Now...where to start ?!?!?!🤔🫣🥺
Oh yeah, Condesa and her 2.74mt draft!
Because of this fact, it has us picking and choosing routes everywhere we go. We also have respect for the unpredictable weather and the need for somewhere to hide should something spring up. And there is nowhere to hide once you are on the ocean side of islands. So we found it is preferable to work the full moon / highest tide and to make our way with protection of an island whenever we can.
THEN THIS HAPPENED......
4/11/24
Underway in the Sandy Straits (inside K'gari Island), avoiding the shallow spots, the VHF radio announcements of increased silting in certain locations - Noted!
It takes concentration to stay on the long narrow meandering channel for hours before you reach the other end. We had travelled beyond half way unscathed, until.......
😳Condesa running with the tide hit a shoal with momentum. Our immediate reaction to reverse was without success. We waved down two fishing boats a few minutes apart, to quickly help try to pull us sideways, but Condesa's waterline was already showing. The tide around her dropped like someone had pulled the plug. We were in "operation rescue mode", but devastation was creeping in with every fruitless effort we made.
The next we know, our beautiful Condesa was listing to starboard. Eventually she laid down on her side like a lamed mare. By low tide hours later, nothing but sand surrounded her. To observe her motionless was agonising.🙈 This is the thing nightmares are made of!
We had to pull ourselves together, remain collected and evaluate what we had to do. Look no-one has lost an eye, we were both ok. We had to tell ourselves this was rectifiable with quick thinking, involving professional help, and advice from anyone with marine experience and then create a back up plan.
The issues at hand were ....
😳the last workable higher tide was the next day
😢The coastguard boats were busy with a search & rescue in the Mary river.🙏🏻
😬Only one vessel available the next day
😮Condesa weighs 43 ton
😵‍💫24 hours of climbing the walls
🥺What if she doesn't come off
😣No basic essentials for 24 hrs
🫣The portholes and gunwhals were under water
🤯The possible risk of water getting inside
🫥the unknown!!!!!!!!!!!!?????!!!!!!!!!
The positives-
🧐No rocks
😅No crocs
😌No midges
😬No storms
😬no swell/wash
😶no water getting in
🤗And a lovely couple on anchor across the channel reached out to us and cooked us dinner!
This night was a test of our minds. Stopping the shards of "what ifs" and convincing ourselves that nothing is impossible. Well that's what my head was wrestling with. We were each alone with our thoughts, perched, feeling the night set in and waiting for the ending to play out. .
The overnight support was family via calls and texts to check on both us and Condesa's progress. One son, "She'll be right, they just pull her off tomorrow at high tide!". The other, like me, requires scenarios discussed, a watertight (excuse the pun) back up plan. Thank god for them, because both ways of thinking was appreciated.
Then the job of seeking a space to be physically supported for the night amongst everything else already strewn across the boat.
At 5am He Who was painfully Silent 2had climbed off and was out walking around the boat, digging shale and sand away from the base with his bare hands. This kept him busy, so I just kept praying hard.😣🙏🏻
For the next 6 hours (5am-11am) we watched the tide move at a glacial pace. I heard repeatedly, "She coming up now" 🤔 ‘He Who’ was seeing things. I'm looking at the mast still at a 45 angle. Condesa needed every cm of the high tide to budge her, but I said nothing. Looking at the 100ft mast, rigging and sails still on a big lean, all making it harder for her to right herself.
It took Condesa until the last half hour of full tide before she looked anywhere near a chance to me.
My prayers worked, she was somewhat upright but not fully. Now if we can miraculously have two rescue boats please. With no time to chance, we had spent the morning phoning around for a backup tugboat, they were 4 hours away, so we lined one up for the next day, pending the outcome of "Operation God help Us" first attempt. Sweating bullets, but acting very rational once this tug was in the pipeline. We can't do much more but wait now.
Imagine another 24 hrs of this situation! It was doable but a jarring reality, and would be a real test of character.
I could feel Condesa shimmy herself a comfy hole with every small slap of the almost high tide. I didn't want her getting settled in here. By now, I found my empathy for her was waining, enough is enough- get up God dam you!!!! With that, the Coastguard phoned to say they were nearby. 😓
This is where I fully understood the saying "You have to be brave with your life, so others can be brave with theirs".
Two, yes TWO coastguard boats turned up!!!! These amazing people had a recovery plan that matched ours. That was, vessel 1 to haul her over using our halyard from the top of the mast and vessel 2 attached a heavy duty bridle to drag her out of the hole she'd dug herself.
Holding our breath, this was the moment! After vessel 1 churned up water and I felt the yank down of line1, then vessels 2 and Condesa hit full throttle in unison. And like leading a horse to water, she obediently dragged herself up and followed slowly but surely out into deeper water.
Such jubilation all-round, but no time for high fives as instructions were then shouted to retrieve the working lines, within seconds they were detached and thrown. A quick thumbs up and they were gone, back to VMR Tin Can Bay. Our small strained voices called out our extreme gratitude but the words were left hanging in mid air.
We made our way through the last of the notorious Sandy Straits still giving thought for those dedicated and dutiful people who disappeared as quickly as they appeared, like knights in shining armour. How can you ever thank such people with words!!!! There was no time for money or a champagne hand over... nothing! "Just a beer one day mate!" I heard their skipper shout.
How blessed we were! We came out the other side with everyone and everything intact! Look, even that feeling was promptly put in perspective knowing these volunteers deal with far worse marine rescue missions where survival is the main part of their day.
🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻Thankyou to the volunteers @Coastguard Tin Can Bay -THANKYOU!

