Bermagui 6/12 - 21/12

The view from halfway up the mast towards the new Wharf precinct.

Bermagui….”Bermi” to the locals and Bermi to yachties who are glad to be holed up in its little harbour waiting for a “window” of weather before heading to ports beyond. From here it is about 40 nm south to Eden, and from there another 25 nm or more to the fabled Gabo Island, the South East corner of the continent where ships headed south to Tasmania, and South West to Wilsons Promontory part company. Around Gabo weather wind and currents from the East Coast and Bass Strait meet and it is a place to be given a great deal of nautical respect. At time of writing (PM on Sun Dec 19) the wind is howling in from Mt Dromedary to the North, thunder and lightning is all about and when the wind swings with this storm front [now the rain is pelting down and out through the companionway with visibility is down to metres], by Monday this nasty cell of weather will produce heavy gale conditions off Gabo, screaming in from the South West to 50 – 60 knots! Yes we will be waiting here until conditions improve, and the series of fronts that have dominated the weather over the last 10 days or so are finally replaced by a high pressure pattern bringing more stable conditions from the west.

Calista is just in front of the big shed !

As the winds switched from point to point on the quadrant, and poring over the BOM and other weather sites brought little joy – we need a stable 48 hours of weather to make it around Gabo and through to Wilsons Promontory – we occupied our time with an endless list of things to do on board, enjoying the delights of this coastal locale, and trying to do a range of things to keep us in shape for the long passages at sea that lie ahead.

The Fisherman's Coop Fish & Chip Shop ( On my way to the local IGA )

Although we had visited Bermagui many years ago, we had little information on the harbour and town before we found our way along the breakwater and tied up [the changeability of the weather is underlined by the fact that, outside, now we have an eerie calm as the black curtain of the passing storm flashes and grumbles itself away to the East] snugly in the row of charter boats that are found on the western side of the harbour. With shore power, water and marvellous facilities ashore, all for $20 a day, we have fallen on our deck shoes so to speak. The Bermagui Harbour has seen some challenges and changes in recent times, with the number of professional fishing boats operating from here down from 12 to three, but at the same time the redevelopment of the harbour by the Fishing Cooperative has seen the building of an impressive two story multi-purpose facility, named The Fishermen’s Wharf, which nowcommands pride of place overlooking the harbour. The imposing façade, featuring stout forest logs and beams in sympathy with the nearby wharf infrastructure is a marvellous addition to both the marina and the town, and locals are justifiably proud of it. Its Cafés, restaurants, browsy shops, and a first rate fish and chippery sit nicely alongside the fish and seafood processor and the friendly administrative centre of the Harbour.

Downtown Bermagui... the local pub and far left..."Miracles by the Sea."

In port here with evening approaching, we are able to select an offering from the ship’s cellar, modestly stocked though it is, and stroll to the Thai restaurant just 50 metres away. It holds a Harbour Master like view over the port, to the breakwater, and beyond. For herself to indulge in a local prawn, selected vegetable and green curry delight, whilst your bloggist swooned over a Padang beef curry, as soft hues embraced the marina without and a golden honey moon rose over the headland, is hardly being marooned. With an inner glow, to walk back to our ship via the harbour wharves, where by night or day there are always things to see, has one thinking kindly of life at “Bermi”. It was a nice way for Cookie to conclude her birthday.

A tasty meal at the "Asian Experience Restuarant" on my birthday.

My amazing present...a globe I loved at Sapien Arts made of inlaid precious stones to help me plan our next trip!

About the only drawback that we faced in relation to our practical needs was that the commercial nature of the port made it difficult for us to fill our fuel containers, because the nozzles are too big for the apertures. Help was immediately at hand though when the bloke at the local slipway suggested that we might head to the nearby “servo” just down the road, and if transport was a problem “there are a couple of ‘utes out the back, and the keys are in ‘em – just make sure the dog doesn’t follow”. This was typical Bermi, and typical of the people who live here. We did not bother to remove the keys from Calista either.

A walk along the little marina finger takes us past the game fishing boats, which are all being spruced up for the summer season to come. When the tourists flood in they will head for waters out from Montague Island, and at about the 100 fathom mark they will be chasing the adrenaline of billfish fishing that has drawn the experts and the hopefuls from around the globe since the famous Zane Grey fishing excursion here in the 1930’s introduced Bermi to the world. Combining testosterone and stainless hooks is now big business in these parts.

A visit to Latte Land at the Cafe on the balcony of the wharf complex.

With the waft of brewed coffee, fresh fish cooked crunchy and golden from the griddle, and the aromas of the wok making passage a challenge past the “Co-op” a challenge it is but a short stroll into town. Across the road is the popular Bermagui Country Club where one can join the white shoe brigade with bowls or croquet out the front or tackle the 18hole “Championship Layout” on the links out the back toward the hill overlooking town. If it is Saturday the path into town passes the “G”, the Berma”G”ui Main Oval, where flannelled youngsters are bowling and batting their hearts out, with patrons outside the local café’s and bakery having a full view of it all from over the slog sweep boundary. The charm of the marina precinct blends with the oldie-worldy retail zone that spreads in a linear fashion up the hill and overlooking the park to the sea.

Colin in search of a "Miracle!"

