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! 🐷🐷

Dear diary….
We are stranded! On anchor close to K’gari Island but still 16Nm from my favourite stopover, Kingfisher Bay resort.
Yes! We are stuck with a mechanical hiccup, stranded, going no where, until help arrives.
~~~~~~~++++++~~~~~~~~~
The next day - resigned to the fact that we were there to stay until our problem was resolved, one way or another.
I was doing dishes, the aroma of my hearty chicken soup filling the galley when… (I kid you not) hundreds of birds in a flock passed so close I could have reached out and touched them. So surprised I had to just take it all in. Privy to this mass migration of black beauty framed perfectly by the porthole. Sadly, He Who Hums missed it as he had already set off in his dingy. He was a man with his own mission, eager to collect mechanical help from miles away.
What transpired last night ? Well firstly and most importantly we successfully navigated through the Sandy Straits. We had just 2ft nashing their teeth at us in the shallowest part of our otherwise, “full moon and full tide journey of the heart”. I note He Who Hums doesn’t hum when it is shallow, but I suspect you’d hear his heart pounding. I was giving the running commentary of depts and direction, willing for the depths to be as per GPS data. There was no one else moving about, just us. Condesa’s navigation lights were luminous against the eerie backdrop for the hours it took to navigate the straits.
Once anchored safely, we could enjoy a hot meal and shower. The generator ceased and so total silence reined all round. Ahhhhhh, we were all set to retire turning off the last of the galley lights when I realised a sound of trickling water was coming the bilge.
It took him/us time to work out exactly how long, how much and from where Condesa managed to purge salt water. Even with my limited knowledge of mechanics, I know a salt water backwash is never a good sign. I had my head in and amongst the motor with him, following his torch light, to be of some support. Calls were made, and eventually the cause was identified. A bung was then secured firmly enough for us to get some sleep.
This non-syphon valve situation would have been catastrophic, if it happened mid Wide Bay Bar crossing…OR anywhere throughout our Sandy Strait passage. We had waited for this new moon that gifts us the super-tide required for our 2.7mtre draft. Kingfisher Resort was our destination. Wait, back up - Imagine navigating shallows without a motor! #yikes 🙈
Life is one big adventure. Any boater past or present, can testify that problem solving is one skill you must have! Quickly followed by another, which is …to be ok without having the answers!😆 Or how about just keeping your “chin up”. Or “fake it till you make it”, and any other attributes it takes to travel around unscathed out here and still see the beauty that comes from all directions.
I watched those birds all spearheaded a direct line for the island, to safely settle in for the night after travelling for miles. As we now are settled, minus - “spearheading the land” bit. 😅
It’s GOODnight from us, with one ear listening out.

PS. The “saltwater gate” mission was rectified with big tools and (you got it) even more skills and expertise.Thanks Daniel for coming to our aid. Love your work.
Condesa is out yet again, flying under the radar and heading north!🥰🙏🏻

Is there always a calm before a storm? Well yes, but there can also be some Hellter Skelter. We are 13 hours in, not counting the 5 hours of sailing prep before leaving Southport, so a bit of fatigue was setting in.

1AM Wednesday (always in the dark) We weren’t keeping tabs on our breaks, but I noticed our tag teaming for watch seemed to come around fast. Time to put the kettle on and make some supper! I do a hand over to He Who Hums and point out the green dot on the radar screen, a yacht 2NM ahead was the only traffic around before heading to the galley.
The midnight snack was done without any fuss, no holding on or being tossed about the galley. I heard He Who Hums scurry across the top decks to shut the hatch. Yep, he did mention something about rain clouds looming. A bit smug with the ease in which I returned with the tray of our “pick me up” supper not spilling a drop.
Clearly, this is where I missed identifying the calm before this storm.
Back at the helm, I hear a few big splotches of rain begin. Our supper had barely been touched when I first saw the horizon, our tea and my centre of gravity instantaneously take a dive to the left. The noise, wind, speed and the cloud mass on the radar all escalated rapidly. Condesa had responded! To cut back the intensity we needed to let out the sails, as it was too late now and too dark to drop any of the 4 overpowered sails. The horse had bolted so to speak.
Oh, about that yacht! Where did he go? The other question is - Did he drop sails and pace? If so, he could actually be closer to us than before? We will never know as the storm was massive and clouds have now devoured what was left of the horizon too. Absolutely nothing and no one to see here, just sheets of pelting rain.
