Apt words of wisdom carved into a rock on Middle Percy Island......If our arrival in Townsville in August was filled with a sense of achievement, and great expectations for our voyage to the Louisiades to come, then our departure across Cleveland Bay, holding Magnetic Island to port had us feeling a sense of release, and the eternal thrill of feeling our little ship carve her way through the billows. Kel and Helga, on Mojo just a mile or two ahead, were also making south, and given our circumstances we were keen to put some miles under our keel.
Great to be at sea again......Townsville behind us at last!
Colin in relaxed mode again.
Normal weather patterns see the prevailing SE trades give way to some northerly tending weather by the end of October, but this year the Sou-Easters had a firm grip and showed no sign of relenting. We resolved to push on into the trades, easing the head some 20degrees to the sea to make travel more comfortable and to ease stresses on our yacht. With the wind building to 15 -20 knots by mid afternoon, we were new-motoring with a reduced main for stability. As afternoon faded, Mojo made a heading to overnight at Cape Upstart, while we gambled on the breeze softening after sunset, and pointing a little to the NE. If things panned out in our favour, we resolved to push on through the night, all the way to the Whitsundays. Unfortunately, although most nights saw the breeze fade in the early eve, on this night it did not, so we pushed on in uncomfortable conditions past the coaling port of Abbott Point toward the port of Bowen. Past midnight the breeze finally softened although by this time we had already adjusted course for the anchorage at Bona Bay on Gloucester Island, where we finally dropped anchor at 0230hrs. We had covered 112 nautical miles, and the glow of Townsville’s lights to the north had long faded into the gloom.
Looking towards Gloucester Passage from the anchorage at Bona Bay. Next morning we arose to stellar conditions that we rarely saw in our voyage north through the Whitsundays. Bona Bay looked as though it had been downloaded from a tourist website, clear, blue and beautiful. In hauling up our anchor, however, the winch completed the retrieve up to the last metre of chain before whirring and loosing all capacity to lift. Plenty of power was reaching the device, the motor and gearbox seemed fully operational, but transfer of lift to the gypsy had ceased to be. More frustrations and another mechanical breakdown! When would this end? It was clear that we needed to find a troubleshooting safe haven where, if necessary, mechanical expertise was at hand. Being only a couple of hours out of Airlie Beach, we decided to seek the maintenance wharf there to solve our problem. Anchoring in Whitsunday anchorages, as planned was off the agenda until we got the winch fixed. The pity was that with the breeze softening to a rare 10-15 knots, here were the conditions that we had long yearned for, and here we were heading for a Marina!
Anchor trouble again! Armstrong winch engaged!We called forward to Airlie Marine Electrics, and soon after docking, our winch was dismantled and the diagnosis was that we needed to get a slotted sleeve for the drive shaft on the winch as the key on the winch had failed because it did not fit properly. Adam from AME scurried off to source a sleeve and returned, a touch crestfallen, with the news that a device to fit the unit would have to be ordered in the overnight bag from Brisbane, and that yes we would have to overnight at Airlie, either at the expensive marina or by picking up a $6 a night mooring in the anchorage just outside in the bay. We opted for the outside mooring. Once we had the sleeve, it would be just a 10 minute job to fix the problem. Again we were confounded by more delays, more costs and more mechanical irritations.
Next morning we had an arrangement to have our phone at the ready awaiting the late morning courier. No call came, so by early afternoon we returned to the AME office where we found the staff both mystified and apologetic. They had ordered two packages from “down south”, a very large one that would take a day or two to get here, and our tiny one, travelling business class overnight. “We can’t believe it” they declared, “the big package has arrived, but there is no sign of the small one. Maybe the despatch clerk didn’t see the small one? We are really sorry; this doesn’t normally happen”. We nodded, accepted our fate and resolved to try again another day. We are getting used to despatches getting “lost”. The winch gearbox at Mooloolaba, Easy Foods parcel at Townsville, and, believe it or not, a Yanmar engine “disappeared” for four days in transit to Rosshaven, again in Townsville. Really, how does one lose an engine?!
One upside to the delay was that Kel and Helga had arrived in port, also with winch issues, and there would be an opportunity to join them at the Whitsunday Sailing Club for their renowned Wednesday evening carvery and salad bar. Also we would get a chance to get in some laps at the Airlie Lagoon Pool, provided we could pilot our way between the backpackers.
