7 October

Mooloolaba to Southport

At dinner last night, Leon suggested that Alan sail with me to Southport.  Sailing solo, I hadn’t considered doing the 88 mile trip outside Moreton Island, simply because of the distance and long day involved.  However, he was happy to come along and going two up made the whole idea very attractive, particularly since the forecast 20+ knot northerly winds would make for a fast trip.

We left the marina at 5.30, another early start for another long day.  For the first time I rounded Cape Moreton in daylight, and decided it’s not as bad as I’d imagined on my previous night time transits.  The passage down the coast was fast.  With winds up to about 23 knots from the north east and a current that helped with at least a knot all day, we averaged 8.5 knots with the headsail poled out, and made the Southport Seaway by 4pm.  I owe both Alan and Leon my thanks for helping me get to Southport so much earlier than expected.

This will be my last post for a while.  I’m flying home to Sydney this week and will be back at work next Monday.  The boat will stay here in Southport for a few more weeks until weather conditions make it attractive for a quick delivery down the NSW coast.  I'll spend a couple of days here tidying the boat up and preparing myself for the transition back to a different, new life.  

By a remarkable coincidence, Gypsy Princess is berthed next to another Catalina 400, hull number 236 – Pole Dancer.  They make a great looking pair.

Gypsy Princess and her sister yacht, Pole Dancer, in Southport together

My adventure is all but ended.  I’ll write a proper ending to this blog when the Gypsy is safely back in her own pen at the Alfreds, hopefully next month.  Until then, safe travels.

6 October

Great Sandy Strait to Mooloolaba

Weather conditions for this morning were forecast to be quite calm, and there was minimal tidal flow.  So, Nirvana’s Kitchen, Mix’d Nutz and I planned leaving the anchorage shortly after 6am to cross the Wide Bay Bar and head 60 miles south to Mooloolaba.  The other three boats decided they’re too far away to make the same crossing, and were unhappy in any case with today's forecast of mild south easterly winds, so are staying put.

I set my phone’s alarm for 5.30am but was screwed by technology that isn’t as smart as it thinks it is.  It turns out that daylight saving started today in NSW.  My dear phone, thinking it’s a NSW resident, dutifully set itself forward the required hour and woke me at 5.30 NSW time – 4.30 Queensland time.  I woke still feeling tired and wondering somewhere in the back of my head why it was so dark outside.  This confusion was made worse when I saw the clock on the saloon bulkhead telling me it was 4.30.  After a few more seconds the explanation came to me, but by then I was dressed and wide awake (though tired).  As a final insult, the phone obviously figured out it wasn’t in NSW during the course of the morning and reset its time to Queensland Standard.

After all this, I lifted my anchor 30 minutes early, along with the others, and we made our way out across the bar.  This was a far more relaxed crossing than the hair raiser I experienced coming north back in June.  We had an early sou-west wind that carried us out to Double Island Point and then the forecast sou-easter and flat seas made for a rather enjoyable motor sail down to Mooloolaba. 

We made the harbour entrance by 3pm.  For dinner we walked down the road for a thai-ish restaurant where we met up with some other Club members who now live in Mooloolaba, Sue and Alan who own the 46 foot Beneteau Super Tramp.  

Tomorrow I’ll be heading for Southport, Mix’d Nutz will begin making its way south to Moreton Bay and Leon will await the arrival of a friend of his to deliver Nirvana’s Kitchen back to Pittwater.  We’re all going our separate ways and so, for me, this marks the end of the Club’s cruise.  A very poignant moment.

5 October

Bundaberg to Elbow Point, Great Sandy Strait

I intend to sail solo to Southport, although I’ll have the other boats as company as far south as Mooloolaba.  My plan comprises a series of day hops: firstly from Bundaberg to the protection of the Great Sandy Strait, a day spent travelling the Straits, then a day at sea to Mooloolaba, then to Moreton Bay, then a couple of days through the inland waterway to Southport.  All up I expect to take six days to make the trip. 

All six Club boats had agreed to leave Bundaberg this morning at 6am – sunrise – and sail the 55 miles to Fraser Island in company.  I’d like to record the kindness expressed by all the other crews in offering me any assistance they could give, including with my mooring lines and by sticking close by down the coast.  After all these months together it feels like we’re family, and I couldn’t be more appreciative.