At the end of the main street, just past the pub sits a hairdressing salon tagged optimistically “Miracles by the Sea”, and with your bloggist these days requiring events of this nature in respect of coiffure, it was a place of immediate focus. The view from the lounge in “Miracles” is worth the entry fee with the grandeur of the local coast line in full display through the shop front window, leaving the regulation Womens Weekly and New Ideas of the wait area thinly thumbed by your crew. Amy the cheery apprentice at Miracles tells us that it was scissors and foil down for all just recently when a pod of Humpback Whales were cavorting in the bay, and brought styling in the salon to a standstill, and emptied the shops all down the main street. Only the pub with its balcony and bay views suffered no dip in trade. In days of yore tourists embarked green of gills off the Steamer from Sydney, heading for restorative processes in the Guest House formerly above "Miracles"or at the licenced premisis next door. Probably the latter was favoured.

Colin relaxing at Horseshoe Bay!

Across the park the new facilities of the Bermagui Surf Life Saving Club commands a premier position over the town swimming beach, just opposite the main street. Our home is at Port Elliot, in SA, with its Horseshoe Bay, girdle of Norfolk Island Pines, and commitment to remembering the fallen in the Anzac Gardens cradling the foreshore, and at Bermagui we found ourselves in uncannily familiar surrounds. Bermi’s Horseshoe Bay is a carbon copy with Surf Club, pines, sheltered swimming beach, and memorial overlooking the bay making us feel easily at home. Even the chill of the water was familiar, if not exactly welcome. There are also Horseshore Bays at Bowen and on Magnetic Island, but Bermi and Port Elliot are bays in a pod.

A bodysurf at Horseshoe Bay. Brrr! Not sure about the cold water.

Connecting the town, harbour and river are a series of walking trails that allow creativity in ambles for both discovery and wellbeing. One of the trails leads to the headlands and beaches to the South of the town where some inventive souls, many years ago, constructed some retainment walls alongside the roaring ocean and created the town’s famous “Blue Pool”. It has recently undergone a complete makeover, and will now provide a unique swimming experience for years to come. One of our first walks over the headlands led us to the Blue Pool where signage warns against swimming in heavy swells where waves can sweep into the pool, although we felt that other notices should warn mariners recently arriving from tropical climes that the water is passing crisp! On one occasion whilst in the middle of some laps at the pool, a roar and a crash from without was a precursor to the pool being turned into a white and tossing spa, with two surf attuned visitors heading for the bottom to escape the churn. What a hoot.

The amazing ocean pool ... "The Blue Pool " We returned for a few laps!

Information at the local Visitor Centre led us to a full day walk to Wallaga Lake and Camel Rock via beaches, bushlands, wetlands, gold diggings and headlands to the north. Although signage was vague in places, we eventually emerged at the Wallaga mouth with some nice pics of coastal vistas but no precious metal. Our return to Bermagui to conclude our 20kn hike saw us eschew the paths through the scrub in favour of the beach trudge along Hayward’s and Moorehead’s Beaches, and although we concluded the endeavour a little leg weary, supping on a milkshake at the River Rock Café, on the outskirts of town, we agreed that it had been a great thing to do.

The mouth of Wallaga Lake and windswept beaches.

The view from the clifftop walking track.

What’s more, at the River Rock, we were taken by the cosy friendliness of the venue and the notices on the door promoting gourmet pizzas, and Tex-Mex offerings on their Friday Night jam session where local musicians dropped in to do their thing. A couple of nights later with weather still keeping us in port, we found ourself settling in at the RR for a marvellous evening of fine food, fair prices, and music pleasing to the ear. It was a relaxed atmosphere with plenty of people watching on offer as “the regular crowd shuffled in”. Typical of the night was mine host Jackie who abandoned her apron and burrito construction for a time, and with deft fingers on the sharps and flats and a husky voice to boot, knocked out an admirable selection from the Beatles White Album. We left when the muso’s had strummed themselves into submission, probably in favour of “forest products” at darkened tables outside, and we had quaffed ourselves into torpidity!

Jacky & fellow musicians entertain us at the River Rock Cafe.

Emboldened by our Wallaga wander, we investigated possibilities further afield and with rental cars in short supply, we resolved to catch the Eden-Sydney morning bus service and embark at Dalmeny some 40kn to the north before tramping along the coastal walk leading some 8kms down to Narooma. This time we had a more convincing map to follow, and we settled in to some charming scenery as the Sydney service took us past historic Tilba Tilba in the shadows of Mt Dromedery, and along the coast to Dalmeney. The walk on a concrete path is a credit to the local groups who have constructed it in recent years and is justifiably popular with walkers, runners, skaties, cyclists and the like. The coastal scenery as headlands and beaches unfold is superb, and the only thing that puzzled us was the pristine beach about mid-journey that had signs warning of toxic impediments to swimming. Later at the Narooma visitor’s centre we found that in a recent storm the local waste facility upstream of the beach had taken a direct hit from lightning and there were fears that some visually impaired mullet might have escaped to join their scaled “cousins” in the nearby surf. We chuckled at this compared with the extract of Sydney that gets pumped out daily into the nearby seas.

A lookout on our walk to Narooma , the Narooma headland in the far distance.

A most excellent day was concluded on a range of paths that grace the coastal town of Narooma, its river, lake, and yet more beaches and headlands. There were lots of things to browse on in the centre of town and the Golf Course with its stunning panorama across to Montague Island had to be seen to be appreciated.

Back in Bermi a storm the following night underlined the fickle nature of the weather and the growing frustration that we were feeling about our need to move on as soon as we could. We had concluded an early evening walk with an “Independence Day” like cloud gathering in the west, and flashing ominously with lightning. Back on board the arrival of the cataclysm was heralded by what sounded like gravel being strewn on our coach house. Hail! Soon a clattering on board, and heavy sploshes like golf balls falling into a water hazard, had us scrambling to look outside and then to see if we could get a cover on our solar panels. Then Calista lurched as the gale gripped our mast, and rain and a heavy squall whipped the marina into a frenzy. Lightning fell about like shelling on the Western Front. Twenty minutes later the tempest was gone, with angry flashes heading out to sea, and us feeling grateful that we were safe in the Bermagui Marina. Next day with debris floating about, I shared with a guy on the wharf how we’d been concerned about lightning hitting our yacht whereupon he turned to me saying “have you ever played golf?” “Yes” I declared, “but how would that help?” “Well” said he with a glint, “next time you see a storm coming, hoist a one-iron to the top of your mast”. Seeing my puzzled look he explained… “not even God could hit a one iron” (!)

