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Life is an adventure

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I would love to be putting up a chill time video. Unfortunately, not. life is an adventure. The weather conditions are making it prohibitive. Instead, you are about to get an update on our overnight adventure.

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On our wedding anniversary and all. In my sleep-deprived state, I smile once again at the words that my brother-in-law wrote in the wedding card that he and Barbie gave us. He said, ‘To Tess: You have taste and a taste for adventure.’

So here we are, on another adventure. Martin came home from work soaking wet. He rode his bike from Capalaba to Coomera in horrendous rain. He parked the bike, walked about 30 meters to the dinghy and had to bail the water out before heading to the boat.

Mental note. A small built in hand pump required for the dinghy.

He arrived on the boat, soaking! He peeled of his leather jacket which was super heavy, soddened with rainwater. His waterproof trousers (the ones that you wear over your trousers (sexy – not)) were clinging. Yes, they are truly waterproof, however they appear to have suction capped themselves to his jeans. They peeled off inside out. We laughed. Happy anniversary baby.

During the day I had sent him a message to pick up some bubbles as we are out. The message went via a work colleague as Martin’s phone had taken a swim in the salt water in the bottom of the dinghy when we were riding the wake of a passing cruiser. The message to pick up the bubbles did not make it to him. No problems. He had a hot shower while I prepared a ‘Saboteur Sling’ in lieu of champagne. A ‘Saboteur Sling’ is based on the Raffles Hotel ‘Singapore Sling’, using whichever ingredients we have from the Singapore Sling. This time we had no Gin. No problems.

I made us a special dinner, peeled green bay prawns (for what felt like forever) while Martin familiarised himself with the unfolding local weather situation. Prawns peeled, capsicum and carrot finely sliced, three cloves of garlic chopped up. Rice noodles soaking. I pan fried the garlic and the prawns in Sesame Oil and tossed in some chili flakes followed by the noodles, soy sauce, and fish sauce. Added bean sprouts, capsicum and carrot a few more quick tosses in the wok and I served up with a dash of lemon and alpha sprouts on top.

We sat down to our wedding anniversary dinner and our Saboteur Sling, served in our gorgeous crystal champagne flutes and started talking about the strategy for the evening. Not your typical wedding anniversary conversation. We were going to have to do watches. With the plan in place, we settle in to watch an episode of ‘Star Trek’. Navionics beside me to keep an eye on our position and bopping up into the cockpit like ‘Dicky Knee’ (A puppet from the TV show Hey, Hey, It’s Saturday’).

Martin was on watch, while I try to catch some zzz’s only to be woken soon after by Martin, informing me that we were rapidly drifting. I get up, wet weather jacket on and I headed up to cockpit. The buoy that was normally behind us was now in front of us. In sheeting rain, I headed to the bow to raise the anchor. We were drifting backwards towards a small, wooded island.

The visibility was next to nothing.

I raised the anchor. It clears the water line. I heard a grind; the anchor winch jammed. It is jammed by fishing line wrapped around tree branches. Yes, lucky us. I took over the helm and Martin grabbed my fishing knife. Meanwhile, with poor visibility I steered Saboteur between a small sailboat and our neighbouring catamaran named, ‘By Crickey’. Well, it was certainly a By Crickey moment. We were doing approximately 1 knot into the current and the Southerly winds. Meanwhile Martin was cutting away at the fishing line that was firmly caught up in our anchor winch. He cleared the winch. I turned the yacht to travel with the running water and the wind behind us.

We went from travelling 1 knot to 8.5 knots.

That was serious fast for our yacht. Don’t forget she weighs in around 20 tonnes. I lowered the motor speed. Our speed over ground (well, speed over water) did not change. We were moving at the speed of the current. Not ideal as this meant we had limited steering control over our yacht. While we were in the centre of a relatively straight passage it was fine. Corners would be a different story as our twenty tonnes will heavily influence how fast we would take a corner, or not. We don’t have to worry about that now.

We needed to drop anchor. But where?

Martin took the helm. He dropped the anchor from the cockpit midway in the passage. We swung swiftly and pulled up hard. Brilliant, we were confident the anchor had taken. We were midstream. Smack bang in the middle of the channel. We were also midships to a row of navigation lights at one of the boat ramps. This is really useful as it gives us a reference point to check if the lights don’t line up we have moved. Our strategy is to check the lights line up every 15 mins or so (Dicky Knee style popping up into the cockpit) and watching Navionics.

We both stayed up for a while. We played a game of Bananagrams and then watched an episode of ‘Cowboy Bebop’.

Martin was getting tired and went to bed for about 2 hours. I watched the remaining episodes of Cowboy Bebop keeping an eye on our position on Navionics and popping my head up into the cockpit every 15 mins or so.

Martin woke about 1pm, and we talked for a bit. It is a bit of sleep deprived haze. I think we had a cup of tea before I headed to bed close to two pm, waking around 4ish. I rose and asked Martin if he wanted to go to bed. He offered me an extra couple of hours sleep. I went back to bed and woke up around 6ish.

Kettle on, Martin updated me on the weather conditions, and I learnt Marty had already bailed the dinghy out. The water level was up to the dinghy seats. That is a lot of bailing. When he is up next, we will need to bail it again and hoist it back on the boat. He headed to bed and I took over the watch. I was going to sew, however I grabbed my laptop and decided to pen this update for you. I am constantly checking our position.

At around 8am this morning it was high tide. This means the current was meant to slow and turn. However, with so much water coming down and running out of the river the current is not turning anytime soon. The shores have mild flooding. The ducks are out and about and loving it.

Marty and I will tag team this morning, while we both catch up on sleep. I will probably finish my cushions today. This afternoon we will probably be awake together until about 10pm. If the weather continues we will do another night of split shifts.

Loving our adventure baby. Happy anniversary.

Originally published on Facebook on March 29, ’22.

