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Digging the sailing life…

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Colmslie Reach Beach when calm. My happy place.

Digging the sailing life… not… I am just not feeling it. Am I over all that the sailing life entails? Is it too hard?

I’m sure as hell not in love with our wind generator as I try to sleep at night.

The last few weeks have tested me. Hanging in on top of the flu (Marty Martin Lloyd) Dentist (Marty) flu (me), Dentist (me) Hernia Op (Marty) Covid (me) Covid (Marty)…

Enough… I shout.

I phoned my bro Michael Brook and asked him to drop off a RAT test. We talked briefly and I described my symptoms. He told me it sounded like his recent symptoms. We met at the jetty and he gave me 4 RAT tests, a bag of apples, a bunch of bananas and a pot of home made Chicken soup.

OMG legend.

It was strange not to get out of the dinghy and given him a hug. It was air kisses from afar. He handed over the greatly appreciated goods with the words, ‘Buckle up sis, you are in for a ride’.

The first few days were a fog of aches and pains of which I have but a hazy memory. Aches and pains shifted to nausea … wind against tide. Got to hate that. Trust me. The winds pick up.

My anchor alarm went off, about 7pm…

I headed to the cockpit to see the stern of the boat was close to touching the anchoring buoy. The wind had us on full stretch and I am not sure how much more stretch we had in the anchor chain. I need to move the boat. Barhumbug. Cold and nauseous, I donned my waterproof jacket and life vest, turned the engine on and told myself to belt up…

I phoned my neighbour Michael Hendra to let him know what I was doing. He was going to keep an eye out for me. It wasn’t like I could ask him aboard to help with COVID and all. Plus I had done this before on my own at night. I headed to the front of the boat to see what the anchor chain was doing. Not sure why, as I already knew that I was being pushed back. Three points of contact … whoa … I need to throw up! I leaned overboard, holding on and threw up.

Damn, I did not see that coming.

I got to the bow to remove the snubber. (The snubber is a short length of non-stretchy rope hooked to the anchor chain and to two strong points on the front of the boat. It’s function is to take the load off the anchor winch and stop the chain rattling). I love our snubber… normally. Removing the snubber required leaning forward. I was hoping I didn’t throw up again. Snubber removed.

I headed back to the cockpit. I had Freddie Mercury in my head… ‘Don’t stop me now, I am having a good time.’ Really… Now I am hot. The cool breeze was lovely on my face and my legs. I realise that I was no longer cold. Perhaps I have a fever.

I put the boat into gear to nudge forward, getting ready to lift the anchor. You had to be kidding me. I needed to go to the toilet. Anchor chain raising could wait. I headed below. On the way back up, I went via the galley and grabbed two gastro stop tablets. Still, Freddie was in my head.

Back in the cockpit… I lifted the anchor chain from the cockpit. I nudged forward. There were 20 knot winds. The boat was being pushed from behind by the current, but the wind was playing to its own tune. I went to drop the anchor.

No sooner did I slow the engine, the current and the wind started working against each other and put the boat into a spin. It was crazy.

I continued to lower the anchor, with no idea how I was going to make sure the anchor had set. The usual practice is to allow the boat to drift back in the current and add a touch of reverse to ensure that the anchor grabs. You can normally see the chain pull tight before resuming a curve to the river bottom.

I did not like the position I was in and decided to try again, hoping the wind would drop a little. I phoned my neighbour Mike, to tell him that I was going to try again.

Take two, and I had about as much success as take one. Seriously not digging the sailing life.

Another quick call to Mike to let him know I was going to try again. He said I should try and come in a little closer to shore. I wasn’t game, as if I got into another spin, I didn’t want to hit another boat coming out of a spin.

I decided to go for a little river cruise.

Not really, just a bigger circuit and more speed in the straight when dropping my anchor. Hoping to… I wasn’t sure what. As I rounded the anchor buoy, the wind dropped to 5 knots. You beauty! By the time I got to the position where I wished to drop anchor, it was back up to 20 knots. I dropped the anchor. At best guessing how much chain I had out. Normally, I can only tell how much if I am at the bow and there is decent light. However not this dark miserable windy evening.

I sat and waited. And waited. I could not set the anchor alarm with any accuracy. However, I could put GPS pins down on my Navionics map and so I did just that. And another pin, and another and another.

Gradually, I was feeling more comfortable. The pins told me that I was not moving, at least for now. Somewhere during the past 30 or so minutes, I threw up and visited the toilet again. I was very grateful to have Mike nearby. Someone I could call if need be and always willing to lend a hand.

Gradually, the boat turned with the current and wind, which were more or less in alignment. 

I got a message from Marty, ‘Did you manage to fall asleep?’ A quick call. I told him what had been happening how tired I was, how cold and miserable I was and that I was missing my baby. He said, ‘I wish I could be there to help you’. I really wished more than ever that he was, too.

I decided to go to bed and catch the next 4 hours sleep while wind and tide were in alignment. Weather wise, the next day was a better day. I slept most of the day. Thursday, I dragged my bones out of bed and got a Covid CPR test. Before heading back to the boat, I sat on the beach in the sun for a little bit. It was lovely. I got a message from the test centre saying they are testing for other viruses as well. Great… Time will tell.

I got back to the boat to find Maritime Safety Queensland pulling up.

They waited while I tied off.

They asked me if I knew that Saboteur was in the passage. I said I did, explained why and that during the night I had had two attempts to move. They asked me if I was still on my own. ‘Yes’, I replied, I was. And was I up to/able to move the boat again? ‘Sure, why not. After all I am really digging the sailing life…’ Ha, ha. Actually, it was a such a pleasure to do it again when it was calm. It still took me three goes to get a position I was happy with. About two hours later, a massive ship was docked at the terminal for about 6 hours and left again. Saboteur was safely within the anchorage, and I was once again tucked up in bed.

I tell you of this adventure not for your praise. More so for my friends who worry about me being on the boat on my own. This is for you, to let you know that I can do it, when I have to. I don’t always want to.

As my close friends know I can be too independent at times. It is both a strength and a weakness.

Missing Marty and wishing he was with me I shed a tear or two and secretly the wind generator would die as I had totally forgotten how to turn it off. I asked Marty the next day. It was so simple. One button.

At the time I wrote this post the boat was seriously not my favourite spot. Perhaps, it will be again tomorrow, or next week, or when a few of my half-started projects are finished, or when I am over being sick, or when Marty is back and we are together again. Or a combination of the above. Who knows. Time will tell.

What I do know is when I returned home from work on Wednesday, I had the biggest grin on my face. Thursday, Mike’s music rolled across the water to greet me like a warm hug and Friday evening, I simply sat in the cockpit and enjoyed the sunset and a couple of phone calls with friends. I still love Saboteur even if she is a little hard work. I am digging the sailing life.

To borrow words from my friend Tom Stodulka, Life is a dance.

This post was originally published on Facebook on August 08, 2022.

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When common sense failed me

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My very heavy 20l water containers.

Common sense completely failed me Tuesday just gone. The beautiful twilight and new moon was the setting for a domino-like cascade of events.

I was enjoying the twilight and the sound of water passing me by as I pottered home from work in my dinghy. I decided that I would fill up our three spare 20 litre water bottles.

The main challenge with being on anchor is topping up our water supplies.

3 x 20l water containers
3 x 20 litre water containers

Note – we carry about 600 litres of water in our water tanks and have the three 20 litre containers for back up runs.

To top up the water tanks we have a few choices:

Take a marina berth for a night or two:
– Top up the fuel at a fuel dock and top up the water at the same time
Go to a public jetty that has:
– enough clearance for our boat keel and the ability to tie off
– potable water

It was a beautiful twilight and topping up the water containers seemed like a good idea.

The fresh water pump was starting to work hard telling me that it does not have much water left to pump.

Arriving home, I tied off in my usual manner after tying the painter line (the rope on the bow of the dinghy) on the cleat, and looped up the remaining line, hanging it off the stanchions. As usual, Zac was there to great me. We said hello to each other as I grabbed the water containers, the hose and the rubbish bag, jumped in the dinghy and headed off for the jetty.

I slowly approached the shore side of the jetty giving the eager fishermen a chance to pull their nets in.

I tied off, jumped out of the dinghy and asked a few of the fisherman how they were going as I headed up the ramp to dispose of the rubbish in the nearby bin.

