Departing Sanctuary Cove Marina… The last time we departed Sanctuary Cove Marina, some of you held your breath as it was the first time I had taken the helm to depart from a dock.
They say practice makes perfect. Are you ready, friend Jordo?
We had decided to spend a couple more nights at Sanctuary Cove again. We were heading out to dinner with friends and there were a few storms coming, so it was just going to be easier all round to stay for a couple of nights. There is something comforting about heading into a marina that we have been into before. Familiarity provides a little more confidence. We have a sense of how wide the berths are, and how much room we have to turn etc. And so, heading in, we were very relaxed. We have fallen into the habit of setting up Saboteur so that we can dock on either side, just in case. This means we have fenders and lines on both sides of the boat ready for plan A and plan B.
With Marty at the helm, we phoned in and were told we could have the same berth as last time – sweet. Too easy. The light breeze was going to gently blow us on to the finger. This is the easiest way to dock. We came in on low tide. Marty gently turned and lined the bow up perfectly. I sat on the edge of the boat, feet dangling over the side, the stern line in my hand and about to step off. It was an easy step. We are gliding in. I tend to count down the reducing distance in metres 3, 2, I… in the readiness to step off.
There was a slight jolt.
We had stopped, just shy of the finger. I shouted out ‘keep going’. Marty shouted back ‘we have hit bottom…’ This marina is meant to be deeper than this. Bugger. Captain Marty upped the erbs (slang for horse power) and we gradually pushed Saboteur’s 20 tonnes through the soft mud bottom the remaining distance into our berth. I stepped off what was the slowest docking ever.
Our time swiftly passed at the marina. We had a couple of social events, I was able to write and Marty installed the stand-up paddle board brackets on the stanchions and we were both very happy with our efforts.
We kept meaning to tell the Marina Manager that we had touched bottom. This marina and this berth are designed for much bigger boats that require more water underneath them than we do. We really should not have touched bottom. We kept forgetting to tell him and finally told him when we handed our keys back before leaving.
Once again it was time for me to take Saboteur off the finger. Practice, practice, practice… I was feeling mildly confident and slightly nervous. It was about an hour after low tide. We had 10cm of water underneath us. More than what we had when we came in. I asked Marty, ‘Should we wait a little longer, perhaps have another 10 cm underneath us?’ We discussed this, however with the extra water comes increased current.
We decided to leave now.
I took the helm. Started the engine, tested the instruments and made sure that the bow thruster was working. Marty took the bow line off as I nudged Saboteur into reverse. We were slowing moving backwards. Marty stepped on board with the stern line and we were free from the finger. We edged back until we were midships and I started to turn Saboteur with the bow thruster. It was a wide berth and we had plenty of room. We were now about 45 degrees to the finger and… we hit bottom. I mean seriously hit bottom.
Not going forward, not going back.
I could have stepped off at the end of the finger (just – it would have been a big step). We looked at each other and laughed. There was nothing to do but wait until we had more water underneath us. The challenge, if we lifted off without realising it, was that the wind could have pushed us into the boat beside us. We had to keep a close eye on the water level and on our position. Being still and waiting… watching… waiting… watching. We phoned the Marina manager and explained we were stuck again. He said, yes, he could see that. We laughed. He offered to grab a line. No need, I was staying on the helm. He said he would organise to get that area surveyed and re-dredged.
And so about 15 minutes later…
we had enough water and power to continue backwards and then I could put Saboteur into neutral and then into forward gear. We were drifting. I had no power. We both looked at each other. Marty said, ‘Don’t tell me the propeller shaft has disconnected again from the gear box’. I hit the bow thruster to steer us away from the slowly approaching boats we were drifting towards. It was all slow motion. This is the advantage of going on slack water (low or high tide when the current turns).
I brought her back to neutral and then got into gear again. Bingo. I hadn’t put the gear stick fully into forward. We both laughed and sighed almost at the same time as the propeller moved us forward and out of the channel.
‘Get me out of here!’ I said to myself. Along with:
I hate sailing
I hate being cold
I hate being wet
Are we there yet?
I was seriously queasy. I asked Martin ‘How much longer?’ And he informs me that what we thought was going to be another three hours was likely to be another five. ‘Five, you have got to be kidding. I go downstairs and hope to throw up. It does not happen.