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Peak-hour… Friday morning commute

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Colmslie Reach Beach when calm. My happy place.

Where: Today’s peak-hour is brought to you from our dinghy, commuting from Saboteur across the Colmslie Reach to the anchorage jetty.

Context: We (Marty aka Martin Lloyd and I) had clients to see.

6.15am Friday morning

Me: It’s quiet.
Marty: Yes, it is

Our dinghy motor is humming away, and we transverse peak-hour in silence. Marty watching ahead. Me, I’m mesmerised by the water patterns we are creating behind us.

6.17am

Marty: They have the generator going.
Me: I nod.

Note: I assume, like we do when on anchor, that their generator is going to top up the batteries and for any 240Volts appliances (toaster etc).

As we pass their boat, they dogs bounce out of the cabin greeting us with their barks.

Me: It must be peak hour.
Marty: I believe another peak hour post is pending. (And he was right).

Note: Marty is often right…

We continue is silence. Passing the one of the prawning trawlers.

The first decision of the day is where to tie up. Some days the jetty is crowded others not so. Today is not so.

I suggest a spot. The decision has a number of factors, the main one being which dinghy do we want our donk (motor) knocking against. The preference a s rubber rimmed dinghy not an aluminium one.

We both scan. I point and Marty spots a better spot. He masterfully approaches directly to the jetty and turns last minute to draw parallel making it yet another gentle docking.

We exit the dinghy as elegantly as we can from something that floats and bops on water and has no handrails. I secure the bow and Marty midships or do I say middinghy.

I had put my phone away and once again I pull it out to capture the water lazily rolling into the shore. I could seat here for hours.

As we walk to the car I am still memorised by the water.

Marty: I wonder if the river Dart (UK) is deep enough to sail up there, up to that little village.

I have to tune in as in my mind I and floating in the water feeling the lazy swell roll over me.

Me: I don’t know. Interesting question.

I think where our heads are at reflect how much we want to explore the world.

#ilovesailing #getoutdoors #whatareyouwaitingfor #liveyourlife #SailingSaboteur

(This post was first published to face book 05 February 2022.)

Authors note: Peak-hour is a theme that pops up in my writing. I love observing the world as it wakes up and sharing a little beautiful from where ever we are. To see our chill time videos join us on Facebook.

To read more of our adventures, jump into our blog. I love my last peak-hour post from the gorgeously sleepy Russell Island, Queensland Australia. (August 27, 2021)

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Climbing the mast… FYI (it’s 23 meters)

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Climbing the mast…

Tuesday afternoon

Marty called me and here’s how it went.

Marty; ‘Hey baby, I need you to go up the mast.’

Me; ‘Why?’

Marty; ‘I was replacing the topping lift (a line that run up inside the mast, and then out to the end of the boom and back again) the new line is a little too short. I need you to feed it back down the mast.’

Me; ‘Sure no-problems. (Why we use this expression I don’t know, because how do you know there will be no problems). When?’

Marty; ‘Tomorrow morning, first thing before the wind gets up.’

So that was the plan.

Wednesday morning 5.30 am.

Me; ‘Hey Baby, (who is still lying in bed) am I going up the mast this morning?’

Marty makes a sound that resembles a moan rolls over and says, ‘Not today, I don’t feel up to it.’

I was surprisingly disappointed. It appears that I was really looking forward to it. I thought I was nervous and a little concerned. It appears that I was more excited than anything else. There is nothing I can do but wait another day. You don’t want the man on the winch and the break line not feeling up to it when you are 23 meters above the waterline.

Wednesday, I ran into friends on the main street at Manly, we stopped for a seriously good coffee at Le Bistro. I love those happy unplanned moments. I asked Bruce if he would give us a hand on Thursday.

Thursday morning 5.40am

I notice the text from Bruce. He is early and I go to marina security gate to let him in.

We get back to the boat and Marty is getting the bosun’s chair and lines ready.

We are using the:

  • Mainsail halyard – the line used to hoist the main sail up and down. 
  • Bosun’s chair – the canvas seat connected to the mainsail halyard
  • Electronic winch – to hoist me up
  • Spinnaker halyard – the line used as my brake line in case the main line fails. Bruce will be operating this.

The crew:

  • Marty on the electronic winch
  • Bruce on the brake line
  • And yours truly on the outdoor elevator
I set up the Facebook Live.

Meanwhile Marty ties a bowline knot in the mainsail halyard securing the Bosun’s chair which I then climb into. I also hook the halyard cleat onto the Bosun’s chair D ring.

I adjust the waistband. I tighten it to stop me slipping forward. I realised I did not do this last time. This is the second time I have gone up the mast. The first time was a couple of months ago. Our friend Dan had gone up to do some electrical work at the top of the mast and when he came down, he suggested I go up. He said something along the lines of, ‘You may as well do it now, it (the water) will never be flatter than it is now.’ He was right the water was as flat as glass and there was no wind. It was perfect. And so, I cautiously went up. That day I thought I would only go to the first spreader, however it seemed OK.

I decided to go up further after navigating my way over the spreader. I was at the second spreader and pushed back to step over it and cautiously continued my way up to the top of the mast.

This time there was a light wind, 5-8 knots. We were in a marina and sheltered. Additionally, the boat weighs 20 tonnes and does not rock (or roll) excessively due to her weight below the water line.

We attach the safety line. We wrap the spinnaker halyard around the manual winch at the base of the mast. Oops wrong way. Do it again. We check the clutch cleats. These allow the lines to travel one way, but lock if we slip… Another safety measure.

And so it is time for the bounce test. I swing out…

Marty says; ‘It’s a bounce test not a swing.’

Me; ‘I know.’

I swing back in and do my bounce test. We do this to make sure nothing breaks.

It all looks good. I kick off and swing back. I love swings.

The bounce test entails taking your feet of the ground and bouncing to check;

  1. that the lines take the weight and support you
  2. your knots are holding, and
  3. if anything breaks you are no more than knee high to the deck.