Since the Gypsy is slightly slower than Nirvana’s Kitchen and the three cats, I left the marina soon after 5.30 with the intention of not letting those other boats get too far ahead throughout the day, or of causing them to slow down to keep pace with me.  In the event, the trip was deep downwind, which suits us more than any of the others, and no-one caught us. 

The waters of the Great Barrier Reef have been my home for the past four months.  I’ve sailed, swum, rowed and gazed on them and they’ve never been anything less than stunningly beautiful (well, maybe there were a couple of days when they weren’t so kind, but I’ll allow them that).  It was with real sadness that I left them today. 

With wind and current pushing us along we averaged 7.5 knots all day.  Before midday Leon contacted all the boats to discuss pushing on further than planned, initially to Garry’s Anchorage and then, later, all the way to the bottom of the Straits.  Gypsy Princess, Nirvana’s Kitchen and Mix’d Nutz were the lead boats with the others a few miles back.  I was happy to do extra miles since it gave me the possibility of getting to Southport a day earlier.  So, I drove the boat harder, motor sailing under the headsail and riding the incoming tide.  We went through the shallow waters at Sheridan Flats right on high tide, and had the benefit of riding the falling tide on the other side, so keeping the speed well up.

I made Elbow Point at the southern end of Fraser Island just before 4.30pm, pretty tired but happy and satisfied after doing 80 miles.  It was a good day’s motor sailing in perfect conditions.  Nirvana’s Kitchen and Mix’d Nutz are here with me but the other three boats are a couple of hours back up the Straits in Garry’s Anchorage.

1 – 4 October

Bundaberg

Completely unplanned and unexpectedly, I’m in Bundaberg for the final Rendezvous of this cruise.  We’re in company with five other Club boats – Nirvana’s Kitchen, Heaven’s Gate, Seas the Moment, Mix’d Nutz and Wisky Business.  The mood amongst the group is decidedly set on getting home to Pittwater, and we’re all looking for the weather window that will let us make the next jump south to Mooloolaba or Southport.  

The highlight of the stay was the Rendezvous function itself which started at the Kalki Moon Rum and Gin distillery before heading off for a café lunch.  Kalki Moon began when the former master distiller at Bundaberg Rum, Rick Prosser, decided to strike out and begin his own rum distillery.  To generate cash flow while his rum production sat maturing, he began making gin which has a very fast production cycle.  His gin has won a series of awards here and overseas and his first rum is due to come out of the barrels next year.  His output is small, coming out of a tiny copper pot still and with bottling done manually.  However he appears to be dedicated to quality, and everything we tasted was superb - very different from the mass production and exaggerated claims made by his competition down the road.  I hope he succeeds. 

We surprised everyone with the amount of fun we had during the morning’s tour and tastings.  Leon handed Rick a signed Gin Pennant which is now hopefully hanging somewhere on the premises.

An unsavoury bunch of itinerants - Leon, Jim, Greg and Bill waiting for a pickup from the car rental agency

The Kalki Moon Distillery with owner Rick and his mother - the epitome of a small, family-owned startup business.  Their entire two year production of rum can be seen maturing in the barrels stacked against the wall.

The Final Rendezvous - Gypsy Princess, Heaven's Gate, Mix'd Nutz, Nirvana's Kitchen, Seas the Moment and Wisky Business, with Rick Prosser and his Mum

Vivienne has headed home after two weeks with me.  We’ve covered 385 miles together over a very busy 11 days on the water – the furthest any of my crews have done.  We only allowed ourselves one double night stay, at Middle Percy, and had several 12 hour days to get through the miles.  In the process we’ve also had some fantastic days of fast sailing.  It’s been a very satisfying and enjoyable time.

Vivienne's farewell from Bundaberg

30 September

Pancake Creek to Bundaberg

We lifted the anchor at 6am to make the 65 mile run down to Bundaberg.  This is the southern most stop for us in the Great Barrier Reef, and it feels to me to mark the end of the cruise, in the same way as it marked the beginning of the cruising part of my adventure on the way north. 