The day had started with me taking us off anchor and heading out of a relatively calm Mooloolaba bar. The coast guards have excellent instructions on how to cross to the bar. Thank you very much Mooloolaba coast guards. I completed my first bar crossing as skipper and was proud of myself.
I turn the boat to the open water with the plan of heading north east away from land to catch the South easterly breeze, then after about five hours turning west to sail into Double Island Point anchorage for the night. We put the headsail up first as the wind was from our starboard quarter. We were doing 6.5 knots. It was pretty good speed really. However, it was rough, rougher than expected. The swell was the size we expected however we could not comfortably sail in the direction we wanted. We tried to trim the sails to make the passage more comfortable. Eventually the head sail came down and we put up the smaller staysail. More correctly Martin put the steering lock on and changed the sails. I was too sick.
We sailed in the same rough conditions for about 10 hours. I was queasy the whole time.
I was still saying to myself:
Get me out of here
I hate sailing
I hate being cold
Now I have added a few more things to the list:
When can I get of the boat, and
What do you mean with have another 3 hours of this. You have got to be kidding!!!
I spared myself from feeling guilty about not helping Martin as he had done the same trip a few weeks ago with a friend and he was sick the whole way. Sicker than me by all accounts. Meanwhile, I want to throw up and can’t. Martin is on the helm, auto pilot handling the conditions perfectly and Martin was leaning back reading his book on his phone. You have got to be kidding. He is quite pleased not to be sick this time. For that I am grateful.
After 11 hours after starting out, we finally anchored on the lee of Double Island point.
It is still lumpy rough. I go to bed without eating. Martin gives all the animals a light meal of dry food, just in case.
The following morning we arose and had a slow start. We miscalculated how long it would take to get to the Wide Bay Bar by an hour. We would be crossing an hour after the highest water. Not really a big problem. We checked the height of the swell and breakers with the Tin Can Bay coastguard. It is the Captains call. On paper it all seems OK. What could go wrong? (Nothing actually did – Martin).
We continue and make good time. I am still queasy. So again, all the work falls on Martin.
‘I still hate sailing, please get me out of here’
We make good time and have the approach into the Wide Bay Bar programmed into the nav system. It is a long approach. As we turn to approach the bay so does the swell turn to waves with breakers. We are constantly adjusting as the swell and waves want us to take a more direct route to shore. We had to stay on the waypoints to keep maximum depth underneath us. This was Martins job which he did brilliantly. While I had to watch the swell and breakers for particularly high ones we need to turn away from. We settled into a rhythm of working well together. Our boat Saboteur rose up, rode and surfed the swell and waves brilliantly.
Grab your favorite drink and enjoy the story of a flying Moo Moo and a giggle to end your day on.
I woke up feeling refreshed after two nights in a row of great sleep. Eleven hours on Tuesday, and ten hours last night. It had nothing to do with Martin being away. It is more to do with catching up on sleep and shaking off a head cold kind of feeling, nothing I can really put my finger on. Maybe it is just sinus.
Just after 6am, I took all three animals up for their morning comfort stop. This can be challenging when I am on my own. Challenging for a number of reasons. Zac the cat is on a 5-meter retractable lead, and I need to keep one eye on him in case any passing dogs are overly interested. Generally, he has their measure. Nowadays the bigger dogs don’t bother him, he simply ignores their barking and attention. I believe most give up because they don’t get the reaction they are seeking.
Zac disappears into the garden bed, digs a hole and does his business and then covers it up. Meanwhile, Moo and Nitro head in different directions and each do their business on the open grass. I make a mental note where each one stopped so that I can collect their calling cards. Checking for big dogs I tie Zac’s lead to a tree. He is happy eating grass. I pick up Moo’s poo and hunt for Nitro’s – cannot see it. Keep looking…
I feel my shoe slide in something soft.
You guessed it – found it. All of it is stuck to my shoe. I wipe it off on a brick and bag it up and bin it.
