The final leg of our journey to home waters...the red crosses mark all the waypoints on our journey to The Louisiades and back... 6278.4nm when we anchored at American Beach, Kangaroo Island !We had set an early alarm to clear Port Fairy, but with a firm breeze still probing the Moyne River from the south, we took a softer option and delayed our departure until a more gentlemanly hour. Maybe it was our understandable reluctance to leave this welcoming little harbour, and maybe it had to do with us shunning a morning chill that had not been a norm for us for months. It was also to do with the weather pattern emerging, that for the first time in many passages, gave promise of a window that would see us back in home waters in South Australia if we were prepared to accept the 50 or so hours at sea to get there. For once there were no marching cold fronts on the weather charts.
Relunctantly rounding the entrance buoy as we leave Port Fairy.
Along the way there were ports such as Portland, Port MacDonnell, Robe and Cape Jaffa to entice us ashore, but there were two reasons why we opted to keep out to sea for the long haul. For one, we remained very wary of the weather, and dallying in one of these ports might see us forfeit the window of weather that now presented, and become captive to systems that might yet be brewing far out in the Southern Ocean. The other concern though was cray pots with their trailing ropes that can wreak havoc with a cruising yacht, by suddenly entangling the propeller or rudder and causing, potentially great damage to the vessel. Barry Leverington on Onawa in an adjoining berth to us at Wirrina told us of becoming snared in a pot rope off Robe that caused considerable damage to drive shaft fittings and caused him to limp into port for repairs. If motoring at night, the prospect of hopelessly tangling a propeller in a pot rope was a cause for great concern. Avoid pots if you can was Barry’s message to us both. On our way east in April we had noted pots in over 200 feet of water, and we had heard that some crayfishers in the South East were operating out to the Continental Shelf, some 20 odd miles offshore. For this reason we resolved to head out of Port Fairy for the Continental Shelf, and in 1000 feet of water we would be clear of this nautical hazard. This, at least was the plan.
Along the way there were ports such as Portland, Port MacDonnell, Robe and Cape Jaffa to entice us ashore, but there were two reasons why we opted to keep out to sea for the long haul. For one, we remained very wary of the weather, and dallying in one of these ports might see us forfeit the window of weather that now presented, and become captive to systems that might yet be brewing far out in the Southern Ocean. The other concern though was cray pots with their trailing ropes that can wreak havoc with a cruising yacht, by suddenly entangling the propeller or rudder and causing, potentially great damage to the vessel. Barry Leverington on Onawa in an adjoining berth to us at Wirrina told us of becoming snared in a pot rope off Robe that caused considerable damage to drive shaft fittings and caused him to limp into port for repairs. If motoring at night, the prospect of hopelessly tangling a propeller in a pot rope was a cause for great concern. Avoid pots if you can was Barry’s message to us both. On our way east in April we had noted pots in over 200 feet of water, and we had heard that some crayfishers in the South East were operating out to the Continental Shelf, some 20 odd miles offshore. For this reason we resolved to head out of Port Fairy for the Continental Shelf, and in 1000 feet of water we would be clear of this nautical hazard. This, at least was the plan.
The wind generators on the coastline near Portland.
At sea by 0900, and cleared with Joan at Coast Guard Port Fairy we cleared the flat-topped and delightfully named Lady Julia Percy Island and headed out at an angle to seaward of Portland and nearby Cape Nelson. With fair winds under a reefed main we put out to the 300 foot mark by late afternoon, where a sighting of a group of pots had us re-setting a course for even further out to sea. As our heading bore increasingly North West, the breeze behind played havoc with our headsail until practicalities dictated that best progress would be made by motor and mainsail alone. At 1842 hrs (EST), at 38 degrees 25.09 minutes South and 149 59.00 East we re-entered South Australian waters for the first time since April although 20 miles out to sea from Discovery Bay there was nothing but an endless horizon and fading glimpses of land. We slipped into a moonless night running above the abyss far below, and settled into the routine of watches that had become the essence of our life at sea.