What a great family.. Alex, Suzy, Aidan & Jack visiting us at the Marina.

On the beach at the Nipper carnival with the Jindabyne Yabbies in their Port Power Colours!

We have noted the wonderful people that we have met on our journey, and now on email and on the phone we stayed in touch with a number of them. Neville rang from New Zealand and Cran counselled us to be patient in waiting for better weather before heading south. In the harbour here we met Karl off Watermark, and Martin and Kerry of the 37’steel Roberts yacht, Jallina a few pens closer to the Wharf. Knowing that Alex and Suzy off Nyora who we had not seen since Townsville, lived in Jindabyne, inland from us in the mountains, we gave them a call. Their boys Aidan and Jack are members of the Jindabyne Yabbies, and by chance they were headed to Bermi for a “Nipper” Surf Carnival. In the end, they stayed for the weekend and it was great to re-connect, and to meet the rest of the Yabbies, both undersized and legal. We noshed again at the Asian Restaurant, before sending them back to the hills (where it had been snowing!) and us looking carefully at a patch of better weather that held some promise for later in the week. It seemed that after two weeks at the wonderful Bermagui, we were soon to be on our way. If the weather forecast holds, we should be in Bass Strait on Christmas Day, making for Wilsons Promontory. We hope that the gent on the bike below does deliveries out at sea!

Merry Christmas to all of our blog followers out there from Colin, Cookie & Calista.

Newcastle - Bermagui 2/12 - 6/12

Leaving Newcastle was like going from the sublime to the monstrous. To cover the 56 nautical miles to Pittwater before a forecast burst of stronger winds in the afternoon saw us up early and slipping past the extraordinary Athena by 6 o’clock in the morning. The rain had thankfully cleared and as we slid by in the morning calm we mused at the discordant positioning of Athena, with her film star lines and beauty, alongside the blue monstrosity of Muloobinba, Newcastle’s floating dock; imposing, industrial, and purely functional - the two vessels alongside each other looking like a ballerina and a stevedore heading out to lunch. Entering the channel abeam of the City, our view was drawn from the Forgas Dockyards with its cranes, sirens and machines towards the breakwater and the open sea which was filled by something very large, and headed our way. Again! We have not enjoyed good fortune in respect to opposing traffic in the Newcastle Ship Channel.

Shipping traffic again as we leave.... this is a monster!

The MV Santa Lucia is a behemoth of the seas, a bulk carrier of 948.2 feet (according to our AIS), making her 289 m in length, and over four Calista’s across her beam. She is 118m longer than the MCG, putting her bow in the Members’ goal square and her stern, somewhere past Bay 13 and outside toward Punt Road! With the Santa Lucia and her four tugs – three at the bow and one astern – dominating the channel, and the horizon too it seemed, we kept well to the starboard side and allowed a port-to-port passing, like a tadpole passing a hippo in a Zambezi swamp. It is normally so hard to get anywhere near a monster like this, so from our secure position we enjoyed a close-up ogle at this steel leviathan. When filled with anthracite, bound no doubt for the China Sea, we figured that the Great Divide in the vicinity of the Hunter must drop by an inch or so. The Santa Lucia is one of the biggest ships that we have seen on our voyage, and there must be at least 100 bulk carriers of her ilk currently loading coal out of Abbott Pt, Hay Pt, Gladstone, and now Newcastle. We mused, too, about how at home, being responsible citizens of the world, we had cut down on wood fires to reduce our carbon footprint. Footprint! The Santa Lucia wass King Kong, stomping.

The massive Santa Lucia turning to enter the docks.

The sea beyond Nobby’s Headland was messy, and until the wind filled, we “motored and mained”, a familiar theme it seems, whilst enjoying a seaward view of Nobby’s Beach, the scene of the much heralded stranding of the Pasha Bulker in June 2009. Talk to Newcastle locals and they are still affected by that amazing sight; of a huge bulk carrier perched in the centre of the main swimming beach, just a short walk from the centre of town. “Can you please take your ship out of the patrolled area” might have been the P.A. warning from the Lifeguards! (Go to this link for some wonderful pics of this nautical near disaster -http://www.flickr.com/photos/tags/pashabulker/interesting/show/ )

Nobby's Head astern, we continue our journey south.

Just south from Nobby’s on the city coast nestled the glorious art deco pavilion of the Newcastle Baths, which is currently undergoing a welcome makeover; and before long the headland and beach of Red Head, an obvious tag when viewed from sea, emerged to the south. After Red Head the long stretch of sand and surf that seemed like wilderness from sea was, in reality, just next to bustling suburbia. This led us past Swansea, the entrance to Lake Macquarie and the Marine Rescue Station that we had visited in the rain just the previous day. We had arranged with Marine Rescue Newcastle that we would report our progress to MR Swansea, which we duly complied with outside the entrance, and at the same time we had a chance to thank the Swansea team for their hospitality, and for the impromptu tour provided for the visitors from Calista.

Norah Head Lighthouse.

