Snug at Keppel Bay Marina !Leaving a marina is something that not all boaties find easy to do. Some, who no doubt start with lofty plans – especially with a couple of lubricants over a barbie – eventually find that the reality of undertaking significant sea voyages is more than they bargained for. Hence, for some a condition that might be termed “marinaitis” sets in, and unless this treated in its early stages, it can prove fatal to a life on blue water. In its earliest stages, yacht owners, with hamper packed, arrive at the marina for a day or two at sea only to sniff the breeze and declare that the wind is a bit stiff to head out. The next week a similar breeze is probably a bit light to try out the new headsail. A sense of comfort sets in, with a boat that does not rock, anchors that do not drag, warm showers in the facilities and the seductive prospect of a cold one or two in the marina tavern. There is no salty gear to wash out and no one got sick or frightened. Soon there is an algal beard growing below the waterline, and in its advanced stages the yacht acquires pot plants in the cockpit, and a plasma TV below. After all, in the marina there is permanent shore power. There are fine ships of the sea to be found in all of the marinas that we have visited, caged and mouldering in their pens. It is a piteous thing to see.
Maybe in our first forays at sea we got lucky. What we found was that there is nothing like planning a sea voyage according to the weather, and getting out there to work with the key elements of wind wave and tide and tucking in at a distant cove after a day of blue horizons shared only with the dolphins. With the anchor set, plenty of chain laid out and the authorities advised re our arrival, there is the prospect of selected cheeses and condiments in the shelter of the cockpit, as dinner goes into the oven, a cold offering appears from the fridge and nature constructs yet another of its wondrous displays on sunset. And, with each new anchorage, we change the setting. Some people pay a ransom for an apartment sea vista that never changes. Already we are reflecting on the beauty of the places that we have seen on this voyage, enough maybe to eclipse a lifetime ashore.
Before we left home, lifesaving colleague Paul Richardson lent us a copy of Noel Patrick’s Curtis Coast – The Complete Cruising Guide - Bundaberg to Mackay, which nicely augmented the classic Allan Lucas tomes, Cruising the New South Wales Coast, and Cruising the Coral Coast (Qld), that every serious E-coast cruiser has on board. Paul was a founding member of our surf club at Port Elliot, and like us found sailing by chance in middling years. We like Paul and his approach to sailing. Invited be a member of a ‘gentlemen’s crew” on a Adelaide – Port Lincoln Yacht Race a few years ago, this band of convivial salts came around Troubridge Light, some hours into the race, only to find a hard southerly, and the prospect of a 40nm bash to windward to reach the turning point to Lincoln, in the forbidding seas off the reef-studded and remote Cape Spencer. A hasty board meeting and a quorum vote saw them withdraw from the testosterone and Kevlar event unfolding around them, ease the headsail to a doable angle, and set a new course across Investigator Strait for the whiting grounds in a comfy bay on the north Coast of Kangaroo Island. Oh yes! It was not that these guys did not have what it took, for they re-entered the Blue Water Classic in a subsequent year, and took out handicap honours. And, because their approach was so laconic, they were not present at the award presentation to collect their silverware. For us, on Calista, Paul’s advice was that the “Curtis Coast” between Bundaberg and Mackay was a mother load of cruising treasures, often missed by yachties making a bee-line for the bright lights of the Whitsundays. In our planning for this voyage, we had hoped to leave sufficient time to explore the Curtis Coast, if the weather permitted. Now, with heavy Sou-Easters in the offing the weather was proving to be a pest, and we needed to take every opportunity that came our way.