On my way back down the ramp, I stopped and spoke to the couple who were fishing near the potable water tap. I informed them that I needed to fill some water containers. No worries, he said with his lovely accent and a grin.

I jumped back in the dinghy and headed around to the other side, taking a wide berth to avoid nets and lines. I pulled up. Eager hands tied me off and I was asked to pass up the hose. This I did, and was then asked for the male fitting.

Damn, common sense failed me. I did not check the hose when I grabbed it and I had left the tap fitting on the boat.

With the hose, we could fill the containers with out lifting them in and out of the dinghy.

No worries, my new friend said and he asked me to pass up the water containers.

This I did and he started to fill them for me. The first one he filled to its full 20 litres. I jumped out of the dinghy and asked him to fill only to 15 litres as 20 litres is too heavy for me. He said, ‘I fill, you tip out if it is too much’. I tipped out about 5 litres from the first container. The other two he filled to about 18 litres.

He lowered them to me in the dinghy and with lots of thank you smiles and waves, I headed back to Saboteur. I tied off in my usual way.

Now I don’t know what happened to my common sense. In what universe was I in that I thought that I could lift an 18 litre container of water to shoulder height is beyond me.

And transfer it on the deck, in a moving boat where any transfer of weight moves the location of the dinghy.

What could possibly go wrong? You are about to find out.

For whatever reason I gave it a try. The thought crossed my mind that perhaps I should tie the container off. It remained a thought. I got the container on the edge of the toe rail and the dinghy started to move backwards. The more I pushed forward, the more the dinghy moved backwards.

The inevitable happened: commons sense hit home with a dramatic splash as the water container feel into the river. I watched, waiting to see it sink. It bopped along. It appeared to have enough air in it to keep it on the water surface. Awesome.

I untied the paynter line and went in pursuit of the water container. Only, once again common sense failed me and I forgot to grab….

…. the loops of line hanging off the stanchion.

Dinghy paynter up close.
Dinghy paynter for afar

This, I discovered, made the dingy jerk backwards, still constrained. I turned the tiller, well I had no choice, and said line was now pushing hard on the post holding my safety navigation light up.

And with a snap it broke off and a flashing light began drifting away just under the water surface.

I got back to the boat and removed the looped painter line and turned to look for my water container. It was a new moon and by now quite dark. Fortunately, the flashing light was showing me the direction of the current. And beyond the flashing light, I saw my water container.

Relief… I personally would have hated to run into it, or to be responsible for any damage to someone else’s boat if I did not retrieve it.

I caught up to my bopping navigation light. I slowed my outboard and put my left arm elbow deep in the water to grab the light. Light recovered. I was pleased. My next task was to grab the water container. I caught up to it and tied it off. Finally, common sense prevailed. I turned back to Saboteur, with the water bottle still in the water, on a short line.

This time I tied off at the swim board, which is about 30 cms above the water line.

Saboteur's swim board. A much more sensible height to be working from

I got out of the dinghy and grabbed a line to tie off the first water container. I lifted it easily to the swim board. And again, up to the deck. I poured it straight into the water tank and put the water container away repeating the process with each water container.

I moved the dinghy back to the side of the boat and tied her up once more. The evening adventure was over. I know Marty (Martin Lloyd) is going to laugh. He always ties off the containers and uses the halyard to haul the containers up from the dinghy.

I sat down and took off my life jacket to give Zac the cuddle he was insisting on. I smiled at myself. This was the first time I had done the water containers on my own.

Another lesson learnt.

The irony is that I had purchased a small ‘kickarse pump in a box’ (yes, that is what it is called!) so that I never have to lift a full water container again. I got the 12 volt fitting installed in the cockpit a couple of weeks ago. I am just waiting for the Anderson switch to the 12 volt connector.

Life is an adventure.

Originally posted on Facebook on July 7, ’22

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A tad too far

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Our position on the chart

Yesterday’s adventure, Saboteur went a tad too far.

Midday, I received a message that it went like this.

‘Hi, this is Jeremy, from Maritime Safety Queensland. Tess can you please call me back. It is fairly urgent’.

Already my mind had reached the conclusion that the boat had dragged. The two outcomes could have been either we had hit another boat or we had drifted into the main shipping channel. Nether option is desirable.

I phoned Jeremy back. The call went like this.

Me: ‘Hi Jeremy, Tess here. You left me a message.’

Jeremy: ‘Hi Tess, thanks for phoning me back. I am trying to get hold of Martin Lloyd; however he is not answering. Your name is linked to his. Do you know him?’

Me: ‘Yes, I do. He is my husband. He is currently overseas.’

Jeremy: ‘That explains why he did not answer the phone. We were worried because your boat is in the main shipping channel. It appears to have drifted. When Martin did not answer we were worried that he was not well as the dinghy is tethered to the boat.’

Me: ‘That’s because I paddled my kayak to work. Left the dinghy behind.’

Jeremy: ‘You work nearby?’

Me: ‘Yes, I am working for a shipwright and currently working on a boat at Rivergate.’

Jeremy: ‘We need you to move your yacht out of the main shipping channel.’

I am guessing Saboteur was more than just a tad too far.

Me: ‘I can understand that. How urgent is this. Do you want me to move it now, or can I move it around four-ish?’

Jeremy: ‘I will check, just one second. (pause) There are no large vessels going down the channel for the rest of the day. You can move it this afternoon.’

Me: ‘That’s great, I have to paddle back to the boat. I will move it around four-ish.’

I immediately jumped on the link Daniel Cooke had sent me off a bigger anchor for sale on Gumtree. A quick email followed asking ‘Is it still available?’ The reply was prompt, ‘Yes it is’. I phoned the number. Ironically, it was someone we had meet at Boat Works Marina. They have two cats aboard and like us are preparing for a big sail. Great, new anchor sorted…

Now to inform my boss. I had to solve another problem and then move our boat. I informed my boss of that Saboteur was a tad too far in the shipping channel. Along with the fact that I believe we had lost reverse gear on the weekend (post Martin leaving). I was a little concerned that I may not have forward gear as well. Well, you never know. He rightly said, before I lift the anchor, I should check that I have forward gear. Sound advice.

I went to the mechanic’s ‘Lex Baddiley Marine Engineering‘. I found Paul (the boss) working on the boat next to us. Their company was also doing the work on the prawning trawler that I am working on. I explained to Paul the situation with reverse gear. If said it is one of two things. Most likely an adjustment needs to be made and it should be OK. He said that he will organise one of his guys to come to the boat with me at lunch time today. Another problem sorted. One more to resolve before I leave to move the yacht.

I headed to the marina office to explain my predicament and that I needed to move to move the yacht, plus I had some gear issues. One of the mechanics was coming with me to the boat (in the dinghy). I had approval to tie off my kayak of at Rivergate Marina but, I did not have approval for my dinghy. They said that it would be OK. They also commented that they had seen Saboteur in the middle of the channel.

I said thank you and headed off to my kayak, and paddled back to Saboteur, grateful for the current being in my favour. With current, the paddle is 15 minutes. Against the current, the paddle is 45 minutes.

It was a swift trip back. I said hi to Zac, and we had a few cuddles. It turned on the engine, wind instruments, autopilot and the engine blower. The engine blower extracts engine fumes. I checked the position of the anchor. The chain was forward off the bow of the boat. I came back to the helm, and the instruments were all working. I took a deep breath and checked that we have forward gear. Woohoo!!! Happy dance! I put the engine back into neutral. I went and checked the position of the anchor chain. It was vertical, confirming the boat had moved forward. I put the engine back into gear, and started lifting the anchor chain. All good.

I headed off to our old anchor point across the river, lined up the position, slowed the engine and put it in neutral. I locked the direction of the wheel and went forward to the bow to drop the anchor. As the anchor lowered I counted the 5 meter chain markers and set the anchor position on the anchor watch app. This app tells me if we move. Actually the alarm is a car horn. All that remained was to see if the anchor had taken. We had a swift current which pushed the back boat nicely. The chain went taut as it took the tension, and the anchor bit in. Again, very happy.

I was feeling relaxed and calm.

Everything I could do was done.

Time for a cuppa.