We are on the home straight after a late get away this sailing season, we snared magical days and experienced so much along the way. We have spent the last 3 months with storms, whales, coral reefs, shoals, and some mechanical issues along the way up and now back down the Queensland coast most avoided... but those that weren't avoided, well they were rectified.
*(Next blog I will explain the one situation that needed marine rescue assistance) 😬 we have come out the other side thankfully, graciously and humbled.

Anyway, He Who Hums has many hats- and I don't mean cricket caps. He's not special, every boater has to have an array of interchangeable hats (unless you have an engineer onboard then you can just wear one) 🧑‍✈️
The skill set required:
a mechanic, an electrician, a plumber, a navigator, a general fixer, a weatherman, a cloud reader, a wind predictor, and a water maker and a deck hand etc
ME- I am just an explorer with messy hair, a cook, a photographer, the creator of creature comforts ....and as it turns out I'm a gold standard mind reader, most of the time! Which is probably my most polished skill. This single talent of mine is utilised for He Who Hums, Condesa and Murphy. Ie Murphys Law.
I recall He Who Hums has said..... in no particular order, nor any particular day, can be any time of day, anywhere......

-Why did the generator turn itself off?

-Is this I-pad loosing power ?

-Pass that to me so we are ready for tomorrow?

-Cut the Revs, The-what's-a-name pulled itself out!

- I should always have that thing on when on anchor.

-So you're all good everything is set for you, let's go! (A loaded statement)

- Oh and I'll need that tool!

Now a few of these may or may not even be for me to reply or action, but it doesn't stop an explorers brain from kicking in to seek if one can work out the riddle.
And I am happy to say 9 times out of 10 I know exactly what he is on about. I always hope that 1% is never when we are a situation aka *shituation.

I on the other hand (the explorer with messy hair) will ask... "is everything ok"? And He who Hums, I find is humming! So that's a yes! See how good I am?

Onboard Condesa, it is a tag team of unspoken words in our preparations to exit any port and then more of the same once under way. He'll mark the waypoints on the map. I take the helm, he will weigh the anchor, I exit the anchorage then he sets the sails, he double checks the route and I continue heading Condesa in the direction of her next destination. Working in unison doing the jobs that need doing and by the time Condesa is away from shore, she 's had time to settle into a rhythm, we would both be morning tea ready. When He returns from the galley after putting on the kettle. The autopilot is activated, we swap positions and I go make up the tray up and.... voila it is time for a cuppa and chit chat.
As we approach our home port we are both recharged with the magic. We are stronger mentally and physically from all that comes from being in, with and sometimes against nature.
No matter how many times you set sail you never get the same experience and therefore more lessons learnt. There will be markers you can find and markers you can't see for looking. There will be things you sense without cause that end up being for a good reason. There will be no clock, date or calendar used, but will be a constant current, swell, breeze, sun, moon and tide awareness. Which in turn provides the euphoria you feel, which is the reason you keep coming back for more of the beauty (and the beasts).
Thank you Condesa, you have proven yet again your strength, power and security not to mention your undeniable beauty under sail to take us wherever the wind blows us. And I can sense you are built for more beyond the horizon too. 🧜🏽‍♀️🧜🏻‍♂️⛵️