By Friday 18th June we were keen to leave the cruisy confines of the Keppel Bay Marina at Yeppoon and make for the highly regarded Pearl Bay in the Shoalwater Bay Military Training Area, some 47nm to the north. With a strident alarm sounding early we were clear of the entrance, with Yeppoon abeam, as the horizon shifted from violet, to mauve, to apricot to the east. After days of winds that gripped the coast, now they lacked substance and drifted on to our stern quarter. The breeze was a bit too soft and astern to be of great value, so we set what we could and made northing. Another yacht, coming up from Yeppoon took a different approach. They left their main unfettered and as the boat rolled in slop left over from the past few days, so it gybed with a whack, whack, as alternatively the breeze found one side of the sail and then the other. We watched in disbelief. If their yacht had been a child we would have rung the police to report abuse. Soon the tide was with us, and the beauty of the coastline unfolded like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis. In the ship’s log Cookie reported “miles of stunning wilderness, white beaches and mountainous lush hills. Like 100 Memory Coves (Memory Cove – a beautiful and remote sandy cove in a national park south of Port Lincoln) joined!” It was all that Paul had promised it would be.
Making passage to Pearl Bay.We had timed our Keppel departure to give us a chance to go ashore at Pearl Bay, for now the news from the Met at Rockhampton was not good, and a new high was on its way to bring more strong Sou-Easters to the entire Queensland coast. So, instead of spending a day or so in this area, we might only get a couple of hours ashore there at best. Our window of opportunity was closing fast. By early afternoon we had negotiated the unstable waters between Delcomyn Isle and the main and after capturing our sails made our way through the narrow channel entrance to Pearl Bay between the South Hervey Isltes that guard it to the north, and the protective headland opposite. With lush tropical undergrowth, and white sandy beaches that stretched without end to the north, Pearl Bay was at once stunning, captivating, and impossible to capture in a single frame of a photograph. We set a record for anchor setting and deployment of our tender before getting ashore. Up on the beach we strolled to the protected corner of the bay where we found a group of guys emerging from their tents after huddling under canvas for three days under the heavy rains that had come hand in hand with the tempest now departed. Their bivouac was sodden but thanks to a sturdy outdoor generator and a generous supply of canned restoratives, they remained in good spirits! They related a lamentable tale of yachting folk who had decided to sit out the blow in Pearl Bay, and who had to come ashore to escape the relentless rolling in the bay as the SE swell snuck in between the passage. Maybe life in a marina needs some rethinking.
The delightful Pearl Bay Anchorage.
For us, the forecast now meant that if we were to make it to the fabled Percy Islands, we would have to again set out at first light, and in the light airs predicted make diesel distance to the Percy’s. Middle Percy Island, some 50 miles offshore, has had legendary status amongst travelling yachties for generations and more, and at West Bay on Middle Percy, in an “A Frame” structure, yachties had been leaving mementos marking their calling for 50 years or more. Being bona fide sea travellers – we hoped that by now we had some credentials – we intended to leave some nautically appropriate and inscribed token to mark Calista’s visit. A search amongst some flotsam above the high water mark at Pearl Bay unearthed a weathered plank attached to boat wreckage and with a little persuasion to extract it; this gnarled remnant would prove eminently suitable as an inscribed offering on Middle Percy. Soon we were collecting shells to adorn our “find”, and after a required swim it was back on board for a repast in this idyllic setting, and for herself to set about the decoration of our “calling card”. There are some things that men at sea need to leave to those best qualified!
Making our Percy Island memento.
After a sometimes rolling and uncomfortable night in a diminishing sea, we were away again in pre-dawn light leaving the South Hervey Isles to starboard and making our way across the broader expanses of Pearl Bay. The coastal forests and ramparts leading inland were wreathed in mist that flowed like vapours of honey in the dawn light, all the way down to the sea. Too beautiful a place to play war games we thought. Above the drifting fogs towered remote buttresses that were reminiscent of the likes of Rawnsley’s Bluff in SA’s Wilpena Pound. For a time with the panoramas ashore it was hard to maintain sea watch on the blue expanse ahead. These sublime parts of coastal Queensland are rarely visited, as they cannot be reached by road and for boat owners this is well off the beaten track. You certainly cannot see this from the Keppel marina.
Morning mists on the stunning coastline near Pearl Bay.
