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.
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. 
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!
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.
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