The Vic / SA Border is right here!
One of the evening comforts that we have developed and looked forward to have been the individual “takeaway” packs of a cheesy vegie pasta that is a Cookie speciality, With movement below a challenge, to see these offerings emerge from the oven before the sun sets and we don harnesses for the night – we regard harnesses as mandatory from sunset to dawn, and have a rule that no one leaves the cockpit untethered, and unless the other is on watch as well – gives us an inner warmth to combat the cool of the night watches. A benefit of being so far out at sea was that the ships plying the coast, heading both East and West, held courses inside of us, although thanks to the AIS we knew where they were and could keep track of their paths. By late evening the loom of Mount Gambier became apparent to starboard, along with the lesser glows of a host of smaller ports and towns. In a nagging, following sea, managing sail in the starless night was exhausting and we longed for the dawn to provide some visibility.
We were abeam of the fishing port of Southend by morning, in fading airs and a rolling sea some 25 miles offshore. After a breakfast of pan-fried toasted sandwiches, accompanied by steaming mugs of caffeine, we were keen to stay out to sea and make miles over our charts. We were too far out to observe any indication of land, and if we kept our boat speed above six knots, another dawn should see us sighting the southern coast of Kangaroo Island. It was hard to believe, but as we moved from one nautical chart to the next, the Backstairs Passage to Cape Martin chart – the first chart of our voyage - was next to come. We were making fine progress and the increasing numbers of playful dolphins at bow and the way that they burst from the water from all around to get to us kept us entertained through the day. One particularly “active” group saw Cookie scurrying back from the bow to report that these wonderful mammals were doing much more than simply riding our bow wave. Synchronised swimming, par excellence!
We had plenty of entertaining company on the way !
Out from Robe, the continental shelf veers off to the west in the direction of Kangaroo Island, and in spite of the depth rising to 300 feet there is no alternative but to keep well out to sea to keep the cray pots at bay. At 5.00pm we were 38 miles from land, and in 292 feet of water when, emerging from below, Cookie saw cray pots –alongside! She rushed for the throttle but it was too late. The impossible had happened. Here was a tiny cluster of pots, miles and miles from anywhere, and we had snared our ship on a pot rope! 38 miles from land, in 292 feet of water – not possible! A look over the stern confirmed the worst, however, with a rope around our rudder or prop, disappearing below us into the depths with no sign of the other end of the rope and the rope out of reach of our long boat hook. We were gripped from the stern, with no steerage and no ability to use our motor, and as the weight of the pot far below held us down, and stern-to the building sea, we were in trouble, potentially serious trouble.
Out from Robe, the continental shelf veers off to the west in the direction of Kangaroo Island, and in spite of the depth rising to 300 feet there is no alternative but to keep well out to sea to keep the cray pots at bay. At 5.00pm we were 38 miles from land, and in 292 feet of water when, emerging from below, Cookie saw cray pots –alongside! She rushed for the throttle but it was too late. The impossible had happened. Here was a tiny cluster of pots, miles and miles from anywhere, and we had snared our ship on a pot rope! 38 miles from land, in 292 feet of water – not possible! A look over the stern confirmed the worst, however, with a rope around our rudder or prop, disappearing below us into the depths with no sign of the other end of the rope and the rope out of reach of our long boat hook. We were gripped from the stern, with no steerage and no ability to use our motor, and as the weight of the pot far below held us down, and stern-to the building sea, we were in trouble, potentially serious trouble.
No land in sight for miles, deep water .... but there are still craypots!