Time to go back to the boat, feed the cherubs and then decide on a croissant for me. A quick text to a neighbour to see if she wanted one as well. A lovely brief walk in the morning sun to pick up two gorgeous croissants from Christian Jacques French Patrisse (to die for). Proud of myself, I ordered in French. Big grin…
Back to Jazzy’s boat for a tea / coffee and croissants and homemade jam, and a lovely catch up before the day started.
Then back to my boat. A productive morning with the CD blasting and noise cancelling headphones to block out the construction noise across the river. This is my strategy to not let the construction noise beast drive me insane.
Productive work done. Time for a cuppa, put the kettle on (gas stove – and a gorgeous whistle kettle) take the dogs up for comfort stop number two. Decide to take the bin with me.
Get through the gate and shut it. Damn, my keys are on the boat. The kettle is on. Everyone is at work. This return to work has real disadvantages for me. Call the Marina Manager… no answer, text the marina manager, no response.
No marina staff in sight. Surely the kettle is boiling by now. Heck…
Walking up and down the marina to see anyone l know who can open the gate for me. Finally, found someone about to use the amenities, I don’t know them. I introduce myself and politely explain the situation. He asked a few questions, and finally walked down to my gate to let me and the dogs back in.
He opens the gate and steps back, so does Nitro and Moo who are standing behind him. I am sure they were expecting him to walk through the gate, not turn and walk away. Moo goes flying through the air downwards. Looking up at me as he was falling he didn’t bark once. Luckily, it was low tide. He landed on the rocks… My rescuer then jumps over the retaining wall to rescue one flying Moo Moo.
After a million thank you’s, I get back on the boat and turn the kettle off. I have earnt this cup of tea. It was only 10.30am.
It is full moon and the Kamikazi Prawns are running. Under the brightness of the moon the waters around our boat and the marina we are in are very active. We tend to sleep through the nocturnal activity.
First light is usually when we see evidence of the night’s events. Initially it was a mystery. As I walked the dogs along the marina finger they were stopping to hoover up prawn shells that were acting like mini mirrors, throwing the dawn light randomly around.
They were in their element hoovering away. Initially I thought one of the other marina live aboards had done some night fishing and left the tell-tale evidence behind. Further along the finger there are more prawn shells and more doggy hoovering to be had. After a slow walk up the finger the dogs take their much needed comfort stop.
Other occasions I see prawns that are severed into several pieces, the flesh still firm and fresh. In time I learn from our neighbour that the prawns (and fish) jump out of the water as they are being chased by other fish. This makes sense. And so, I learnt the mystery behind the Kamanzi prawns.
There were more mysteries to unpack.
I realised that the early birds had been eating the Kamikazi Prawns. In particular, the shag appears to deshell it. When taking the dogs for their morning comfort stop our noise disturbs the shag, the dogs are lucky, the bird takes off leaving the prawn for the dogs. And our neighbour Lynn learnt why there were never any prawns on the finger for them to use as bait.
This morning I was taking all three animals (the two dogs and the cat) up for their comfort stop. It was a full moon and there were several prawn shells on the finger, and then a fully peeled prawn on the gangway. Now that is way too high for a prawn to jump. Above the gate, on guard, full wings spread was a shag making a racket. An interesting bird that swims under water, has the most amazing long neck that can swivel and rotate its head any which way.
I was wondering if it was safe to open the gate to take all three animals up to the grass. Oblivious to what was going on with the bird the dogs proceeded to inhale the prawn. Meanwhile, I realised the shag was trying to protect the prawn from a crow that was making a nuisance of itself.
I was not sure how the shag would react to the missing prawn and if it was safe to proceed. Fortunately, I think they are cautious of humans. It decided to take a piss all over the gate and fly off.
The expression comes to mind, the early bird catches the worm. In this case the earliest human, dog or bird rising catches the Kamikazi prawn.
Following on from last week’s post introducing you to the not so glamorous aspects of boat life, I thought you would enjoy the on-going comedy of errors of my ‘meant to be perfect’ boat life writing retreat.
I called this post, ‘OK Dave James. You asked for chapter two,’ based on the comments Dave made about the first post…
Well here it is.
—-
Queue music, Bobby McFerrin singing “Don’t worry, Be happy”
When I posted my “be careful what you ask for post” I was foolishly thinking tomorrow would be a better day. And it was more or less. I still had to get to tomorrow.