All was not lost, and both the aquatic and culinary opportunities proved to be highly enjoyable, and we made our way back by duck to our tethered ship, replete, sated, and re-energised. Cookie’s diary which declared that it had been “Buffet Night so Colin ate heaps” carried, admittedly, an element of truth.
Relaing on the balcony of the Whitsunday Sailing Club with Kel & Helga.
Following a brace of redeeming laps in the new day, the errant part duly arrived, and by mid-afternoon we were on our way. With the new motor making merry music below, we made for May’s Bay on Whitsunday Island with an intention of seeking a final snorkel at Border Island, and maybe a visitation to the fabled, but elusive Whitehaven Beach, before making our way south. Cateran Bay at Border Island proved to be disappointing. Again we were out of step with the weather. Having “wasted” light conditions whilst in Airlie, sure enough, the Sou-Easters built again and by the time we got to Border, the visibility for snorkelling was less than desirable. Having got there, we were determined to make the best of it, in one of our last snorkels over coral. There was a giant clam to be marvelled at, with its Picasso like hues, and towards the end of our immersion, we spotted a Queensland Groper seemingly half asleep only a few feet below us as we hovered overhead. Normally fish such as these would dart away, yet this beauty seemed to be reluctant to move, and then we saw why. Fussing about were two striped cleaner wrasse, and the Groper was dreamily at ease on the bottom at a designated cleaning station as the little fish delivered a service of piscatorial pampering. We had come on the scene in the middle of an undersea detailing or a marine massage depending on how one saw this symbiotic event. We never tire of observing and trying to understand the myriad of things to be seen under the sea. Oh to have the knowledge of a marine biologist!
Snorkelling time, in the new stinger suit!
Heading back via Hook Passage.Back on board Calista we resolved to leave Border, and take a look at Whitehaven before heading for an overnight anchorage, somewhere to the south. Leaving the shelter of Cateran Bay, the path to Whitehaven seemed most unfriendly, so we bore away and made for Hook passage to make our way south in the lee of Whitsunday, Hamilton and then Lindeman Islands. Again the wind was contrary, but by nightfall we were snugly at anchor at Shaw Island in time to enjoy a sublime sunset over Burning Point to the west.
Awesome sunset over Burning Point, Shaw Island.
Leaving Townsville, we were scheduled to have the new motor serviced after 50 hours of operation as part of the running in process. Originally, we had fixed on Mackay as a place to get this done, but now just 38 miles away, we did not have enough hours “on the clock” to get the service done there. Nonetheless, we decided to head for Mackay, refuel there, and if possible catch up with friends from a distant past, who now had an apartment overlooking Mackay Marina. When tethered at Mackay in June we decided that we would try go get in a plunge at Mackay’s “surf” beach, not far from the Mackay Surf Lifesaving Club, and just adjacent to the Marina. A regular weekly “event” back in SA has been to join the group of swimmers who ply the waters of our own Horseshoe Bay on a Thursday afternoon, rain or shine, summer and winter. A long tradition of “Icepicks” swimming has been maintained at our club, although your bloggist remains in a diminishing number of those who shun neoprene, and swim “the Bay” in speedos and bathing cap only.
Peering out of their 4th floor eyrie, in June were David Burke and partner Raelene, and they freely admit to making disparaging remarks about the couple they noted, with towels over shoulders, returning, dripping, from the nearby beach. Then, on closer inspection, David mused to Raelene that “that looks like Colin & Cookie…but surely that can’t be…” For us below, it was Thursday, and we were following tradition; besides, the water at Mackay was like a warm bath compared with the 12degrees that might be the grim reality back home. We have been amused by the concept of “winter” in these parts. In Townsville, few people did recreational laps at the Tobruk Pool in August because it was “winter”! We could not believe it.
We had not seen David and Raelene in aeons, so we were chuffed that in spite of the passage of decades (or decadence!), we still retained some semblance of recognisable structure. As a post-college teacher back in SA Cookie had come to house share with “Burkey” via a mutual friend. It was one of those arrangements that “clicked” and many good times were shared in that modest abode in the western suburbs. Partnering for our first overseas foray overseas together, to India, David decided that we needed a celebration of sorts to send us on our way. A “quiet night” amongst friends on the eve of our departure gained momentum and traction, and we fondly recall arriving at the airport on dawn, bleary and weary, with Burkey waving us off, with us not having the foggiest of notions whether we had what would be needed to tackle the Sub-Continent. In more recent years as a Tourism Teacher, covering the unit on “Preparing for Travel” had me fondly recalling that riotous night on Bickford Street, but sharing none of it with students!
