What Broke

Normally this section is at the bottom of the page and allows us to reflect at the end of each month on what maintenance challenges we have been facing - and to highlight that we (or more accurately, Angus) spend a large amount of time every month just keeping the boat running. In the previous few months, when we have reached this section, we've had a bit of head scratching to think of anything that has gone kaput. Not so this month, when things going twang, snap, squelch and fizz has been the dominant theme. In fact, the first four days of this month were so dreadful that we refused to leave our cabin on the fifth.

The first major disaster hit on the afternoon of New Year's Day, as we tried to raise the anchor. In contrast to volcanic islands where we often anchored in 15m of water, here in Queensland's Great Sandy Straits we generally anchor in closer to 5m and sometimes less. As the chain came on board it became clear that the anchor was well and truly bedded in, but since we were so shallow I decided to just give one more heave on the anchor winch to break it out. Well I broke something…

The not so friendly locals

A rapid redeployment of the anchor, followed by several hours of disassembly of the trusty Goiot windlass revealed a broken part which was inaccessible without some serious engineering clout.

"Luckily" we had learnt how to recover our anchor without an anchor winch back in the Cook Islands in 2007, so decided on 2nd Jan to set off on the trip we had aborted the previous day. Only a few feet of anchor chain had been recovered when an appalling roar from the engine triggered a rapid shut down by Angus. Anchor back down again…

Our newly installed throttle quadrant (the technology which connects steel cables from the engine to the throttle/gear lever in the cockpit) had disagreed with the original cables, one of which snapped triggering full acceleration of our unsuspecting engine.

Angus beavered away through the evening and following morning to jury rig a series of control wires, using steel fishing traces. (Four weeks on, and the jury system is still working so well, we don't know if we should replace it). The forecast for 3rd Jan was pretty dire so we decided we would change anchorages. As we motor-sailed north towards a reportedly favourite yachtie anchorage, "Garry's Anchorage", we were racing a particularly black and threatening squall.

Here it comes..

We arrived at the entrance to the anchorage just as the first fat drops of rain started to fall and the bullets of wind started flying. The advancing squall was accelerating dusk, but we were just passing the channel markers so should safely get the anchor down in the next 10 mins or so. Wrong! The feeling of deceleration as a yacht sails into a shallow shelf of mud is unmistakable. Where the charts predicted a river of 3m, we found nothing but mud, glorious mud. After three groundings, the light was failing fast, and options were limited. Lightning split the sky around us, and torrential rain hammered on the decks. Time to get the anchor down somewhere close, as a return to our original anchorage via the shallow channels which characterise the Straits wasn't an option for us after dark.

Dawn on 4th Jan broke tranquil and still. The strong wind forecast had been cancelled during the night, and the only sounds to break the silence of our anchorage were the snorts of turtles as they surfaced to breathe. Having battled the tide the previous afternoon, we decided to wait for a favourable tide before returning south to our regular anchorage at Pelican Bay. What we failed to anticipate was that the afternoon sea breeze would be opposing the tide, hence could set up a bit of a lumpy sea.

Calm morning at Fig Tree Creek

We set off shortly after lunch, with a gentle breeze and flat seas - hence made the fatal decision to tow our dinghy. After all, we would only be travelling 12 miles… Half way into the trip, a powerful current bullied us southwards into an unexpectedly boisterous and building 25-30k wind, which combined to throw up steep waves which swept across the decks. A glance aft revealed our dinghy dancing in distress as we leapt from crest to trough. A slightly later glance aft revealed a length of rope trailing from the boat, but no dinghy.

Back in Pelican Bay, we dropped the anchor roughly where we had started on 1st Jan and despaired at our woes.

The Good News

A day hiding from the world, and not tempting fate by using any boat systems, and we seem to have broken the jinx that beset us. We resigned ourselves to the fact that all our problems could be fixed with a credit card, so started researching replacement dinghies and anchor winches online.

I was particularly saddened by the loss of our dinghy - it had been given to us by neighbouring cruisers in a marina in Trinidad in 06, and had since proven to be an excellent tender. It even survived being stolen in Opua in 07. We should never have attempted towing it in the conditions we encountered…

Drive Thru' bottle shop

When we received a call from the local coast guard informing us that someone had located our dinghy up in a mangrove tree a couple of days after it's loss, I was almost in tears. A few days later we rendezvoused with Peter up at Fig Tree Creek and passed on a bottle of malt in thanks.

Regarding the purchase of the malt, let me introduce you to one of the oddities of Australian life. Unlike NZ where beer and wine can be bought in supermarkets, in Australia no alcohol is sold in supermarkets. Luckily in most shopping centres or towns, a "bottle shop" is generally located next door to the supermarket. In Tin Can Bay, the small village at the southern end of the Sandy Straits, the bottle shop is part of the local pub, which offers the only "drive thru" off licence I have ever seen. Drive up in your truck, purchase your cold beers and drive on.

Back to work

The remainder of this month can best be described as Angus succinctly wrote in our daily log book: "Sand, scrape, chip, repeat". Yes, we are in full on maintenance mode, tackling the biggest job for this season - the repaint of the decks. I'll spare you the grim details of hours attached to a drill grinding off 25 year old glue, chipping dodgy rusty bits, and reapplying gallons of extortionately priced paints. Suffice to say that we are probably half way through, and are happy with progress.

Layer, by layer, by layer - Do It revitalised

The longer we spend in Australia, the more we come to realise that there is a disconnect between the stringent governmental rules and regulations and helpful, friendly individuals we meet. A classic example is that of GST (or VAT to the British). As a visiting yacht, we should be able to purchase goods without paying this tax - but the accounting overheads are so great that small businesses will not support the system. Interestingly, certain marinas frequented by many foreign yachts do host chandlers who offer GST free purchases - however their prices work out more expensive than other chandlers who charge GST. Guess their prices are not "profit free".

Trying to find deep water, the traditional way

And another thing….. the battery on our EPIRB needs to be replaced, a service offered by one authorised dealer for $850, yet it is possible to buy a completely new unit for $799. How does that work?? Thankfully we discovered another dealer offering the same service for $400.

And finally…

Culinary delights

Following on from our fabulous mangoes in Brisbane… I was amused to hear on local radio that the monster harvest of mangoes this year has been causing problems for the waste disposal operatives. Local residents have been disposing of around 60 windfall mangoes a day, resulting in wheelie bins full of mangoes, weighing around 70kg - too heavy for collection. I'm sure we could take care of a few kilos.

Finish the deck painting - once the monsoon passes, and hopefully sneak back to Brisbane for a spot of R&R