We were not able to dally in the highly regarded Island Head creek, and before we drew abeam of Cape Townshend we had a reminder of the large tides that are common in this region – the largest on the E Coast of Australia - when we noted Strong Tide Passage that has overfalls in its sometimes 6 metre tidal differential. On board we asked the naive question, “Where does all the water go?” Soon we were threading our way through the Duke Isles, part of the wider Northumberland Group with High Peak Island to the east and Hexam and Marble Islands to the west. It was a day to remember with azure skies, a flat sea, and unbridled pleasure from every aspect. Like lizards in September we crawled from the cockpit and lounged on the mid-deck in the winter sun as the autopilot did the thinking at the helm. The only detractor was the fact that with stronger winds again due from the end of tomorrow, a number of glorious anchorages might have to go unvisited. If this weather system turned into a 5-day burst, none of these fine stopovers would be tolerable and we might get marooned in an environment where both ship and crew had a dreadful time. We wanted to avoid this. So, on we churned, with the Percy’s steadily taking shape on our bow.
Neville's ketch "True Story" at West Bay, Middle Percy.
As we rounded Middle Percy to make for West Bay in mid afternoon, we were aware that we would not be alone here. An ageing wooden cruiser was here with a group of German backpackers – on Kerguelen Island in the remote Southern Ocean, you’d find German backpackers we think! – plus three other yachts, a fishing boat, plus Neville on True Story a 52’ Irwin Ketch that is over 30 years afloat, and yet just looks as though it has just been presented at Sanctury Cove. Neville was kind enough to show us aboard True Story in Keppel Bay, and now with fellow Kiwi friend Craig on board, they were like us, heading north. Protecting all ships was an Australian Navy Patrol Boat that was at anchor outside giving some naval cadets an experience at sea that they were unlikely to forget. It was an R&R day for them and the support rigid inflatable was doing a treat as a towing craft for water sports. Have our time over again, and pick us we thought! As at Pearl Bay we were instantly ashore on a beach that might have inspired James A Michener to write about adventures in paradise. The backpackers were in fun in the sun mood, and soon the navy came ashore with the cadets with watermelon slice smiles. Good use of our taxes we thought.
Standing outside the famous "A frame."
Some of the yachties' mementos inside the A Frame.
An "artistic photo" before hanging our offering in the A frame.Just above high tide however we were inexorably drawn to the “A Frame” of Middle Percy renown and tradition a modestly hewn structure that is now thankfully re-roofed to preserve it. This was all that we thought it might be and more. Both inside, outside and upstairs were “offerings” from seafarers and their crews down through the years from all parts of the globe. The creative talents of visitors over the years have shown no bounds with every conceivable item of nautical memorabilia being left to add to the uniqueness of the place. On each could be read testimonials, attesting to their time in paradise, and to read these was to wonder at the pleasure that this special place had given to marine visitors over time. Then about 50 metres away we found an even more modest structure, the original “A Frame” where faded affirmations on ageing message boards dated back to the 1950’s. Surely this informal nautical catalogue is of national significance from a marine viewpoint and needs to be preserved and respected for the special place that it is. We felt honoured to make our modest contribution to the tradition of Middle Percy. [The story of the Percy Islands is a fascinating one, and a Google search for the Percy Islands or Middle Percy Island will give plenty to digest. Middle Percy has a home page, and the article appearing in Coastal Passage entitled The Hicklings of Percy Island makes heartfelt reading - again, Google this.] Soon, however, a grand sunset drew us back to the beach and it was a special moment for us to see Calista in this iconic anchorage with a ruby backdrop such as this.