After the swim sighting, David let the matter lapse, but next day, with curiosity lingering, he made an enquiry at the Marina Office whether marine souls answering our description were currently at a berth. With the answer in the affirmative he dashed to our “pen” only to find it empty, with us then at sea making for Brampton Island. He called us – it was one of those “out of the blue” calls – and after some fond reminiscence, we agreed to make for Mackay on the return voyage if conditions and contingencies permitted.
Unusual brown algal blooms filled the waters near Mackay.
Now, leaving Shaw and the persistence of the Sou-Easters still causing us angst, we made for Mackay some 38nm away, with the fond outlines of the Smith group, Brampton, Keswick and St Bees, and the distant and aloof Scawfell to port. The Islands of the Whitsundays, the 100 magic miles, were disappearing astern.
David and Raelene had suggested that we drop in for “a bite”, that this left us ill prepared for the gastronomic sware that unfolded. First they arrived with at Calista with a selection of gourmand offerings, compete with a complimentary, and chilled offering from a winery of renown from our local Langhorne Creek area. Then, ushering us up to their lavish “room(s) with a view”, we settled in to a marvellous evening of reminiscence, catch-up, and a meal that would have graced the table of any culinary establishment. In between successful professional lives, Raelene has obviously developed the skills of dine-in into an art form, and David, forever the connoisseur of the cork, dipped into his formidable selection of first-rate reds, and they fell like skittles. It was a long distance from those rudimentary barbies in the back yard at Bickford Street!
Some time after midnight we gurgled our way back to the modest appointments of Calista, with one ear on the sou’-Easter, and an inner glow about the evening just enjoyed. Thin threads!
Now, leaving Shaw and the persistence of the Sou-Easters still causing us angst, we made for Mackay some 38nm away, with the fond outlines of the Smith group, Brampton, Keswick and St Bees, and the distant and aloof Scawfell to port. The Islands of the Whitsundays, the 100 magic miles, were disappearing astern.
David and Raelene had suggested that we drop in for “a bite”, that this left us ill prepared for the gastronomic sware that unfolded. First they arrived with at Calista with a selection of gourmand offerings, compete with a complimentary, and chilled offering from a winery of renown from our local Langhorne Creek area. Then, ushering us up to their lavish “room(s) with a view”, we settled in to a marvellous evening of reminiscence, catch-up, and a meal that would have graced the table of any culinary establishment. In between successful professional lives, Raelene has obviously developed the skills of dine-in into an art form, and David, forever the connoisseur of the cork, dipped into his formidable selection of first-rate reds, and they fell like skittles. It was a long distance from those rudimentary barbies in the back yard at Bickford Street!
Some time after midnight we gurgled our way back to the modest appointments of Calista, with one ear on the sou’-Easter, and an inner glow about the evening just enjoyed. Thin threads!
A great night with Burkey & Raelene.
The only “downside” to our marvellous night ashore, was that we had resolved that if the SE softened in the night we would make a pre-dawn break from Mackay, in the hope that we could reach the Percy Islands, some 65nm offshore on our way south to the Yeppoon area. At 0330, with the pillow still screaming for attention, a “comfort moment” came with the indication that perhaps the SE had softened, so by 0415 the computer was alert and coastal observations on the Capricorn Coast, plus latest weather updates were being keenly analysed. So with David and Raelene no doubt enjoying a richly deserved lie in, we were up, perhaps not bushy tailed, but freeing our lines for the open sea.
Dodging ore carriers on the way to Curlew Island.
As the new day emerged, we were making a slalom path amongst the bulk carriers anchored in the roads off Hay Point, headed for Curlew Island just 20 or so nautical miles shy of the Percy Isles. On our way north earlier in the year, the weather window allowing a Middle Percy stopover did not permit pausing at the many highly regarded anchorages on islands that dot the local chart. Now at least we determined to anchor at Curlew Island, which according to the cruising notes was one of the premier stop-offs in the region. Given our weary state, we were pleased to find the SE to be not too obdurate, and by mid afternoon the outline of this impressive island with its crescent-shaped beach lay before us. In the anchorage, and probably grumbling about our arrival to dash their tropical solitude, was the yacht Jemima with Dave and his PNG partner Cathy on board. We had last connected, via HF Radio when in the Louisiades, and now, hundreds of sea-miles away we had a chance to meet. This was another thin thread. Cathy pointed out the tracks of a likely turtle-nesting event ashore, so we headed for the beach in our duck to see Curlew for ourselves.