Beyond the Norah Head light house the imposing headlands of the northern approaches to Broken Bay dominated the starboard coast where they give shelter to the popular beaches at Terrigal, Avoca Beach and Mc Masters Beach. Far out to sea a glass of the horizon drew the unmistakable silhouette of Athena, looming mysterious like a latter-day Flying Dutchman, heading South to Sydney in preparation for the New Year bash. She was under headsail alone but with several tennis courts of material catching the zephyrs, she was still romping along at over 11knots. Anyone seeing this remarkable sight from ashore could be excused for wondering what on earth they were seeing.

We had expected the wind to have risen well before this but as we made our way past Barrenjoey Head, which guards the entrance to Pittwater, softer airs remained the order of the day. From here it was a easy passage past a forest of masts to port, on our approach to the head of Pittwater.

One of our neighbours at the Royal Motor Yacht Club.

The Royal Motor Boat Club sounds impossibly stuffy, but Marina Manager Malcolm’s easy-going and sincere welcome had us feeling instantly at home and set a positive theme for our brief stopover. In no time, it seemed, we had connected with Dirk and wife Lisa off the cat Plan B and after happening upon their friend Peter who owns a restored tug which he charters, we made a convivial fivesome for dinner. Again we enjoyed a splendid night, and although we started early, in ebullient company it got late quickly. In the end we were reluctant to make our farewells and draw stumps, but ours could only be a one-night sojourn at the RMBC, as no berths were available the next night, and the weather forecast dictated that making southing whilst the Nor-Easter held was the order of the day. Cran had told us that the Motor Boat Club was a gem and he was right.

The leafy backdrop of Pittwater around the Royal Motor Yacht Club

We had long “harboured” a desire to re-enter the “Heads” in Sydney and next day under excellent sail we indulged in a tourist sail along Sydney’s famous northern beaches, starting at Palm Beach in the north and we relaxed in the cockpit as Whale Beach, Avalon, Bilgola Beach, Newport, Bungan Head, Warriewood, Mona Vale, Narrabeen, Collaroy, North and South Curl Curl, Freshwater, and the trio of Queenscliffe, North Steyne, and Manly beaches were held on our starboard beam; a veritable who’s who of locales synonymous with surfing, Surf Life Saving and Aussie beach culture. What a day we had; the sun shone at last and life was good. This was another time when we pinched ourselves about where we were and what we were doing. There have been many such times on our journey.

Sailing along the coves and headlands of North Sydneys' famous beaches.

Our day of nautical nostalgia was not over yet though, as once through the heads, and “signed off” by Marine Rescue Sydney, we made our way to the iconic Manly Pier to take in this world famous ferry terminus and, in between ferries, to glide in close for some pics to record Calista’s passing. We had thought of anchoring near the Pier, but a couple of boats had beaten us to it, and with a plan to be out of the harbour at first light the next day we had found a gem just around the corner from Manly Cove, under North Head by the old Quarantine station where we could secure a good night’s sleep, oblivious to the wash of ferry, and other marine traffic busying itself on the harbour.

A scenic tour through Manly Harbour.

Spring Cove is a “find”, and located so near to “the Heads”, it made for an ideal stopover when compared with other potential anchorages deeper in the harbour. It is a “three fingered” cove, and we found easy anchoring in Collins Cove, the middle of these, in a setting, viewed from the bow, that could have been in some remote National Park, far removed from the hurly-burly of City life. From the stern, ferries plied their ceaseless trade, and all manner of craft sought solace from the workaday week by letting down their hair on one of the world’s finest waterways. We lost a sense of time as we enjoyed pre-dinner nibbles in the cockpit as the last rays in the west gave way to the lit display that is unforgettably Sydney, by night. Later in the evening, in making preparations for our next passage beyond the Illawarra Coast, a raucous carousing ashore brought us both from below to the cool of the night air. We could hardly believe it! Penguins! Yes, penguins in strident and discordant voice, coming no less from the rocky shores of Collins Cove. We might have been in Memory Cove in the wild south of Port Lincoln, but surely not here in Sydney Harbour! How have these little creatures have managed to maintain a foothold in a populated setting such as this was beyond us. Little Penguins, they were though, and they kept up their rasping cacophony through the entire night. [A later Google search, Penguins in Sydney Harbour, showed that we had stumbled on a remarkable environmental site, and that the surviving colony of 60 pairs of birds, well down on earlier years, has prompted a campaign headed by the Toronga Zoo, to save them. This is the only mainland penguin breeding site in NSW, and the laudable efforts to protect this colony can be investigated by searching, as above.]

The delightful bush setting of Spring Cove.

The dawn of the new day saw us reluctant to leave this marvellous harbour, but the high pressure system hovering in the SE of the Tasman Sea would not camp there forever, and it would be prudent to use the NE stream that it produced along the NSW coast while it lasted. With Sydney yet stirring, our anchor was hoisted and we joined the Little Penguins in heading around North Head for the open sea. We were simply not prepared for the jaw-dropping sight that awaited us. Creeping into harbour was not one but two gigantic cruise ships, like frosted sponge layer cakes, afloat in the morning light. With us again facing a conflict of tonnage and right of way, we eased our throttle to give clearance to these floating suburbs. There was something silent and mystical about the Sea Princess and Rhapsody of the Seas as they stole past headed upstream toward Circular Quay and Darling Harbour. Some of the less pampered and more stoic types on board were up early and as they lined the rails to view the entrance into the great harbour, flash lights from cameras went off as though we were at a rock concert and Robbie Williams had just walked out on stage.

The Sea Princess emerges around North Head at dawn...an amazing sight!

