Sailing Around Australia; A Fright a Day

14/2/2013 A Fright a Day

Brian Lowe (b1, Urchin) told me that he has been reading a blog where a lady describes her Sailing adventures as a fright a day. I don’t think I could have come up with a more apt way of describing our crossing the Great Australian Bight on Easy Tiger.

We had planned for a departure from Middle Island (on the western side of the bight) at 10.00am on Friday 7^th February. It was agreed that the monohull, Zofia would put their nose out around the north east point of Middle Island to “test” conditions and that the catamarans Urchin and Easy Tiger would then act on their advice.

Within half an hour of Zofia leaving the anchorage we got the call from them to say “today’s the day” and a wave of apprehension swept over me. This was it. This was the start of 550 nautical miles until the next landfall.

All boats took off on light winds and fairly comfortable seas. Into the first night this continued. The wind was off the bows slightly as we headed straight along our planned rhomb line (the straightest Line between Middle Island and Streaky Bay).

The first night was without incident. The only battle was with fatigue. For the past few nights both at Duke Of Orleans and Middle Island, Leanne and I had shared anchor watch duties where one of us would sleep up in the saloon and wake every half hour or so to check the anchor alarms and walk around the boat to make sure we were still in position. I would do this until midnight, then fall into the proper bed, when Leanne would come “on” until morning.

Add a few nights of anchor watch to the apprehension, anxiety and downright fear of the unknown and the cocktail for fatigue was mixed early.

For the first day and night the wind blew fairly steadily from South South East. As our rhomb line saw us travelling East North East it actually gave us an angle that we could sail at. Easy Tiger however seemed to lumber along instead of her normal sprightly glide and it seemed that no amount of sail adjusting or slight directional change could make her happier. The other boats reveled in the conditions, being lighter and having more sail area than us. They quickly started to stream away.

Fearful of being left behind out of sight and therefore VHF radio range, we started a motor and found that to be a good way to hold the sails into the wind then slowly started to increase speed to now hold our own with Urchin at least.

The second day was spent waiting for the weather gods to brew up the south west wind change that had been forecast. As predicted we saw a low pressure bank pass over us and bring the desired wind change. For us wind originating from behind the boat is the best for us as that wind angle produces the most comfortable ride and best sailing results.

When the southwest winds arrived on the second day we were rejoicing. They brought some swell with them, but the swell lines were just like giant lumps in the water that picked us up ready to launch us with a woosh as we surfed down the front face.

These precious southwest winds, however, gave us our fright for the day. Lightning. If you are out on the ocean with nothing but the water (Electricity conductor) for as far as you can see all around you, sitting on a boat made of 20mm thick fiberglass (insulator…just) and you have an aluminium mast (very good conductor) sticking vertically 18metres up towards the clouds, you do tend to get a bit nervous when someone says the word, lightning.

B1 on Urchin called up to say that on his radar he had picked up several storm cells. Storm cells usually contain lightning. One of these cells would pass by about 8 nautical miles away. The other was dead ahead of us but moving north quite quickly.

I could not work out why he had these cells on his radar. Easy Tiger’s radar was showing nothing, yet when we looked to the sky we could clearly see the accumulation of dark grey clouds. Leanne took the wheel while I did some tweaking and adjusting on the radar switches. With B1’s guidance over the 2 way radio we got our radar reset. B1 is the guru of gadgets.

For the rest of day 2 Leanne and I watched the pink swirls and blotches that are storm clouds dance their way around our radar screen trying to pick a clear path through. This continued throughout the night. Fortunately the only rain we had, contained little or no wind, no thunder and the biggest relief of all, no lightning. Interestingly at one stage during the night it was raining on one side of our boat but not the other.

The third morning was going along just nicely until B1 on Urchin called up to ask if I had a plan for crossing the Eucla Terraces. My response was, no, I hadn’t thought about it as it is quite a long way off yet.