There was nothing to do but don a mask and fins and armed with a cutting device, go over the side. These manoeuvres are fine in an anchorage or a marina, but far out from land in a lumpy and building top sea is another matter entirely. Besides, we were back in SA waters where tour operators train Great White Sharks to follow boats until they stop, and people jump over the side into cages as they get fed! At least here the dolphins that had been at our bow were now swimming around to keep an eye on things. The easy part was the dive down to the rope, which being guitar tight, parted in a trice. Under Calista, where thankfully the rope had slid up the slot between the rudder and the hull, and had not fouled the prop, after a couple more dives we were free. There was a need to keep clear of the transom when coming up for air, for to meet the stern crashing down on reaching the surface, was to risk serious injury. Once free of the pot, though, Calista had taken off in the current and threatened to quickly separate swimmer from vessel. On board Cookie had anticipated this danger and had trailed a rope from the stern for use in such an emergency, whilst at the same time securing the ship’s ladder to the side to allow me to climb back on board. We were so, so relieved to be free of that pot! As we, literally, sailed off into the sunset, we were given to wonder what we could have done had the fouling occurred in the middle of the night, in a sea that that was much bigger than that. Seas would have immediately swamped (pooped) our cockpit and…… It was too awful to contemplate.
The sunsets on another day at sea and the beginning of a tiring night.
Our last night at sea was long and dark, with only the distant loom of Adelaide providing the faintest of glows in the North West. Still the wind held annoyingly and unerringly on our stern quarter, and if we wished to sail we would have to head miles off of our rhumb line, and thereby lose time and encounter the outgoing tide when we reached Backstairs Passage. We needed to do all that we could to avoid wind against tide conditions in the confines of the Passage (between Fleurieu Peninsula and Kangaroo Island) and if we motored steadily through the night we would reach Cape Willoughby, which guards the entrance to the Passage, at change of tide on dawn.
Dawn light on approach to Cape Willoughby, Kangaroo Island.
We were riding before a lumpy, sloppy Sou-Easter when the rhythmic wink of the Cape Willoughby light on Kangaroo Island’s Sou-Eastern approach gave way to the new day. On April 5, 2010 we had headed seaward out of Backstairs Passage on our great adventure, and now on the morning of January 5 2011 we were making good our return. It was really all too hard to believe. There were still practical things to attend to however, the first being a farewell to the wonderful Mary of Smithton Radio in Tasmania after the 0620 (EST) HF sked, and thank her for shadowing us all the way from Gabo Island when the VHF coastal network became irregular. The other practicality was now looming over the eastern horizon, the car-carrier Atlantic Highway, whose path and ours was now set to converge in the restricted passage between Cape St Alban and Yatala Shoal in Backstairs Passage. We reasoned that it was best to alter course to port to let this ship plough through on its way to Adelaide.
Passing Cape Willoughby.
Cape St Alban, just west of Cape Willoughby heads the beautiful Antechamber Bay, where purely by chance we had met Ann and Cran off Lettin Go in January 2010. They had contributed so much to our voyage and it was nice to message them when abeam of this marvellous anchorage to thank them for their help and company along the way. Back in phone range it was also great to call my sister Helen, who has been managing our home affairs whilst we have been away. We had a fine chat about our father Joe, who had been a cray and shark fisherman on the remote southern coast of Kangaroo Island in the pioneering days of the 1950’s through to the early 1960’s. He had spent many a night sheltering in Antechamber Bay with Nigel Buick on the little Emu Bay all those years ago.
Cape St Albans
Beyond Antechamber Bay, the tide was beginning its strong flow against us, but by snugging the headlands beyond Cape Coutts we passed the Kangaroo Island ferry port of Penneshaw further to the west in comfort as further out in the passage standing waves gave testimony to the conflict now raging between the wind and the tide.
Beyond Penneshaw we could almost sight the entrance to our home port of Wirrina, beyond Cape Jervis on the Fleurieu Peninsula to the north. We were not headed there yet, however and planned to spend the next 10 days or so catching up with some valued friends and visiting some of our favourite South Australian maritime locations. As we rounded Kangaroo Head and made for the tranquil waters of American Beach in Eastern Cove, we were delighted that some fine connections were there to welcome us back. There at anchor were Rod and Sal on Trinacria, Alan and Bron on Allan’s new cruiser Ithaca, and not far away the familiar lines of Twefth Night that we had last anchored alongside in “Bums Bay” on the Gold Coast. Now in the hands of new owners Peter and Wendy, she was on a “shakedown” cruise from Adelaide in company with Trinacria.