I notice the line is twisted around the mast. We fix that.

Bounce test 2.

I go back on to the top of the deck and bounce.

Bruce has the break line ready.

Marty; ‘Alright, ready to go up?’

Me; ‘Yep.’

Marty returns to the cockpit to operate the electronic winch. I come back into the mast.

I am half winched up and I am stepping up on to safety railing and then across on to the boom.

We stop. Now to settle in and hug that mast. Lightly, not heavily. I wiggle my arse in the seat and make sure I am sitting back in the seat.

I gently wrap my legs around the mast followed by my arms. There is a track on the far side of the mast that my fingers find. It is helpful to keep me centred. Marty is behind me in the cockpit and the canvas cover is in place. He can’t see me. Next time we will roll it back. It is OK this time because Bruce has full visibility and is on the safety line.

I have to speak up to be heard.

Me; ‘Ready, Slow’

I am gradually creeping up the mast. I am restricted by the safety line.

Me; ‘Bruce, more line please’

We are settling into a rhythm and working well together. About halfway between the boom and the first spreaders I can stop hugging the mast and open my arms out to hold on to a steel ring. Another meter and I step back away from the mast and put the ring between my first and second toe. It is comfortable.

As I approach the first spreader I ask Marty to slow down. I need to step over the spreaders. Awkwardly, I step over the spreader I am back to hugging the mast with my arms and legs. I feel something on the other side of the mast. I think it is a navigation light.

Marty; ‘Let me know when you are in position.’

Me; ‘I just got to…’  And my voice fades off… (I think I do that a lot when I am thinking, concentrating).

Marty; ‘I can’t hear you…’ That is said a lot as well.

And so, I continue up the mast.

Passing the first spreader I was feeling comfortable and slightly more confident. And surprisingly not anxious or scared. Having said that I was not that keen on looking directly down. I believe my sense of safety came from having three fail safe systems in place and being operated by two people I totally trust. Besides, the rigging is brand spanking new.

As I approach the second spreader I once again stop hugging the mast and open my arms out to hold on to the steel rings (not sure why it is called a ring when it is a cable, but that is boating for you) another meter and I step back away from the mast and put the steel ring between my first and second toe. It is more like a spider man walk up an invisible wall now.

All of a sudden the sound the winch is making changes. The tone drops. It is working harder. I was surprised at how clear I was when this happened. I did not panic or go, what the… It was, yeh it makes that sound when the main sail gets to this point. Besides it is designed to handle significant wind force. My weight is nothing in comparison.

Me; ‘Stop, stop…’

Bruce To Marty; ‘Stop, stop…’

Marty; ‘I can’t hear her.’

And he stops…

Again, I push back to step over the second spreader and go back to hugging the mast. I no longer have the track on the other side to hold on to and keep me centred. It is very still, so I am not being pushed in any direction by wind or breeze.

Bruce is doing a perfect job on the safety line. Again total trust. I was looking out at the view and did not realise I was so close to the top when my shoulders got wedged under the stays.

Marty stops the winch and shouts out ‘How much further?’

Marty to Bruce; ‘I can’t hear what she says.’

He starts the winch again. I was close.

I shut out; ‘Stop… Stop… stop…’

Bruce shouts; ‘Stop.’

My body is a little squashed.

More precisely my shoulders are wedged between the mast and the stays. Marty and Bruce had to lower me down a touch so that I could de-wedge myself and then keep going about 60cm. Finally I am at the top. There are two folding foot rests about 30cm below the top of the mast. I unfold them and can place my thighs over them and so I am comfortable and creating a stable position for me to work from. My crew put the locks on. I start feeding the topping lift line down.

Marty and Bruce go the base of the mast and Marty shouts up, ‘You can start feeding the line down.’ It was already happening. They were watching and waiting to see it appear through the aperture at the base of the mast. ‘Stop,’ I hear. Marty reaches his hand in and grabs the line. Success, I continue to feed the line down the mast and Marty pulls it out. That task completed, now to lower me down.

I had to unhook my legs from the footrests and fold the footrest back up. Marty reverses the line and Bruce the locks, and I slowly start going down.

I am elated. I am enjoying the view with brief glances down. I am so, so happy. I step back over the second spreader and continue down and over the first spreader. I am on the boom. I really want to have a swing now. However, I knew Marty needed to go to work and Bruce had to get home to do the school run.

I was super happy. Twice I have done this.

Marty and I talked about me going up the mast monthly and to do it with a slight breeze next time. For sure when I need to go up one of these days, the weather won’t be perfect. We also need to practice just the two off us. Marty on the winch and the break line. He has done it before with Dan.

Ah, more adventures ahead. More fun to be had.

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In Marina life

Departing Sanctuary Cove Marina, take 2…

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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.

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Perhaps, today is the day….

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Perhaps, today is the day…. For what you ask…?  The inevitable… A stand-up paddle board, an inexperienced paddler, two dogs and water.  Know where this is heading…? Read on.

About two months ago I purchased a second-hand stand-up paddle board. I was reasonably sure I could stay on. However, would I like it? Because of my uncertainty I was determined to buy the cheapest second-hand board I could find. Sitting on our deck at Horseshoe Bay just off Peel Island the water was so inviting, I really wanted a board, and now. The now bit was not remotely possible. However, the ‘want’ was strong. High jacking any priority spending and sensibleness like ‘where would we put her’? I jumped on gumtree and there I saw her. She was beautiful and happened to be the cheapest… True. She was knocked around a bit and had evidence of a good life (Just like us).

So, I purchased her sight unseen and had to rely on my brother to pick it up. After all we were anchored off Peel Island at the time.

About a week later we went into Horizon Shores Marina and met my bro and kids for dinner. He brought my new toy to me… Happy days. I looked at her and smiled. Zac investigated and the dogs immediately jumped on her.