We had enjoyed blissful days of aqua perfection, snorkelling the coral gardens within Lady Musgrave Island. We strolled around the flat rock formations, offering great protection for the beach made of coral and shells. This was also an ideal platform for sundowners with anyone else who might surface with an esky at 5 o'clock.
Since it is turtle nesting season, we follow the mumma tracks from water to the dunes to view the many nests lined up above the high water line. Wanna hope they can run and swim fast, I thought to myself hearing the squeaks and squarks of birdlife in the mangroves and remembering the reef sharks in the rock pools nearby. You can't fight with nature, I guess. 💁🏻‍♀️I should know that much by now.
By the end of our stay we relocated from anchor to a vacated mooring ball, making for an easy departure the next morning. There's enough to navigate when leaving this enclosed reef, without worrying if our chain could be wrapped around a coral bommie, which can happen after days of turning with the tides.
This mooring ball we picked up clearly states it is good for our length and weight, but was only guaranteed for up to 35knot winds. We sniggered, like Muttley the dog not expecting such. "Oh this will be perrrrfectt. We can rest easy tonight"! He Who Hums call out from the bow.
But by the end of dinner, our wind indicator was pushing 32knots and hovering. Listening intently to the high and low pitch of the wind wizzing through the rigging, a for-warning with each blow. Our awareness was the load on the mooring line tightening now like a noose around our neck as Condesa yanked and yawled blowing about in the big gusts. One can only hope that an equally as big concrete block is secured to the atoll floor, to keep us off the reefs that surround us.
Out of nowhere, the sound of 25 weighted bowling balls were dumped heavily and rumbled across the night sky. Startled we retired to the cosy aft cabin to watch the show. Both propped with hands under our chins looking out through large hatch windows, level with the water - the stage was set. The light show fired up with a loud clap. Boats we weren't aware of lit up like ghosts, leaving an outline hanging in pitch black until the next clap. The seas were rushing past like a rapid. White caps were break-dancing less than 3 feet in front of us, and without warning a huge splash as if something very large turned defying the force of nature. The show went on from all aspects without interval for the next hour or two, unsure of actual curtain call.
We slept well....no nightmares to speak of, only my concerns for the baby turtles and the pending 150mtr sprint and swim-leg they have ahead of them early December. I feel for those lil turtles, I hope the sea gods keep an eye out for them too!
A new day on top deck, clear skies, sparkling surrounds. It was a full tide so we released the trusty mooring line and drifted out through the narrow passage. We threw the sails up catching the sun and wind, I watched the gulls gliding effortlessly from off shore. Only yesterday I was seeing them as predators, today they are part of the big beautiful picture.
We are off, headed for Bundaberg and who knows what tonight will bring? But Condesa will take rest in the marina and we will be dining at Baltimore's restaurant - if you're looking for us. 🤭
"This is livin Barry" 🥰

There is talk about the dash in your life; to make it worthwhile, as fulfilling and rich as you can. You know, the dash between your date of birth and your end date. THAT DASH!

Last week we put a dot to our sailing and made a dash to a magnificent wedding in Toowoomba. Shoes on, bags packed going from rags to riches.
On the way we made a stop into Brisbane for some family loving from the big and small people. Up the mountain range, via Forest Hill to see a special friend in her new flower studio then onto the weekend wedding celebrations filled with good friends. And before we had time to come down off the high, we were back up in a plane, on the trusty round-the-world bus back to our final stop Keppel Bay Marina -ahhhh home sweet home - back onboard the patiently waiting Condesa.
Next on the agenda was to sort the dying house batteries and restock the skeletal galley shelves. Yes, you got it, all done via another 50 cent bus ride into Emu Park. We are definitely getting our moneys worth, making new friends heading the same direction in life.
The next day we reconnected with old friends, share a drink with our neighbour who help with the heavy job of new batteries on…and the old off the boat. (26kg x 4) 🥵
Weather check done.....then we make another dash, this time from the safety of the Marina back out into the open waters off the Capricorn Coast. (It's been a while)
This is where the dash gets a tad hectic. Condesa poked her nose from behind the rock wall going from cruisy to feisty. Ahoy 35knots...jib sails up ...1.5mtr swell and off we zoom, express to Long Beach to find shelter from the wind.
It was more of a shake up than what was meant to be a "shake down". This was a rude reminder I'm not playing ladies anymore, but the beautiful memory of what was last week celebration is clinging to us both.
As usual, time disappears quickly and the sun sets. I hear he who hums on top deck securing sails and lines. I make quick dash up the companion way to compare the sky against the storm alert that is coming over the marine radio. It's an every day thing I know, but twilight always takes my breath away. Not sure if it's the twinkling boat lights against the threatening sky edged with the last sliver of daylight?.....The remarkable stillness after the invigorating sail?.... Or it could be the transformation from day to the uncertainty of a stormy night. Whatever it is these all become part of the dash and we don't take it for granted.
Good or bad, hit or miss we are poised, prepared and happily making the dash earn its keep.