We’ve been making use of a favourable weather window for the past few days, providing us with 10-15 knot northerly winds for a fast and very pleasant sail down the coast.  We’ve known for a while that southerlies are forecast to return tomorrow, as do the dozen other cruising boats all making their way to Bundaberg today. 

I used this one last opportunity to put the spinnaker up, which we held until the wind built up to the high teens.  Dolphins returned in large numbers, and stayed for over half an hour (which wasn't quite long enough for me to figure out and fix the problem my Go Pro camera was having with its memory card).  

I finally managed this one shot of a dolphin with my SLR camera

The boat broached under auto helm just as I went forward to drop the spinnaker, providing another lesson – never trust the autohelm with the spinnaker up in 20 knots.  All in all, today was a lovely day’s sail. 

Speed was up on expectations again and we found ourselves entering the marina early, right on a low tide of 0.1 meters.  That appeared to be inadequate even for the Gypsy’s shallow draft, with the result that multiple depth alarms started going off as I entered the marina fairway.  That’s a perfect way to break one’s concentration.  To kill an hour and let the tide rise a bit we went for a mini cruise up the Burnett River before finally putting the boat into its pen.  The alarms still went off but this time I was ready for them and I knew we’d be ok.

Winds will be strong from the south until Friday or Saturday.  Bundaberg Port Marina will be our home until then.

29 September

Gladstone to Pancake Creek

There are precious few anchorages between Gladstone and Bundaberg that can cater to a northerly wind.  We chose to use Pancake Creek tonight, an anchorage I’m familiar with from our trip north.  The rest of the cruising fleet have remained at Great Keppel for the last few days, and faced a 67 mile stretch today to get to the same destination as us.  We of course were much further south and had only a 30 mile leg, after a visit to the Gladstone marina for a fuel stop.  

Gypsy Princess at the Gladstone Harbour fuel wharf

If you're in any doubt, here's what Australia's prosperity looks like

With almost 3 knots of favourable current down the shipping channel and a good north easterly breeze we were doing 9-10 knots and made a very quick trip of it.  That meant we got to the entrance of Pancake Creek much earlier than planned, just before a very low tide.  With wind against tide the entrance to the creek was like a cauldron, and I only went in after another boat went first and called the depths to me as he went.  We anchored just inside, in a patch of deep water, and waited for the tide to rise a little before I went into the shallower and more protected part of the anchorage.  We were settled by sunset and had a surprisingly quiet night of it.  The only sound was the dull hum of the wind and that of the current running past the hull.  For us, it was a still night.  

Nirvana’s Kitchen and Seas the Moment both anchored in the creek’s outer pond, lacking any real protection from the northerly swell.  They both suffered appalling rolling.  Leon has since described it to me as being the worst anchorage of his entire life, forcing him (amongst other things) to put towels in his cupboards to prevent his crockery from breaking.  Seas the Moment dragged its anchor and at midnight they decided to quit the anchorage completely and make the passage to Bundaberg overnight.

28 September

The Narrows to Gladstone

The Narrows.  I'd pored over this bit of territory for a long time back home, imagining what it would be like.  Here we were about to tackle it for real.

The variation between high and low tides in this part of the world can exceed 5 meters.  In addition, the channel between Curtis Island and the mainland is both extremely narrow and extremely shallow.  So shallow in fact that at low tide it dries for over six miles of its length and, in parts, can be up to 2 meters above sea level.  Technically then, Curtis Island perhaps isn’t really an island at all.  The parts that dry are simply absorbed into farmlands.  The navigation charts show those sections coloured green, always a sign to stay clear.  We treat green zones as pretty much the same as dry land.  Much better to stay in the blue sections, where boats tend to stay afloat.

This morning, at high tide, we ran The Narrows along with the six other boats that were anchored nearby.  There was a flurry of activity on each boat around 7.30am, with all of us lifting our anchors within a few minutes of each other.  I was happy to let some of the other boats lead, particularly one with a deeper draft then me.  By agreement we were all monitoring the same VHF channel and the lead boat, a shallow drafted power boat, kept calling depths to the rest of us.  In the end we got through without any problems, always having three quarters of a meter or more of water under our keel.  It made for an absolutely delightful 90 minutes of motoring as we travelled through mangrove forests and farmland.  This is a piece of Australia that almost no one sees, or even knows exists, and can only be accessed by boat.