The Eucla Terraces are steep steps on the Ocean floor, where the depth of water goes from 1000 odd metres up to 200 odd metres within a nautical mile, give or take. The volume of water being pushed over the Eucla Terraces equals enough to fit into the area 1000 metres deep trying to fit in to where it is now only 200 metres deep. So we could only imagine the currents, turbulence and turmoil this might create.

After some more 2 waying among the three boats, B1 decided that he felt it best to take a catamaran head on into any turbulence. B2, on Zofia, said it was better to sidle up to the crossing and attack at an angle. I decided to follow B1 as I thought hitting something face on was better for Easy Tiger as well.

We watched the contour lines on our screens start to get closer, closer and closer as the contour of the ocean floor changed quickly. We had been sailing over water that at one point according to our chart was equal to a $30 dollar Perth taxi ride being 3 kilometres to the bottom.

As the contour lines were so close together that they looked like someone’s sketch of a plate of spaghetti, we did a 90degree turn to go straight across. No sooner had we done that, then mother nature smacked us with a wind change back to south easterly.

Fortunately the Eucla terraces were a bit of an anticlimax. Other than a pretty big swell there seemed nothing to fear. However the wind change was different story. It quickly built to over 25 knots and we still had sails up, fearful that they would be shredded, we had to get them down, fast.

In dropping Easy Tiger’s main sail, timing is of the essence. First we must turn the bows of the boat directly into the wind. Leanne normally skippers the boat during this procedure and does it well. Then, just as the bows face the wind the sail will spill all the wind, which is when I must release the sail and have it fall into the sail bag, guided by small ropes called lazy jacks that are tied between the mast and the boom.

So Leanne turned Easy Tiger into the wind, which meant we were facing South, into a 3 and a half metre swell. Just as I let the rope go and the sail came loose a 1 metre wall of water travelling east to west on the wind hit Easy Tigers bows, pushing her sideways and refilling the sail with 20 knots of wind, from the other side. This meant that the sail whipped instantly and violently from one side of the boat to the other. The force of this snapped the lazy jacks and tore the sail bag.

The only thing I could see to do now was to re raise the great big sail in now 30 odd knots of wind. Would the Mast be able to handle the pressure or would it come tumbling down on top of us. I didn’t know. I did know that we had no way of containing the main sail if we let it fall down on to the roof of the boat.

The only way I could see to fix this problem was to fix the lazy jacks. On inspection I could see where the break was. It was waving at me from ¾’s of the way up the mast. No way would we be able to go up the mast in this weather.

For the rest of that night we motored up into the wind smashing over wave after wave. With the sail ¾’s of the way up the mast, we needed to be very carful with Easy Tiger unsure if the mast would handle the pressure of a powered up sail in over 30 knots of wind.

After a night of having to push 12 nautical miles away north of our rhomb line, the fourth morning dawned with a similar scenario. Strong, strong winds resisting our attempts for forward progress. Easy Tiger was struggling along with ¾ sails up and one motor chugging away. Urchin crew were right there with us,. We stopped the boats by turning into the wind and stalling any forward momentum. We took a breath and had something to eat. What to do? We had battled for four hours for 2 nautical miles of progress that we were now losing quickly as we sat.

Both crews decided to head backwards to our rhomb line where would again park and wait for conditions to settle. We flirted with the idea of going back to Esperance.

It was about then that the day produced it’s next fright. The port motor we had been using for most of the morning coughed and died. The same motor that we had spent a thousand dollars on to get right. The same motor that we had repaired several times, each time sure that we had fixed it this time.

For the first two days of our crossing, we had been using the starboard side engine. Now with the port motor out of action, I recalculated how much diesel we had left in the starboard side, plus the jerry cans stored on the boat. I came up with a figure. I then calculated how many nautical miles we had left from where we were to get to Streaky Bay, in case we had to run the engine the whole way.

I came up with the result that we would be about 50 litres short. We had done far more motoring than expected and it was now possibly going to bite us. I did not want to draw any out of the port motor as I suspected either dirt or diesel fungus is in the tank blocking up the filters and stopping the engine. The last thing we needed right now was the starboard engine to stop.