I was sitting on the deck and our old neighbour Mike came over in his dinghy on the way home from work. He had a big grin on his face. He was happy to see us. We talked for about 15 minutes or so, me sitting on the side of the boat and he in his dinghy. He was keen to go to his boat and play with his dog.

There was heaps to catch up on. Most importantly his boat did not move during the floods. He told me the sad story of two boats that were nearby, and how their owners had died in the floods and their boats had sunk. One guy was on land and decided that he wanted to remove his possessions from his boat. Sadly, it cost him his life. The other guy, decided to take a leak over the side of his boat. While doing so, his boat was hit by something and he fell overboard and drowned. It is a stark reminder that we have to respect the environment we are in.

I was so happy to see Mike and know that he was OK. He has kindly said if I need any help, just call.

And so, I went to work today in the dinghy. At lunch time, Phil came back to the boat with me and worked on the gear issues. The gears move so smoothly now. It is a dream. Now undo two years of forcing the gear stick into reverse. I took Phil back to the marina in time for both of us to pack up and head home.

I am grateful for many things. Mostly for the quality of people around me. Paul, Phil’s boss and who’s staff are all flat out for giving me Phil for a couple of hours to sort my reverse gear issue. Jeremy for phoning to tell me the boat was dancing along the main shipping channel. Mike, my neighbour who offered to help me with anything. Shannan, my boss for being totally understanding about having to disappear and always there to help out.

I love this industry and working with a great crew. I love how the people around me look out for and help each other.

Missing you baby. Martin Lloyd, you are missing out on so much fun. 🙂

Originally posted on Facebook on April 28, ’22

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A life less hectic

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Russell_Island_aerial_photo

Got to love a life less hectic, an extra long weekend and heading for the bay for Easter.

Late Thursday morning we departed the Coomera River around 11am, refuelled at Sanctuary Cove, as doing so, congratulated ourselves as diesel was 20 cents a litre cheaper than Gold Coast City Marina. As we came into the fuel dock the wind picked up to 20 knots, of course it did. Tess and Martin Lloyd team ‘TandM’ docked perfectly again congratulating ourselves. Why not..? We were provisioned for the long weekend. All that remained was refuelling. Diesel for Saboteur, unleaded petrol for the donk on the dinghy and water for us.

We reversed out of the fuel dock with plenty of room behind and each side of us. This gave us the wonderful opportunity to let the boat, current and wind decide which way it wanted to turn. Once natures energy revealed her hand Marty adjusted the wheel, completed the turn, put Saboteur into forward gear and continued down the river to the main passage.

We turn north into the main passage. For once, the wind was coming from the south and was favourable for a sail. It has been our experience when we want to go anywhere (slight exaggeration) the wind has not assisted us (The south end of Moreton Bay is full of narrow passages avoiding shallows and sand traps, so sailing room is not easily found).

I head below to secure loose items, something we should have done before departing. Meanwhile Marty single handily set up the staysail to make use of a following breeze, and we motor sailed up the main passage. Later he brought in the sail between a narrow point in the passage as we were on low tide and we did not want gusts of wind pushing us on to sand banks.

We enjoyed the combination of motor sailing and navigating the challenges of Morten Bay on low tide. Both just grateful to be out and travelling again.

With a deep sense of happiness we dropped anchor in one of our favourite spots.

We were back at Russell Island. Our plans were to spend two days there and then two days heading back to the Brisbane River. We need to be there as I am working on a boat at River Gate Marina for a couple of weeks.

It had been cool and windy and we were grateful to be back in a sheltered spot. I was feeling the cold, winter is coming. (Ha, ha it was below 30 and above 20 degrees Celsius). We had a nip of cognac to assist our bodies to warm up, followed by dinner and watched music concerts on You Tube until our eyelids became too heavy and we went to bed.

About 4.30 am Zac woke me to come and sit in the cockpit with him.

He was really excited and insistent. I got up and went with him to the cockpit. There were a school of fish having fun near the boat. He wanted me to sit with him and watch. Perhaps he wanted me to throw a line in which I briefly considered. I was happy to sit in the moment with Zac sitting next to me contently purring away. I had plugged in my iPhone to charge overnight but forgot to turn on the power, so what would have been a lovely chilltime video remained just Zac and my moment. As I describe it to Marty in the morning, it was a Winnie the Pooh moment in my mind.

Good Friday was peaceful. Marty baked me a gluten free hot cross bun inspired loaf.

We had steaming slices of homemade bun with lashes of melted butter and strawberry jam.

It was so good. Marty read, I sewed (still working on the cushions and winch covers). Did some hand sewing as well and played ‘Patience’ the card game. It was such a lovely lazy day.

With the passing of the day, our normally quiet anchorage started to become crowded. It was a great spot for protection from the Southerly winds. Rarely is there more than one or two other boats here. By evening time, I counted 24. That’s OK. I am happy to share.

The boat next to us was True Blue V. The last few days they had been anchored about the same distance from us in the Coomera River. Craig and Leanne invited us over for a coffee. We learnt they bought their boat in California and had sailed it home. They are my kind of sailors. They had a loose plan and would turn up at a place and if they liked it, they would stay. This is how they ended up spending a year in Mexico and several years sailing around Fiji.

We were on our way to Lindsay Hick.

Marty would be making us DimSim soup for lunch. We learnt that Craig and Leanne knew Lindsey, so we invited them to join us for lunch. Like typical sailors they went with the flow and said yes. We all piled into our 10ft dinghy and headed to shore. It was approximately a 20-minute motor. Lindsey was waiting for us at the boat ramp and he and Marty hauled our dinghy out of the water on to the ready trailer. We laughed and hugged. Big hugs of good friends accompanied with exclamations that we could see Lindsey’s face. He had trimmed his beard off. We piled into his Pajero and headed off to his place.

Lindsey’s house is quirky, unique and I love it.

He is a house builder and a ship wright and built it himself. We walked around the yard stopping to smell fruit, flowers, herbs and admire how much the garden had grown in the last few months. The new shed, retaining walls and other projects were amazing. We then headed inside, again admiring the progress, the house is close to finished. Marty set up in the galley and started making lunch. We all talked, laughed, ate and shared stories for hours.

Eventually we had to leave. Lindsey ladened us with home grown produce. We said our goodbyes accompanied with more hugs and good wishes. Reluctantly we left. It was the turning of the tide and slack water which means we would have less resistance from the current. This was of great importance to us with four adults in our small dinghy (2.5 hp donk) and heading into strong southerly winds.

There were a few takeaways from the day…

… sailing tips, destination tips, learnings and many more. Of great interest to me, Craig had almost finished doing up all the brightwork on True Blue. Brightwork is the yachting term for the timber interior. It was stunning. It was as good as new. They told us it had become damaged and neglected after 20 years since built and 6 years of their living aboard.

Craig did it himself. I asked a million questions and hopefully have taken on board his advice as I intend to do the floors on Saboteur while Marty is away in the Philippines. I hope it comes up as well as True Blue’s floors.

Saturday evening was quiet. Dinner was bits and pieces, predominantly cheese and biscuits. We took time to rough out our travels for the next two days checking tides, winds, time frames and checking once again. We were clear, we were leaving at 9am to make the most of high tide.

I took us off the anchor at Russell Island. I need the practice.

As we headed back past Millionaires Row, Marty’s phone rang. A friend, Daniel Cooke was camping on Straddie, saw us pass by and he was waving from the shoreline. We waved back and continued on our way enjoying a relaxing passage up to South of Macleay Island we dropped anchor mid-afternoon. We both had a nap. I finished installing a cat flap on the companion way. Zac can now come and go inside or out as much as he wants. I am sure he will still wake me to come and sit with him to watch the fish.

We had a lazy dinner of bangers and mash and an early night. I lifted anchored at Macleay and turned the boat to head north. As we turned the corner a dugong popped up, rolled over as if to wave us goodbye. We were on a familiar route.

Our thoughts turned to other things. We had plans for when we drop anchor near the Gateway Bridge starting with a trip to shore, a cuppa with Bill, collecting our mail of him before he delivers Marty to the train station, so he can go back to the Gold Coast and pick up his motorbike.

We are gradually learning to embrace a life less hectic. A lazy two day voyage by yacht is a 1 hour ride by motor bike.

It is truly a life less hectic.