The procession of seven boats through The Narrows.  This is a section that dries at low tide.

Alert but not alarmed - we were less than a boat length off the shore in many places but it was a lot of fun

At low tide it must be incongruous to see this navigation mark sitting on dry land next to stock fencing

Just for fun - here's the chart plotter showing us crossing one of the smaller green patches along the route

Fully kitted up.  As well as the normal chartplotter and other boat's navigation equipment I add a tablet running its own chart plotting app to give me additional detailed information.  Modern tech makes a whole world of difference.

The Narrows brought us into Gladstone which, from the water, is simply ugly.  Coal loaders, LNG terminals, aluminium smelters, a power station and other heavy industrial centres run literally for miles along its waterfront.  It’s incongruous that this could exist in the Barrier Reef which, for the past four months, has shown me nothing but beauty.  This is the reality of what makes Australia an affluent nation, hidden away from the view of most of the population.

One of the LNG plants

A couple of coal ships

We were in our anchorage before 10am, in a protected piece of water surrounded by an island archipelago opposite Gladstone Harbour.  From there we could see the full expanse of the industrial complex.  It actually became attractive by night once it all lit up.  The day proved to be quite relaxing and a useful break from the business of travel.

Gladstone at night, from our anchorage

27 September

Great Keppel Island to Curtis Island

Last night was comfortable enough in the anchorage.  I’m still focussed on combining each day’s tidal and updated weather information to produce the best plan to get us to Bundaberg.  A new possibility presented itself this morning, that is to leave today and travel to the inside of Curtis Island, then to travel through “The Narrows” into Gladstone.  Based on the latest forecasts, that will minimise the distances we have to travel in single day hops and allow us to use northerly winds for the longer passages that we can’t avoid.  I made a quick visit to Nirvana’s Kitchen to discuss my plans with Leon where, very happily, Nirvana offered me a rather lovely chocolate milkshake.  So nice to have a big enough freezer to keep icecream.

So, it turned out that rather than having a full day of leisure on Great Keppel we agreed to leave immediately and cover the short 25 miles to just inside the passage between Curtis Island and the mainland.  This little leg had us crossing the Tropic of Capricorn, so I’ve now technically left the tropics behind me.  Somewhat strangely, the water around this part of Curtis Island is chocolate brown, presumably from the mud washed down by a couple of large rivers emptying out into the coast here.  Such a contrast from the water in our anchorage last night, which was so clear we could see down through five meters to individual starfish and sea cucumbers sitting on the bottom.  I made a point of getting a photograph of the chart plotter as we crossed the line (at least where it is now, since it’s continually moving northwards).

If my calculations are correct, here's us crossing the Tropic of Capricorn.  This display layout has been my constant companion for the last few months.  Great Keppel Island is clear immediately to our north, with Curtis Island closer to our south east.

The water here at the Tropic of Capricorn is very muddy.  Curtis Island in the background.

Once we’d entered the channel I got to see my first dugong, albeit so briefly.  We also came across the yacht “Synergy” which I’d previously seen and been invited aboard back in Happy Bay in the Whitsundays.  Bill and Margurite had just lifted their anchor to make the same run we were doing, having waited for a good tidal current behind them.  Their Catalina 42 and my extremely similar Catalina 400 sailed side by side for over eight miles to our joint anchorage.  It must have made for a beautiful sight.  Along the way we passed Barker Creek, an offshoot from the main channel.  Barker Creek.  Now that's a name I've not heard in a long time.  

"Synergy" sailing abeam of us down the channel inside Curtis Island - almost indistinguishable from Gypsy Princess

Barker Creek.  Now I guess I know where it is when someone mentions they're "up Barker Creek".

Travelling down the main waterway inside Curtis Island

We found another five boats already at the anchorage, presumably all planning the same passage as us for tomorrow – through The Narrows.