So the story continues…
Martin joined me for dinner. He had just read my post and still with tears (from laughter) in his eyes asked me what I had planned for dinner and what was he actually going to get for dinner.
Dinner was fine. He got home made fish cakes (Thai style), with stir fried vegetables in ginger and rice noodles. The feat in that was I was using a single gas top burner. I somehow timed it all well for dinner to be on the table.
So far so good.
We took the dogs for their evening bedtime wee only to learn Nitro had diarrhoea … Not a good start to the evening. This was at 9pm.
Martin left to go home.
Nitro woke me at midnight and three am to take him to the toilet. He forgot about waking me somewhere between 3 and 6am when he managed to throw up on the bed. I did not realise this until I made the bed when I got up this morning.
OK more fool me for letting him on the bed when he was sick. The point is not lost on me.
My escape to boat life writing was intended to avoid such tasks as laundry. I am also at a marina that has a laundry that Martin pointed out to me. I knew this but it also uses coins. So, who carries coins now days. Not me.
I proceeded to wash the linen in what new feels like the smallest sink in the universe and the largest double bed spread with good old morning fresh. First wash I can still see the stain. Did I mention the quilt cover was brand new? Never been used before.
Fade music Bobby McFerrin
Queue music Richard O’Brian singing “The Time Warp”.
Second wash, I think I can see it (the stain that is). I was so determined to get all stains out. Third wash I am pretty sure it is gone. During this process of seriously scrubbing and rubbing I started reflecting back on my grandmother and washing in the coppers and wash boards. Seriously the women in those days had to have some strength. All I was washing was a quilt cover. Anyway, the next challenge is it looks like it is going to rain. Lucky me. I have no coin for a dryer.
After seriously wringing out the linen I grab a couple towels and roll the linen and towels together as tightly as I possible could with the hope the towels will draw more moisture out from the linen.
By some miracle the sun comes out. I quickly run to hang out the washing on the clothesline then get back on the boat and realise how wet my trousers are. I change and hang them over the helm. Don’t think we are meant to do this. Bite me! I am beyond caring.
Finally, I feed the dogs. Dry biscuits only… just in case.
Now it’s time to feed me.
It put my oats in the saucepan, some sultana’s and dice up half an apple and toss it in. I grab the almond milk from the fridge and it is frozen… yes, frozen.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
I don’t like oats with water. Now I am sounding precious I know. Mitch arrives. Welcome distraction. Light installed. Yippee!!! Mitch leaves.
The almond milk has started to defrost enough for me to have enough for my breakfast. Finally, I sit down to breakfast. While keeping a close eye on possible rain.
Fade music Richard O’Brian
Queue music, Alana Morrisette singing “Isn’t it ironic”
The fridge freezing delayed my breakfast, but also made my salad that I had made yesterday a soggy mess… Another meal that ended up not as planned.
I tried registering for Coles to do home delivery but gave up in frustration when they would not recognise a Marina as an address. I then could not find out how to switch to pick up.
Why, Coles delivery you ask? Two reasons. To try and maximise time for boat life writing and I have two dogs that I don’t want to leave on the boat unattended at this stage.
So, there was nothing left to do but an emergency dash to Beefy’s pies drive through for their signature steak (gluten free) with the best gluten free pastry I have ever had.
I was reflecting on a brilliant day I had a couple of weeks ago and pondering on what made it so good. We truly have brilliant friends. Perhaps as we get older we are becoming wiser with who we share our time with. They say a burden shared is a burdened halved. What I know to be true is if you are wise with the company you choose, you can transform the burden into a joy. This is what transpired on that brilliant day.
We are
settling in well on the boat. It has been easier than expected on all counts.
We still have the massive task of emptying the “shoe shed” of boxes. Even
typing that sentence, I feel my energy and enthusiasm wane.
To the rescue came Bill.
Bill and my sister (better friends and helpers you could not ask for) helped us with the enormous task of getting out of the house. Bill foolishly offered to help me empty some boxes that we have in the shed. It was a genuine offer that I jumped on. I had managed to empty four boxes the previous weekend on my own and it was like my feet were made of concrete and my mind seemed to slow with each decision I had to make. Now, I can’t remember what was in them. Additionally, I was able to consolidate like items from two boxes into one. As I transferred spirit bottles from two now half empty boxes into one box, I wondered somewhat rhetorically where did all those missing bottles go?