Welcome to your new family Bella-B.

Over the next few weeks she sat in a few different locations on our boat while we worked out where her new home was going to be. Unfortunately the weather was against a calm first paddle. I wanted Martin to be handy with the dinghy, well just in case… Fingers crossed the weather would be favourable soon. Martin was getting annoyed about stepping around her on the deck (he has big feet that get in his own way sometimes) and we invested in racks to mount her on the outside of the stauntions.

I looked and wondered a bit, quietly hoping I would fall in love with stand-up paddling.

My first paddle was off Russell Island on slack water with straps secured around the board, front and back. Why? There are two reasons, the first it will slow the board down in the water. Not a bad idea while I gain my balance. A trick I learnt from my friend Bruce who patiently tried to teach me to paddle a K1 kayak (Olympic class). Who was I kidding? But I had heaps of fun trying. Who does not love a swim in the Noosa river? The second purpose the straps served was to enable me to secure another line to the board and hoist her back on the boat. Remember we are not at a marina finger, we are on anchor.

My first paddle was awkward, wobbly and slow.

If I am honest, too slow for my liking. I was missing the glide. That was probably because of the straps. It was still nice. Then the dogs wanted to be on the board. The paddle was even slower with two puppies on board. Nitro sat perfectly still in front of me and Moo, not so still behind me.

The second paddle was at Paradise Point, Gold Coast. I had this idea of doing my first Bridge to Bridge. What was I thinking? I still have my training wheels on (the straps) and two puppies. It was slow going from Saboteur north to the first bridge. It took ages against the current. I was not sure of my footing. And I turned, and the current was swift. Turning was interesting. I held my breath and wobbled and as I wobbled Nitro looked up at me and Moo moved around. Not helping Moo! I immediately gave up the idea of doing a bridge to bridge and turned my attention on how to get back on the boat. I realised the dinghy was not in the water and changing my centre of gravity enough to pick up the dogs and put them on the boat and hold on all at once was going to be challenge and I had forgotten to put the strap out to hold on to… As I approached the boat, I was hoping Martin would pop his head up on deck and help me. Relief, Martin popped his head up. Perfect timing.

And still, I did not fall in. 

Now we have been at East Coast Marina Manly for a couple of weeks. The first week most days, I saw my friend Karen go past on her board. I am thinking ‘I really need to do this’. Finally, one morning she passed the corner and I went ‘bugger it, I’m doing it’. I put the board in the water (without straps) put the dog’s life jackets on them, grabbed the paddle and my ankle strap then tentatively stood on the board. I did not need to worry about putting the dogs on, they jumped aboard. Nitro first and then Moo, both claiming their spots.

The water was glass, the sun was rising, swifts (birds) were singing and we were gliding across a sprinkle of diamonds on the water. I went up the channel beside Saboteur. There were schools of fish here and there. I paddled down to the main gate and gingerly turned. Wow… survived another turn. Paddling back, this time along the shoreline, I saw two rays. I grinned from ear to ear. I was gradually gaining confidence. Before too long my feet were becoming numb. Particularly my toes. It is a thing with us stand-up paddle boarders. 

Since then this has become my morning routine. I have fallen in love with the glide. I have always loved the tranquillity of the early morning and the sun kissing the water.

Every morning I wonder, perhaps today is the day that I will fall in.

Now, it is important to do so as you need to know how to get back on. My ego prides myself in not falling off, my brain says I need to practice getting back on. Especially with two dogs to also get back on board.

So, Thursday morning, I went for my biggest paddle ever. I had departed East Coast Marina and ventured into Royal Queensland Yacht club. (Sounds more impressive than it is). And my feet started going numb. Bugger, I still had a way to go to get back to Saboteur.

I turn to head for home and a turtle pops his head up out of the water and looks at me and the dogs who remain silent. My board has images of turtles on it. I grin… totally forgetting about my numb feet. I turn the board and drift with the turtle who disappears below the water. Hoping to see him again… I don’t understand why we can feel our feet when they go numb. Perhaps numb is not the right word.

I reluctantly turn to go back home.

On the way back a lady on a marina finger smiles at the dogs and says oh they are so cute in the life jackets. She was wearing a one piece. I asked if she had been swimming at the local pool. And she said she had been to Chandler (a bigger pool). By this stage the board is virtually still and we are beside the finger. The dogs not wanting to miss out on attention from a human who is looking adoringly at them, jump off the board onto the finger. Nitro first followed by Moo. Great, this is going to be interesting. I start to wobble. I call the dogs. Moo jumps on behind me and Nitro in front of me. Nitro jumps on the front of the board where there is no traction pad. Only glossy fibreglass. It could only be described as the fastest tap dance ever followed by a roadrunner brake and a slow motion slide into the water. Meanwhile I attempt to stay upright. Nitro tries to get back on, all the while his claws and paws slipping on the fibreglass.

I carefully lean forward and grab the handle of his life jacket, lift him out of the water and lower him on to the traction pad. He shakes to get the excess water off himself and decides he really needs to sit down, for which I am grateful. I say goodbye to my new friend and head home hoping my feet will hold out. And they did…

So today was not ‘the’ day for me at least.

#sailingsaboteur #ilovesup

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In Our Galley

Marty’s Gluten Free Bread – Recipe

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Gluten free bread

Tess prefers a gluten free diet. She isn’t celiac. But just like many people, she has an uncomfortable reaction to too much gluten in her diet. And so, I get to make gluten free bread, usually a white sandwich loaf or scones, pancakes, rock cakes etc. regularly.

She prefers my gluten free bread to the commercial varieties she has tried. Cool. Good husband…

No, I cannot take credit for the basic recipe I use. I have adapted one I found a few years ago. It comes from a lady named Shannon. She has a website www.alittleinsanity.com and has great recipes for those who want to avoid gluten, eggs, lactose etc.… Check her out if you are inclined in that (dietary) direction.