Just reporting in!

As soon as we reached the Southern Gateway to the Great Barrier Reef we threw the anchor and sailed no further. We have ducked back and forth from Great Keppel to Yeppoon, and why wouldn't you. Yeppoon claims to be a place where...and I quote- 'Live out your stranded fantasy's'. Humph! That'll do us.
We are stranded of sorts. Condesa's house batteries are wrecked eg: not taking full charge, unlike us 🤗
We have literally been riding waves in the Keppel Bay marina (for real!). And if you know the saying about blowing a dog off a chain? Well it's been close to that. Each day I walk past Lucy's boat (not sure of the owners name 🤗). Lucy is a Red Kelpie, I fear she's blown away but I soon see the pointy ears pop up from her padded bed on forward deck when I pass. Her green eyes saying it all as she ducks for cover again. No words needed.
We sought out Little Johnny Car Rental where He Who Hums spends the next 15-20 explaining how and why he should rent us a car from his yard of mix matched relics. Hell, I even hear he who hums says "ok well give us your bus then?". "Nah" Little Johnny says "I got nothin til tomorra". Throw in a few dad jokes here and there. 🙄 Umm so Johnny ...tomorrow is good 💁🏻‍♀️ Look, people I can preempt next year's script, nothing changes except Little Johnny will be 85yrs next year. Then he says "do I know ya? Have ya had a car from me before?" That's when we know we are getting closer to a deal.
So Rocky is classic old school town with magnificent buildings. It's called Rocky for the obvious craggy reasons. We have chugged lil Johnny's old Pajero up cliff faces, looking from every ocean vantage point. The panoramic view from The Singing Ship, sounding more like a pub choir in this blow, we see white caps and sickly green-gray waters that have been stirred with the opposing winds.
Yeppoon - the aboriginal word meaning "where waters meet". Referring here to the Ross Creek and the waves we sail.
Our alternative stomping ground when weather permits is Great Keppel and that name comes from Cook's Admiral - August Keppel.
Anyway enough tit bits just letting you know we haven't blown away completely and the job at hand is new batteries so Condesa can keep our household utilities up and running.
Speaking of up and running, we plan to jump on the back of a Northerly or two and ride it all the way to our next anchorage.
This years sailing season has been different to most but getting to see more of Australia's outback and the quaint coastal communities. And what a hoot it's been!

-That reminds me of another street sign I saw in my travels around here, which read... 'GIVE A HOOT!'
-But that was more about encouraging people to not litter this little town of stranded fantasies. So demure...very respectful 🤗

We sailed into Keppel Bay Marina ahead of the strong coastal wind forecast and we decided to “head for the hills”. 🚗💨
So, with a hire car and a wish list, we took this opportunity to amble through the Capricorn Region of central Queensland and appreciate our country and some family history.
There we were, like a lonely little tumbleweed rolling through desolate towns. If you blinked you’d miss some settlements, overgrown and nothing seems to have altered since the first train rolled in. Oh, except for the Jericho community, we did a U-ey to get a closer look at the drive-in movies, the lawns dotted with whites posts still patiently holding the box speakers. The rear stalls housing the clunky old projector and the canvas seating that connected us to the 60s/70s.
Back on the road and through more settlements you would never know existed if it wasn’t for the sign posts. Bluff, Comet, Alpha popped up and quickly disappeared along the 650klm route from the coast to the country. This path has been well travelled by stockmen, drovers and shearers who stop with their swags and dogs for god knows how long, probably years.
The Capricorn Highway is straight as an arrow, stretching west as far as the eye can see, further than the kilometres of coal-trains ghosting along-side us and well beyond the Great Dividing Range radiating rays of light into the distance sky. With the perfect temperature and fresh air we cross open floodplains, see acres of rich soil, followed by neat cotton fields and farming stations. This escapade of ours quickly transforms into something so beautiful and quintessentially Australian. Such a surprising “tree change” for a few days.
Story time
Apparently in 1861 a European commander to Native Police - Frederick Walker lead a search for Burke and Wills over the land of Iningai. Eventually that stomping ground became “Barcaldine”, with property lots up for sale by 1885.
Barcaldine is where you’ll find the “tree of Knowledge”, but that’s another story. More importantly it’s where you’ll find “salt of the earth” people, and where He Who Hums grandmother’s family migrated in early 1900’s. Imagine that at age 13! I’m sure it was extremely difficult for her (and her family) to settle in. Growing up in hot, semi arid and sometimes wet lands, working their fingers to the bone on the land, after having also endured the sail from England to Australia! 🤯
Eventually Vera met a shearer named Holburke, married and the Gaskell family-tree grew with the addition of 3 sons (yes the youngest was Brian). I’m sad to scribe, it also had them lay the middle child to rest at age 3 1/2 yrs after a fire in a shed. The family hoping he would not be forgotten, despite their leaving the town and never speaking of their personal tragedy. 🙏🏻
Fast forward to today, we met the wonderful publican of the grand Hotel, who kindly helped us find his plot via her own well mapped records of the Barcaldine cemetery. If it wasn’t for her efforts, we could very well still be out there searching for the gold scribed headstone Brian bought and lovingly placed only 30years ago, after Vera’s (his mother) passing at aged 99yrs.
We returned home to Condesa , feeling fulfilled for many reasons, apart from paying our respects to little Trevor Gaskell’s grave. We also fully embraced the history, the heritage buildings, well the ones that survived many fires in this town. We traced names and dates and found relatives photos in the museum. We enjoyed the company of locals and listened to the stories of men of the land passing through. Actually, there were possibly more gems in that one town than sapphires found by fossicking in the well trodden fields nearby.
If the massive coal industry hasn’t make them rich, then the tough cotton-picking spirit of these people will.
Comparing our west bound trek to 100years back imagining the big square riggers full of immigrants offloaded then put on a train out into the middle of a foreign world (aka nowhere). What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger has to be true.
They helped create our lucky country. How blessed we are to live in this day and age. To venture across land and over seas with more ease and comforts than ever imagined. Now we are sitting here with everything at our fingertips, adding to our two bobs worth to the family story.

