The Captain studied the paper in front of him and worked the numbers out in a low voice but loud enough to hear. "It's 1520 miles to Darwin. If we average 5 knts a day; we will make it to Darwin in 12 days, 6 knts would be 10 days, and 6 knts would bring us to freedom from round-the-clock six hour watches split between the two of us. For all of our time busting hump in Mckay for three weeks, we were well behind schedule and for all of our hard labor we would be repaid with the need to skip the Great Barrier reef (overrated by people I've talked to in comparison to the diving we have done in Polynesia) and not get to do the day-tripping of the Whitsundays, a group of desolate, rugged islands teeming with bird life and rock out-croppings along their shores hiding those tasty red-throated emperor fish. I was bummed, but understood the logic. If we could eat up some miles, we could still salvage some time in Darwin and get to Kakadu National Park and do some of what we really want to do: outbacking, croc-viewing, snake-hunting, and getting to know more of these great Aussies.
Mom, being in a right, sane frame of mind, got off the boat in Cairns to experience the beauty of Australia landside; which gave us a night's rest before the round-the-clock sailing would begin. It's not that I mind the six on and six off routine with two on the boat. There is great beauty in being the lone Master and Commander (at least to think you are) of a beautiful vessel while gazing at Orion and the Southern Cross while the Skip is catching a few Z's but it has its moments that time-after-time again; one gets weary off. I had just finished my last blog (quite optimistic with all the work done on the boat), when a resounding "Oh S---!" came from the Skip as the generator petered out. Didn't we just spend three weeks in Mckay getting this boat ready and completely inspected to finish the second half? Without the generator, our newly installed 240 volt water-maker just sits. Before the generator went kablooey, we were making 220 liters of sweet water an hour. To those who have never been on water-restrictions, this may not make an impression; to those who have, remember relishing a nice hot shower or not being so stringent while washing dishes? The harder truth is that without the generator operating, batteries are not being charged unless the engine is running and we like to minimize that time to conserve fuel.
This is the crucible, though. This is what makes this an unequaled experience from other travels. It can't all be lazing it on a Bora Bora beach with an umbrella drink in hand. Fun, as it sounds, fun never equates to the pride of having tested one's determination in seeing it through. This is the reality of circumnavigating. It's tough. People constantly tell me of how envious they are of me and what a great chance to have a break from work to do this. I smile and tell them not to envy me too much and this is far from a break from work. That being said, as weeks go by and still more people drop out of the ARC; we keep on keeping on whatever may come our way. What I've found interesting in the World ARC fleet, is that the vast majority will tell you knowing how to sail is far from being the most valued skill. That's easy (unless you're into racing-I'm not). Far above that, in fact the most crucial, is the skill of being able to jury-rig broken equipment while utilizing limited items onboard. That's a real sailor. I watched my Skip use medical gauze and 5200 (great adhesive-everyone should have it on a sailboat) to patch a leak at sea in a broken hose between two attached engine parts. Absolutely brilliant as he applied layer of gauze while smearing the compound on the engine's artery stopping the massive hemorrhage and getting us from Bora Bora all the way to Australia where a mechanic replaced the broken hose. That's the Skip in his Patton-like determination to push forward quickly toward any obstacles and crush these boat issues one-by-one as they raise their cobra-like heads from the engine room and beyond. Leave it to a doctor to use his medical supplies in the engine room. I watch and assist to the best of my ability while carrying on the other tasks crucial to keeping a boat happy. As I have made friends with the various captains, boat-owners, and crew in the ARC; we have come to one universal and laughable conclusion: You have to be insane to own a boat.
As far as traversing the waters interior to the Great Barrier Reef and east of mainland Australia as we make or way northward and west, it is a head's up ball game. Super-tankers, warships, cargo ships, shrimpers, and anything else that could go bump in the night crowd the channels. It's a mine-field and no ten-minute shut-eye breaks are allowed. Thank God for the marvelous creation of the coffee bean. The rules of the road here are quite simple: the bigger vessel always wins and boats like to pass starboard to starboard here. They even drive on the wrong side of the channel. It is quite a lovely trip and its nice to not be out of the sight of land. As I longingly gaze out toward rugged cliffs, boulders, and mountains painting the landscape all shades of earthy yellows and oranges; I dream (and the Skip as well) of getting to Darwin and more interior. We'll get there.