I announced to Leanne, we would have to sail as much as possible from right now and use the motor only when we really had to.

We then changed our course to be able to sail with a reasonable wind angle. Problem with that is that we had to turn to sixty degrees from our rhomb line, or progress to our destination. We then set about crisscrossing the rhomb line at equal distances from the north to the south, hoping to make a small step towards our destination each time we crossed.

After four hours of tacking this way and that, nightfall set in. We calculated that we had made about 2 nautical miles towards our destination. Urchin called up to say that they had damaged their forestay. That’s the thing that holds the mast up from the front. They would therefore not be able to continue tacking as the smashing waves could bring their mast down. They would have to find the most comfortable direction and motor along slowly. We fell in behind them tacking across their trail just keeping progress going for the night.

I was concerned enough about our fuel situation and Urchin’s mast situation to start thinking about rescue. We had an email system on board connected through the Predict Wind satellite tracker and receiver as our only means of communication with the outside world. Unfortunately, The Predict Wind email satellite system was hit or miss. I had been receiving email weather reports from my brother and my father in law, yet I could not get the messages I sent out to their destination.

I decided to try to ask my brother through the Predict Wind Email to find out the possibility and probability of fuel supply or rescue from either Ceduna or Streaky Bay, at that stage 150 nautical miles away. We waited anxiously for news of contact with Ceduna and or Streaky Bay. We high fived each other as an email came from my brother only to have our hopes dashed because it only contained a weather report and no reference at all to my plea for assistance. Predict wind had let us down again, by their clunky email not sending our emails requesting assistance.

The fifth morning crept around ever so slowly. Conditions had calmed to probably the best they had been since we left Middle Island. Brian and Eva on Zofia called to say that they had 40 litres of fuel they could give us. They had recalculated their fuel and would have some spare. They were by now about 20 nautical miles behind us, but in the improving conditions were making up ground quickly.

Urchin called a little later and had also recalculated their remaining fuel and required amounts. They too said that they had 70 litres on board that we could have. Lucky they weren’t on board our boat as I could have kissed them all, even B2. What relief.

Next step was to arrange a transfer of fuel from one boat to the other, 90 nautical miles from nearest land. It had to be done right now and quickly while conditions were the best they would be for the next few days. Fortunately Urchin was less than a mile away.

The plan was hatched that I would drop Easy Tiger’s dinghy and use it to collect the jerry cans from Urchin then back to Easy Tiger. By that time Zofia should arrive to transfer their jerry cans. Sounded easy.

We stopped the boat for Leanne to hold into the wind or “hove to”. This would prevent any forward movement of Easy Tiger as I got the dinghy to drop. Urchin pulled up some 100 metres or so off our stern. The water was relatively calm. I lowered the dinghy. It was immediately tossed by a small swell underneath Easy Tiger and crushed as Easy Tiger came down. Lucky I hadn’t boarded yet.

As it reappeared from underneath Easy Tiger, I took a leap of faith and landed in the dinghy. I had to quickly get the lifting lines off the dinghy before they pulled the dinghy under the catamaran again. As I did this the outboard motor slammed down on to the transom step, scratching it badly. I yelled to Leanne that I hoped nothing had been bent in that event, all we needed was a broken dinghy.

Almost praying that the engine would start as I yanked the starter chord. It fired on the second pull. I threw off the ropes and powered up towards Urchin. I aimed for the stern of the other catamaran so that it would stop me and give me time to throw a rope to them. I had to keep the power on to the dinghy motor, fearful that the engine may stop at any moment and I would drift away from the boats very quickly. I hit Urchin and Maree grabbed the rope with one hand and started hoisting Jerry cans into the dinghy with the other.

I then powered off to Easy Tiger. Again quite happy when I smacked into the port side of Easy Tiger and Leanne caught the rope. At least I was now reattached. We heaved the jerry cans on to the boat. The swell was now quickly growing, the wind changed direction and was building.