The lovely Curlew Island anchorage.
Ashore, and in the process of ascending a beach-side sand dune we realised a serious lapse in our planning. Swarming around us in countless profusion were numbers of tiny flying insects, and we wondered, too late as it turned out, whether they were sand flies. Soon we were beating a retreat to Calista to fetch the repellent, which, in our muddle-headedness we had left on board. We returned to the beach, for a walk, to marvel at the turtle nest (completed the previous night), and for a most enjoyable swim, but in regards to the sand flies the damage was already done and Cookie, in particular, would be faced with days of misery as a result of their attacks.
Turtle tracks crisscrossed the beach.
Curlew proved to be idyllic, and comfortable as an anchorage, just as the guide had recommended it to be. In the morning, however we were again away early, making for Middle Percy, in the hope of completing the hike to the homestead in the centre of the island, a place enshrined in local nautical folk-lore. The forecast was looking poor after the next couple of days, so time was precious. Again, travelling in the softer airs of the morning, we closed on the Middle Percy anchorage by 0900, and were soon ashore, enjoying the longish stroll up the leafy track to the centre of the island. Long a Mecca for visiting yachts, the path to the homestead presented some picture-perfect views to South Percy Island, a chance for some welcome leg exercise, and along the way was posted some entertaining and uplifting slogans, posted on trees and places of advantage, to lift the spirits and the wearying legs.
The scenic walking track that leads to the Homestead on Middle Percy Island
Looking south towards South Percy Island.Part-way along the path we met the Island ‘ute with Cate and John, current managers of the island together with Steve, who it turned out had spent some of his early years on nearby Pine Islet where his family held the romantic position of Lighthouse keepers. Cate and John were headed for the mainland and although Steve would be returning later, Cate’s cheery message was “go on up to the house and go in and make yourself at home…just see that the goats don’t get in”. This was typical Percy hospitality.
In days of yore mariners would settle in the anchorage and following a long-held tradition would use the telephone line strung amongst the trees to call to the homestead to secure lunch for the crew, all for a modest, seafaring stipend. Island grown fruits and vegetables, local honey and goat casserole were popular on the menu, and for travelling yachtsmen a visit to Middle Percy became a must. In recognition of their passing, seafarers started leaving inscriptions in the telephone hut to mark their passing, a tradition that has expanded to the hundreds of items of nautical memorabilia (see June Blogs) that festoon the nearby “A Frame” today.
As instructed, we parted the goats, fowl, and peacocks outside the house and made ourselves at home, before Steve returned; we “put the billy on” and enjoyed chatting about the island, and what was envisioned for its future. We were drawn to Middle Percy because of Derek and Bella’s effusive stories about “Percy life” following the period that they had spent as caretakers-managers on the island. Being at the homestead, we could now see why this place held such a warm place in their hearts. What an extraordinary and special place is Middle Percy Island! How glad we were that we had made the effort to get there! How important is it that, somehow, its “magic” is preserved!
We were reluctant to leave this special place.
Back on the beach with a rare calm prevailing, we reconnected with our good friends Kel and Helga who had just arrived from Scawfell before bidding them the fondest of farewells, and heading back on board to put to sea. Kel was planning to inch Mojo into the adjacent mangrove lagoon, and with winds from the SE forecast to strengthen to 30 knots they would be as snug as a sand fly in a rug in there. In the lagoon, Mojo would alternatively float and dry on the 4m plus tides, and Kel had set aside a fortnight to get some things done under the waterline, that would save an expensive haul-out at a marina somewhere. He also was looking forward to lending his adept electrical hand to works that might be needed on the island. They were weary of bashing into sou-Easters and were looking forward to languid days without a schedule. Hard to fault, really!
The south easterlies found us just after sunset!
