The big delivery

Oysters @ Port Stephens:
We intended just an overnight stop in Shoal Bay but a rain is dumping down and the swell rounding the heads is not too comfortable. Further along @ Nelson Bay is a mariner, so we lob up alongside and wait for the staff to open up on a Sunday morn. Ouch! Port Stephens is a tad pricey with $80 a night mooring fees. With another unscheduled rest day we all troop off to have a look around with shops and cafes galore. Ian's pleasure is libraries and bookshops and he has found some little treasures at basement prices which we're enjoying.
Peter, Hans and I armed with bucket and oyster tools and a sense of hunter/gather riding high clamber over rocks by West Pt. Many small ones are buckwheat. "look there's some big ones on that pipe thingy" says Hans. Tracing the line of piping back onshore, a weathered sign warns of sewerage. Rather quickly the bucket is emptied and Salty Pete is lamenting the raw oyster he has just sampled. Oh Dear.
Well, if we paying top price let's get plenty of use from all the facilities. Pete spent an inordinate amount of time showering, shampooing and shaving. I think he even gave himself a blow-dry, I know I did.   Top marks for the Personal Care facilities, as they were so signed. A round of cards: up and down the river with happy hour, a belly full of Shepard's Pie and then a DVD comedy with a glass of port is atone way to while away a wet Sunday night...
With a gale warning cancelled, slightly more favorable winds and blue skies appearing, the coffee is on and we getting all things ship shape. Coming out through the twin headlands that guard the entrance our exit was a roller coaster ride as the swell piled up and broke with cresting waves closer to the shoreline. I thought it was absolutely thrilling but it certainly is based on a confidence that the trusty diesel motor just keeps chugging along. Hmmm
A series of small offshore islands lie north and east of the approach/exit creating an added backwash that makes for sloppy passage. Eventually conditions settle and bearing ever northwards we finally raise the genoa. Later as another sailboat starts gaining on us, Ian and Pete hoist the mains'l and the engine has a much needed rest as a rise in temperature to 95• is recorded
I knew I liked being at sea but I didn't anticipate just how much. I truly feel it in my chore as a peaceful yet exhilarating high. Watching the "Mutton Birds" and Storm-petrels swoop over through the troughs, having two-toned offshore dolphins suddenly appear, rolling with the swell undulations and watching the magnificent NSW coastline slowly transform, how could one not luv it!
But stay alert. It appears as that rain depression has left a legacy of rogue "greenies" that randomly slap us giving anyone in the cockpit a rude awakening with a cold shower of saltwater.
Sudden concernation, the bilge has splashed very dark oily water up through the sole in the galley. "Where's the oil coming from?" engineer Pete and the Skipper go into a huddle. Charts are consulted and favorable harbours discussed and a descision is made to head for Cape Hawke and anchor at Forster for a quick inspection.
The twin towns of Tuncurry and Forster lie either side of of the harbor. The entrance is trained by two breakwaters that funnel a large tidal stream of inland waterways. A central sandbankadds an impressive set of rollers. Our timing is good, in that we have an hour or so before the top of the tide. We'd read " the bible according to Alan Lucus and Hans made an effortless entry. Passing the Marine Rescue tower, the radio crackled with a message "I take my cap off to you, the last half hour has been pretty rough coming through there". Hans later confided that he was quietly crapping himself but we never noticed it.
So what's the problem? Oil checked - good, bilge checked - full. Whoops, it should automatically pump out. Ok we can manually pump that out later. Now Pete's digging deep into the engine room looking at pumps and impellers. Decision:it'll need a 2 day layover or we try to watch the temperature and keep the revs down when we have to motor. Neptune please favour us with goods winds so the iron sail can rest.
Cruising cannot be about schedules and strict timekeeping. Decisions change with the next forecast or condition change inspite of the forecast - and there is equipment maintenance. Roama is getting a big shake down and her areas that require attention are being slowly revealed. All par for the course. So it's a hot meal, fruit cake n custard and a good night's sleep.
Next morning the Welcome Swallows danced around the cockpit as the coffee brewed. Time to get out over the bar with a making tide. As we log on, we're warned that there is some big swell so timing our run out will be important. Wow!! A fast flowing stream paints a silvery smooth surface while islands of foam eddy the chop, break and crash left and right on the breakwater. Out we chug at a steady pace and hold our metal up and over a rising wave. Whoopee - and another. Who needs a rodeo bull? We turn around to watch how those waves break behind us. Yup, has this skipper got class or is it just arse?
Off we go to Port Maquarie if things dont work out with the motor or nambucca if we manage an all night sail. Unfortunately there's too much northerly in the wind direction so our progress will be slow...