And finally another blog… I guess I haven’t written as I want to save my readers from the boredom and tedium of simply sailing south. Perhaps it isn’t that bad. Let’s see what I can salvage of interest, from the days gone by that seem to blur together...

My last blog had us at Cid Harbour for our last night in the Whitsunday’s proper, and we left at 0600 and made our way past Hamilton Island (and its strong currents/standing up waves) and headed south. Our next stop was Scawfell Island, but the conditions weren’t conducive to getting that far, so we ended up at Brampton Island. It was only for the night so we didn’t go ashore. Another island where the resort has closed down, leaving an eerie ghost town atmosphere.

We raised anchor at 0640 next morning and headed for Curlew Island, arriving at 1545 after an uneventful day, except for observing (and smelling) the orange slick on the water. We have believed at different times that this was either algae or coral spawn, but the sheer volume of this sludge over mile after mile eventually convinced us it had to be some sort of algae. This has since been confirmed. Apparently the water is too warm at the moment and the algae, which varies in colour from saffron through orange to brown to a marble green, is spreading out of control. Some photos we’ve posted on facebook show us making a track through the soupy scum. And the smell starts to get to you after a while.

Entry to the anchorage at Curlew Island was through a narrow channel between a rocky headland and an extensive sandbank. We used our new visual navigation skills to get in safely, with the Skipper battling against a strong current that wanted to sweep us into the sandbank. We spent a bit of time anchoring, knowing the weather was going to keep us holed up for a few days. It was rolly and current-cursed, but the holding was good and it was protected… from the direction the wind was supposed to blow from. It persisted in blowing from the east when it was supposed to be south east. There was another boat, a yellow catamaran, already anchored. We met the owners, a charming couple called Pat and Margaret (and their dog Boo), on the beach. The boat, Mara, is a Crowther 35’ foot cat extended to 37’, and like a stretched out version of Echo II, our old boat (even the same original colour). Of course, we ended up there (twice) for drinks over the next couple of days, finding Pat and Margaret great company and very welcoming hosts. The boat had a very familiar, comfortable feel and we could see the appeal it held for them. Previous owners had circumnavigated the world. Mara is making her way south to her home port of Tin Can Bay, albeit at a slightly more relaxed pace!
When weather just allowed, we left Curlew and jounced our way through restless (‘Don’t tell me their calming!’) seas to Hunter Island. It was a long day covering many more miles than the crow would have flown. I had to think of Lee on Cooinda and her five tack rule. How I wish I could have enforced that! We tacked all bloody day… Hunter Island was a welcome sight and the anchorage (‘N’ in the Curtis Coast book) as flat and sensational, the only truly roll-free anchorage we’ve had on a Qld island. The island was once used for cattle grazing, but little sign of that these days other than a rusting tin shed surrounded by long grass, and a mostly illegible Keep Out sign. A good beach for combing, too, with ours the first footprints for the day. There’s something quite special about stepping onto a ‘virgin’ beach.

We almost didn’t leave Hunter Island, on discovering we were only anchored in 2.5m of water the next morning – and of course the anchor was in shallower water than that. We’re pretty sure we draw 2.2m, so there was a moment there of not so carefully disguised panic. We all concentrated on being as light as a feather (hard to do when you’ve been living on a starchy carbohydrate diet for the last few months) as we slowly pulled up the anchor. We all breathed a sigh of relief when the anchor came up and we hadn’t touched the bottom. Then we got the hell out of there before we did.

From Hunter Island we intended to go to Island Head Creek, a delightful, sheltered anchorage with dugongs, turtles, dolphins, crocodiles – all the natural attractions in an unspoilt, uninhabited area. We had spent a lovely time here in 2007 and were looking forward to returning. From a long way off we could see a hazy horizon which soon resolved itself into a huge white plume of smoke, coming from the general vicinity of Island Head Creek. I called up Coast Guard Thirsty Sound:

‘Ah, we’re a few miles north and hoping to enter Island Head Creek. Just calling to find out if there are any military exercises or major bushfires in the area we should know about?’