Originally published on Facebook on April 18, ’22

Russell Island is a favourite location. I often write when I am under her spell. Check out my peak hour post from Lindsey’s place.

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Love that old time feeling

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Rainbow

Love that old time feeling of the nod of a head or a friendly wave.

I reckon over the last two days we nodded or waved about 100 times or more as we transited from our base in the Brisbane River to the Coomera River on the Goldie.

With each wave I can’t help to grin.

It reminds me of yesteryear, of my childhood growing up in a country town. In the early years, many of the backroads between towns were single lane with both cars pulling onto the rubble in order to pass. In some cases, one car needed to give way and pull off the road completely for the other car to get past. We did not need give way signs then. We just kind of worked it out. With it was the mandatory nod, or wave or the more subtle raising of the index and middle finger. To be clear, not a rude gesture, a polite gesture that says thanks and no worries.

The same is true on the water.

We left about 9 Saturday morning and topped up the diesel at Rivergate, just past the Gateway Bridge. I still get nervous before we dock, however we have been doing a pretty good job of docking lately. Marty and I have a good system going now.

We were just about to fuel up and a catamaran was coming into dock. I caught their bow line and Marty their stern with many thanks. It is what a lot of people have done for us. We talked for a bit and we went back to our refuelling.

Saturday was a good trip despite winds on the nose, predominantly in the 15 – 20 knots range with gusts up to 22knots. It was slow going. We anchored overnight at Potts Point, Macleay Island. We saw very few boats and a couple of crazily skilled and cool windsurfers on a blade. Total respect for their talent and skills.

The few boats we saw on Saturday are the more serious sailors, the scheduled ferries and the dedicated fisherman. The few boats we passed all knew the rules of the water and how to pass. There appeared to be no recreational boaties.

On Sunday it was a totally different story. To start with, the winds were predominately 10-15 knots (still on the nose) with gusts up 20 knots.

There were lots and lots of cruisers, sailing boats, fishermen and jet skiers. The water ways were busy. Busier than we have seen in a long time. Maybe not Boxing Day busy, but getting close.

The channel markers guiding us through the shallows

We left Potts Point at 5.15am more or less on low tide, and chased low tide for a couple of hours until it got ahead of us. On the first stages of our journey, we went through the shallows right on low tide with sand banks each side.

After leaving low tide behind us, and with the sun slightly higher in the sky, more boats were on the water. At first the serious fishing boats. Almost all of them get out of our way with a friendly wave and of course, we wave back, giving me a top up on that old time feeling. Then we started to see the cruisers and more fishing boats, many taking friends and their families out. Some with kids in life jackets, some without. My heart skips a beat when I see a kid out of the cockpit without a life jacket on.

Notwithstanding, pretty much everyone waves. They are out enjoying the ‘Great South East’ and I love it. I point to names on boats, we comment on the trim on cruisers. And we both refrained from swearing when a jet-ski stopped dead in front of us while he decided which way to go left or right. Even though we were only doing 6 knots, we are 20 tonnes and take a lot of stopping.

As our day continued, Marty and I took turns at the helm. We don’t have a formal roaster we swap when we felt like it. We continued to wave, nod and grin. Sometimes I think I was just grinning because life is good. On the water and navigating between the islands is beautiful.

At around 11.30am we turned to start our journey up the Coomera river . It is familiar, comfortable and busy. It is great to see people enjoying the water.

I love this area. It is well set up for boat life. We spent our first 4 months aboard living in this spot. I have so many happy memories here.

We turned the final bend in the river and once again docked, this time at The Boat Works Marina. A friendly neighbour appeared out of nowhere to catch a line and help us tie up.

Off course another smile, and thank you.

I love that old time feeling. It leaves a warm feeling inside.

Originally published on Facebook February 22, 2022

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In Sailing

Propeller shaft disconnects from gearbox

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Ever wondered what happens when your propeller shaft disconnects from your gearbox?

No, me neither until last weekend.  This is our story…

Queue music, Freddie Mercury singing ‘Don’t stop me now (Because I am having a good time).’

We were excited for the day ahead. It was perfect sailing weather. We were planning to depart (more or less) the same time as some new friends, and to hang out with them off Fraser Island in the evening. This is one thing we love about sailing. The interesting people we meet along the way.

At approximately 11.15am we were raising our anchor with the intention of sailing from Tin Can Bay to Garry’s Anchorage off Fraser Island. To raise the anchor, it is best as a two-person job. One person at the bow of the boat who needs to step on the anchor button to raise the anchor at the same time as using their arms to indicate the direction of the anchor chain to the person at the helm. The helmsman steers the boat in the direction of the anchor chain while putting us into gear and gently nudging the boat forward.

I was at the bow waving my arms, nowhere near as precisely as the guys at the airport do when guiding the airplane pilots to their spots, but you get the idea. While Martin was steering the boat and nudging her forward. Only we were not moving forward – we had no gears. No forward, no neutral and no reverse.

Spirits still high, we drop the anchor again quickly. We are in shallow water with a running current and rising wind.  

Fade, ‘Don’t stop me now’…

Queue music: Freddie singing, ‘I want to be free’.

Once we were certain the anchor was secure, we headed downstairs to check out why we had no gears. Martin stuck his head in the cupboard door under the sink to investigate (the engine is located under the sink). His investigation revealed that the propeller shaft was disconnected from the gear box. There was about 5 cm of air between the two.

He explained this to me. I stuck my head in to check it out. Yes, nothing but air.

I observed Martin’s energy levels drop and felt my own enthusiasm wane.

Gearbox and propeller shaft

We were baffled as to how this happened. After all it is a new engine with approximately a hundred hours on the clock. Peering in the engine compartment once more, I thought I saw a bolt thread lying on the floor. We grabbed our inspection camera and had a look. Yes, it is a bolt. I squeezed my body in over the engine, left elbow on the engine head and rotated my torso right to gain extension. I reached for the bolt with my fingertips, felt it. Bingo. I was able to grab it. I handed it to Martin. Went headfirst back into the engine compartment. I blindly felt around and found another bolt.

We thought these were the bolts that were holding the propeller shaft and gear box together. But apparently not. Martin attempted to reconnect them. As he did sea water starts rushing in through the prop shaft gland. We feel our plans slipping away.

Fade, ‘I want to break free’.

Queue Freddie singing, ‘Another one bites the dust (hey, it’s going to get to you)’.

Not good.

The bilge pump started up pumping hard. While we were not sinking (yet) we were not sure if the bilge pump was keeping up. We are both covered in grease. I absentmindedly grabbed a tea towel to wipe my hands. Damn, I did a Martin, I am annoyed every time he uses a tea towel instead of a paper towel. This time I did it… You have to laugh… And be kind to each other.

We started working through our options. Martin phoned the Tin Can Bay Marine Rescue. After a chat and exploring various options, they headed out to us with an extra pump ‘just in case’. Meanwhile we were all working on the plan as to what we are actually going to do. It was a bit of a blur. They suggested we get in touch with the Tin Can Bay Marina to see if they have room for us and can haul us out if we can’t stop the water ingress. And to see if they could also assist with finding a shipwright or mechanic to ensure the water stops coming in.

Fade, ‘Another one bites the dust’.

Queue Freddie singing, ‘Somebody to love (can anyone find me… someone to love)’   

By the time Marine Rescue had arrived, so had the Marina crew. Perfect, we are feeling the love now. We were towed by the Marina rescue. I was on the helm. It was my job to keep the boat dead centre behind the rescue boat. Martin was doing an assortment of jobs in preparation for what lay ahead.

The coast guards and the marina crew were brilliant.

We spent the next 30 minutes being towed by the coast guard. As we neared the marina, the marina crew strapped their boat to our stern. On their instruction, the coast guard then dropped their line and peeled away. From there Andrew skillfully guided us into the marina fuel dock.

Just as we finished tying our lines to the deck, a guy, tanned, sporting some cool dreadlocks, wondered up to our boat. It was Greg the local shipwright. He was wearing working gear, a cool chunky silver chain and pendant, and his hands showed the evidence of his trade. He said hello and smiled.

After introductions he asked the customary question, ‘Permission to come on board?’ Absolutely, he soon disappeared headfirst into the engine compartment. It was a busy time. The fuel dock was crowded with our boat, the marina boat and the coast guard. We still had their extra pump and held on to it just in case. We said thank you and promised to deliver it back to them on Monday. Now we were waiting for Greg to inform us if he could stop the water or if we had to be hauled out straight away. The good news was our bilge pump was keeping up.