Our wonderful welcoming party...Rod, Sal, Alan & Bron.
As our chain rattled out we came to a halt in home waters after 9 months to the day, and a voyage of 6278.4 nm that had taken us within sight of the Papua New Guinea mainland. There was little time to reflect on this however as with the waving of flags, hugs and hearty handshakes, Calista was boarded by Rod, Sal, Alan and Bron and to the clinking of champagne flutes (plastic ships glasses to be honest), the brandishing of chilled ales and the unveiling of a batch of Sal’s most excellent scones we settled back to reflect and reconnect. The sun was still shy of the yardarm, but somewhere out in the Pacific it would be past noon. Allan, in stellar form suggested that we had “done a Crowhurst” [Donald Crowhurst’s tale is a sad one – as a competitor in the first around the world single handed race, it all became too much for him and he sent in false reports of his position, before he disappeared over the side in the mid Atlantic, as the other competitors were on the way home via Cape Horn. Recommended reading – A Voyage for Madmen) and had been all these months snugged up somewhere beyond False Cape on remote Kangaroo Island. The sun was genuinely past the yard before our wonderful borders dispersed, and we fell into a comatose slumber, agreeing to re-convene in the evening on Ithaca for “The return of Calista #2”.Again we had a wonderful evening with host Allan in vintage form as he regaled us with nautical offerings, some of which had passing relevance. With cheeks creased from laughter, and filled to the plimsoll with fine cheer, we eventually made our way back to our noble little ship, and fell into an anaesthetic like sleep, too deep for dreams.
As our chain rattled out we came to a halt in home waters after 9 months to the day, and a voyage of 6278.4 nm that had taken us within sight of the Papua New Guinea mainland. There was little time to reflect on this however as with the waving of flags, hugs and hearty handshakes, Calista was boarded by Rod, Sal, Alan and Bron and to the clinking of champagne flutes (plastic ships glasses to be honest), the brandishing of chilled ales and the unveiling of a batch of Sal’s most excellent scones we settled back to reflect and reconnect. The sun was still shy of the yardarm, but somewhere out in the Pacific it would be past noon. Allan, in stellar form suggested that we had “done a Crowhurst” [Donald Crowhurst’s tale is a sad one – as a competitor in the first around the world single handed race, it all became too much for him and he sent in false reports of his position, before he disappeared over the side in the mid Atlantic, as the other competitors were on the way home via Cape Horn. Recommended reading – A Voyage for Madmen) and had been all these months snugged up somewhere beyond False Cape on remote Kangaroo Island. The sun was genuinely past the yard before our wonderful borders dispersed, and we fell into a comatose slumber, agreeing to re-convene in the evening on Ithaca for “The return of Calista #2”.Again we had a wonderful evening with host Allan in vintage form as he regaled us with nautical offerings, some of which had passing relevance. With cheeks creased from laughter, and filled to the plimsoll with fine cheer, we eventually made our way back to our noble little ship, and fell into an anaesthetic like sleep, too deep for dreams.
A memorable evening on Ithaca with Rod, Sal, Alan & Bron.
Next day after a tardy start we motored into the anchorage at American River, picked up a mooring as is the fashion and with Rod, Sal, Pete and Wendy, made our way ashore. There were more unscheduled surprises in store for us for on our way to the local store we happened upon other good friends Peter and Jane Thompson who we know from mutual mainland connections, and who own the former schoolhouse on the esplanade and a quaint little shack at the rear. Pete, like Rod, had stayed in touch with us via a range of modes throughout our voyage. Although still a little Kevlar headed from the previous eve, we were instantly prorogued to present ourselves at Thommo’s that eve for “The return of Calista #3”. We agreed with alacrity and again a superb night unfolded. We adore the Thompson shack, for it is all the things that shacks used to be, and few of the things that they have become today. Pete and Jane are marvellous people and equally fine hosts!