He who hums springs an idea-
“Hey, let’s take the dingy ashore!” Luring me with a lovely strip of sand to walk but really there was a job to refill the fuel tanks on terra firma behind his glee.
Most of that sounded good to me except I am the funnel holder the sort that splashes fuel around before going down the tube, no matter how hard one tries. 😅 This I call a blue job and hoped it wouldn’t eat into our walk time. I can see the sun is already dousing the said beach a soft glow as I survey the distant sand whilst deciding, knowing full well the decision has been made.
Ok off we go then. Total trust in his plan to land on the beach. Merrily putting along right up to where he sees the clear shallows, lifts the motor up and steps overboard, like usual. What happens next is disbelief, he drops well beyond the 2ft of water. I immediately check in my side, and see definite shallows?🤔 He struggles to lift one leg only to reveal one black muddy deck shoe heavily covered, like a clay Wellie filled to the brim. 😂 Shit John” my mother would say, so I too exclaim. “I’ll get you in closer so we can pull the boat up on harder sand”, and I agree! I wait for he who hums who drudges along with me in tow, like he’s labouring up Mt Calvery, dropping to his knees every few steps until he can go on no further. Next minute we have a “pink version” of the quicksand playout. Let me tell you, squeals do not help the energy required to get oneself out of the mess we are now both in. 🫠 The only positive and I was searching, was that people pay big money for a mud bath to soften their skin.
It’s all a blur, I made certain to block the next hour out. I get flashes of our dingy suctioned to the very mud that gave zero leverage, let alone pull towards the direction of the water. The ol saying, “time waits for no one” is playing out here. The water tantalisingly close and like some sort of sick joke, visibly retreating each time we reach it.
Meanwhile, I was expecting miracles from my one square of chux cleaning cloth I diligently use to keep my mind amused whilst taking a breather. It’s all very funny …..now.
Of course there’s no one around to throw us a line. I wouldn’t even mind being personally towed across the mudflats at this point, desperation was sneaking in. I suspect the one vessel I see has the binoculars on us, hysterical no doubt. We are totally helping them pass what was a low key afternoon in this godforsaken part of the island.
A new day, we sailing towards the mainland and we’re offered the only dock left in that marina for our size. The friendly receptionist mentioned Condesa will be on the bottom at low tide, but don’t worry it’s soft silt so she’ll refloat at high tide. We look at each other with slight PTSD, as we know the silt she speaks of but she made it sound so…….benign. I wondered if 43ton of Condesa would suction to the bottom. He who Hums clearly thought of worst case scenario, busily tying Condesa to the top of the dock pylon with big arse lines to keep her upright. One never wants to wake up leaning on a complete stranger does one? And that neighbour I’m lookin at may crumble under the pressure.

Th th the, th th the - That’s all folks! 🐷🐷