We amused ourselves with the thought that with them some stories up, and us in the foreground, whether any of the passengers wondered who we were and where we were headed, so early on a Saturday morning in December. As the white ghosts stole up the harbour, we reflected on the curious attraction that liners hold in the lore of the sea and we confess to have been captivated by their mystique. When the QE2 called into Adelaide on her farewell tour, we were happy to complete a four hour round trip by car to Outer Harbour, just to see her put to sea. Clambering out on the Outer Harbour breakwater, we waved like idiots to those on the upper decks of the Grand Old Dame of the sea. To watch the QE2 head for the Fairway Beacon and into the setting sun was unforgettable. Others we suppose were at home with The Simpsons.

Rhapsody of the Seas follows the Sea Princess into Sydney Harbour.

If you don’t do early mornings, and can’t face the day before croissants and coffee at 10, then please, don’t go cruising. There will be lots of times where, like our departure from Sydney, that the destination dictates everything, starting from the time set on the alarm. Our destination, through the bar into the Crookhaven River, was 75 miles away, and we needed to get there on a rising tide, with enough light to see ourselves safely in. Before leaving home we had heard from Bill and Pauline off Tibia about a horror night that they experienced when caught in a blow in the Crookhaven River, and so this anchorage was not high on our list of “must see” destinations. On our way north we had missed the area entirely as we battled with rising winds out to sea on our overnight passage to Sydney. Bill and Pauline had also told us that one of the great bonuses of sea voyaging was the pleasure derived by meeting kindred souls, in anchorages and in ports of call. How right they have been! Back at the Motor Boat Club, whilst familiarising ourselves with the layout of the Club, we happened on a couple waiting for the RMBC courtesy bus into town, and got into conversation. In this way we met Bill and Carmel Downton from Crookhaven off the 40odd foot cat Saucy Wallnut (the origin of the name was a long story according to Bill, and we didn’t ask!), who were on their way south after their first voyage up the east coast. We asked them how it had been, and Bill was more than happy to launch into one of those “funny you should ask” dissertations chronicling all of the mechanical misadventures that had dogged their trip. We listened intently, thinking to ourselves, “Yes, you go from port to port fixing your boat”. Finally he asked “so how have things been for you?” We smiled faintly and said “well, our motor seized out in the Lousiades, and we were forced to hand steer 110 hours back across the Coral Sea and through the Barrier Reef just to get home. We couldn’t use our self steering windvane and we had no power to use the autohelm. Then we were stranded for a month on the hardstand in Townsville while we tried to sort out the insurance mess”. Bill looked at us as if we were Shackleton and co having just piloted our whaleboat from Elephanta Island across the ice-strewn seas to South Georgia. He turned to Carmel saying “maybe we didn’t have any major problems, after all”. We were quick to add that, for us, what had happened to Dave and Lanie off Gypsy Lee, was far more of a hardship. It was again all about perspective.

Secure on Bill & Carmels' mooring in the Crookhaven River.

Before we left the RMBC, Bill had us on board and reassured us about the Crookhaven entrance in the prevailing conditions, and offered their mooring if we called in there. Thus we found ourselves on a misty morning abeam of Bondi and Botany Bay, with a course setting leaving Wollongong and Port Kembla well to starboard as we made for Black Point in the Shoalhaven Bight, and then beyond to the Crookhaven bar. Via our Surf Club at home we have long and fond connections with the Wollongong SLSC, our Sister Club, and we would have dearly loved to have put into the Wollongong Boat Harbour and wander up to the new Wollongong Club that we have not yet had a chance to see. Sadly, whereas Sydney has a harbour gifted by nature, the Wollongong Boat Harbour is about as big as Athena’s genoa, and other cruisers counselled us against even thinking of going there.

Modest shacks and moored yachts line the shore of the Crookhaven River.

Entering Crookhaven, by following the leads in fair conditions on a rising tide, was all that Bill and Carmel said it would be. After Pittwater, Manly Cove and the likes, Greenwell Point, the town a little up the channel, was like stepping back in time and down in opulence. Its modestly appointed riverside shacks had a common and lower key feel that was replicated when we made our way ashore from the mooring in the early eve and found ourselves at the local pub. Bill had recommended the Blackfish Chips and Salad as the item of preference on the menu, and being thus advised, we happily complied. The Greenwell Point pub was obviously not Doyle’s at The Rocks, and there was some dimensional evidence that chips and beer dominated the local diet. The atmosphere was cheery, convivial and totally welcoming. When the lady taking the orders calls you “love” it is always a good sign! Economy had been the order of the evening and with the mains at $14, and a bottle of acceptable shiraz at $13, we were clearly back in another era. Replete, and taking the advantage of daylight saving we were back on Calista in the last vestige of light and pleased to enjoy a calm night on board minus the challenges that had dogged Bill and Pauline’s visit there.

Breaking waves on the bar as we leave Crookhaven.

Exiting Crookhaven the next morning, following the leads in reverse proved as comfortable as the night before, although waves breaking on the port hand breakwater gave a curt reminder of how things might be in a bigger swell. Leaving Crookhaven
Heads, we set a course for Beecroft Heads off the entrance to Jervis Bay in the hope that the majestic cliffs between there and the towering Point Perpendicular, might make for some stunning coastal scenery. The Nor-Easter was battling with a feeble southerly change and in the fluky airs we could see clouds gathering and rolling in from the south. If conditions permitted, we were keen to enter Jervis Bay and take advantage of anchorages to be found both in the southerly or nor-easterly sectors of the bay. Soon, however, we were embraced in an oozing fog that saw us loose sight of the coastline and its lofty grandeur, just a mile or so away. There was nothing to do but switch on our navigation lights, and keep a close watch as we pushed on through the grey to our revised destination of Ulladulla.

The towering cliffs of Point Perpendicular.....are there somewhere in the fog!