Preparation on said day consisted of scooting around the marina to get some coffees. Wolff coffee to be precise.
Bill arrived at the marina gate and I jumped in his car to undertake “mission coffee”.
He queried me, somewhat surprised, “What, we can’t walk there?” I pointed to the Quarterdeck restaurant across the marina channel and said, “You can if you can walk on water.” To which Bill replied, “I can’t, the nail-holes in my feet let the water in!” I knew we were going to have a fun afternoon. What more do you need other than good friends and coffee!
We drove out of our secure gate around the corner and in through the marina’s main entrance. It is an amazing shipyard, with many and varied businesses and retail outlets that support this cool hub we find ourselves in. Having passed the business offices we then pass the sheds. Some boats are“on the hard”, some out in the open, some under cover. We were so busy gawking that we almost missed a dog-leg around some traffic cones before parking next to the restaurant.
We ordered our coffees to go and looked out over the deck back towards Saboteur and in doing so Bill gained his bearings.
Armed with our coffees we re-traced our movements back to Saboteur. We climbed on board and gave Martin his coffee and sat to chat. The boat was in a gentle rolling pattern, so small that I almost don’t notice it anymore. This pattern gets the occasional disrupt with each passing boat. There were not many of these today. It was remarkably quiet for a public holiday that was heading for beautiful 27 degrees C. Not bad for winter. I am embracing the weather.
Bill sat back and said, “What’s that creaking noise?”
To which I replied, “Sit back, my friend, and relax – Saboteur is talking to you”. In return he said, “It is a language I don’t understand”. To which we all laughed and Martin explained the boat fender was passively bemoaning the pressure of Saboteur moving at one with the water.
Marty’s smile says it all
We eventually wandered to the shed, enjoying the banter and got on with the task of unpacking boxes. Having someone to talk options through helps letting things go. As does having someone to drop things off at Vinnies means that I cannot be tempted to revisit a decision. Martin jumped in and started going through a box of memorabilia. I loved this photo of him when he was a driver for Fiat. Loved his crazy hair and his big smile. Then they found some photos from the band days.
I left Bill and Martin pouring over old photos and went for a paddle.
Megan had just arrived, our neighbour Dan joined us along with the three dogs. Megan and I realised we have known each other for 15 years and are enjoying the fact that we are living close to each other again. We were briefly flat mates and later lived in the same street. Our first paddle together was the previous weekend. We took a different path this time, paddling out of the marina and up an inlet of the Coomera River.
Sometimes we talked and sometimes we pointed things out to each other.
Sometimes we paddled or drifted in a comfortable silence that is understood between good friends.
It was wonderful to watch Megan fall in love with the Coomera river inlet. The river was silty today. More so than usual.
Exploring the park
On the way back we stopped, pulled the kayaks up on the pontoon and let the dogs run in a deserted park . Dan found a Frisbee that the dogs chased. Well Charlie did, our dogs are not quite sure what to do with Frisbees and balls. The sun was on the horizon and we jumped back into our kayaks and ski. And headed for home.
We found Martin, Bill and Marcus (Megan’s husband) all on the deck with Whiskey’s in hand and nibbles ready for our return. It was a very pleasant 20 degrees with no wind. It was magic on the deck. A different story this weekend. Megan and I freshened up and popped the top of a bottle of bubbles and the evening flowed as easily as the drinks. We were further fuelled by hangi and fish and chips from the amazing local Hangi Pit.
We were bouncing off each other’s energy.
DJ Dan had been pushing out an awesome selection of tunes and we were starting to sing along to a few. I went below and grabbed Martins keyboard and bought it out for the first time. I passed it to Maestro Bill who warmed up is fingers, while Martin warmed up his vocal cords. Megan grinned and I was truly grateful for good friends.
From there Martin, Bill and Megan sang almost any request that was made.
