Mooloolaba - Bundaberg 1/6 - 6/6

Sunrise abeam of Noosa.

There is something different, special, and attractive about leaving port at night. For starters, just as the populace is turning off their plasma televisions and computers and heading to bed, you are putting to sea. A half hour shy of midnight saw us finally sliding out of Lawrie’s Marina at Mooloolaba and wending our way down the Kawana waterways and its prestigious enclave as misty rain made the job of sighting the way ahead difficult for the forward watch at the bow. By day the narrow canal had been easy to negotiate, but now with conflicting lights, reflections, and the absence of navigational beacons in the narrow channel, a strong light at the bow to spot potential hazards was a must. There were unlit yachts and cruisers tethered to private jetties and they might easily be missed in the dark. Eventually, the red and green port channel markers of the primary ship channel abeam of the Mooloolaba Yacht Club gave us nautical reassurance. Soon the movement of the ocean under us and the panorama of lights strung along the coast from Mooloolaba to Noosa told us that we were out of the Mooloolah River, and, indeed, we were at sea.

Our departure schedule from Mooloolaba had little to do with wanting to experience the Sunshine Coast from the sea by night – although this was a bonus – but more to do with our calculations to arrive at a location some 59 nautical miles up the coast, by day, with the tide on the make, and with the swell in our favour. Planning our arrival at the Wide Bay Bar, the snarling passage challenging all seafarers who wish to make their way between Tin Can Bay (the mainland) and Fraser Island had occupied much of our internet and forecasting time at Mooloolaba. The Wide Bay Bar separates the rigours of the open sea from the tranquillity of the Great Sandy Strait waterways snuggled behind Fraser Island, and is not to be taken lightly. When wind, sea and tide conditions are obtuse, this marine gauntlet can be horrific and it regularly claims lives. Back in SA we had heard of its reputation, had spoken to sailors who had traversed it, and hence we respected it greatly. A terrestrial blog follower might blithely suggest that we simply “go around” it, although, in practice this means a very long haul along and around Fraser Island and the dangerous shoals which protect it from the north. For any vessel battling heavy seas and punishing winds, a weary and beleaguered crew would view the calm waters beyond the bar as being too enticing to defer, or for the over familiar, there might be a temptation to be too cavalier if you know the bar well. Locals drown here too. Passage over the bar requires strict adherence to three waypoints, with points two and three leading vessels through a deepish channel separating the pounding surf on the bar from the SE coast of Fraser Island. It is a passage requiring careful navigation and execution. We had been in contact with the Coast Guard at the bar, and all of the meteorological information favoured a safe crossing, so having cleared with Coast Guard Mooloolaba we were on our way.

In the meantime, with the Bar about eleven hours away, we settled into watches and night routines, and yes, because our course held us abeam of the coast and its lights, we settled in and enjoyed the view. In light airs we made good and predictable time with our motor again getting us there. Morn saw us round Double Island Point on the famed Rainbow Beach, and close on the entrance to the bar. By now a zephyr had grown to a breeze and we were under canvas at last. Through the glasses we could see that we were in luck, and as the long outline of Fraser Island stretched to the north, it was apparent that we would cross the bar with nary a ripple in sight. Yes! Soon, without a hint of the reputation of the bar to be seen, we were through.

Mechanical Monotrenes waiting at Inskip Point.

As we entered the Great Sandy Straits we noted the two vehicular ferries on Inskip Point, lying like a pair platypus with beaks on the sandbar, waiting to gobble up 4WD’s and spit them out on Fraser Island, just a flick of the tail away across the passage. We recalled with fondness a time some years earlier when in our Subaru we had been ingested by these mechanical monotremes, and deposited, happily, on the vast sandy beaches of Fraser. Then, we trundled up the amazing island beach and found nirvana in one of the fresh water streams that percolate from the wilderness and make their way to the sea. Imagine reclining in a deck chair under a pandanus tree in a gin clear stream with the rest of the world a million miles away. If thirsty, topple forward and drink the sweetest water to your fill. If too warm, topple in as before. We slithered up the stream like returning salmon, and as shadows lengthened on our camp, we found a gutter in the beachside surf to secure a brace of sand whiting for dinner. Crumbed whiting, a tossed salad, a chilled libation, and thee – not necessarily in that order! We elevated Fraser to gold medal status as a destination, and now as we viewed it from Calista, it was wonderful to be back.