We re-entered the Ulladulla harbour after 41miles at sea, tied up alongside a local charter boat and still had time to head ashore for some laps at the local seawater pool and a hot shower to rejuvenate us at the Marine Rescue facility. Sadly, it was clear that the tropics were now well behind us. Somewhere down the East Coast “Coral Sea” on the charts had given way to “Tasman Sea” and the water temperature had plummeted from a tepid 26 degrees at Townsville to the 18 degrees that now caused us angst in the Ulladulla Pool. It was a far cry from the gin-clear 28degree water that we had plunged into on arrival at Pana Bobai Ana in the Louisiades. We would have to get used to flinching again!

Rafted up on the wharf at Ulladulla .

With our confidence in bar crossings growing and reassurances from Marine Rescue, our next leg directed toward the little port of Bermagui, nearly 70nm away. It would take us all day to get there and again the alarm was set for early. Away by 0630, and having logged on with Marine Rescue Ulladulla we put to sea on a path to Burrewarra Point off Broulee Island and settled in under our ongoing “motor and main” regime. Apart from one big ship and a couple of fishing trawlers in our zone of concern, we enjoyed a smooth passage, and with Cookie vigilant above, I headed below to catch up on the blog.

Blogging at sea.

More than once I have headed below for this purpose only to find that conditions soon deteriorate and I find myself abandoning keys and heading up looking for the horizon. By 1520 hrs we were abeam of historic Montague Island, with only 10 miles to go to clear into Bermagui.

The Montague Island lighthouse.

Via the radio to Marine Rescue, we were able to secure a berth in the harbour, complete with power and water, no less. The entrance was a “no brainer” as Cookie’s diary would later conclude and by nibbles and repast time, were snug in the charming little harbour and looking forward to exploring this highly regarded coastal town. From here we were only 40 miles or so from Eden, with the expanse of Bass Strait lying beyond. A close examination of the weather information available to us suggested that with cold fronts lining up from the Southern Ocean, we might be in Bermagui for a few days at least. Our first impressions were that there were worse places in the world that we might find ourselves holed up.

The "no brainer" entrance to the delightful Bermagui Harbour.

Gold Coast - Newcastle 26/11 - 1/11

The Gold Coast Seaway Tower on the right as we enter the Seaway and head out to sea.

It would be hard to catalogue and give some ranking to the number of natural attractions that we have enjoyed on our journey to the tropical latitudes. The sunsets alone would have been sufficient reward for us both. As for the man-made delights, there are three that rate above others, although the welcome gleam of harbour lights after hours at sea on passage gives us immediate pleasure and satisfaction, every time. Our “gold medallist” is probably easy to guess. To sail past the Sydney Opera House, and pass under the Sydney Harbour Bridge on a beautiful day on our own yacht that we have sailed all those miles from home gave us a special thrill that we will never forget. The other two we were about to experience as we cleared the Gold Coast Seaway and set course for Coffs Harbour, an overnight haul of almost 160nm to the south.


The Gold Coast highrise in the distance as we head south.

We are not Gold Coast lovers, and there is much about its overcooked commercialism that leaves us cold. However, to see the picket fence of high rises dancing and flaring like disco-spears in the morning sun, as the light catches the multiple facets of windows on the towers, is really something to see. You need to be out at sea to see it at its best, because on a calm morning you get the double delight of the moving reflections on the swell. Apart from keeping an eye out for recreational and commercial fishers, this kept our rapt attention until our path to Point Danger with its gnarled reefs abeam, saw the high rises become low rises until finally they dropped below the horizon.

On approach to Cape Byron.

There is something indefinable about the grand position, the ambience, and the geographic status of Cape Byron and its huggable lighthouse that has us under its spell. Years ago, on our coastal car journey in Cookie’s Ford Escort, a Wicked van before its time, we squealed in delight – maybe she did – as Cape Byron hove into view, with us descending the Great Divide from Tenterfield. We remember making a bee line straight for the Lighthouse and just standing there for a time, looking out to sea. After the cheerless plains abeam of Wilcannia and Cobar, who could blame us! Now, in the late afternoon, with the shape of Cape Byron rising off our bow, we called Serena, who gathered her family entourage, and a bottle of chilled champagne; bundled them in the Surf School van (contact http://www.gosurfingbyronbay.com.au/ if heading that way), and made a bee-line for the Lighthouse. We tried to come in under the Cape as close as we could although swells and sweeping currents made the seas confused and tricky. It was one of those moments of sheer delight. We could see that Serena and co. had the Lighthouse to themselves, and we were also alone on the sea off Cape Byron. Serena phoned us to say that her little daughter was a bit worried. She thought that somehow they were all going out to the boat, and even her junior eyes had worked out that the seas were far too dangerous for that. Now that’s reading surf at a young age. It must come with the genes!


Goodbye Serena & family...goodbye Byron Bay!

It was hard to leave Cape Byron, but with night falling and a waypoint off Ballina needing attention, it was time to get into our routines of making passage at sea, at night. On leaving the Gold Coast, we created a “tracking sheet” with Marine Rescue, which was passed on to other coastal stations as we proceeded south. This sheet has all of our boat and contact details, and most importantly our ETA’s at various points in transit. Now out from Ballina, it was time to report in to Marine Rescue Ballina, with our current position, speed, and updated ETA for Coffs Harbour the next morning. If we failed to show at Coffs at the appointed time, Marine Rescue Coffs Harbour would try and contact us on Channel 16 VHF. If they could not “find” us, they would alert authorities, knowing, first and foremost, where we last reported in and where we were headed. Marine Rescue is serious about its service, and more than once when delayed in passage by adverse conditions, a missed “check in time” has resulted in a shore station calling us just to see “how we were going”. We have been deeply appreciative of this service, which provides seamless support for our voyage, all the way to Eden. Why some boat owners do not “log in” with this service is beyond us. As night falls, and the wind gets up, it is reassuring that someone else is keeping a watch out for our little ship far out at sea.