Greg reappeared in the cockpit. Decisions needed to be made. Could we stop the water ingress? Could we work out what has happened? Did we need to be hauled out? If so, would our boat fit on their haul out facility.

Fade, ‘Somebody to love’

Queue Freddie singing, ‘Under pressure (Pressure falling down on me, falling down on you)’.

The answers:
  • Could we stop the water ingress?
  • Greg was able to push the propeller shaft back against the gland and in doing so, stopped the water flowing in.

Q.   Could we work out what has happened?

A.   We discussed various options and came up with a few theories.

Q.  Did we need to be hauled out?

A.   Yes, we did.

Q.   Would our boat fit in the marina’s haul out facility?

A.   This took a little time to answer with Andrew (Haul-out Hardstand Manager) and Martin swapping boat dimensions and measuring bits and pieces to be certain. The facility is not really meant for boats our size. They have a small 30 tonne lift. It was decided. We would fit… It would be interesting and very close.

Finally, with the decision having been made that we needed to be hauled out, we now needed to decide when. Greg was happy that we had stopped taking water. This meant we could stay in the water until Monday, as we needed to access their 30 tonne lift at high tide.

We had a hitch and just learnt that when we are out of the water, we cannot stay on the boat. We now had to find a place to stay that would take us, plus our two dogs and a cat. David the Marina Manager phoned around and found an Air B&B that would take us. Brilliant. We could stay on the boat until Monday.

And so we could breathe a little and ponder… not sure what. Somewhere along the way we had contacted our friends who we were meeting at Garry’s Anchorage to tell them we would not make it and to turn on to channel 77 if they wanted to hear our dramas on the radio.

Being on the boat had its own challenges.

We were at the fuel dock which was fine, however we did not have access to shore power. We had to be economical with our power usage and keep the batteries charged. There was an issue as the lights were flickering indicating that there may be a short somewhere. More issues… We really don’t want to think about. But need to…

We had started raising the anchor at 11.15am. All our new friends (the marine rescue, the marina staff and Greg) had finally left at around 4 pm. Both of us had not had lunch and were super tired and hungry.

Sunset at the sailing club

We fed the cat and grabbed the dogs and put them on their leads and wandered down to the sailing club to eat. It was about 4.15 when we arrived. The kitchen was not going to be open until 5. We begged for something simple. Hot chips it was, and at 4.30 we were eating the best hot chips whilst watching a gorgeous sunset. We were sitting on the deck.

And the cool air settles as the sun goes down

As the sun lowered, we were cast in shade and it became suddenly very cool. Martin wondered back to the boat to grab a jacket. Five pm could not come around fast enough. We were grateful for all the support along with being stuck in such a beautiful location. We ordered a plate of Gnocchi to share and tried to stay awake and wandered back to the boat and passed out. Exhausted from the days adventure.

Fade, ‘Under pressure’

Queue Freddie singing, ‘The show must go on’

To be continued….

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In Our Journey

Life onboard a boat, what if and why not…

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Saboteur departing Manly

We can easily find ourselves not following our dreams if we allow the “what if?” to hold us back. For me, more important is “why not?”

“Have you ever wondered what would happen if…?” I have heard this phrase so many times in the last four months since we finally made the move to living on our boat. These questions tend to fall into three categories:
• The physical
• Relationship based
• What makes you happy

What follows is an attempt to answer some of these questions as best I can, from my point of view. Although that may change with time, circumstances or context.

The most frequently asked question I get asked is “Do you still/actually/really like living on a boat?”

After surviving the journey of downsizing and going live-aboard it is now almost four months of living on Saboteur in the relatively safe waters of the Marina and surrounding environments, the answer is a resounding, “Yes. I/we still like living on the boat, in fact I/we love it.” My heart sings as I look outside and step off our boat onto the kayak. And I am sure half my friends are sick of another sunrise or sunset photo or video. Thank you for liking my posts anyway…

Morning sunrise
Morning sunrise

The first question is often followed by, “How do you find living in such a small space?” (Assumed compared to a sprawling house). Another common question is, “How do you find living so close to each other?” and also “What if you get annoyed with each other?”

I find those questions are all related, and I will answer them together.

Let’s not lose sight of the fact that I can get annoyed with Martin Lloyd 
in a big house or a small boat… Just saying.

And in fairness, he can get annoyed with me, too!

These questions require an honest look at myself. And a level of self-awareness that at 53 years of age you kind of think/hope you had sorted out for oneself. But under new circumstances and new environments, I am finding I have to look inside a little bit more. It begs the question “should I have been more reflective more often?” The answer is probably. I am being kind on myself. The answer should have been a resounding yes; however I can’t go back, only forward.

My future is on the boat and in a smaller space. I am finding I need to share my frustrations and raise my concerns sooner.

Sometimes they are about something Martin has done, other times it could be something else. When it is something else, and I share it with him it means he is not wandering around the boat wondering if he has done something to annoy me. I am having to be more aware of what I do that may annoy Martin. Hard to believe. But it can happen. That I can be annoying that is. And sometimes we mirror each other. This makes for interesting and often humorous moments.

Being more honest with yourself can be confronting. Being more honest with each other can be even harder.

The “what if” factor… What if I am more honest? It is simple; we develop a greater understanding of each other’s needs. And we move past the annoyed stage much quicker. Another outcome is that I choose to let go of some things much quicker as well. And that feels great. Why waste quality time that I could spend enjoying something else? You know what I mean. The funny thing is I can get annoyed at myself for being annoyed and wasting time being annoyed…

There are also easier and equally as interesting questions,
“What do you miss from living in a house?”

Tea in bed
My alternative to a bedside table

The first words out of my mouth the first time I was asked this was “a bedside table”. Why? I miss having a cup of tea in bed. No biggie I know. My work around option is a small high sided baking dish I use as a stable tray and my “keep mug” (it has a sealed lid) which sits beside me in the bed. And if I knock it over without the lid sealed the remaining early grey is captured in the baking dish. Works well.

That sounds like nothing really. And I think if that is what I miss the most then I am doing alright. OK I missed fresh water when the fresh water pump broke recently. And it took a week to replace due to the challenge of finding the right pump with the right capacity that fitted the confines of the space.

What I truly miss is more associated with relationships and being in a different city. Being further away from family and friends. It is also one of the reasons for our adventures. Not the being away from family and friends bit. It is more about the travel, adventure and meeting new people, people who love being on the water or connected to the water and/or seeking adventures. And then, there are those who grow up on the water and worked on the water. “Salties” as they are called. I doubt we will ever be called “Salties” Our skin is too pale to start with. I’ll settle for sailor girl.

I digress – back to your questions…

What happens if one or both of you and are physically
unable to sail anymore?

We have talked this though a number of times. We discussed a number of circumstances ranging from Martin coming off his bike on a track day. This was less of a discussion and more of me telling him how I would handle the situation if he ended up in a wheelchair again. I would put a bed in the shed (we have a shed at the marina) and he can wheel himself to the amenities block… You may well laugh; laugh I did say that. We also discussed hoisting him on to the boat using a halyard. Also possible…

When we think of possible physical limitations, we have both been inspired by a lady at Newport Marina (where we kept our first boat) who is paraplegic and in a wheelchair. She lives on her own on her boat and sails single handed. While I never saw her sail, I saw her physically pull herself in her wheelchair up the marina ramp, sweat on her brow and determination on her face.

I wondered if she was so used to it now or did her muscles burn from lactic acid build up?

I have no idea how many times a day she did this. Going down the ramp you would think would be easier. However it first required her to get off her wheelchair, on to the bitumen and lift her wheel chair over the gutter and get back on and gently control the wheel chair going over the rise and the speed down the ramp and line her wheels up with the grooves that were cut in the bar at the bottom of them ramp to stop or arrest runaway trolleys. She never complained. She was not a victim, she was living her life. Once she told us of sailing her boat on her own (or single handed as they say) from Sydney to Brisbane. Our boat is potentially a bit big for single handed sailing. And if Martin is injured again we have opinions.