The Wide Bay Bar behind us!

Garys Anchorage, Great Sandy Strait

By boat, the traveller gets a different and equally fascinating view of the world’s largest sand island. Behind Fraser there are broad sheltered waterways, and a brace of enticing places to anchor. We selected a snug backwater with the modest title of Gary’s Anchorage, and by mid afternoon, with the “pick” secure, Mooloolaba already seemed an aeon away, and we made our way ashore to stretch our legs and to reacquaint ourselves with the natural wonder of Fraser Island. As we made our way along a delightfully wooded track, we were reminded that nature has balance and that probably few places have everything in their favour. As we paused to enjoy the solitude of the forest, a black cloud like ground pepper descended on us from above. The smaller specks were sand flies, and their larger cousins, in formation, were mosquitoes. It was time to apply the repellent! Back at the landing we noted a sign that Crocodiles might be encountered in this area, but the only crocs that we could spot were those on our feet, so we plunged in the shallows, regardless.

We returned to our ship, musing about a natural conspiracy that has Great Whites in Southern waters hand over to Bull Sharks from Sydney north until Crocodiles and Stingers take over in the tropics. Hardly room for Tiger Sharks!

Sundowners and an awesome sunset.


From every other aspect, Fraser Island was as fine to visit as we remembered it. With a spectacular sunset, and pre-dinner drinks served on the back deck against a backdrop of tropical forest, and with miles of waterways ahead to explore, we were looking forward to our Great Sandy Straits experience.

The next day in glorious sunshine we negotiated the shoals of Sheridan Flats and cruised to anchor off Kingfisher Resort to take a look at this yachtie - friendly tourist destination. A duck ride to shore and a look around the visitor and retail areas of Kingfisher left a favourable impression, but we were happy enough to leave the enticements of the land in our wake and return to Calista. Our plans were to spend a day or so in this locale but the late weather issue had winds the next day building from the sou-west, and the anchorage off Kingfisher would become untenable. It made better sense to use the rising winds to make our way across the 55 nautical miles to Bundaberg. A lively sail across Hervey Bay was in the offing. As ever, the weather dictated our itinerary.

Another lousy day in paradise - Sheridan Flats!

Whilst we would like to report home to those bracing themselves for winter, that with us closing the Tropic of Capricorn, our shipboard attire had become shorts, tropical shirts and swimmers. In reality we have found some of the mornings at least to be raw and crisp, particularly at the helm, and on this occasion the new day broke through mists that flowed clammy and probing from the valleys of Fraser.

Morning chill leaving Kingfisher Bay.

As the sun rose, so did the breeze, and for a time we romped along with almost everything aloft. By midway across Hervey Bay the wind, which seems to have a mind of its own, both stiffened, and then to our dismay, came around to our bow. As the low slung coastline of Bundaberg formed in front of us we were forced to abandon the headsail and complete the passage to the harbour beacons under motor and main. We were keen to get in to the Bundaberg Port Marina by late afternoon to sign in and, importantly, to get a facilities key. Besides, it was Friday and Happy Hour at the Marina Tavern was promoted as being an orientation event not to be missed. A bonus for us was that apart from some excellent conviviality on the forecourt overlooking the marina, the afternoon change in the weather produced a stellar sunset, giving “sundowners” at Bundaberg an entirely new dimension.

Sundowners at Budaberg Port Marina.