More wining and dining with Thommo & Jane at their delightful shack.
Next day in light airs with a promise of a SSW trend later in the day, we made our way in mirror smooth seas past Kingscote, Kangaroo Island’s main town, to Marsden Point (North Cape) where Boxing Bay’s scenic anchorage makes a excellent staging point where boats headed along Kangaroo Island’s sensational North Coast, and those making further afield to Port Lincoln or bound for Edithburg on Yorke Peninsula gather. Here, in company with Trinacria and Twelfth Night we anchored and made for shore to hold a Boxing Bay barbecue on the beach. We had intended to have lots of “beach barbies” on our voyage, but conditions – and often sand flies! – counted against this. This was a good time to make up for lost time, and Boxing Bay turned on picture perfect conditions, just for us. Later, friends Gary and Moya off Madiba from Wirrina happened in with friends. Again there were hearty welcomes and updates about boating friends from our home port. Before we made our way back to Calista in the fading light, Moya had offered to coordinate a gathering of nautical souls for our return to Wirrina. The warmth of the farewell that marked our departure 9 months ago was fondly remembered as a humbling and emotional experience for us both.
Trinacria abeam of us on the way to Boxing Bay.
The next morning we planned to head west down Investigator Strait on our way to a brief visit to Port Lincoln, whist Trinacria and Twelfth Night made up Gulf St Vincent for Adelaide. Rod and Sal’s presence at Kangaroo Island for our return to familiar waters, had made our return a memorable one, and was just wonderful of them both.
Next day after a tardy start we motored into the anchorage at American River, picked up a mooring as is the fashion and with Rod, Sal, Pete and Wendy, made our way ashore. There were more unscheduled surprises in store for us for on our way to the local store we happened upon other good friends Peter and Jane Thompson who we know from mutual mainland connections, and who own the former schoolhouse on the esplanade and a quaint little shack at the rear. Pete, like Rod, had stayed in touch with us via a range of modes throughout our voyage. Although still a little Kevlar headed from the previous eve, we were instantly prorogued to present ourselves at Thommo’s that eve for “The return of Calista #3”. We agreed with alacrity and again a superb night unfolded. We adore the Thompson shack, for it is all the things that shacks used to be, and few of the things that they have become today. Pete and Jane are marvellous people and equally fine hosts!
More wining and dining with Thommo & Jane at their delightful shack.
Next day in light airs with a promise of a SSW trend later in the day, we made our way in mirror smooth seas past Kingscote, Kangaroo Island’s main town, to Marsden Point (North Cape) where Boxing Bay’s scenic anchorage makes a excellent staging point where boats headed along Kangaroo Island’s sensational North Coast, and those making further afield to Port Lincoln or bound for Edithburg on Yorke Peninsula gather. Here, in company with Trinacria and Twelfth Night we anchored and made for shore to hold a Boxing Bay barbecue on the beach. We had intended to have lots of “beach barbies” on our voyage, but conditions – and often sand flies! – counted against this. This was a good time to make up for lost time, and Boxing Bay turned on picture perfect conditions, just for us. Later, friends Gary and Moya off Madiba from Wirrina happened in with friends. Again there were hearty welcomes and updates about boating friends from our home port. Before we made our way back to Calista in the fading light, Moya had offered to coordinate a gathering of nautical souls for our return to Wirrina. The warmth of the farewell that marked our departure 9 months ago was fondly remembered as a humbling and emotional experience for us both.
Trinacria abeam of us on the way to Boxing Bay.
The next morning we planned to head west down Investigator Strait on our way to a brief visit to Port Lincoln, whist Trinacria and Twelfth Night made up Gulf St Vincent for Adelaide. Rod and Sal’s presence at Kangaroo Island for our return to familiar waters, had made our return a memorable one, and was just wonderful of them both.
BBQ on the beach at Boxing Bay with a great bunch of friends. We have great cruising grounds here in SA !
Welcome back to SA waters the two of you.
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