Another sunset at the last anchorage before the serious part of The Narrows begins

26 September

Port Clinton to Great Keppel Island

The wind had some north in it again today and we had another simply wonderful, fast sail down to Great Keppel Island.  I’ve been looking forward to returning to Great Keppel Island after it gave us such an enjoyable time on the way north.  

We anchored off the old resort, along with perhaps 30-40 other boats, all sheltering from the easterly winds.  There’s a distinct swell coming around the northern side of the island.  Not as bad as we suffered on Middle Percy, but enough to cause some uncomfortable rolling.  I’ve discovered that if I sleep at right angles to the centreline of the boat then the effects of the rolling are largely mitigated.  This is a very useful discovery.

I’m at the stage now where I’m trying to plan the last days of the cruise.  I’ve set a target of being back in Sydney by 12^th October, and returning to work on the 14^th.  It’s looking unlikely I’ll get the boat back home by then.  At the very least I’d like to have it in Southport from where I can retrieve it at short notice over three days.  The weather now becomes the critical factor in planning.  I still have four significantly exposed southwards sections to complete - from here at Great Keppel to Bundaberg, Bundaberg to Fraser Island, into open ocean to Mooloolaba and then Moreton Bay.  I can go through the inland waterway between Moreton Bay and Southport in complete calm, which will simplify things considerably.

25 September

Middle Percy Island to Port Clinton

Swell got into West Bay last night and, in the absence of any wind to keep us pointed in the right direction, the boat rolled pretty unpleasantly.  Sleep was in short supply and we were both awake by 5am - we could see no reason to stay beyond sunrise so we were off shortly after 5.30.

Our plan was to sail to High Peak Island, about 35 miles to the south east of the Percys.  It’s sufficiently far to the east that I’d thought it would set us up for largely southerly passages for the next few days.  In the event our early start combined with a great 12 knot nor-easterly wind had us approaching High Peak Island soon after 10am.  It became clear that we could turn south and make a run for Island Head Creek, a further 23 miles to the south.  We maintained over 7 knots of speed and ate up that extra distance in three more hours, so changed our minds again and went another 14 miles to Port Clinton.  We ended up covering 65 miles in a bit under 12 hours – a long but very good day of fast sailing and largely without engine assist.  Two hours spent fighting against a 2 knot counter current late in the day was the only thing preventing us from posting a better running time.

Port Clinton is an excellent anchorage.  It’s a massive body of water, most of which isn’t navigable, but there’s room inside for many boats in very safe and comfortable conditions.  This is inside the Shoalwater military area, which we had to push through quickly three months ago on our way north to avoid a large live firing exercise.  Fortunately, no such problems this time.

A breaching whale not too far off the boat today

23 - 24 September

Double Island to Middle Percy Island

We’ve been continually on the go for the past three days.  While it’s been productive (we’ve covered almost 100 miles to Double Island) we do need to take time to enjoy this as a cruise.  Today’s destination will do very nicely.  It’s only 30 miles to Middle Percy Island and the winds came into the north for a fast and pleasant sail.

Of course, Middle Percy was one of the standout locations on our way north, when I visited with Spencer almost exactly three months ago (25 June)!  So long ago, and not very long ago.  So much has happened since then.

We had a double night here and spent much of the free day up at the homestead, chatting with and being entertained by Cate and John.  They’re looking at finally giving up the island next year, which will really be the end of an era.  I guess a lot of cruising yachties will be hoping that someone can be found to take over the lease who has a real sensibility for what Middle Percy is all about.  That won’t be easy.

John found an antique photo hidden in the A-frame, and Cate has asked us to bring it back to Sydney to see if we can have it identified.  I’m very happy to include it in the Gypsy’s manifest.  We also met Ernst, a 12-year resident of the island, originally from Germany but who’s lived in Australia for over 30 years.  He gets around the island looking pretty fearsome, with sandals and a back pack rigged with a water bottle and a pair of machetes.  He was cooking a communal goat stew down at the A-frame this evening, but we were worn out to the point where we had a quiet evening on board instead.