Our friends, Jo and Tim (of similar ages to us with Tim older than Jo) intend to sell their sailboat (a 52’ Ketch) and buy a cruiser. They want to sell before they find the upkeep and work required more daunting than is practical.

Even though they prefer sailing to motor cruising they would rather live on the water than on land. So, they have started looking for a beautiful displacement boat to call home.

And then we have met others who have opted for the canal boats of Europe and the United Kingdom. This is something We would love to do. I talk to anybody I meet who has had experience with canal boats. I think I am in love with the pace of life on a canal boat.

A canal boat, why not.
Why not?

A recent conversation brought this home to me: “You have to totally learn to relax. Especially if you are travelling in peak season. You may have to wait for hours to get through the locks. You have to wait for the tides. And so you are stopped in the most beautiful countryside, in little villages, hamlets and you can either enjoy the beauty, read a book, listen to music etc because in those moments you cannot change the tide or jump queue. All you can do is be in the moment.” I first fell in love with this idea while reading Richard Branson’s autobiography (the first one). I would love to explore the UK and Europe in a canal boat once we are done sailing. But first we want to bounce around New Zealand and linger there for a while.

And finally, what if one day we are no longer able to
manage a motorboat (or canal boat)?

We draw our inspiration from a couple at Gold Coast City Marina. Let me tell you their story.

PJ and Jane: We had not seen the them for a few weeks. They have a house as well as a lovely motor cruiser. However, we had heard that PJ was unwell. He is 88 and they have had their berth at the Marina for twenty years. They spend a lot of time, there on their boat.

Anyway, we recently learnt that PJ has had a couple of mini strokes. In learning this, one cannot help but have a fleeting thought about our own mortality. It was with great joy we saw he and Jane back on their boat last week. Their visit was meant to be just to pick up a few things. However, they stayed the night. Jane commented on the fact that they will be wearing the same clothes the next day. They are always beautifully dressed.

They do not do the scruffy unkept look that many boaties gravitate towards (Including Martin who has clothes I need to throw away).

Notwithstanding, the next day Jane went home and grabbed them a change of clothes for one more night – they stayed two more. I think they left the same day we slipped our lines to go away for a long weekend. FYI our longest trip yet. Friday to Monday.

We spent time with PJ before we left. He still has his wicked sense of humour. The outcome of his strokes has drained his energy and physical capability. However, his wit is still as sharp as ever. They have planned to do a 6-day cruise this week. This cruise is with a Flotilla of boats and theirs was to be the lead boat. So, what have they decided to do? They have organised a skipper. This is the most sensible thing I have heard in a very long time. They will enjoy their cruise even more.

So my friends.

Have we wondered about what if? Yes, we have tried. But more importantly we prefer to look at the why not?

#SailingSaboteur #Ilovesailing #whatareyouwaitingfor #liveyourlife #Tandmadventures #Marinalife #Getoutdoors #wearsunscreen #slipslopslap #Zacadventures #Petsonboats #Catsonboats #Dogsonboard #Catsonboard

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In Live your life

Under pressure rip-cord.

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After watching this magic sunset we were no longer under pressure

I have always thrived, and on the odd occasion coped, under pressure. I have always managed to get what needs to be done, done. The last four months have been the most intense period for many years. It has been the same for Martin Lloyd.

Que music, David Bowie singing “Under Pressure”

Zac Chillaxing, so not under pressure
Zac chillaxing

Between emptying the house and moving onto the boat, maintaining full time workload along with settling three animals onboard, it has been a little hectic. Fortunately, the animals settled almost immediately. I think it took me longer to stop observing and being concerned about them settling into to their new life than they did.

Zac seems to think the boat is the biggest cubby house ever. Moo and Nitro are just happy to be with us wherever we are.

We are into our third month on the boat and I had the opportunity with my workload to take a two-week break. I jumped on it not realising how long I had been under pressure and much I needed it. I thought I would write and get a few tasks done around the boat. Sitting on top of the “I thought I would” list was to publish a post I wrote a few weeks ago and write at least another, along with finishing installing the safety netting. Two weeks later, they are still on top of the list. In reality, I did very little.

I did do a lot of paddling, reading, sleeping and reflecting on what is important in life.

Paddling into the marina at sunset

Most mornings I went for a paddle with the dogs. Some mornings our neighbour Daniel Cooke and his dog Charlie joined us. I did a couple of sunset paddles. Martin joined me for one. It was magic.

I finished one book and started another. Both were about peoples journey. The first “By Way of the Wind” (By Jim Moore) is about a couple who had very little sailing experience, yet they sailed around the world. Martin and I have a lot to learn. The second is called “Pig” by Helen Browning, which takes us through tales of an organic farm, the relationships with their farm animals, nature and life itself. It is very interesting as they transition their farm towards alternative food sources.

I slept a lot… read, snoozed, read, repeated… I think I am starting to get the hang of this break!

Fade David Bowie.
Que Pink Floyd singing “Shine on your crazy Diamond”

I spent 2 days with my sister and collectively we said goodbye to a friend who passed away in the height of COVID. Her family planned for and hoped to be able to celebrate her life on what would have been her 57 birthday. When we heard the Queensland Government COVID changes the week before, I thought the plans would have to be put on hold again and I shed a tear. However, we learnt her wake could go ahead as it was at a venue with appropriate a COVID plan. Such relief. And so, we celebrated a life of our beautiful angel and Dancing Queen, Therese.

I spent the evening before the wake with a girlfriend and her 6-week old baby and playing with her 3 year old. Celebrating new life. Such precious times. They grow so quickly. My girlfriend ask what do I miss from living on land. My reply was simple, a cup of tea in bed. We have no bedside tables. We laughed, she does not have bedside tables either. Although I suspect two kids would prevent regular cups of tea in bed. That night, as I went to sleep I missed the gentle rocking of the boat.

I took time out just to hang with my sister and the following day we did girlie things. I raided her wardrobe trying on clothes for about 3 hours and then we both settled down and chilled.

Camp fire on the beach

To wrap up the two-week break Martin (also under pressure) escaped work and took Friday off. We slipped the lines of our berth at Gold Coast City Marina and headed north through the Boardwater up to Millionaires Row, dropped the anchor and chilled for two nights. On the second night we jumped in the dinghy for a sunset beach walk and got as far as a campfire and talked with a family who like us were enjoying a perfect sunset and a weekend sailing. It was lovely to see grandparents, parents, the two kids and their dog enjoying this life. And again the pull to head to New Zealand is getting ever stronger to be with our girls and grandchildren.

Fade Pink Floyd
Que Little River Band singing “Cool change”

If there’s one thing in my life that’s missing
It’s the time that I spend alone
Sailing on the cool and bright clear water…

#SailingSaboteur #Whatareyouwaitingfor #Liveyourlife #Getoutdoors #TandMadventures #Catsonboard #Dogsonboard #ZacAdventures #Wearsunscreen #Ilovesailing

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In Sailing

Still learning…

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Captain Marty at the helm

The night is peaceful and calm. Martin has had a busy day readying the boat for tomorrow’s sail. We have set ourselves a goal of going sailing every second weekend. After all we are still learning. As we ready, my mind reflects back to our sail two weeks ago.

—

Sunday came and we awoke with excitement and a little trepidation, as we were going to not only put the sails through their paces, but it was the first time the three animals had been sailing. Time will tell how the animals will go. We (humans and animals both)are all learning and adjusting to life on board. Finally, we were able to turn our attention to the boat and putting her new sails through their paces.

We readied the boat. Put most extra items away down below. Everything needs a home. When you go on board someone’s you boat can immediately tell whether they regularly take it out by how many items they have to put away. For us the galley is typically always cleared and if anything, it is the clean dishes that need to be put away. Notwithstanding, the two sink design is set up so that the draining tray sits in the second larger sink and nothing could fall out if left there. It just might move around a little. The heads and the Nav station are tidied. Laptops and my iMac are the main things to put away. We have been gradually finding homes for things.

We forgot to go through the “IF WOBBLE” check list before we depart
(apologies to Elliot our International Day skipper instructor).

Easy mistake for an absolute beginner but also easy for us to say it should all be working as, after all everything is brand new. And we are still learning.