Her gluten free bread recipe is very heavy on sweetness, I believe she is in North America where sweet tasting breads are normal. The main change for our palette is to limit that sweetness. So, here is my version:

Note that I do not use an electric mixer. We live on a boat and that equipment is just not necessary or we learn to make do. However, that doesn’t mean you need to use muscle power if you have a well-equipped kitchen.

What we need:

Yeast Mix:

  • 1 cup water.
  • ½ cup milk.
  • 1 Tablespoon of runny honey or sugar (your choice white or brown).
  • 3 teaspoons of dry active yeast.

Dry Ingredients:

  • 3 Cups of Gluten Free Flour (I have used the cheapest standard available at our two main supermarkets in Australia. The recipe is quite forgiving).
  • 1.5 teaspoons Xanthan Gum.
  • 3 teaspoons baking powder.
  • 2 teaspoons table salt.

Wet Mix:

  • 2 teaspoons of apple cider or white vinegar.
  • 100ml olive oil.
  • 2 x 70g eggs.
The “how to” bit:

Get stuck in and prepare the main three areas (yeast mix, Dry ingredients and Wet mix) before doing anything else:

  1. Combine the yeast mix ingredients. I do this in a measuring jug to make it simpler. Make sure the water has been warmed beforehand so that the whole mix is comfortably warm. Not hot. Stir.
    1. This is important to do first as the yeast will need about 10 minutes to be activated. The mix will have a foamy head to it when its ready.
  2. Dry ingredients go into a bowl large enough to take the whole mixture. Put the flour in first, then any order will do. Give them a good stir to combine.
  3. Put the wet mix ingredients into a bowl and whisk to thoroughly combine them (The bowl in the photo was bit small, I should have used a larger one).
  4. After the yeast mix is ready, put both the wet and yeast mixes into the dry ingredients bowl and mix, mix, mix. I use a wooden spoon.

The mix will be much wetter than a standard bread dough. The photo below shows how this batch turned out. Slightly drier than I usually get. I could have added a bit more water but then this proves just how forgiving the recipe is.

  1. Prepare a bread tin. I line mine with baking paper for super easy removal when baked. To keep the paper there, I smear lightly with olive oil before placing the paper.
  2. Using a silicone spatula, I place the dough into the bread tin, then I even it out as best I can. This is not important as the dough will rise, fill the spaces and create the finished appearance.
  3. Cover the tin and leave in a warm place for approx. 30 minutes. Don’t let the dough rise above the bread tin sides as it doesn’t have enough body to hold that shape until cooked.
  4. Preheat the oven to approx. 190C – 200C. (Say 375 – 390F).
  5. Bake for 35 – 45 minutes. Shannon comments that if the crust is darkening too much too early, cover with some tinfoil for the last 10 minutes.
  6.  As soon as the bread is out of the oven, turn it out. BUT do allow it to cool before slicing. I know, I know. It’s irresistible. But just wait a moment and enjoy the aroma.
Our oven is a boat’s gas type and is not easy to find and hold a specific temperature. Never mind, the bread always works anyway.

But wait! There’s more!!

Last Easter Tess asked for an Easter loaf. Preferable a “brioche” style. I used the same basic recipe but with these changes:

  • The yeast mix had more milk, less water. Three tablespoons of brown sugar and a bit(?) of runny honey for good measure.
  • The dry mix had added copious amounts of Nutmeg and Cinnamon and (approximately) a cup of sultanas.
  • In the wet mix I first melted about 150g of butter to replace the oil.

It was awesome. Tasty, Fruity, Sweet, Buttery. Not a real brioche of course, but perfect just the same.

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Firsts

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Captain Tessa

Life onboard Saboteur means we have to be handy and problem solve (without killing each other). This means we are doing many firsts.

In a week of firsts, this week is up there including, but not limited to, the first time:

• Saboteur was ‘beached as’… let’s not do that again any time soon!
• The dinghy donk (outboard motor) shear pin, well – sheared – as designed… if only we knew that than. (FYI it was because we hit a rock in the shallows).
• Our friend, Mitch Bradford ‘Macgyvered’ a bolt to replace the pin… our donk was working again. Massive thanks Mitch and relief we are not up for a new motor. Mental note, we have to buy a new pin…
• We docked at Runaway Bay Marina, with Marty berthing brilliantly in the tightest spot we have ever parked in
• We docked at Sanctuary Cove Marina in the biggest berth we have ever had… nice.

There is a particular first I wish to talk about.

I skippered Saboteur out of Sanctuary Cove Marina. So far Marty (aka Martin Lloyd) has done all the docking.

After all, being a back seat driver is much easier that trying to manoeuvre a 20 tonne vessel that will not steer in reverse. Much swearing and cursing and the occasionally bouncing and fending off boats have occurred in the past. We are constantly improving our skills; my skills with the boat hook have been less called upon as my line throwing skills have improved, that is if there is someone to catch it and tie us off. And now my ability to simply step off as Marty glides the boat into berth as a pro. Likewise Marty’s skills at reading the wind speed, the current and the space we have to manoeuvre have all excelled.

Many an experienced skipper says the most stressful thing about sailing is casting off and docking. I have to agree.

I knew the day would come and on Sunday evening Marty asked me, ‘Why don’t you take us off the dock tomorrow?’ I replied, ‘Sure.’ I had been thinking the same thing myself. I knew I had to do this.

After all what could go wrong?

And so Monday came and we had planned to leave about midday on high tide. High and low tides are the best times to depart and dock because it is the time the current is as close to still as possible as it changes direction.

I went for a walk to the amenities block before we left. On my way back, I set about taking in my surrounds, where will the wind blow us once we release the mooring lines? We had three lines holding us. What could go wrong?

We finished off a few last minute tasks:

• Put the hose way once the water tanks were topped up
• Put the dogs in the life jackets and clipped them into the safety lines in the cock pit
• Put Zac on his lead.