A final sunset at Middle Percy

22 September

Brampton Island to Double Island

Today was to be a reasonably long leg – 49 miles heading almost directly into the prevailing wind.  There aren’t many island anchorages along this stretch, and even fewer that can cope with both easterly and sou-easterly winds that we’re being subjected to now.  Double Island is listed in the cruising guides as being suitable, in spite of the fact that it looks on the charts to be just an exposed pair of rocks in the ocean.  It’s obviously such a little used anchorage that even the radio operator at Whitsunday Coast Guard appeared to have not heard of it.  I admit to feeling some trepidation in my decision to continue out there. 

It was an early start from Brampton Island, to take advantage of a couple of hours of relative calm before the 10-15 knots of headwind was forecast to come in.  We put the trolling lines out, and hooked an undersize, 50cm spotted mackerel, which went back into the water.  Shortly afterwards I managed to hook something completely different – a big, 110cm spanish mackerel.  It probably cost us half an hour as we slowed the boat down to get it on board, fillet it and clean everything up.  But we ended up with eight big steaks from it, each enough for a meal for two people.  We rearranged the freezer and somehow managed to stuff most of it in there.  I really doubt this is relevant, but I was wearing the same shirt as when I caught the tuna a few months ago on our first day out of Bundaberg.  Spooky, huh?

This could be the biggest fish I ever catch!

The rest of the trip was quiet.  We were both pretty tired at the end of the day, but the anchorage looks quite good and it is certainly attractive.  We’re at the northern end of the larger of the two islands that make up Double Island, with a pretty little beach surrounded by rock walls extending out into the water.  The second, much smaller island is separated from the first by a narrow channel that is barred by a coral reef, so providing protection from the worst of the swell that we can see just outside.

Starting to look like the Old Man of the Sea?

Double Island sunset

Of course, we had fish for dinner tonight, cooked in butter and soy sauce.  A great meal.

21 September

Cid Harbour to Brampton Island

There’s no foreseeable sign of any northerly winds, but the 10-15 knot east/sou-easterly winds we’re getting aren’t too awful.  It means we have to motor sail, with just the main up, pinching up as far into the wind as we can get while still getting useful drive out of the sail.  We managed to get 40 miles under our belt, over a long day.  The 1,000 miles from Airlie Beach to Newport seems like a long way (‘cause it is a long way), but every day like today nibbles away at it.

It ended up being a bit of an uneventful slog, with some excellent sailing thrown in at various points along the way.  We reached Brampton Island shortly before sunset and were quickly settled.  Having waypoints marked on the chartplotter at each point I’ve previously dropped the anchor is proving to be of immense value.  At places and times like this I can simply come straight to the same, or at least a similar, point and drop again without having to spend many minutes checking the bottom contours.

One minor regret I have is not being able to visit Thomas Island.  This had been something of an ideal for me through all the planning for this cruise.  It had come somehow to embody the idea of reaching the Whitsundays.  Of course, I did get the anchor down at Thomas on the way north, but the 8 Riviera motor cruisers occupying the small anchorage put a quick end to that.  So, a visit to Thomas Island remains on the list of things to do some time in the future.

20 September

Airlie Beach to Cid Harbour

Viv arrived in town yesterday, a refugee from the horrible weather Sydney has been having recently.  Up here it’s warm, sunny and beautiful.  The afternoon was spent in the usual final arrangements – provisioning, stowing and getting prepared for the coming couple of weeks living on a boat.

This morning started early for me – awake at 4.30 so that I could get an engine service done.  The last one took over six hours and left me exhausted, but the many advantages of doing the work in the Airlie Beach marina outweighed all the misgivings I had.  So, I began pumping oil out of the engine on the dot of 5am, and had two fuel filters, an oil filter, a raw water pump impellor and engine and gear box oil all replaced before 9.  Next time should be faster (hah! next time I think I’ll ask a mechanic to do it, and not give myself such a workout).  Disposing of the old oil, filters, rags and assorted garbage rounded out the job.  Next was a walk into town to pick up some shirts, then a top up of the water and fuel tanks, and we were out of the marina by 12.30.  I guess I was already exhausted, and a trip to Sorrentos Bar on the marina would have probably been more attractive if anyone had asked me.