I = Isolate. (Disconnect shore power and stow the power cable properly, check there are no lines [ropes] on the water)
F = Fuel (check you have sufficient fuel for the journey)

Now the above is all pretty obvious, and I got that. The following will make sense, however on a boat you need to be across all of these and check them every time. As I said I am still learning. My training was back in July 2019 in the beautiful Whitsundays. It has been a year now and we are finally at a point where we can do these checks on our boat before sailing. And it has been 6 months since we did our engine maintenance course. Confession: I have had to look some of this up to write this post. I don’t mind as it helps my learning and remembering…

All the while I have David Bowies words in my head – Absolute Beginners.

W = Water
Check that the cock allowing seawater to the heat exchanger is open. Then after the engine has started, check the cooling water from the exhaust and for 30 seconds afterwards.

O = Oil
You would check it the same way you would in your car, just got to remember where it is on our engine. We have a new engine if you recall.

B = Belt
Again, just like your car. I need to learn what the right tension feels like, and for that matter how to change an engine belt.

We are half way there now. Still learning…
It is kind of funny to be learning the obvious.

B = Bilge
Here we are meant to lift a few floorboards to check for water in the hull, just in case the automatic bilge pumps are not working.

L = Leaks
I assume here we check for leaks anywhere in the engine, any pipe connections etc. In theory we should be pretty good in this space as all our pipes are new as well.

E = Electrics & Exhaust
Here we turn on the electrics, our navigation, our depth finder and wind instruments, radio and switch to the local channel where they regularly report the weather conditions and any incidents to avoid etc. As well as the engine exhaust extraction pump, otherwise the boat will be full of engine fumes.

As I said we pretty much forgot to run through this check list but ended up somehow doing the obvious ones, disconnect the power slip the lines, turn on the engine exhaust pump etc.

Our neighbours come on board with a fresh brew of coffee. It smells amazing and we are happy to be sharing this trip with Daniel Cooke and Sarah Schwaner. With fresh coffee and enthusiasm, we slipped our lines and Martin beautifully guided Saboteur off the finger allowing the tide to gently drift Saboteur out of our pen . He turned her to head out of the marina and we commenced our trip along the Coomera river towards the Southport Seaway though the Southport bar into open ocean. (and back again).

We had two goals; to test the new mainsail and staysail, including our ability to raise and lower the Main from our new LeisureFurl boom.
And also to test the animals and see what their sea legs are like.

In the morning I gave all three of them a very small dose of an anti-anxiety drug provided to me by the vet. It worked a treat on the cat; however I am not sure it affected on the dogs.

The cat was locked in our bedroom and his litter tray was handy in the ensuite. While he did not like the loud engine noise, we had no complaints from him about being locked in the bedroom. And more importantly he did not throw up. I checked in on him a few times and he spent most of the day snoozing on our bed.

The dogs are always happiest when they are with us.

Tess sitting in the cock pit with Nitro (the dog)
Always by my side.

By with us I mean near us. The dogs started our journey below deck while we slipped the lines. While this was happening, they were sitting at the base of the companion way whingeing about not being in the cockpit where all the action was happening. As soon as we were underway, they joined us in the cockpit with their life jackets on, clipped on to their leads that was strapped to the safety line. They have been trained to sit were we tell them to. Most of the time they followed this order. When they stray they usually return to their spot on instruction. They were once again happy. We put them below when we crossed the bar and brought them back to the cockpit again when we were in the open water. Like Zac, the dogs did not throw up. This made us both relieved.

As we headed to towards the Southport Bar, I went below and radioed into the Gold Coast Seaway coast guard our intentions for the day.

Confession time again, I truly could not remember what I was meant to do and say, and even though Martin reminded me before I disappeared down the companion way, it was like my nerves had erased my memory.

I grabbed my training book and I kid you not, it fell open on the page I needed. Then, I had to work out how to slide the hand piece of the radio, press the button and remember to say over.

I had to turn down the volume of the radio as it had been loud so we could hear it with the wind and background noise etc.

“Coastguard, Coastguard This is SV (Sailing vessel) Saboteur” (I forgot to say over). “SV can you repeat”. “Coastguard Coastguard This is SV Saboteur Over”. “Saboteur can you turn to Channel 73 please”. In my mind, ahhh which dials do I turn…I find it and rush past the channel and back again. And so, I find Channel 73. “Coastguard this is SV Saboteur Over…”

With that we exchange the required details, Vessel, plan, number of people (I leave off the 3 animals), mobile phone and they wish us a fun sail. I go back upstairs.

The bar crossing was not too bad.

I have had plenty worse and so we found ourselves out in the open water of the Coral Sea for the first time. We are used to sailing in Moreton Bay with a collection of islands to pick from for our destination. Beyond heading east and testing our sails we had not really decided what our plans where.

We had followed another sail-boat across the bar. It appeared to be a training boat as it had about 10 or 12 people on it. We watched them hoist their sails and see them flap aimlessly due to the absence of wind. Where was the forecast 5 to 10 knots? In the absence of wind we had the engine gently purring while we bounced around in the ocean swell; this was uncomfortable.

Surprisingly, we were queasy…

We being Martin, Sarah and myself. This was a first for me (other than with my brother-in-law’s driving that is). I have been in rough seas with 80% of the passengers throwing up. I was kind of disappointed to be queasy. Not of the disheartening variety, but disappointing, nevertheless.

Not to be deterred, we raised our new mainsail. It was beautiful (and easy). And despite the 2m swell and our queasiness, we congratulated ourselves on the investment we made for the boom furling mainsail. We wanted to make sailing easy for our bodies as we gracefully age. OK I am talking about me now ha, ha… Our friend Dan was super impressed with how easy raising our mainsail was. And so we rolled in the swell for a bit waiting for any skerrick of breeze, but there was none to have. Captain Marty decided to head back in. With Skipper Dan at the wheel we headed back towards the bar. I popped below deck and called in to the coast guard to tell them of our pending return and went back upstairs.

Our disappointment did not last long.

Dan at the helm and Martin talking
Back inside the bar we could relax

Back inside the bar our queasiness started to lift. It did not go away… It lingered for a while. Pleasantly surprising, we got some light breeze and we were able unfurl the inner staysail. She looked wonderful. Then before we knew it, we were at the mouth of the Coomera river and heading back to our marina. The setting sun was beautiful, conversation was easy. Sarah and Dan were the perfect friends to have on board. Dan’s experience and Sarah’s eye for beauty and her enthusiasm for life balanced our nervousness about our own adventures… Each time we aim to test something we practically hold our breath as we wait to see if it was a sound investment (or not). And so we furled our staysail as we turned into the Coomera river. And I could feel my breathing return.

I enjoyed the contentment that came with being happy. And I was. From here there were so many magic moments. Sarah grabbing her camera and taking photos of the wallabies on the edge of the Coomera river, moments of touch and connection as we relaxed while the afternoon passed behind us.

We were approaching the marina and Martin took over the helm. If you recall the last attempt to dock was very stressful. Today the weather conditions were totally different, perfectly calm, and a little breeze.

We approach the finger and Martin picked his spot to turn. He nailed it and docked perfectly so we could easily step off and tie off our lines.

We celebrated with a couple of drinks.

Sarah and I disappeared for a second sunset paddle.

We enjoyed an awesome dinner.

—

And so as I tell the tale of our last sailing adventures it is now Friday evening. We had a lovely dinner with our friend Bill Fuller. He has just left and Martin has gone to bed. It has just gone 10pm. Zac wants to go for his evening walk. The dogs are sitting beside me snoozing. I have just finished my cuppa; the marina is very still. And everything feels right, just right.

Tomorrow we are going sailing.

#Ilovesailing #whatareyouwaitingfor #liveyourlife #Tandmadventures #Zacadventures #Petsonboard #Catsonboard #Dogsonboard #wearsunscreen #slipslopslap

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Living & learning as an absolute beginner!

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Sunset paddle

Queue music: David Bowie, Absolute Beginner

Martin Lloyd and I spent the weekend before last embracing the fun and folly of our youth (you can stop laughing right now) and our decision to go live-aboard. I felt so alive, energised and happy. I navigated the weekend and its experiences as an absolute beginner, as I undertook new challenges and the learnings that went with them and the laughs that went with our activities.