Over the following two hours the cockpit canopy was peppered hard, adding unavoidable drips to our once warm, dry enclosed area.
The silver lining was the intense storm travelled the same path and eventually cleared a patch of sky directly overhead. So we watched that gap in the clouds on the instruments, instead of the lil “yacht that was”. I was hoping the clouds wouldn’t build into a whirl wind, trapping us in the eye. It had me remembering the super cells and what they were capable of, not to mention the recent waterspout on the news. The dark can do that to your mind.
2.45 AM
Finally the coast was clear! The radar revealing the one and only green dot again. Yes the next question had been answered, it was the “lost yacht”, moving ahead of us at the same pace, thankfully. We don’t want to hit whales or other vessels in the dark.
We were back to normalcy, sailing a steady 7 knts after peaking a furious 10knts with 25 knts wind speed.
3.30AM
Someone (and you can guess who) once said “you’re not sailing if you don’t have a wet bum!”
We change into dry clothes and resumed our resting positions.
It was time for another cuppa, a soothing camomile this time. Safe and sound again with just 3 hours until sunrise. 🙌🏻
Footnote - if you were to ask Condesa, she would say it was easy peazy! She spent her years in windy San Fransisco bay and it was nothing for all 43 ton of her her to be healed over gunwales in the water every race meet. Just sayin!

Harbours and Ports are a buzzing hub in any waterside town.
It has been a favourite loitering place along the east coast of Queensland for He Who Hums since he was flying under the radar as a young travelling salesman with a briefcase 🤓 in hand when the bug bit.
We now loiter marinas together viewing from a different perspective, with loads more respect, but the same level of wonder.
Next minute I blurt into the sea breeze "Marinas are awesome -aren't they! They are filled with strength, history craftsmanship and mystery." Surprising myself where that came from but appreciating all these boats have tales to tell, good bad and indifferent!
Some never stop working, like the Sydney Sun-dancer. She sails up and down the east coast of Australia hosting charter trips with other Blue water and champagne sipping lovers adrift at sunset.
Whatever the vessel, they can all sail the same waters, they just require someone with a dream and the time.
It makes no difference how big, or the media used, nor does the weight matter, the vessel. It will either shoulder through the waves, labour over it or skim the top.
By the time we walk back to Condesa on the furthest mooring out in the marina there is usually a likeminded loiterer or two looking closely at their reflection in the brass portholes, imagining the nightmare of a 12ft bowsprit or inspecting the simple but effective sail plan. Well, let's say they are usually the first set of questions asked.🙊
Sometimes the interest goes beyond "standing on the dock" timeframe, so it continues onboard and that's how easy sailing friends are made.
In my mind there is a Satelite of nautics drifting around the globe. Trillions of vessels, all shapes and sizes, moulded and shaped with a dedication, passion and curiosity. We often mention Captain James Cook, what an absolute legend! At least he knew he wouldn't fall off the world. I guess that was one less thing to worry about!
Oops, I digress. It could be 1, 5 or 10 years before you see these colourful characters again and you can pick up the sailing /travel stories right where you left off, anywhere in the world.
It's not for everyone, I appreciate that. Fear of the ocean can run thick in some people's veins, especially when they hear the words "night-sail, electrical storms and unfathomable depth"...🤐 it's what nightmares are made of, as it is for us too don't worry!
We work very hard to pick a good weather pattern. As for night-sailing we can't avoid due to our speed... or lack of. And deep waters, for some reason doesn't affect my mind at all. 🤷🏻‍♀️Go figure?
But each person on the water, just like the vessels are different, despite being cut from the same hardy cloth. They too can sail the same waters and will shoulder through, fly across or tie up and leave her idle in the marina for whatever reason. One I see 😳 is for reefs to grow on the bottom.
If you are lucky or crazy enough to resonate with, what they call "Blue water sailing" and survive Murphy's ongoing mind games,
then you'll know of the in-port and out-to-sea amazing discoveries you will have (not quite at Cook's level)😆
It's like opening your eyes under water. First try is hard to see what all the fuss is about. Don't give up, just "spit in your goggles" so to speak, and another world opens up. Here you are in charge of your own destiny I'm sure it's well beyond anything that travelling salesman imagined - way back when.🤯
The heart explosion moments are purely there to override the hellish scenarios you sometimes have to work through to reach your destination.
