We thought the day was heading for a quiet night under anchor, however, the benign forecasted conditions didn’t really eventuate and we copped what felt like 30+ knots of wind for most of the night … talk about a hard night !

The evening started well, a ‘welcome to Tin Can Bay’ drink with the backdrop of an exquisite sunset (refer gallery photos), couldn’t be any better. Just as darkness arrived one of those ‘dual hull things’, those catamaran things decided to anchor off our port quarter. Not usually a problem, however, being ready for any potential situation, I deployed a significant amount of chain, well over the 5 to 1 ratio of our 3.5 metre depth. “If in doubt, throw more out” as the saying goes. I was somewhat uneasy that he was closer than I would have preferred. Oh well, it’s a calm night....famous last words.

It was about 2:30 am and like a cold wind off a fresh snow field, a gust of wind whistled through the port lights into our bedroom. Geezuz ... where did that come from? We were being blown about like a slow sweeping metronome, side to side with a little wiggle every now and then as the chain reached its maximum catenary. Both of us were awake (sharing is caring), and Kath went up top to check things out …”…. Brett….” came the statement and request in one word, “.. you better come and check this out ..”. Walking out the saloon doors towards the cockpit it was apparent there was one of those dual hull things almost directly behind us, in fact, so close you could read the letters on his life ring - keep in mind it was pitch black ! Having quickly assessed our situation, we weren’t really getting any closer, but due to the increased wind we had fully extended our chain and our swing arc had us in front of him. Buggar, to be on the safe side, we will re-set our anchor. We fired up the diesels, removed the bridle (a lot of jiggling and cussing) and pulled the anchor up and repositioned Charmer quietly and without fuss .. we’re getting good at this night-time stuff. It took an extra effort to dislodge the anchor, further proof that we had not slipped one inch ! Now, back to bed for a few hours. Needless to say, the wind maintained its anger until sunrise and partnered with us on the way to our next location, Garry’s Anchorage. Hmmmpf!

There’s one thing you can say about traversing the Great Sandy Strait … there’s plenty of sand. Other than low tide, there’s water everywhere, so broad in fact it defies what you see on the nav charts. Low tide presents a very different picture and although we have electronic charts and up to date books, it’s a nerve-racking experience. Add to that the reversed channel markers ie. green is red and red is green and you have a journey of never-ending double-checks, sometimes triple. It goes against your boating intuition. These Queenslanders, entering up north and travelling south … hmmm.

Before we were out in the main channel we stopped to retrieve the tender and secure it on the flybridge roof. Towing her behind the boat was an uneasy feeling and restricted our speed to a degree. Plus, it looks ugly ! We dropped the anchor on the side of the main channel and hoisted the dinghy up without issue … we’re getting good at this process of interruption !

Onwards to Garry’s Anchorage. It was a relatively short trip before we headed towards one of the last port tower markers silhouetted through the binoculars. Tough to see the colour this time of day, the thought once again playing tricks on the mind (red is green, green is red). As we continued forward across the brown water I was wondering what this old ketch was doing about a mile ahead of us... “it looks like we are on a collision course” exclaimed the first mate. “ yeah, looks like it, he’s moving very slowly” was my reply. The closer we got, the more he seemed intent not to alter his course, so I double hit the auto-pilot to take a 20 degree deviation to the right. As we passed this vessel to our left it was clear there would be no issue with a collision, he was anchored - in the middle of a somewhat restricted channel. Ridiculous! Apart from the open sliding door into the wheelhouse, there was no sign of life aboard and I assumed the captain was below possibly cursing at the piece of equipment that has failed him requiring him (or her) to drop the anchor right bloody here to investigate.

5 minutes later we arrived at Garry’s Anchorage. A curved section of water winding up to almost disappear into small bush and mangroves. Due to the depth further up, or lack of it, we can’t get out and have to return the way we entered (back tracking about a mile or so). There were half a dozen other boats spread throughout the area, all having significant distance between them all. We ventured up past the main beach area and decided to return to a large gap between two vessels we passed on entry. Once again, we are in a shallow area with 1.7 metres under our bottom. Low tide was about 2 hours away and already the beach had exposed the roots of what looked like large pandanus trees among the rocks usually covered by the tide. High tide would see an almost 2.0 metre increase in our depth. We like more depth.

The wind persisted and eventually blew itself out mid afternoon and we caught up on a little sleep we had sacrificed the night before.

As a brilliant sunset was yet again presenting itself, the eerie howls of the Fraser Island Dingoes filled the air. It wasn’t long before we noticed three and then two more prowling the foreshores for an early dinner snack. Kath was further convincing herself that it was lucky we didn’t have Billi with us … “the dingoes would eat him”. Our beast is too fast to be caught by a Dingo I thought to myself…

We settled into a very calm evening bolstered by the BBQing of two thick eye fillets we had purchased during our stopover in Iluka to see Pete and Lisa. Great recommendation ... they were enjoyed being washed down with a nice glass or 3 of red.

Tomorrow we head to Kingfisher Bay as we continue our journey up the western side of Fraser Island.