The rest of us jumped in, predominantly on the chorus, our confidence boosted by alcohol. The day had transitioned from tackling the burden of unpacking some boxes to a joyful and a deeply satisfying afternoon and evening. A lovely balance between getting stuff done, some exercise and quality time with good friends.
As Martin
always says. It is exhausting to be this relaxed.
It is now 10 days since we docked, and with this time comes an increasing appreciation for all that we have to be grateful for in life.
Sunset at Lamb Island
In my last post I said good night after a beautiful evening on deck with the sunset and the warmth of the shiraz as our companion, our bodies weary from the days work and happy for what we had achieved.
Permit me to take you back to the rest of our voyage to our new berth and base.
We were anchored in a very sheltered spot south of Lamb Island that was perfect for the weather conditions.
We had let out about 10 meters of anchor chain. It is an imprecise science. I measure a meter by counting, one second, two seconds, three seconds, you get the idea. And then we paused (with the engine idling in reverse) for the anchor to take. It did not, so I let out another 5 meters, 1 second, 2 seconds, 3 seconds… We waited… The anchor takes and we checked to ensure that the current was pulling us back and the anchor held. We were happy. We set the anchor alarm for 30 meters. This alarm would go off if the boat moved outside of a 30-meter circumference. Bearing in mind that tidal movement would result in the boat turning 180 degrees twice during the night. I have full appreciation of modern technology such as “anchor apps”. We went to bed and crashed. We both slept well.
And then the anchor alarm dragged us from our deep sleep.
I blinked, listened and jumped out of bed all at the same time, while Martin’s extended arm went in search for his phone (the anchor alarm is a phone app). Our minds were rapidly waking from our sleep. I had put my left foot down first and as I transferred my weight to my right foot my leg collapsed; clearly my right leg was numb. ha, ha… now is not the time I told myself. My left arm lunged clinging to the bed as my body rose, supported by my left leg. I slapped my right leg and tried again, it collapsed again. This was to occur twice more before I had normal use of my right leg.
I was cautious going up the companionway (stairs). By this stage Martin had found the phone and checked the alarm. We had gone approximately a meter outside of the 30 meter circumference we had set. We checked the landmarks and our position against other anchored boats. I was certain we had not moved. As beautiful as it was in the stillness of the night our pillows called us back to bed…
We both feel back into a deep sleep, and then…
The anchor alarm went off again, albeit 6 hours later (tide change again). This time we both just sat and listened. We were convinced we were not moving. Martin checked the alarm and again we were just on a meter outside of the 30-meter circumference. We really should have set the alarm for 35 meters. Not to worry. Martin stayed in bed and I went up on deck and checked to ensure we had not moved and – we had not.
I had about 10 hours sleep and Martin 11 hours. I was full of appreciation for a brilliant night’s sleep. The birds were calling me to watch the sunrise. My spirits soared. I paused, embracing being in the moment with the crispness of the morning, the birds singing and in time the ferries transiting past us commuting people from Straddie (Stradbroke Island) and Lamb Island. Martin joined me in the cockpit. I think the wake of the ferry may have raised him.
It was a magical morning.
Martin cooked up a protein feast, of fried egg served on a massive Swiss brown mushroom (one of my gluten free alternatives to bread) and some gorgeous air cured bacon. My Marty appreciation bubble is soaring. We cleaned up and checked our route. It was simple, head straight out of the channel turn left and we would be in the main channel to the Gold Coast. What could go wrong? Let’s face it, it would not be a TandM (Tessa and Marty) adventure without a hiccup or two.
My appreciation bubble was about to disappear for a couple of hours.
We hoisted our anchor right on low tide. We were chasing the low tide between sand banks and islands for the next two hours.
Our passage!
We exited the channel, turned left and then had to decide which channel markers to follow. Meanwhile we had almost no clearance under our kneel. We argued, as we tried to make sense of the markers. We headed off on what we thought was right channel, and I became more and more convinced we were heading to a dead end. And then we ran out of water. We argued and turned around. It was our first U-Turn for the day.
We headed out to some slightly deeper water while we tried to make sense of the channels shown on the chart and the sea of buoys. It was so shallow and I was seeing sand banks everywhere. We turned around and headed back, only to run out of water again. We were using Martins phone for navigation (our navigation instruments were on their way still). Martins phone was fine, it was just small. The path it was showing looked like we were heading for a dead-end and sand. We turned around a third time. One of the nearby fishing dinghy’s picked up anchor and moved. Perhaps our arguing was scaring the fish away.