Calista at sunset, Middle Percy.Back on board the news re the weather was not good with a change and building winds due later the next day, so the tranquillity of this sublime evening was in reality the nautical equivalent of a sugared pill. We had resolved to go ashore in the morning with Neville and Craig, in the hope that we might manage a quick tramp to the Island Homestead and lagoon before departing for a more tenable anchorage closer to the mainland. For us there was more than a passing interest in a quick excursion ashore. Previous owners of Calista Derek and Bella (as per earlier Mooloolaba blog) are close friends of Liz and Jon Hinkling [as above] and from time to time they took over as relief managers of Middle Percy with Bella maintaining, among other things, the unique Percy tradition of providing lunches and a host of baked, grown and preserved products for visiting yachties. When we first met Derek and Bella and Calista at Hamilton Island, we were fascinated by what they had to share about their life on Percy. In nearby Dent Passage they introduced us to Liz and Jon and we spent a fine night together on Calista. For Calista, Middle Percy was really a second home, and she spent considerable time in the lagoon where, tethered to the jetty and held upright by lines to nearby trees, she alternately dried and floated according to the tides. Calista’s wheel is bedecked with goat skin from Middle Percy.
The lagoon which was once Calista's home.
The morning, however gave us concern that the weather “window” was no longer open. Already the breeze was up, and from a direction that saw Calista now backing toward the easterly headland, in a lee shore situation that that held a growing concern for us. We needed to be out of there and soon. There might be just time to put ashore and quickly make it to the lagoon, but the walk to the homestead was sadly off the agenda. The one piece of fortune was that, by chance, John and Cate Morris, the new caretakers were there at the lagoon and we at least got to meet them. They had heard that we might be calling in. John had just returned from the mainland in his motorboat, and felt that if he had delayed his return he might not get back for the better part of a week. They understood why our visit needed to be fleeting and wished us a safe passage to Digby Island, some 20nm closer to the coast.
We were soon on our way with the enchanting Middle Percy Island losing form in the haze to the south east. We had hoisted sail in a gentle breeze but in no time it built to a constant 25kn with gusts into the 30’s. We were reefed down and flying. If it had built so quickly to the forecast, and more, where was it headed? We had decided on Digby as a stopover because our two other possible destinations, the Marina at Mackay and Scawfell Island were at a distance that would now mean a night arrival in conditions that were obviously collapsing. We felt that Digby could only provide overnight shelter, and that we would have to tackle whatever the weather had to offer the next day.
The anchorage at Digby Island could be described in three words. Rolling, rolling, rolling! On our arrival at Digby we noted that Neville and Craig had also sought refuge there, and after dropping anchor at near low tide conditions were comfortable compared with those outside. Digby Island, part of the Beverley Group has a crescent shaped anchorage that is secure in SE weather and is part protected by Keelan Island that extends to the north-east. Its achilles heel is that when the tide fills then so too does the shoal between Digby and Keelan and admits the SE seas into the bay. In extended SE weather the anchorage would prove intolerable. Soon Neville on True Story had moved in an attempt to find greater comfort, but we resolved to eat early and literally brace ourselves for a long night. It was now apparent that Mackay was our only option for the local cruising notes cautioned against sheltering in Scawfell in strong and extended SE weather. Now the forecast was predicting days of this!
Leaving Digby in a building breeze.
It is often that strong winds abate slightly in the heavier pre-dawn hours, so we resolved to once again to be up and away at first light. Happily, conditions had temporarily softened and soon we were gliding past islands of the Beveley Group, and the 49nm to the Mackay Marina was being chewed up quickly with us doing between 7 and 8 knots over the ground. There was only one other obstacle in our path – actually about 60 of them! Ships! They were in neat rows at anchor; all waiting their turn to take on their fill at the Hay Point coal facility, just south of Mackay. We were not sure what we were required to do in relation to this metallic obstacle course, but in the end we decided that we would ply our trade through the middle of them. What else could we do?
One of the "many" ships at anchor off Mackay.
By 1400hrs we had cleared with VMR Mackay and had slid through the turbulent entrance to the comfy confines of the Mackay Marina. This place has fond memories for us that we may share next time. For the moment we will have to be patient as the Sou-Easter blows its heart out for the next few days, at least! In the meantime we will be ever vigilant lest we observe the slightest sign of "marinaitis" on board Calista!
Entering Mackay Harbour.
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