Simple as that really. I'm now off to clean my goggles, 'cause I have some reefs in my minds eye as a potential stopover. However, He Who Hums is like a homing pigeon. Once he turns to the south, his goggles are weather focused. To get Condesa home safely before the wind changes it mind is a real challenge best he get his quill and maps out.
Sailors/cruisers know things can change in a second out here, best I am prepared for anything and everything! 🤿

No, I won’t bang on about weather forecasts, there is so much else to be grateful for.
What I will say, and any vessels with a stick and a hanky will agree, the wind direction and consistency is pretty important. It is one of *Life’s Free Gifts.
We wait all day for what’s expected it to kick in. It’s nice to trickle down the coastline on magical flat waters but we would like to reach our destination today!😜
Yet again the sun sets and all coast guards clock off….and the elements decide to pick up with gusto!
So, night sailing with no moonlight, put simply 🤔let me see …imagine driving an unlit back road…over the speed limit without headlights.
Our electronic instruments say we have 25-30knts💨and travelling 7-8 knts, AGAINST the tide, so the occasional rogue waves join in. They dump on the decks, exactly like the big bucket at the water park…. nothing… nothing…nothing …then kaboom! 🧟‍♀️ There is no traffic out here according to our radar. I’m now counting our blessings all the container ships off Mackay were passed in the light of day! 🙌🏻
No observing from any wing-back captain’s chair from upon any bridge for us! We are in the saddle, down and dirty, as Condesa begins to race like a wild brumby through dense scrub. The adrenaline heightened a bit more by a warning light in the near distance, indicating rocks in the middle nowhere. We double, triple check our heading (set for Middle Percy anchorage) is going to miss them.
9pm rolls around, approximately one hour before we can drop anchor to complete today’s 14 hour sunny day out on what WAS *Placid aqua seas before this sea state broke loose.
He Who’s gruff is not happy with this unexpected rough up, but I remind him, it is water + wind, so what do you expect from those two elements combined?💁🏻‍♀️ Personally I’m loving the *enforced exercise, after two weeks of island time.
Yes, I’ve heard it all before, there’s a lot to be said terra firma and being in control of your surrounds at home. But you know, when you take whatever comes, it has you in the game, keeps you thinking, awake, alert and being outside of the comfort zone is a tad humbling especially out here. But the good news is, it makes for a *euphoric nights sleep.
Whoooow, let me back up a bit! As we near the island we cut our speed drastically by dropping all the sails. We motor in very close to eyeball the pitch black anchorage. The only thing visible are 20 mast lights rocking and rolling with the swell. Peering into the void, unable to identify boats let alone a space big enough to set our anchor. I thought to myself, this could be a bit of a shit show. Right then, He Who Hums returns from the front deck with his anchor remote in hand and suggests Rescue Bay would be better! Great idea, let’s hope Rescue Bay lives up to its name and through the pass we continue.
Next minute it’s 11.30pm 💁🏻‍♀️and we have ourselves a beautiful *mirror flat bay, only a few mast lights at the far end of this salvation. I was navigating this new anchorage with all my trust in the navionics screen to position us in close enough for protection and far enough away for change of tide for Condesa to swing. No vessels nearby to avoid, just aware there is a rocky point at this end of the bay not physically visible due to black on black., but I have it in my radar and in my gps map clearly. (PS spot lights only light up the air in front of you not the landscape.)😵‍💫
When all was said and done, we sat perfectly on the ⚓️ zone indicated with 30mtrs of chain out. Condesa shimmied in 25ft of water nodding off to a complete halt and all was set for that good nights sleep I mentioned.
He Who Hums of course gets up hours later to check on things and did a double take at the rocky point’s silhouette he first thought he could almost touch. 🤣No close but safe distance.
In the light of a new day we actually see what we have around us. 🌈 It was like a gift from heaven. So incredibly beautiful in fact He Who Hums even promised to return one day to *swim and *walk the sand dunes. The setting, glistening and twinkling to keep our attention, but “THE PLAN” is to keep moving south whilst we can, and I guess it is looking pretty good to go. 😑
I turn back to my position at the helm after trying to capture every sparkle in one last pano shot before I have to pull away.
As Edie and Lulu like to recite ever so wisely. “You get what you get and you don’t get upset!!”😆👍
So now, I wonder what this sweet and innocent new day will bring us, destination - Pearl Bay.🔮