For us, with our need to make south, we needed to cover the long leg of over 120nm and get in to an anchorage near Yeppoon before the strong wind warnings were posted. We left Middle Percy in light airs, hoping that contrary winds would not pester us through the night. We knew that from midnight the entire Shoalwater Bay coast was off limits with a military exercise that involved live firing, and that therefore potential refuges like Pearl Bay were decidedly off limits. Then, almost predictably, the SE filled in, to leave us battling these contrary winds through the night. As we neared High Peak Island with its clutch of dangerous islets extending to the west, there was another menace to contend with. Jemima and another yacht ahead were sharing sorrows over the radio re the “knock” by the 4m tides in the area, which for both of these vessels, apart from the SE’s, had cost them 4knots of their boat speed in the waters around High Peak. By good fortune as much as anything, by the time we reached the area, the tides had changed, leaving just the wind to wrestle with through the night. By contrast to the luscious moon that gleamed on us across the Coral Sea, this night was inky black, and careful navigation past the islands and reefs called for very careful navigation with a great deal of checking and double checking between our printed and electronic charts. We were pleased to see the gnarl of nautical obstacles behind us by Dog Watch time.
By dawn, we rounded the headlands abeam of Port Clinton, and with Great Keppel Island forming on the horizon, we hoped that as the coastline dipped to the SW, so, on this new heading, we would make better progress, and might be able head south under sail alone. Then, as we changed course to the SW, so the wind changed – to blow from the SW!! It seemed that for us, following the military theme, that gaining ground for us had been as difficult as the AIF had found in the Battle of the Somme.
Svenden's anchorage, Great Keppel Island.
It was nearly 1.30 that afternoon, with the wind finally abating, that we dropped anchor in Svendens Bay on Great Keppel Island (GKI to the locals). On our way in we had mused again at the curious titles associated with some islands in waters to the East. Alongside Barren Island lay, curiously, The Child, with Husband and Wife Rocks and an islet called The Egg not far away. We figured that they were so named in the embryonic stage of local nomenclature! As we settled on anchor, we noted two familiar yachts nearby. The first was the South Coast ’36 Kool Sid with Tremain and Sue on board.
For us, with our need to make south, we needed to cover the long leg of over 120nm and get in to an anchorage near Yeppoon before the strong wind warnings were posted. We left Middle Percy in light airs, hoping that contrary winds would not pester us through the night. We knew that from midnight the entire Shoalwater Bay coast was off limits with a military exercise that involved live firing, and that therefore potential refuges like Pearl Bay were decidedly off limits. Then, almost predictably, the SE filled in, to leave us battling these contrary winds through the night. As we neared High Peak Island with its clutch of dangerous islets extending to the west, there was another menace to contend with. Jemima and another yacht ahead were sharing sorrows over the radio re the “knock” by the 4m tides in the area, which for both of these vessels, apart from the SE’s, had cost them 4knots of their boat speed in the waters around High Peak. By good fortune as much as anything, by the time we reached the area, the tides had changed, leaving just the wind to wrestle with through the night. By contrast to the luscious moon that gleamed on us across the Coral Sea, this night was inky black, and careful navigation past the islands and reefs called for very careful navigation with a great deal of checking and double checking between our printed and electronic charts. We were pleased to see the gnarl of nautical obstacles behind us by Dog Watch time.
By dawn, we rounded the headlands abeam of Port Clinton, and with Great Keppel Island forming on the horizon, we hoped that as the coastline dipped to the SW, so, on this new heading, we would make better progress, and might be able head south under sail alone. Then, as we changed course to the SW, so the wind changed – to blow from the SW!! It seemed that for us, following the military theme, that gaining ground for us had been as difficult as the AIF had found in the Battle of the Somme.
Svenden's anchorage, Great Keppel Island.It was nearly 1.30 that afternoon, with the wind finally abating, that we dropped anchor in Svendens Bay on Great Keppel Island (GKI to the locals). On our way in we had mused again at the curious titles associated with some islands in waters to the East. Alongside Barren Island lay, curiously, The Child, with Husband and Wife Rocks and an islet called The Egg not far away. We figured that they were so named in the embryonic stage of local nomenclature! As we settled on anchor, we noted two familiar yachts nearby. The first was the South Coast ’36 Kool Sid with Tremain and Sue on board.
Kool Sid setting sail.
We had last crossed bows way back in Wilson’s Promontory on the Victorian coast, and here they were again, all these miles away. They were just as surprised to see us but our re-connection gave a fine excuse to catch up over “sundowners” to share experiences out on the blue. Reconnecting with Tremain and Sue was yet another thin thread and a marvellous opportunity to learn from the experiences of fellow cruisers.
The other yacht anchored nearby, Cooee, with single-hander Jill Knight on board we immediately recognised from her numerous contributions to Australia’s Cruising Helmsman magazine. We dropped past to say hello and to thank her for the many fine articles that she writes. A freelance nautical writer, and a vastly experienced sailor, it was nice to get the chance to meet this well known scribe. She seemed to us to be as fine a person as the stories that she writes.