Finally I said to Martin; “You’re the skipper, go wherever you want”!
Martin cautiously headed down the transit lane marked on his phone… It turned out he was right (and I was wrong) Sorry baby.
When we finally passed this narrow passage, the rest of our journey was fine. We laughed because we recalled having the same argument, at the same point the last time we went down this passage on our previous yacht.
A little further on we gently weaved our way through some crowded anchorages off Horizon Shores and Jacobs Well. Eventually we found ourselves motoring down The Broadwater and then we hung a right at the entrance to the Coomera River and we were almost home. The tide was fast and the wind was now about 8knots and blowing in the wrong direction, which would make docking in our new berth at Gold Coast City Marina tough. It was kind of tight. I phoned ahead hoping to be able to book a pilot. Many marinas offer a pilotage service, where an experienced pilot will come out and take your boat in for you. Unfortunately, our marina does not. Bugger, we are on our own. Our boat is big (47 ft) and heavy (18 Tonnes) and with a full knell she is hard to turn in tight spots.
We entered the marina… fair to say, nervously…
We phoned the couple we rent the berth off. They said that they would be happy to grab a line for us. We had phoned our new neighbour Dan and asked him to put extra fenders on the outside of his boat in case we needed to “lean” against it… as we approached our berth we needed to stay as far left in the channel as we could before turning right. Unfortunately, there was a houseboat at the end of the finger (in his usual spot) which limited how far left we could go. We turned, Martin did a good job of it. I was up the front ready to throw the line out to our ready catchers. I threw, the tide and wind was pushing us back and my line fell short. Clearly, more practice required.
Time was precious, letting the line trail in the water I turned and grabbed the pole and started to push off our neighbours boat.
We were starting to shout instructions at each other. And what happened next could only be describe as a comedy of errors. We managed somehow to get out of our pen without damaging our new neighbour’s boat and were attempting to reverse down the channel. We needed to turn our boat which steers in reverse poorly. By this stage, what is a normally a sleepy marina seemed like everybody had come out of hiding to welcome the inexperience newbies and, or more likely, to push us off their boats if required.
We heard a voice say, “If you can get over here, I will jump on board and help”.
There was no problems getting over there, the problem was stopping and before Gus could jump on board, he had taken on the task of pushing our boat off his and his neighbours. Meanwhile, Martin was trying to steer and I had been fending off boats. With the help of Gus we managed to turn the boat around and headed to the fuelling dock.
We were able to pause and consider the next move. I wondered how many people in the restaurant above us were watching and laughing – best not to think about it.
Our new friend Gus phoned a friend who could give us a hand. Despite the stress of the moment I can feel my appreciation bubble returning. Before we knew it, a young French couple joined us. Mona is a shipwright (boat builder) and Noah is a landscape gardener. They have been living on their boat for many years and are very experience sailors. By this time, my appreciation bubble has definately reappeared. I was grateful we had not damaged anyone else’s boat and full of appreciation for the assistance we had been offered.
After we had caught our breath, we readied ourselves to depart from the fuel dock and head out into the channel and turn around ready to try again.
We had hoped Mona would skipper, however she insisted Martin should take us in. Perhaps it was a voodoo thing. You know get back on the bike after falling off. While at this stage I was nervous about this, looking back I am full of appreciation for the wisdom of this decision. And so, with expertise we were guided into our pen. We were prepared to fend off our neighbours boat (just in case). We had awesome line handlers who made light work of securing us to the dock. Pretty much at the same time some friends arrived. They missed the entertainment. Probably just as well.
Safely in our pen at GCCM
With Saboteur secured our friends and handlers settled into the cockpit. We cracked some beers and opened a couple of bottles of wine (19 Crimes Shiraz to be precise). Gus told me, I was pretty good with the fender, I knew where to put my feet, how to balance and when to let insurance take care of it… My years of martial arts helped.