It is a stark contrast to the midweek funk I found myself in. You know what I mean. Hump day and all. Only this time it was extreme. I was seriously lacking motivation and struggling to focus. Familiarity (work stuff) leading to boredom. I was going crazy. Perhaps I was suffering from a lack of people contact which I find energising. Just maybe it is a combination of both. And this coming weekend it is forecast to rain (and it did). However, I have shaken the mid-week funk off.

Get me out of here I want to go sailing!!!

Let me take you back. We survived the pain and fatigue of downsizing. We are settling into a new kind of normal that comes with finding our new local supermarket, vet (found that already thank you Moo), pharmacy and the like. Not to mention where to go for our curry fix. And even more importantly, settling Zac (the cat), Moo and Nitro (dogs) into their new life on the boat and managing comfort stops. No longer can I just open the door and let them outside. I physically have to lift the dogs up the companion way (steps) into the cockpit. From here they gladly jump over the cockpit seats and wait politely, despite sometimes being desperate on the side of the boat for me to then get down and lift them onto the finger.

While part of me would be grateful if they could jump down themselves, I am grateful that they are not inclined to as I feel reasonably confident that they will still be on the deck when I return. When we are on land, I have to keep an eye on them as they explore, often heading in different directions. And as for Moo, we have just learned he can walk straight between the bars of the fence to the road. So the fence is merely a boundary suggestion. So far, escape activities are Moo twice and Zac once. Fortunately, they were both playful and not running away from a life aboard.

Last weekend was booked solid.

Friday came and I wanted to shout, “Hello weekend”.

Hello weekend image with text

It felt brilliant. I kicked off the weekend with a Friday sunset paddle up the creek with my neighbour Daniel Cooke in our kayaks. We were accompanied by his dog Charlie and our two dogs Moo and Nitro. It was magic, my spirits soared as each stroke weaved us through stunning vistas and the glow of the setting sun presenting an ever-changing backdrop.

Me and the dogs heading out on an adventure
Off we go

Paddling on my kayak (a happy trade off to my surf ski and purchased to carry the dogs easily) is very different to paddling my surf ski. It is a different style, each stoke needs to be more casual, laid back and chilled. I tried to model my stroke off Dan’s. He appears to be the chill master. I had to remind myself to sit back and drop my shoulders rather than the slight lean forward and reaching for the longer stroke required to maximise the power I would normally seek to feel the surf ski glide efficiently though the water. The kayak offers no such efficiencies. The creek gently reminds me that there is no sense of pace required that comes with paddling the surf ski.

The creek is quiet. The birds are singing.
It’s serene.

Dan points out the birds, and he can identify the various types. Me, I’m an absolute beginner. I recall my mother being able to identity every bird in the garden. I packed an Australian bird book which has not found its way to the surface with our unpacking yet. Dan even spotted wallabies.

Absolute beginner at sunset paddles

The sunset was amazing, the peace that came with it led to a beautiful evening of great food, wine and company. My muscles felt the joy and warmth of a nice work out.

Saturday, we had hoped to put the boat through her paces, however the wind was stronger than what we had wanted for our planned activities so we rescheduled our sail for Sunday.

We looked for things to do on Saturday.
What evolved lead to a comedy of events.

We decided to put the dinghy tender in the water. Until now it had been on its trailer outside the shed. The lads decided to carry the dinghy to the water. This required wheeling the trailer to the closest point to the gangway (ramp to the finger). The lads lifted it off the trailer, rotated it to be vertical. Dan grabbed a small trolley. We put the edge of the dinghy on the trolley up on its side, then they moved it between the path’s hedges leading on to the gangway. The trolley started to slip sideways so I put my foot on the trolley to arrest this sideways movement, at that point my shoe got dosed in water and my foot slipped out of my shoe, now firmly wedged between the dinghy air-rib and the trolley.

I watched as the boys wheeled / carried the dinghy (and my shoe) down the gangway to the water’s edge. I wondered would the trolley end up in the water along with my shoe. It did not matter if the dinghy ended up in the water. Controlled or uncontrolled that was, after all, its destination. However, the boys did a brilliant job of controlling the dinghy down the gangway and lowering it in the water.

And that is when the real entertainment began.

I jumped in the dinghy to hold it against the finger while the guys lowered the engine on to the transom. I secured it by tightening the clamps. Once the engine was secured Martin said, OK you’re in the dinghy you can take it around to the other side of Saboteur. Ha, ha… I did not know how to start it nor steer a tiller / throttle combo. this was going to funny… besides, I had to navigate between our boat and our neighbours boat without damaging either. Not that that was possible as our dinghy has an inflatable tube (other wise known as a rib) around its gunwales offering insurance to every vessel but my fragile ego. In case you missed the point, our neighbour was watching.

But first, I had to get the 2.5 horsepower outboard started.

I tried to follow instructions. Attach the safety kill switch, pull the choke out, open the fuel cap breather (a little not too much) to allow air into the fuel tank. Why, I don’t know. I have probably forgotten something or got the order wrong but hey… And then I have to pull the cord. Much like a lawn mower. You get the idea. About 6 attempts later… Again I am shown, this time I am guided to pull the cord back slowly and feel it take the tension, then allow it to slide back in and then pull evenly through the tension point – easier said than done.

Martin does it perfectly… beauty, I am off… But before I could get myself taught lesson on a tiller and a throttle underway, Martin kills it so I can start it… Really, I was ok with his success… I try again, again and again. It took about another ten attempts before I got the outboard started. Now to work out how to use the tiller and throttle. And so, accompanied by a squeal (me) and three dogs, I wobble away from the finger turn the corner and practically bounced between our boat and our neighbours boat. Our neighbour is still watching. At which point Martin says I need to go out into the marina and play.

I need to master this damn fandangled thing called a dinghy.
It is, after all, a safety device.

And so I cautiously venture out from between the two boats, edging forward in search of my confidence.

I am sure it is sitting on the marina waiting for me to return.

Funny how I am comfortable in a big boat, but even this small one is a totally different thing.

GCCM a great place for an absolute beginner to learn to her dinghy skills.
A fun place to play

And so I ventured forth and went in and out of some pens, I headed towards the Moor and Store (They store boats here and lower them in the water for the their owners when they want to use them) and then decided this was not a good idea. What if someone’s boat was going to be lowered in the water, or someone else was to put their boat in at the boat ramp. Imagine that. I would have to navigate traffic and so I turned and headed towards the other side of the marina. Less traffic and more open space.

The dogs were fine. They seemed to enjoy the ride. They were sitting up front balancing the boat nicely. Then Charlie a 10 kilo Cavalier King Charles Poodle cross wanted to come closer to me followed by my dogs.

Charlie was sitting on the centre seat, and I cannot blame him.
It is a seat, after all. However, it changed the centre of gravity and
my confidence.

I asked Charlie to move back to his original seat. I cannot remember what I said but he did it and my dogs followed suit. Relief, I was not sure how I would get Charlie out of the water if he fell in. In the Marina it would not be a problem as he could swim back to the boat. However, that is not the point. I can easily lift my dogs in.

And so I played in the marina and my confidence was a little buoyed. Not a lot. I knew I needed to practice and master this thing called a dinghy and outboard. And you can laugh… I have very little confidence yet. However much more confident in a larger boat. Then and there, I set myself a goal to go out every day for 21 days. Having made that decision, I returned to shore to reconnect with my confidence.

Some strange things were happening. I have my sea legs, well and truly, and every now and again when I get on land, I get the land wobbles. It is a thing you know.

And armed with my 21 days plan I was happy.

The outboard that is causing havoc for this absolute beginner
Yet to be mastered

However, over the next two days I learnt the bung was leaking. The dinghy was filling with water. And so, Monday morning Dan took the outboard off our dinghy and secured it to it’s mounting plate on Saboteur.

My dinghy full of water.
Some bailing to be done

Dan checked out the local chandlery and Martin and I went in search on-line for a bung.

It is a special bung of which there are none in Australia. This is not good for a safety device. We ordered a new one on-line and are waiting delivery. And so my 21 day challenge is on hold.

More fun to be had…

More lessons to be learnt for this truly absolute beginner…

At least David Bowies singing “Absolute Beginner” buoys my soul as I test myself…

OK, you racer boys out there with ridiculous amounts of horsepower of your back wheel can stop laughing some time soon.

#Ilovesailing #whatareyouwaitingfor #liveyourlife #wearsunscreen #TandMadventures #Dinghyadventures

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