The other yacht anchored nearby, Cooee, with single-hander Jill Knight on board we immediately recognised from her numerous contributions to Australia’s Cruising Helmsman magazine. We dropped past to say hello and to thank her for the many fine articles that she writes. A freelance nautical writer, and a vastly experienced sailor, it was nice to get the chance to meet this well known scribe. She seemed to us to be as fine a person as the stories that she writes.
Jill Knights' classic yacht "Cooee".
We have been guilty of a serious omission in this chronicle, and that relates to the extra crewmember that we have had on board, without papers, down the coast from Townsville. Shortly before our release from Rosshaven, we had noted a shipyard gecko scurrying across our decks late one afternoon, and not long after putting to sea, sure enough, there he (she?) was flitting across the cabin sole and into the deep recess of the quarter berth. We appointed our little translucent friend as Officer in Charge of Invertebrate Control, and gave the creature carte blanche to ingest as many sand flies as he (she?) pleased. Periodically we spotted our OCIC, scooting about, presumably in pursuit of shipboard duties. We became quite fond of our little stowaway although it seemed that if we could apprehend the little lizard, we could put it ashore in a monitor-friendly locale, given the shortage of reptilian company on board. Besides, noted Cookie, if it expired in a closet somewhere, it would create a terrible skink.
The stowaway!
Now at GKI an opportunity presented itself, as not long after arrival, our OCIC made an ill considered dash across the galley floor, and Cookie’s sharp hands soon had it apprehended. In putting ashore to explore the beaches on the NE of GKI, we took our little friend ashore and he (she?) leapt in a trice into a bush and disappeared into the undergrowth. There was not a croak, or a blink of thanks, mind you, just a quick dash for freedom. Our little friend certainly had a story to tell!
A very happy gecko.
The beaches on Great Keppel are superb and well worth the rock clambering and the trudge through the bush to reach. Being offshore and presumably away from the nuisance of stingers, the chance to plunge in clear blue waters was one that we relished.
One of the many pristine beaches on GKI.
Keppel Bay Marina.
We have been guilty of a serious omission in this chronicle, and that relates to the extra crewmember that we have had on board, without papers, down the coast from Townsville. Shortly before our release from Rosshaven, we had noted a shipyard gecko scurrying across our decks late one afternoon, and not long after putting to sea, sure enough, there he (she?) was flitting across the cabin sole and into the deep recess of the quarter berth. We appointed our little translucent friend as Officer in Charge of Invertebrate Control, and gave the creature carte blanche to ingest as many sand flies as he (she?) pleased. Periodically we spotted our OCIC, scooting about, presumably in pursuit of shipboard duties. We became quite fond of our little stowaway although it seemed that if we could apprehend the little lizard, we could put it ashore in a monitor-friendly locale, given the shortage of reptilian company on board. Besides, noted Cookie, if it expired in a closet somewhere, it would create a terrible skink.
Now at GKI an opportunity presented itself, as not long after arrival, our OCIC made an ill considered dash across the galley floor, and Cookie’s sharp hands soon had it apprehended. In putting ashore to explore the beaches on the NE of GKI, we took our little friend ashore and he (she?) leapt in a trice into a bush and disappeared into the undergrowth. There was not a croak, or a blink of thanks, mind you, just a quick dash for freedom. Our little friend certainly had a story to tell!
A very happy gecko.The beaches on Great Keppel are superb and well worth the rock clambering and the trudge through the bush to reach. Being offshore and presumably away from the nuisance of stingers, the chance to plunge in clear blue waters was one that we relished.
Back on board however, the weather forecast suggested that the slog from Middle Percy had indeed been a wise move and that a short foray across the 9 mile passage and into the Keppel Bay Marina at Yeppoon would give respite from the weather to come. Besides, it would provide an opportunity to get the required service and alignment work on the motor completed, and just by chance we learned that Keppel Bay management was hosting a bistro style barbecue, and all the trimmings for visiting yachties and the local marine community. Having some bona fides by this time as seaborne travellers we headed for Keppel Bay in high anticipation of a stellar evening amongst nautical friends. Yeppoon was a desirable place to be in a blow, and the Marina at Rosslyn Bay was one of our favourites. For a few days our making of ground to the south would have to wait.
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