"Tim" the auto pilot at the helm on sunset.

Early next morning, south of Yamba, after a night of shared shifts and dodging ships, we adjusted course off North Solitary Island, and with the headsail grumbling about the tightness of the new angle to steer, the curved form of South Solitary Island appeared off the starboard bow. Its winking welcome to Coffs waters had us peering at the treeless isle, wondering what life must have been out there in earlier times for Lighthouse keepers and their families. A rare and stoic breed they must have been. Automated lights have obvious benefits, but the magic has somehow gone.
The Coffs Harbour Marina had a “house full” sign flying but we had been fortunate, as Cookie suspected that places might be at a premium there, and she had called beforehand to secure a berth. Others, lacking her shrewdness, had to be content with anchoring in the outer harbour where some of them rolled abominably in the beam sea. After a long passage and only a scattering of sleep, a dancing anchorage is the last thing that the crew needs. Besides, at the Marina, easy access to facilities and attractions in town made the $35/night a steal. Try getting harbour view accommodation in Coffs for anything like this cost!

The crowded Coffs Harbour Marina.

The popularity of Coffs with the White Shoe brigade; surf crew, fisher folk, backpackers, geriatric gypsies, families and anyone who appreciates sublime scenery and climate is totally understandable. Next to us in the marina was a 30’s ish guy in a centre-cockpit Duncanson 37’ yacht, who originally had sailed up from Sydney looking for some new horizons in his life. He reached Coffs and was having a lot of trouble leaving. Working locally, enjoying the surf and climate, and with a social life to admire, he was not missing the mayhem of the Harbour City. His rubber duck was tethered to the dock and as evening fell on our last night there, we found him jumping into the inflatable, bottle of vintage under his arm, and calling out “I’ve been invited out to dinner on row B – see you in the morning” (!)

Other Yachts anchored out in the rolly Outer Harbour.

With the Nor-Easter still holding, we decided on a two-day stopover; checking out the marina precinct, walking to nearby beaches, enjoying some first rate ambiance at the Yacht Club and some fine fare at a walk-to Indian Restaurant, one of three just nearby. A Surf Carnival at the Main Beach had us enjoying some Surf Boat and Surf Craft action from the dunes and we whetted our appetites for the aforementioned dining by a vigorous late afternoon plunge in the surf. With the water temperature still holding at 23 degrees, our time at Coffs had lots lifestyle boxes ticked, and yes, it was difficult to leave.

North Beach, the site of the Surf Carnival...note all the tents on the beach.

We have noted, with some amusement and some fascination, characteristics of Queenslanders, and New South Welsh persons that have attracted our attention on Calista. Take FM radio for instance. Our listening tastes include contemporary rock, anything short of Lady Gaga and “talking music”, and down the coast apart from an obligatory assessment of the world via the ABC news at 0745 (herself thinks that I’d find the ABC News on Mars), our mornings normally stray to local FM. We enjoy the music – between Harvey Norman Ads – but not the obligatory female presenters, whose miniscule minds seem restricted unerringly to gossip, and the horizontal lifestyles of Hollywood stars. Their strident cackling is the same from one locality to another, although in QLD their sentences end with “but”, and in NSW they start with “like”, the universal descriptor. The other thing that we have noted on the East Coast is the extent to which seemingly ordinary folk are now daubing themselves with Tattoos.

Getting my "Tat"

Eagles, skulls, dragons, snakes and knives are in profusion on human billboards, beyond butterflies, cursive slogans, and statements of undying love. Tattoo shops, once the province of the dark side, have edged into mainstream. On our last day at Coffs we happened on the local Market By the Sea, and amongst the fresh produce, crafty oddments, and seductive food stalls we found a purveyor of pigmentation where we could join the emblazoned generation. I wanted an anchor on a bicep but was overruled by herself in favour of a modest ship under sail on the forearm. She opted for double dolphins of her calf and, until they slough off, we have joined the trendies.

My Dolphin Tattoo! It vanished after 5 days!

The other great bonus of marina life has been the proximity of fish cooperatives to our tethered craft. Fabulous fresh seafood, at a great price has been a regular staple on board, and such was the case at Coffs and the Calista Seafood Diner was in full swing the night before our departure for Newcastle. The next leg south was a big one – over 190 miles – and we were away at first light with the prospect of a full day, and overnight in front of us. Our course was set well off Smoky Cape to the South where we hoped to pick up the East Coast Current that might give our passage a boost of up to 3 knots. With “Kev” our Fleming Windvane engaged we took off down the coast under wings of unfurled whiteness at unheard of speeds, reaching a regular 8.5 knots and occasionally up to nine. Yeee Haaaa!

Great sailing with "Kev" at the helm.

With degrees of latitude disappearing under our keel, and with our path taking us well out into the shipping channels, we were once again glad that we had the AIS ship identification system on board and linked to our chartplotter. Off Crowdy Head amongst a shoal of ships, we identified the North Fortune as a big ship sharing our opposing heading, and using this marvellous system we were able to contact this vessel and arrange safe port-to-port passing as we headed to our respective destinations. Off Port Stephens in the early hours Cookie had plenty to keep her awake as another collection of ships under way coincided with a downpour that reduced her limited night vision to zero. Again, with radar, and AIS overlaying our electronic chart, she piloted us through this navigational nightmare with aplomb. Below, and off watch, I slept and saw and heard nothing.