As usual arrival at a new port brought a range of tasks to the fore, and for us a difficulty existed in getting from the marina to the town of Bundaberg for reprovisioning, some 18km away. Happily, Ann from Lettin’ Go had been in touch to inform us that her brother Patrick was a local resident and was keen to connect with us and could possibly get us in to town. Next morning Patrick, a local agronomist, and recreational sailor came aboard and after a Calista tour we headed into town, giving us an insight into the agricultural world thereabouts on the way. On our way we passed the home of Bundaberg Cordials at the Bundy Brewery, and as one would, we bowed thrice as we passed. Bundaberg Ginger Beer is a favourite of ours. The distillery for “stronger cordial” is a bit further out of town, and locals say that when the breeze is from the right quarter, you take a full sip of coke then rush outside and take three deep breaths. Then repeat! Our connection with Patrick added much to our Bundy sojourn, and we were pleased that later on Saturday he rejoined us on our back deck for some casual cheer as the sun set over the nearby cane fields.

Then, on Sunday we had an unforgettable experience, one that must rank as a highlight of our trip. Fred Green and wife Audrey have long connections to our home town Port Elliot, and are now retired at Bundaberg. Fred, in particular was an iconic and founding member of the Surf Club at Port Elliot. As a local builder, his infectious energy led directly to the building of the original clubrooms of the new club in the early 1950’s. Although jockey like in dimension, he has a natural affinity with the sea and as a sweep of surf boats he had no peer. Under Fred’s skilful hand the Port Elliot Surf Boat crew took out five successive State Titles against all comers, in all conditions. Later life took Fred to Adelaide, and then to Perth where having turned his enthusiasm to sailing, he became a notary at the Royal Perth Yacht Club. Two years shy of 50 and with children in adult life, Audrey suggested to Fred that it might be time for him to embrace his newest passion and to sail to distant horizons. Typically Fred’s boundless enthusiasm soon had him with sextant in hand embarking on a solo passage from Fremantle to South Africa, and in the process becoming the first to accomplish the feat. Fred and Audrey had joined us on board, and Fred had us spellbound as he recalled a day in the middle of the Indian Ocean when, in a rare calm, he stood on the middle of Coorong, a 34’S&S (the same design as Jessica Watson’s yacht) that he built himself, and realised that there were no other living souls within a thousand miles of where he was, and if something happened to him out there no one would ever know. It was before the era of radios on cruising boats. Fred made it to Africa and Audrey was there to meet him to join him on board to sail Coorong home.

Fred Green leaving Fremantle - solo to Africa.

Fred and Audrey Green would go on to circumnavigate Australia, and circumnavigate the world. Carnival in Rio, anchoring off Istanbul, storms in mid Atlantic, the remote islands of the Pacific, and more. At the time, the early 80’s, Australia 2 was challenging for the America’s Cup off Newport Rhode Island, so Fred and Audrey, having links to Royal Perth YC, detoured from the Caribbean to be there for the event. Soon Fred was in the inner sanctum of the challenge, and with Audrey, they were on board one of the two official challenge support boats, and within shouting distance as John Bertrand crossed the line in the final race to bring home the cup.

Back at their home in Bundaberg Fred and Audrey showed us a world map in their study that outlined their travels and shared their photo albums that brought their words to life. There were other mementos too. Outside their front door hangs a glass ball encased in netting. Asking Fred about it, he replied, “found that one day floating in the doldrums in mid-Atlantic”. As you do!

Fred & Audrey showing us the world map with their amazing journey.

We felt honoured to share in their reminiscences, and inspired by what they had to relate. Then as they drove us back to the marina, the topic of the Wide Bay Bar was raised. Audrey recalled one passage over the bar, where in awful conditions there was no alternative but to go in. Fred had Audrey go below and whilst he remained at the helm, and with the storm boards in place, Fred surfed their 34’ yacht across the bar just like in the old days in the surf boats at Goolwa. For Audrey, her abiding memory was of the roar of the surf as they skated over the bar to safety. What an amazing couple are Fred and Audrey Green.

Fred & Audrey on board Calista.

To cap off the day Fred reminded us that it was he who had built our current house at Port Elliot, and that it was originally built for an eccentric German gentleman who arrived in South Australia on one of the last of the four masted grain ships before World War 2 and “jumped ship” as a result of the dreadful conditions that he had experienced on board. As Fred and Audrey drove away, it was hard to concentrate on the tasks that we needed to complete to ready Calista for the early morning departure. Our minds were as full as the tide that had swept up the Burnett River.