I looked across the horizon for Zofia, but they nowhere to be seen. I had to get this dinghy back on to Easy Tiger now, or the wind and swell may mean I might have to abandon it. So I powered it around to the stern of Easy Tiger. Two lifting ropes hung above my head, one for the front of the dinghy and one for the rear. I had to maneuver the dinghy close enough to Easy Tiger to be able to stand in the pitching rolling dinghy to attach these lifting ropes to the hooks. With the super human effort one can produce in a time of crisis I got them on.

I then had to stand on the soft side of the dinghy and jump on to Easy Tiger. That done I raised the dinghy and re-tied it on. I was just about to start emptying the jerry cans from Urchin into the tanks when Leanne shouted, “here is Zofia”. I looked up and saw Zofia about 50 metres behind us, with Eva lashed on to the side holding two jerry cans ready to pass to me over the side. There was now no way I was getting the dinghy off again.

We were so grateful for their efforts, it was extremely hard to say “thanks but no thanks”. I hope they understood that the 70 Litres I had got from Urchin would have to see us right. The extra forty they had gone to such great effort to give us just couldn’t be transferred without great risk.

Once we replenished our tank with the saviour diesel, we motored up and set a direct course for Streaky Bay. No sooner had we got going than the cruel twist of fate was applied. The wind came in right behind us.

The fifth night was quite uneventful. We all tucked up together with the other 2 boats kindly keeping close to Easy Tiger, just in case our remaining engine stopped.

The sixth day, Wednesday the 12^th, dawned with grey skies and wintry conditions. Our moods all improved though as we got within 100 nautical miles of Streaky Bay.

The wind came in at an angle that allowed us to sail, but we kept our motor on and sails up to “make a mile” as quickly as possible.

During the day the winds got stronger. The skies grew darker. We motored and we sailed, motored and we sailed. We watched every nautical mile tick by.

When we got to 30 Nautical miles to go to the head of Streaky Bay, our feelings of thank god it’s almost over kicked in. About here we suddenly received our first decent internet and phone coverage for the journey. Texts were received, e mails announced and Leanne got on the phone to loved ones to let them know that we were OK and nearly there.

We forgot that we hadn’t had our fright for the day.

We had 30 nautical miles to go to the entrance to the bay, but it was at least another 18 to the anchorage, I looked at the sky, looked at the time and looked at Leanne. “We will be anchoring in the dark.” I said gloomily.

Then the winds started getting very strong in gusts. Up to 30 knots was recorded. We had to get the sail down. But how was I to tie it to the boat to prevent losing over the side? If it went over the side would it get tangled in our one remaining propeller? I chose to leave it up.

At 20 Nautical Miles to go to the head of the bay, Zofia had shot ahead. They reported back to us that they were experiencing 25 knots and small but very strong swell.

Our one motor was battling to push us into the wind and wave cacophony. The sails could not be filled with wind otherwise they would surely be shredded with this almighty force. I had to steer a course just off the wind to protect the sails and the boat. Steering one way to fill the sail and gain some forward movement then the other to empty the sail and relieve the strain on the mast. That took us well north of our desired route and meant that shoals, rocks and Islands were directly in our path.

At 10 Nautical miles out from the head of the bay, it was dusk. Somewhere in the gloom up ahead Zofia called to say that they were still experiencing strong winds in the bay. Urchin, also well ahead by now called to say they were getting a bit of a reprieve at the moment. Leanne and I decided that during the next lull in the wind we would put the sails down as they were making steering the boat very difficult. I would have to climb on to the roof to tie up the sail after we had let it down.

The wind dropped a little later and we saw the sail spill the air. “now’s the time” I called to Leanne. We let the rope go and the sail fell down as if shot. Miraculously it all landed in exactly the right place in the right way. I scrambled on to the pitching rolling roof with rope in hand. I climbed on to the boom and adopted a position of lying on top of the sail and boom gripping with my elbows and knees. I told it that I would still respect it in the morning.

I got a rope around the sail a couple of times and tied off. Got down into the cockpit and had to sit for a few moments to breath and gather myself.