The moment was getting closer…

Back to thinking about our departure. I had two options.

Option one, to reverse and turn as soon as I could turn and not hit the neighbouring vessel in the pen beside me.

Option two, to reverse straight for about 50 meters and turn after I had passed the fuel dock and not back into the mega super yachts.

Now where we were, there are many super yachts that are worth millions and millions. I can’t fathom how much some of them are worth.

We knew it was slack tide, we rechecked the winds. They were coming from the south, so unless it changed it should just blow us straight off. Perfect.

I check the rudder was straight and we discussed the order in which we would release the lines. Agreed.

We discussed reversing options one and two. We went for option one. It would give us more control of Saboteur more quickly.

And so the moment was on us.

I started the engine. Marty turned the engine blower (to blow the hot air out of the engine) and the anchor winch on. We were not travelling far, so it was ok to turn it on now, and it is a good back up if you lose control; you drop the anchor before doing damage to others, the fuel dock and yourselves.

OK, we were in neutral, Marty was on the finger and released the bow port mooring line.

When releasing lines, we can set them up so that they are lassoed on the finger and you can slip them from the boat.

Alternatively, you can release them on the finger and then jump on the boat.

My biggest concern if we did the later was that:

• the boat would drift away from the finger or
• with my dyslexia I would steer the boat in the wrong direction (away from the finger) or
• I would use the bow thruster and push the boat away from the finger
• And struggle to get it back, leaving Marty on the finger and me out of control with a 20 tonne boat.

The winds were perfect to hold us on the finger, so it was ok for Marty to release the lines from the finger. There was a lot of trust in my skills here.

As I write this I am reminded of when we did our International Day Skipper’s course. To pass, we had to be able to successfully dock the sailing school’s boat. I always went first, otherwise I would either forget what they had told us or start to stress as I waited for my turn. I could then relax.

We had to dock at a fuel dock, on the end of a T, coming up behind another boat and reverse park into a berth. Marty told me later, he was worried for me as I can get my left and rights back to front, especially in reverse. FYI, I nailed it then.

I had not docked since that Day Skipper’s course which was July 2018. It felt like forever.

And so, with the engines going, I changed from neutral to reverse and put about 700 revs on. Marty released the port bow line and threw it onto the boat. The boat was barely moving. Marty released the starboard line and I put another 1000 revs on. Remember, 20 tonnes is slow to gain momentum. Marty walked to the stern line which was mid-ships, released the line and walked back with the boat as she made her way backwards. I was a little too close to the finger, and the fenders were threatening to jump up. I touched the bower thruster.

Marty jumped back on board, told me I was clear to turn, and so I turned the boat using the bow thruster; once, twice and she turned in her body length. I dropped the revs and went from reverse through neutral and into forward gear, and put the revs on. I turned to port (left) as I was little close to the end of the fingers and the bows of some of these super yachts. (Because of my super tight turn). Nothing to worry about because the winds were pushing us away.

And with a big grin on my face, I took us out of the marina. It was massive relief to have finished another first. It was 12.06 pm.

Meanwhile, Marty went downstairs, put the groceries away, and hung out the washing. He finished and came upstairs with a perfect cup of tea, kissed me on the cheek and told me again how cool I am. We were both enjoying the moment. Marty snoozed in the cockpit, the puppies snuggled up and I skippered us to the magic of South Stradbroke Island feeling deeply calm and happy.

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‘Beached As’ and how we recovered…

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‘We are as beached as’, I said to myself. I turned to see Marty’s (aka Martin Lloyd) reaction. Stressed was the first word that came to mind.

Six hours earlier…

I awoke to a lovely morning. The bird song was calling me to rise. I quickly made a cuppa in my travel mug, grabbed the dogs, their life jackets, my iPhone and jumped on my kayak to go for a paddle. It was lovely high tide, about 20 degrees C and perfect conditions to go up the Foxwell Island inlet to Jackson’s place. A beautiful spot where our friend Daniel Cooke buried his dog Jackson.

We had a magical, chilled paddle which I captured on a Facebook live post… We paddled and drifted, and I answered questions as they popped up on the live post and sipped my tea. It was bliss. All too soon, it was time to head back to the boat.

4.5 hours earlier…

I was back on the boat, and our friend ‘Jazzy’ phoned saying she would be there in 45 minutes for a coffee. I grinned. We had not seen Jazzy in about a month. We love hanging out. Time to wake Marty. I turned and looked out the cockpit. ‘Interesting; the land was a little close… I went up upstairs, too close, I felt a slight roll, turned on the instruments and waited for the depth to come live. It was 0.0… still waiting… It flashed 0.1m meters… and flashed back to 0.0. Shiver me timbers, we were touching the bottom and it was not yet low tide.

We were not yet ‘beached as’…

I started the engine, woke Marty, he threw on some clothes and we set about finding a deeper spot. We checked the wind, it was going to pick up and they were strong gusting northerlies. We decided the passage opposite Santa Barbara Park for better shelter. As we motored around the corner, we realised everyone else had the same idea and were there before us.

We turned and headed back. Saboteur is solid, she is heavy in the water and in rough conditions we can barely feel it. We both did the calc’s. How much longer did we have before low tide (it was going to be super low (0.2m))? At what time and how much further would the water drop? We both came up with the same answer. (This rarely happens). Our calculations told us that we needed to anchor with .7 meters of water under us and we would be fine.

We found the spot a little further into the deeper water of the channel than where we were previously. Ping, I received a text from Jazzy, she was at the café. We jumped in the dinghy and headed in. Had a lovely breakfast at the @Quarterdeck Kitchen & Bar.  Seriously good.