The Coral Sea Marina fuel wharf

My original plans of making a solid southward jump on the first day clearly didn’t materialise.  Instead we made a very straightforward crossing to Cid Harbour for what would be my final night in the Whitsunday Passage on this cruise.  I was able to drop the anchor on precisely the same spot I’ve used so many previous times on this cruise.  I’ve visited here with David and Anne, Celeste, John, Mike and Susan and now Viv.  So, a nice way to end my wonderful time in the Whitsundays in 2019, finally feeling I’ve become part of the place I fell in love with 33 years ago.

This guy swam past us, less than a metre off our stern

16 September

Long Island to Airlie Beach

We started the day with a 3km walk around the northern end of the island.  In spite of all the signs on the beach warning us against trespassing on the resort grounds, the end of the walk brought us straight back through its buildings.  We didn’t feel at all bad about looking around.

The resort's old jetty, damaged and torn loose by Debbie - now just scrap metal?

Amazing to continue to see abandoned infrastructure

The resort is actually quite attractive

The final stretch back to Airlie was a downwind motor sail.  I know the end of a holiday is filled with lots of mixed feelings.  However the final sight of the Whitsunday Passage as we made the turn inside Pioneer Rock was so perfect today I’m happy that Mike and Susan have had the very best send off I could have given them.

We’ve covered 85 miles over the last week.  The Whitsundays have had their best face on for almost the entire time.  I’ve enjoyed the week cruising back in the islands and am so happy I could have Mike and Susan here enjoying it with me.

15 September

Haslewood Island to Long Island

Another lovely morning today.  Since that last day on Hamilton Island, when it was gusting at close to 40 knots, the weather has been essentially Whitsundays perfect. 

This week has disappeared in the blink of an eye.  Tomorrow we head back to Airlie Beach for the end of another leg.  For the final night I wanted to find an anchorage closer to port, and that gave me a chance I’d been looking for to return to Long Island.  This is another place I haven’t visited in over 20 years – I guess it’s not one of those iconic Whitsundays locations.  It was once a key stop for bareboaters in the days when all the charter companies were based nearby in Shute Harbour.  The island also hosted a popular under-35s resort that went by many names during the time I knew it – Whitsunday 100, Club Crocodile, Con Tiki, Long Island.  Of course it’s closed now.  My guess is that a resort that caters to increasingly more budget markets eventually runs out of enough cash to renew its infrastructure and simply dies in a downwards revenue spiral.

We were presented with the opportunity of sailing from the outer, most eastern anchorage to one of the innermost islands, with the apparent wind largely on our beam, in flat water and under a clear sky.  I’d been hoping for such conditions especially to give Mike a great sail.  We took the long, eastern way around Haslewood and then south of Hamilton Island to minimise the time the engine was running, and took around five hours to cover the 25 miles involved. 

I’ll mention here a sight that provided another sad indication of the level of skill of some bareboaters (bear in mind I didn’t say all bareboaters).  When we came around Haslewood we could just make out what appeared to be the stern of a large catamaran, many miles ahead of us.  We were doing maybe 6 knots in 10-12 knots of true wind, but we seemed to be coming up very quickly on the cat.  In the course of traversing the southern shore of Whitsunday Island we caught, passed and left it miles in our wake, until we could hardly see it.  They simply didn’t know the most basic principles of sail.  Our sails were trimmed for a very easy beam reach while theirs were hard on.  Maybe they thought sheets are like a throttle – the more they’re wound on the faster you go.  Even the sight of us surging past them didn’t seem to make them think something was wrong.  There’ll be many people who accuse me of being rude and picky but it’s tragic that, like so much else, attention to the skills of seamanship are so readily dismissed simply to get guests out onto boats and to collect their money.  In a broader assessment, I’d argue this is a foundational cause of what one of the Hammo staff described to me as the not uncommon occurrence of bareboats being put up onto reefs. 

OK, in the words of Forrest Gump, that’s all I have to say about that (hope I never end up on a reef now!)

We let go the anchor, snugged well up into the surrounding reef in Happy Bay, and Mike and I went ashore to have a quick look around the shuttered resort.  Dinner tonight was a BBQ accompanied by a sparkling shiraz and, for the first time I think on the entire cruise, we ate dinner up on deck.