Sahula's Passage Report No: 2


It takes time to understand the cruising mind. We arrived at Tin Can Bay (derived from the Aboriginal name "Tinchin," - surely more appropriate than its European adaption!)) slid into the marina for the day and stayed a night. Not purist cruiser behaviour but.....

Very nice (too nice) marina and a reasonable fare. We fought off marina "rot" but not before embracing the hot showers one more time.

When the tide rose at midday we slipped the lines and left for the beauty of an anchorage in the Sandy Straits. It was not far to go, just off the village channel the main channel provided the "spot." The sunset ritual of drinks with olives and a dip farewelled the sun, set behind red gold laced clouds.

Next day dawned just as beautiful.

It was maintenance day. The crew of a steel boat is never far from the "rust" paint tin and failed lights needed repair. It was pleasant productive day interspersed with cups of tea and a chat. The ABC provided its unique intellectual inputs. It is hard to take, this cruising life. Evening found Ken in the galley again preforming his "Jamie Oliver" magic. Spoiled attains a new meaning in boat food lore.

Tomorrow is more of the same. It's a struggle!!!??

We listened to the weather forecast of a SE'ly change. Rain heralded its arrival of squalls. Fortunately, not before the paint patches were dealt with under sunshine. Ken also made the "baggy wrinkles" for the ends of the mast cross-trees. They'd go on later. I also polished the guard rails stainless pipe. Sahula was ready for southern guests. Appearances are everything!!!????

However, it was not be, at least not so soon.

Again the decision to go south was delayed and finally dispensed with, travel south would be by bus. On Xmas Eve day the "course" was bitumen to Brisbane and a welcome by daughter Emily.

Xmas Eve and Xmas Day was a lovely time with Emily and my aunt and uncle, Dot and Neil. Emily was her radiant self and her "new" shared house was lovely.

Life is often a comparative thing. On Boxing Day, Emily was working (selling bikinis in a shop called "Sunburn"!!) so I ventured into the city crowds tantalised by the 50% off. Apparently, I needed a reminder to be back aboard sailing the worlds oceans. I stayed all of thirty minutes before fleeing to the Queensland Art Gallery.

I found utopia.

The Gallery featured a marvellous retrospective of the Australian (and Queenslander) watercolourist and farmer, Kenneth Macqueen (1897-1960). I've long being inspired by his work. I slowly moved from painting to painting revelling in the colour and form of works on his Darling Downs farm and during holidays by the sea.

I hadn't painted on this trip so far, it takes time to absorb the new, organise the processes, settle and start. I was now inspired, it was a marvellous to leave the Gallery feeling again the excitement of creative anticipation.

I could now return replete to the boat and sail south to Brisbane.

It was not to be.

I arrived aboard to the news that heading this way was a low, predicted to become cyclonic, just north of Fraser Island. The irony; didn't I just escape such threats? Is that not why I'm here, deep in southern Queensland, in lovely Tin Can Bay?

The phone rang; a yacht was in trouble off Double Island Point, just south of here. "We just thought.....Had I heard about the cyclone?" I would do the same. It's nice to feel good friendship and relate that all is well.

The Marina manager has just anointed it Category 2, "double the lines, please." As if we need an incentive. The barometer is stationary above 1000 (the pressure level below which officialdom name the "cyclone" and give it a category).

Well, change tack; enjoy the challenge of global warming. Not difficult when in a marina. The only "challenge" is when to leave it. Not for budget sailors, these marinas.

These times give space. There is plenty to fill the slot. I still needed to study the intricate workings of numerous electronic gadgets and computer software.

However, for now the challenge was to become proficient in being ham or amateur radio operator "VK4HBV (Victor, Kilo 4 Hotel, Bravo, Victor)" The words "amateur" or "ham" never had more meaning.

I'd worked to gain this status so I could contact other operators and receive emails anywhere in the world. It was both for safety and a pleasant hobby. I'd enjoyed the study in a completely new field of interest.

However, now was "D" (or "H") day, I had the licence; congratulatory emails signalled that they looked forward to hearing from me.

And it was a rainy, time free day.

There are three of us aboard. Kelly, Ken's wife is aboard after flying in from Cardwell. They'll be aboard till Brisbane. I've still no crew to Sydney as yet.

I'm keen to be in Sydney for the 26th January, Australia Day on the harbour. Oops, Cruisers Code says never set timelines.

Who needs departure times? Tonight the "cyclonic" sunset sky peppered with cumulus, seemed to go against the lowering barometer.

So we had other yachties aboard, engaged in that ritual of friendship unique to cruising, where friends are just doing the same and talk is levelled in a myriad of topics about "messing in boats." Blissfully ignorant of the madder world.

Tomorrow, who knows, the boat is tied down; we'll have a good meal, sleep and be ready for anything.