And so we shared stories with our friends old and new, stories about life and doing what we love… despite the dramas of the day, and knowing we need to learn how to turn the 18 tonnes of boat better, we are thrilled to be on our journey. I am full of appreciation for old friends and new…
What are you waiting for? What’s your next adventure… even if you don’t know how?
Is there ever such a thing as a perfect day? And if so, what does it resemble for you?
The latter half of the week saw incredible improvements…
Queue music, Bobby McFerrin singing “Don’t worry, Be Happy”
Don’t get me wrong, lady luck was still following me and adding to my adventures. Take dinner last night for example.
Martin cancelled as he was feeling unwell. He had said he would pick up Chinese on the way. I had been looking forward to indulging in some spring rolls, or the very least something I did not have to cook. I haven’t had to cook as much all year, (Thanks Martin and Bill) So, I decided I would still have Chinese.
Enter google… picked a local with great reviews. Phoned once… Engaged. In the end I phoned 3 more times and it was engaged. I thought they must be good. Told myself to turn up and order, then take the dogs for a walk while their chefs cook up a storm for me. I turn up to find a for lease sign on the door.
Enter google… picked another local with great reviews. Phoned, got through first time. Woohoo!!! Placed my order and the lovely girl on the other end of the line said, “only cash – OK?”. To which I replied, I’m sorry I need to cancel my order. I thought with my luck the idea of finding an ATM etc, etc, etc… I was not going to chance it.
Enter google… picked another local. Did not care about the reviews. Got through first time. I ask, “Do you take card”? “Off course”, was the reply…
Fade music, Bobby McFerrin
Queue music, KD Lang singing Hallelujah.
I savoured my dinner in the peacefulness of the boat gently rocking in the breeze… And I reflected back on what a perfect day it was… I felt good. No, I felt great!
Fade music, KD Lang
Queue music, Sam Cooke singing “Summertime” (Summertime and the living is easy. Fish are jumping and the cotton is high).
Literally, the fish were jumping…
Yesterday started with a 30-minute walk across the Scarborough Peninsula. I ended up at a mini-strip of cafes and restaurants in Scarborough. A tree-lined strip that frames the waterfront with views across to Moreton Island. It is a magic place for breakfast. @Danny’s (89 Landsborough Avenue) was my venue of choice.
They have the best couches on which to sit and chill. Best in this case means, not only do they look good, they have a great view and more importantly are comfortable to sit and write – well type. Mental note. Write tomorrow’s post at Danny’s after my walk.
The walk back was equally pleasant. I felt great and the dogs loved it. We were all pretty chilled when we got back. And the rain clouds held back… a perfect day.
From there everything fell into place. I felt relaxed, prepared, and organised… It only took 3.5 days.
I woke this morning to a perfect day… The water was like glass, the birds were chirping. The breeze was almost non-existent. All week the breeze had been reasonable strong and blowing from the north which meant it was blowing on to the bow of my boat and making it a little unpleasant to be outside. So, it was refreshing to eat breakfast for the first time this week in the cockpit instead of the cabin.
And the fish were still jumping…
A perfect day has turned into a successful week of living on-board with two dogs. They have been fantastic and are into their routine now. They have been extremely obedient. Up, down, sit, stay, to the car, wee, wee etc. The locals (others living on the marina) have commented on how well behaved they are. Especially Mandy who runs the Marina. Relief!!!
They have only barked twice. The first time was last night when I took them for a comfort stop before we went to bed. And someone else was walking down the finger. I think they were protecting their mummy. I shhh’ed them and they stopped barking immediately. Can’t be cranky at them for that. And, then 6am this morning, for their morning comfort stop… Another dog owner was taking his dog for a wee and Nitro wanted to play. It was a play bark…
Again, I can’t be cranky at that.
They have met quite a few other dogs, made friends with some of them and been a great conversion starter with most people…
Other highlights… no TV, no alcohol, not overeating because I am more present when I sit down to eat, being more active every day, having time to reflect… enjoying a very, very, quiet week.
I have cleared my head, tackled and solved some work challenges and written. Not what I intended to write. And that is the subject of another post. But written all the same.
Time for a cuppa, put the kettle on (gas stove – and a gorgeous whistle kettle) take the dogs up for comfort stop number two. Decide to take the bin with me.