Now we were faced with having to steer even more northwards to be able to make any progress. I lost sight of the two yachts in front of us who would have given me a visual bearing of where I need to be. The problem was the starboard side engine as well as the wind was pushing from the starboard side. So steering slightly the other way meant Easy Tiger would slew away from the desired course.

Leanne asked Urchin who were now 2 nautical miles ahead of us to put on their navigation lights. That was like a beacon for me. Just follow the light, follow the light. As the wind now became consistent over 30 knots gusts of 40 knots hammering on Easy Tiger steering any resemblance of our correct course was nearing impossible.

Leanne started calling sea rescue. She acted magnificently under real duress. No answer on the phone number we had, No answer on channel 16. Finally she located a person from sea rescue in a town that we hadn’t even heard of. He said he would contact State emergency service in Streaky Bay.

It’s now 5 nautical miles to go to the head of the bay, then 18 to go to safe anchorage. It’s dark. It’s blowing 35 knots straight into our face. I am steering through an arc 45degrees one side to 45 degrees to the other side of Urchins mast light in front of me. Follow the light. Follow the light.

I can now see the outside beacon marking the start to Streaky Bay, the indicator that we thought would announce that we had made it across the bight. The cool reassuring voice of Trevlyn Smith, State Emergency Service Streaky Bay came on to our 2 way radio. They would have a boat in the water soon.

Follow the light. Follow the light. Urchin is staying 3 nautical miles in front of me paving the way. Zofia are now into the bay reporting on conditions there. Thank god again that we are sailing in company.

2 nautical miles to go to the outer beacon marking the head of the bay. It is now pitch black. The rescue boat is searching for us. We are following Urchins light.

The rescue boat locates us. I call them up on the 2 way and tell them the problem. I have no power on my port side. Perhaps they could raft on and provide power on the port side.

They approach the boat, there is about three to four feet of wind chop. Their boat is small and has a huge, solid, hard, steel grappling hook on the front. It is waving around millimetres from our soft white fiberglass hull. I called them quickly. Go to the front , you will have to tow us from the port bow.

I bum shuffled up the front to the bow. I caught the rope on the fourth attempt. Tied it on and told them to go.

Corky and the two other fella’s in that small rescue boat then began their bucking bronco, wild bull and circus ride from hell. Their small boat went almost vertical many times on some of the slop and swell that they smashed into. Corky did a masterful job of towing Easy Tiger around the marker beacons, along the edge of shallows, shoals, past Cape Bauer, past an ugly place called the spit, past sponge rocks and finally to safe anchor off the end of the Streaky Bay jetty.

I don’t think that I have ever been so grateful to someone as I was to the Streaky Bay emergency service. It is a huge lesson for me that we must, I repeat must, all consider being volunteers in some capacity in our communities. Without the Streaky Bay guys being prepared to give up their time for the assistance of others in distress, we would still be steering around in circles, out of fuel and out of safety.

Today, I can’t even describe the mixture of emotions I have running through me. A sense of achievement, a sense of relief, a sense of shock at the end, a sense of gratefulness to my sailing companions, a sense of gratefulness to those special people who are volunteers and most of all a sense of being at the next level in my personal relationship.

The biggest thing for me through all these moments, crisis and “excitement” is that Leanne and I have been glued back together. Not that we were very bad to begin with, but our relationship had been torn by the stresses and strains of running a business together, working together, me working fly in fly out for a year, socialising together, living together and learning how to sail our boat together over the past five years.

To see the way we just suddenly came back together on the morning I was in the engine bay trying to get the port motor going was an epiphany for me. She was then very cool in the crisis and how she managed the radio and communication during our rescue was exemplary. This is a girl who wouldn’t even log on to ACRM base just a year ago.

I have rediscovered Leanne’s ability, courage, determination, spirit and energy. I certainly have the perfect partner for our sailing around Australia Adventures. I certainly have the perfect partner for life.

Especially as it seems we are destined to go through a fright a day.