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.