Dodging ships ( the triangles are the ships, we're the blackmark, the line was our course!)

At dawn the smudged outline of headlands off Port Stephens disappeared in the drizzle as Stockton Bight and eventually the grey outline of Nobby Island at the Newcastle Harbour entrance hove into view. It was a sodden landscape with not a hint of summer in sight.


A yacht departs Newcastle Harbour in the misty rain as we arrive.

The new facilities at the Newcastle Yacht Club include a fine eatery and facilities for visitors including en-suite type individual bathroom facilities, with that rarely found cruising quality, privacy. Swish, eh, we thought, although privacy is not enshrined on a small ship as it is in landscaped suburbia. More staggeringly swish than this was the Superyacht Athena, tethered across the waterway from us. The plaything of software billionaire Jim Clark, she is the largest private yacht afloat at a touch under 300’ with a beam in excess of our length. She carries a permanent crew of 20, and if you Google her on Superyacht Athena, you will see, sadly, more teak than is left in Borneo. Her masts are so tall that they need permanent air navigation lights. We looked out for Jim and we were going to invite him over for some gherkin dip and jatz, but apparently he has not “Leared” in yet. Apparently he heard that the crackers in Sydney Harbour at New Year are pretty good, so he sent down Athena so he’d have somewhere to sleep after the champagne and rockets. As you do. Back in Newcastle Athena was apparently “getting some things done”, and we called across to offer them the loan of a spanner or a screwdriver if they got stuck. We didn’t hear from them though.


The massive super yacht "Athena"

Despite the grim weather forecast, the stoic crew of Calista declared the following day a “lay day” and as a beach day at Nobby’s – our original plan – was now out of the question we decided to again hire a car to allow us to get a look at Lake Macquarie to the south, and Port Stephens to the north, places that we wanted to visit by sea, but might now only be reached by land.
Our hope that the weather forecast would not prove to be so dire proved to be wishful thinking, and as we skated our way south to Swansea at the head of Lake Macquarie, the rain sheeted down and visibility was measured in meters. At the Marine Rescue station opposite the Swansea entrance and breakwater, the operators took pity on us and invited us in, to give us shelter from the storm. It was great to visit the facility and see first hand how Marine Rescue is electronically gearing its tracking systems to help keep voyagers safe out at sea. Essentially, instead of using written sheets phone and fax, a vessel will be tracked electronically, and operators will be automatically alerted if it becomes overdue. It presented a new challenge for the MR operators, who are in the main, retirees.


The friendly Marine Rescue crew at the Swansea Marine Rescue Base.

On our way to Port Stephens, we flanked the eastern shores of Lake Macquarie and enjoyed a brief visit to the Port Macquarie Yacht Club which had a welcoming, genuinely nautical, and clubbable feel to it. Peering through the deluge did not prevent us for forming a high opinion of Lake Macquarie and its potential for future investigation. With rain still bathing (the next measure up from “bucketing”) down we headed north beyond, over the imposing Stockton Bridge – great view from here according to the ladies at the Newcastle Info Centre – to Port Stephens. We were not sure what to expect of Port Stephens but our arrival at its epicentre in Nelson Bay happily coincided with a temporary clearing of the tempest. It was clear that we had entered tourism central with far more glitz and development than we had imagined. From the marina upwards, this was obviously an up market location that oozed gold shoes and handbags.

The Nelson Bay Marina precinct in the gloom...be lovely on a sunny day!

A stroll along the marina precinct, and some browsing in the retail hub was enough for us although at the Red Ned’s Gourmet Pie Bar I found the Gold Medallist, Home Baked Pastry Division, for our journey. The array of amazingly creative pies – no one in NSW or Qld it seems has any idea of how to bake a pastie – was overwhelming (check it out at http://www.redneds.com.au/) and from a blanket finish in selection I chose an Authentic Tandoori Chicken pie from the warmer and wept in delight in its consumption. Being totally captivated, I left with a Silver Medallist offering for future consumption – a Minted Lamb - still wondering about their Two Fat Ladies Seafood Pie.

Shoal Bay and Nelson Head near the bar entrance.

At nearby Nelson Head overlooking the entrance to the majestic Port Stephens, we escaped the glam of Nelson Bay and found the walk-through Coastal Patrol Lighthouse precinct, its interesting information centre, and marvellous view over Shoal Bay to the heads an excellent use of our limited time. At Fingal Bay, Anna bay, Samari Bay, Boat Harbour, and finally Birubi Beach overlooking the 4WD mecca of Stockton Beach, we found lower key and charming costal locales that for us had a great deal to offer. On our drive back to Newcastle we agreed that in spite of the weather, our whistle-stop tour had been well worth doing, and we had gleaned some invaluable first hand appreciation of both Lake Macquarie and Port Stephens as cruising destinations. And, there had been that Tandoori pie….!

Despite the rainy weather we had a good time in Newcastle!

Leaving the Gold Coast Seaway and heading south, a 47’Catamaran, Plan B, had cleared at the same time and our respective paths to Newcastle had us frequently in proximity. Plan B had been planning to enter Port Stephens at dawn, but given the weather, and the fact that, like us they were unfamiliar with the entrance, they resolved to push on home to their marina at The Royal Motor Yacht Club in Pittwater, Broken Bay. They were curious to learn of our travels and called up on radio to invite us to the RMYC and share times at sea over a repast at the club. This sounded to us to be a fine impromptu offer, and so our imminent departure from Newcastle coincided in us planning a passage to Pittwater, along the northern coastline of Sydney. Sydney! Already Rosshaven Marine in Townsville was an aeon away.