‘Thank you for your call. Island Head Creek is currently unavailable.’

So much for rekindling our memories. We headed further down the coast (which made for a very long day at sea) interested to see the fire front coming over the mountain in a long smoky line. A little later a 'Securite' announcement on the radio reported military exercises in the area – flare testing – meaning the area would be closed for a few days. Perhaps the guys were a little enthusiastic with their flare testing? We sailed past Pearl Bay and into Port Clinton, laying the anchor just as the sun set in the rich shades of crimson, red and orange that you only get with smoke in the air.

We were out of Port Clinton by 0545. (I know, some of you can’t BELIEVE the hours I’m keeping, but I must point out they don’t have Daylight Savings up here, so it was NSW time 0645 … which is still early for me.) The sea was glassy with a slight swell, and 5 knots of wind, so we motored for the morning with a current giving us an average speed of 7.5 knots all the way to Rosslyn Bay – Keppel Bay Marina. Symphony entered the marina at 1205 in brilliant conditions and I still managed to &%*& up the pen entry by not catching the first cleat with the line on the mid cleat on my first attempt and thereby sending us hurtling out of control towards the boat in the pen next to us. (Any attempt to use reverse sends us madly prop-walking sideways to port.) I managed to get the line on the cleat eventually (with a heroic throw, I’d just like to point out) but not before tempers were lost. Fortunately, no actual physical damage done. We didn’t touch anything. My pride was in tatters, though. A woman along the way came to our rescue and took a bow line and helped us get some control. I don’t know. Ropes and I just don’t get along. I don’t think we’ll be going to any more marinas. Ever again.

Anyway!! Jamie was thrilled to be in a marina once again, and our first stop was the laundry – or should I say – laundries. Before we even got there, Jamie had reported that Rosslyn Bay had not one but two laundries, both with two washing machines and two dryers. He remembered this from 2007. I didn’t even remember there had been two laundries, let alone the configuration. He was right. Of course. We got three loads of washing done and were lucky enough to get the courtesy car from 3-5pm, so raced into the shops to do a HUGE provisioning run. I was stocking up just in case. (Did I mention I am banned from marinas?) Don’t want to run out of chocolate, coffee or nice cheese in the foreseeable future.

The marina restaurant was fully booked, being a Saturday, so we walked across the point to a place called Beaches Bistro. Thinking it was going to be a bistro. You know, where you line up and order your meal and get a beeper for when it’s ready? Nope. Beaches Bistro is a restaurant. White table cloths and high ceilings and palm trees and all. Nice place! Also booked out. So they made us a pizza to take away, and we ate it at the picnic tables at the marina, close to the sign which warned patrons to beware the venomous snake recently frequenting the area.

Washing done, shopping and refuelling done, nothing to do but leave.
After a little sleep in, and fond goodbyes to the laundries, we headed out of the marina – no problems there. That’s always pretty problem free. A few miles later we made our way through algae soup to the pristine shores of Great Keppel Island. We anchored with dozens of other weekenders and headed to shore in the dinghy, to spend a delightful couple of hours wandering around the beach and foreshore. The resort is closed – has been for a number of years. A bit sad looking but there are lots of things happening at the northern end of the island, with a new bistro (a real one, this time) a pizza place, gift shops and some water sports hire places. We had ice creams and chocolate brownies and I got a stubby cooler to replace the Great Keppel one I lost in the Louisiades, before heading back along the gorgeous white beach to have a swim. All too soon it was time to leave. Just when we were really enjoying it. It was almost like a holiday!

From Great Keppel we sailed 25-odd miles to Hummocky Island, somewhere we stayed on the way up, but with the wind blowing from the NE we are anchored on the southern side. Some time later this evening we are going to up anchor and sail down to Fitzroy Reef, where we hope to spend the day tomorrow, if conditions remain good and there’s room to anchor in the lagoon. Plan B is Lady Musgrave. Life is tough.