3 hours earlier…

We said goodbye to Jazzy. We did a visual check on Saboteur and we thought she might be touching the bottom, but we were not worried. The bottom is soft sand and we were already at low tide. Saboteur has a solid keel and a full skeg protecting the rudder. And touching a soft bottom occasionally is par for the course in the Moreton bay area.

So anyway, we jumped in the car. We headed to the Dive Warehouse where I grabbed myself my snorkelling gear. Happy dance.

All in all, it had been a lovely morning.

We headed back to the boat, parked the car and jumped in the dinghy and around the corner…

‘Beached as….’

Oh my God we were ‘beached as’.  Seriously ‘beached as’.
The moment we found out we were 'Beached as'

We saw a dinghy circling our boat. It turned out it was our friends, Steve and Jane who were taking photos to send to us. It would appear that we had our calc’s wrong, but how? We would work that out later. Our subsequent discussion revealed how. Jane said low tide was 10 minutes ago. It couldn’t be… and with that we realised that we had done our calc’s on the wrong tide data. We had calculated on the mouth of the Coomera river not the end of it… Easy mistake.

Our baby was looking like a beached whale. We were seriously beached as. She was at 30-40 degrees. I said to Marty let’s go back to the café. There really was not much we could do until the tide turned.

As we pulled up at the café in the dinghy we hit our propeller prop. Bugger. Martin decided to go back to the boat and put the fresh meat we had bought in the fridge and come back. The dinghy outboard was now useless with the prop free-wheeling. He pulled out the oars and rowed. He shouted as he passed, ‘order me a coffee.’ I went to the café, ordered him the largest flat white they had and me a glass of house red. I figured I needed it. Marty returned, and told me about the mess in the boat… All things considered it was not too bad.

I sipped my wine, while Marty sipped his coffee.

We saw our mast slightly starting to rise. Maybe 25-30 degrees now. It was time to head back to the boat. The challenge was that with the rising tide and the strong winds, they had pushed Saboteur further into the shallows. While we were away, the wind had turned the boat against the current as it slackened at low tide, and by then both the wind and the incoming current had conspired to push Saboteur further ashore.

First decision: We had to put the second anchor out to stop us from being pushed further onto the shallows. The anchor line was securely attached in the anchor locker and we manually feed the entire chain and line out, carried it around to the beam of the boat and secured it to a cleat.

Marty jumped in the dinghy (remember, we had no outboard motor) and rowed from the swim board into the current, then grabbed the side of the boat. I lowered the anchor to him followed by the chain and the warp (line). He rowed the boat out as far as he could and dropped the anchor.

He rowed back, secured the dinghy and climbed back on board via the swim deck and back into the cockpit. We took up the slack of the second anchor warp around the starboard sheet winch. We put a good amount of tension to that anchor to prevent the boat being pushed further ashore.

And so our ‘beached as’ afternoon settled down…

We were able to gradually regain control of Saboteur by taking up the slack on both anchors with the rising tide. I grabbed some red wine and Marty put on Talking Heads, ‘On the road to nowhere.’ And we sang, danced and laughed the afternoon away. When we were close to level again and we could start the clean-up.

When we were off the bottom, we moved the boat for the third time that day.

We were truly happy to have rescued ourselves from being ‘beached as’ and having mastered using two anchors to get out of trouble.

A crazy afternoon but we were happy… now we had to get organised, as we had guests coming for dinner…

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Bob, the dinghy and mudflats…

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Bob, the dinghy and mudflats…

Yesterday, we (Martin Lloyd and I) had to right a capsized dinghy… yes, Diann Richards and John Richards before you have a heart attack, it was not ours. It was a neighbour’s dinghy.

Here’s how the day unfolded.

We left the calm waters and safety of Horizon Shores Marina just after high tide to head back to an old favourite anchorage just off the south of Russell Island. We travelled with the current and made good time of our voyage.

We were anticipating northerly winds, strong gusts and a brief squall. We decided to anchor at Perry’s Hole (about 40 minutes from our destination) as it would offer better shelter from the pending winds.

From there, we found a spot, dropped anchor and settled in. I was writing and Martin was catching up on the MotoGP between copy editing for me.

The wind was picking up and the boat was leaning. At all times she felt safe. Martin would pop his head into the cockpit every now and again to check. A houseboat had anchored close to us. Too close for comfort. And directly in the line of the prevailing winds. This meant that if their anchor slips, they were more than likely going to hit us. Martin put his jacket on and stayed in the cockpit to monitor. It had started to rain and the squall arrived. Sure enough, within a couple of minutes they were getting very close.

Martin gave them a friendly horn warning to which they turned on their engine raised their anchor and moved forward. They appeared to drop anchor again just ahead of us. Still in line with the prevailing winds. Martin gave them another horn blast this time accompanied with arms gestures to move along the channel. They raised the anchor again and moved as requested.

Happy with the distance and feeling safe, we settled down to wait out the weather.

Martin continually checking their position. Next thing you know their dinghy was upside down and they were trying to secure it onto their boarding platform. They were struggling. Martin lowered our dinghy, put the motor on and headed over to give them a hand returning about 30 minutes later advising their dinghy was secured and we were to go back on low tide (slack water) and try to help them right it.

In the meantime, we fell back into our respective activities.

The winds dropped and slack tide was close, we jumped in our dinghy and we both went over. More hands make light work as they say.

Picture this, their dinghy is upside down, bow (nose) in the water, stern (back) on the deck sitting on the engine and secured by a long rope. It is a 3.5m horizon dinghy designed for flat water. This means the hull is relatively flat and so in rough water it can slap on the water surface. This noise can be quite loud. The owners had turned the dinghy around to stop the slapping sound. When they moved the houseboat, they had not turned it back around and were towing it backwards, causing it to fill with water and flip. Bare in mind, it has a 15 horsepower motor on the back. That is pretty heavy.

