 'Bra Boys strutting their stuff and marking their territory at Maroubra. No sign of golden bodied backpackers either. So much for the vision that we had of a glorious run along Sydney's beaches of surf folklore. For us it was a final dodge of a tanker out of Botany Bay before the Gap and South head were upon us. A deluge of biblical dimensions could not have dampened our spirits as once abeam of South Head at 0915 EST the vista of the great harbour was laid out before us. It was time to go below and put in a call on Channel 16 - "Marine Rescue Sydney, Marine Rescue Sydney, Marine Rescue Sydney, this is Calista, Calista, Calista on Channel 16 and abeam of South Head, do you receive me?". "Calista, Calista Calista, this is Marine Rescue Sydney, we have been expecting you, welcome to Sydney" !!!!

Sydney at last!