Rock and Roll

Today we left the rolling Turtle Bay, East Walabi Island in the Abrolhos. Destination Shark Bay. The forecast was good which was pleasing. Little did we know!

We got up about 6am to start the preparations for a 36 hour sail. We had spent a turbulent night rolling about with the wind singing (or should that be screaming?) in the rigging. Fortunatley we were on a mooring and I had rigged two mooring lines to it as I'm a bit of a 'belt and braces' kinda guy. Just as well really as one of the ropes had been taking most of the strain of the weight and had frayed almost to breaking point. Yet another item to add to the shopping list for the chandlery!

As if in unison and without communication, all three yachts shed their restricting mooring ropes and turned to face the north. Following the lead lines out of Turtle Bay we unfurled the genoa to take advantage of the tail winds off the starboard quarter. No complicated wing on wing... just the genoa for simplicity. The forecast was for 20-25 knot SW winds, moderating to the east and easing to 15 knots. A sailors best wishes includes the simple phrase about 'a following breeze' and this is what we saw on the charts. They all agreed. The internet had spoken. BoM, Seabreeze and GRIB were definitive. We were good to go!

As with all adventures, it was an easy start, still faced with the rolling swell, but calmed somewhat with the drive in the foresail. Divided Sky, as usual, took the early lead and headed out on the rhumb line programmed into the chart plotter. We had examined the route and plotted a course. Waypoints had been carefully added. Times and distances and average speeds calculated, to give us a daylight arrival at Steep Point.

The swell, well, swelled. The seas became confused with its argument with the wind. It became a bit like a lovers spat, and Moonshadow started to dance, but not in a nice way.

Margie ventured downstairs to try and fix the errant, inevitable items that seem to have a will of their own and also took to dancing across the cabin floor. There goes the breadboard from under the stove! A cupboard door flies open and spills its contents, breaking a coffee mug. A glass comes loose so now there is broken glass rolling from one side of the floor to the other and Margie with bare feet. She calls for help, but I am tethered to my harness on deck just trying to control the snapping sails. Margie falls with a painful bang on her back and for a moment fears that she has done some real damage to herself. Struggling to overcome the pain, she continues to deal with the current emergency of the broken glass.

Gravity seems to have a mind of its own on board a ship. It sometimes works as expected but sometimes not. If you ever try to pour boiling water into a cup, only to find that the flow goes horizontal rather vertical, you will know what I mean. Losing your sense of balance is also a symptom of gravity not obeying the rules. Just when you think you have the hang of this 'one hand for the boat; one hand for you', you find yourself in need of a third hand for anything that needs to be achieved.

We know that these conditions are going to moderate any time soon. Real soon. Please.

It was not to be. The confused seas stayed with us and the wind became angrier, rising to 30 - 35 knots whipping up whitecaps on the rolling swell. Our gunwales took a dip on the port side and just as quickly took a dip to starboard. Green water lashed the clears with enough force to squirt through the zips. The sounds around us were a deafening cacophony of wild weather and complaining timber. A disturbing creaking from the cabin floor with every roll made us at least wonder about the punishment we were inflicting on Moonshadow. All that noisy stuff that was rolling about inside locked cabinets would have to fend for itself. There are lessons to be learned here.

Darkness encased us. The night was black, the crescent moon having sunk below the horizon as if chasing the dusk.

It was reassuring to have VHF radio contact with our travelling companions each with an eye firmly on the others welfare and one on the distant, if intermittent, comforting glimpse of their navigation lights. The friendship of shared adventure has been bonding to say the least and both Margie and I are truly grateful for the opportunity to travel with and enjoy the company and wisdom of Robyn, Nick, Karen and Mike.
 
Margie and I had decided on a 3 hour watch system, but we remained in the cockpit, just to be available, just in case. We were wearing our harnesses and lashed to the jack lines, but unable to sleep or to find a position that gave any comfort. Unable to cook a meal we survived by raiding the stash of lollies and biscuits. During my watch I had also taken a fall and suffered an impact with the binnacle. The binnacle won. Equal and opposite? I don't think so.

At the end of my watch Margie had braved a trip below and hauled out and hoisted the lee cloths on the sea berth and suggested I go below for a 'real' rest. I managed at best, a fitful doze, but the noise below was disturbing as if in the centre of some mad bullring.

We made it through the night, worried that we were going too fast. We reduced sail, but somehow the speed increased. We had been averaging 6.5 knots and our peak was damn near 8 knots. We reduced sail some more. With only a whisker of the genoa on the self-furler exposed to the elements we were able to slow our progress to a manageable 4 knots. The last thing we wanted was to be anywhere near the Zuitdorp Cliffs in the dark, so we stayed well out to sea.

Margie bravely took the graveyard watch and was able to witness the dawn break and the sun rise. A welcome sight after the deep black of the night.

Aqua Vitae and Moonshadow were fairly close together during the night but Divided Sky had taken a course closer to shore. Seeing the cliffs for the first time was a wonderful sight and we were still on course. Not long now and we will have to turn inland and set our sights on the notorious Steep Point.