Us 4 amigos set about trying to work out how to flip this damn dinghy. We tried many ways to pivot and rotate the dinghy from the back of the deck with no luck. Finally, the decision was made to gently take the houseboat as close as possible to shore. Then, hopefully we could take the line that secured it from the back of the boat to shore and flip it on the beach.

It was a good plan.

The only problem was… the beach was a mixture of sand and mud. And so the fun began. Patrice expertly manoeuvred the boat about 2 meters from the shoreline and dropped anchor. The wind would swing the houseboat away from shore and the gentle swell would swing her back to shore. As we swung into the shore, I stripped off my trousers and stepped off the back deck into the shallows. At first the water was brisk to say the least. I held my breathe and soon forgot about the cold and had to focus on my feet sinking into the mud. I was ankle deep in mud. Wonderful! I wiggled my feet to ease them up and grinned at the squelching noise I was making as I started walking towards the shoreline. There is nothing quite like an unexpected adventure.

Martin and Paul were carefully untying the lines that secured the dinghy while the wind swung the houseboat away from the shore. We waited for the swell to bring it back in. Patrice passed the line to me and Martin and Paul stepped off the houseboat to come and join me.

The next 30 seconds or so was hilarious as they too joined the ministry of silly walks as each step their feet disappeared into the mud. They worked out how to find they own way through the mud and now there were three of us on shore. Patrice stayed on the boat just in case she had to raise the anchor and move the houseboat.

Firstly

We had to move our dinghy which was also tied to the back of the houseboat. Patrice undid it and threw me the line, I dragged it up the mud flat a little so that it was out of the way. Or kind of. We then had to secure the line to the bow of the dinghy and try and turn her around. Unfortunately, the upside-down motor is now acting like an anchor and feeling the side of the dinghy reveals that it is 15 or so centimetres into the mud. It is now like a giant suction cap and we can barely see much of the boat. We had to do something fast as the tide has turned and the water was gradually rising.

Paul and I managed to get both hands under the end of the dinghy (deep in the mud) and break the air seal and lift her. Martin pulled the line to turn the nose to shore then helped us. We are getting movement. We continue to lift. The dinghy edge is out of the water. We lift more. She turns over. Martin and Paul drag the dinghy as far up the mud as possible, which is not very far given that she is full of water. We now need to bail. We wait for the houseboat to swing back in, I step in our dinghy and grab the bucket that Patrice hands me, then step out of our dinghy into the mud and hand the bucket to Martin. He starts bailing.

We now have a good chance that Patrice and Paul will take their dinghy home.

It was Patrice’s dad’s dinghy. He passed away last year so it has sentimental value. Her dad was a seaman who worked on the trawlers. We have a discussion; I ask the question ‘does the dinghy have a name’? I believe Patrice said they just call it Bob. Martin quipped- ‘even upside down it is still Bob’. We all laughed.

While Martin is bailing, I walk the couple of meters to firmer ground being more sand less mud, turn to face the lowering sun, stretch my arms, hands and fingers wide, perhaps to try and warm up. I am getting cold. The mud itself was reasonably warm. Being in the wind my fingers were freezing. They were cold to the bone. Eventually most of the water is out of the Bob and we are able to, when the houseboat swung back in, pass the line to Patrice to tie up Bob the dinghy.

Martin and Paul jump in our dinghy, Martin got the motor going and motored around to the other side of the houseboat and secured our line. I waited once more for the houseboat to swing back into shore and stepped on board.

All on board, and two dinghy’s secured Patrice raised the anchor and we headed to a new anchoring spot for them.

Patrice offers us the shower. We decline. I sat on the deck and washed the mud off my legs, feet and hands in the salt water. Honestly the mud is lovely, and it feels good on my skin. Truth be known I love squelching it between my toes. After getting most of the mud off me, I accepted a towel, wrapped myself up, went inside and sat on the couch.

The sun was starting to set.

Patrice opened a lovely bottle of white wine, Paul cracked a beer and we sat and chatted for about an hour learning about our new friends. Patrice also shared the photos and video she took. I was glad as now I have photos to share. We had fun.

We said good night, I returned the towel and put my trousers back on and we returned to our boat. We were warmly greeted by our animals who demanded food.

As I reflect back on yesterday and our adventures, I smile. I love boating life. It is a great community. It was nice to be able to help someone else. We have received help from many others and so we were happy to be able to do the same.

We both slept well last night.

#sailingsaboteur #ilovesailing #getoutdoors #wearsunscreen #liveyourlife #whatareyouwaitingfor

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Peak hour…

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Lindsay on the deck

Peak hour…

Where: On the verandah, Lindsay’s batch on Russell Island. The dogs are with us, sprawled out warming themselves in the morning sun.

Context: Marty (aka Martin Lloyd and I) are visiting Lindsay Hick.

Friday morning: Lindsay is leaning on the veranda railing, I’m in one of the comfy deck chairs. Lindsay and I sip our cuppa’s predominantly in silence. Marty is still catching up on some zzzz’s.

The various birds are chirping, screaming and squawking while nearby Kookaburras are laughing at some insider joke.

7.30 am

Lindsay: That’s the first car this morning…

Me: It’s magic.

8.15 am

Marty wakes up and I make him a coffee. He joins us on the deck. He is slow to wake…

8.30 am

Lindsey: That’s the second car this morning…

Marty: Is it Friday?

Lindsay: Yes.

Marty: Must be peak hour.

We all laugh.

Lindsay: He’s the local painter, heading to work.

Marty: That is the definition of peak hour, going to work.

The guys head to down the side of the house.

8.40 am

Another car goes past, with a friendly wave and a shout out, ‘Morning Lindsay’.

Gum trees and owl during peak hour

Me: I say to myself, yep definitely peak hour. I look at the clock, we have 20 minutes before we head back to the boat and peace away from the peak hour.

Thanks for having us for dinner Lindsay. Love hanging out with you.

#ilovesailing #getoutdoors #whatareyouwaitingfor #liveyourlife #sailingsaboteur

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