The fishing report is relatively good. We caught a 15 lb yellow fin tuna (which I served cubed and raw in coconut milk, lime juice, minced scallions, and ginger) 2 spotted mackerel (a new species for us-meat as white as the driven snow and flaky-excellent pan-friend in butter, salt, and pepper), a tuna mackerel (not edible in my book) and then were cut off on two lines simultaneously while dragging a bloody tuna mackerel behind boat. Shark? I wonder if it had eyes like a doll's. Dark and lifeless. Time to get out the piano-wire and catch one of those porkers with the serrated, triangular teeth.
We are about half-way from Cairns to Darwin, now, and making 6.5 knts. We are tired but still making waves. I imagine in 5-6 days, we will be in Darwin. As always, love and miss you all. Te amo, Merce.
"Brown-Eyed Girl" out...
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Photos from Australia...
Jared out on town. Nice outfit.
SV BEG getting hauled out in Mackay
Crocodile-16 feet long on Daintree river in Queensland
Flying fox bat-3 feet long fruit eater-doesn't have echolocation like other bats
Red-bellied black snake-danger danger danger, mate! Dead or I wouldn't handle it
Mackay, Australia
It has been far too long since I've written but it's hard to get inspired when you feel like you are living the movie "Groundhog Day" where every morning you awake to find yesterday repeating itself and moreover, in Mckay, Australia. Three weeks ago we arrived into the coal-mining town and marina of Mckay for what we knew would be probably (hopefully) the least exciting, but very necessary part of the trip-the hauling of the "Brown-Eyed Girl" out of the water for major mechanical and body work. I could spend a lot of time boring you with the details of every task done, but I will refrain as we have now put Mckay to our stern and are now sailing through the Whitsunday isles on an amazingly beautiful and brisk day (winter here, down-under). I would be remiss, though, if I didn't delve a little into the major over-haul of the boat, for those of you who don't own or don't have the pleasure to be around boats and think this journey is a pleasant escape from work and reality. Quite honestly, this is the toughest job I've ever had and the stresses of major breakage wears on a Captain, as well, but with all that said; we have accomplished quite a lot in these last few weeks and the "BEG", I believe, is quite happy with our hard work and loving attention.
Mckay, Australia with a population of just over 100,000 doesn't offer much to the boater except that which we truly needed-an excellent marina with skilled laborers. From lifting the boat out and placing on dry-stands, cleaning and painting the bottom, treating the exterior of the hull, oiling the bow-thrusters, taking the prop off and lubricating drive-shaft and changing-out seals, inspecting rigging, welding stress-fractures in booms, cutting and wiring for new and old water-makers, sewing cushions, replacing VHF, complete inventory and re-organizing of food and cleaners, preventive maintenance of engine, cleaning exterior and interior of vessel, and sneaking away for great red-throated emperor fish and chips when a break could be found, dropping boat back in water, working out any bugs with any of the aforementioned, re-cleaning the boat after work had been finished; Mckay was the place for us to accomplish our tasks. The skilled help is here and the city doesn't offer much more than pubs filled with drunken Aussie coal-miners who are getting their fill of schooners of draft-beer and getting "a skin-full." The Captain and this 1st mate are glad to have closed this chapter of the trip. Hats off to the Skip who worked diligently alongside the workers putting in 16-hour days, at times, making it happen. So, if it has been a while since I have written to you, my loyal readers, I must confess I haven't been that inspired, nor had the luxury of writing.
That being said, I did manage to weasel my way away from the boat for a couple of days with the original "BEG" for some true out-backing on a 12 hour drive to Daintree National Forest for some outstanding Croc viewing. I learned to love driving on the left (scary at first and slightly embarrassing when you get in the wrong side of the vehicle with the keys in your hand and grab air reaching for your seat-belt on the wrong side) and it had been six-months since I been able to quench my need for speed. Flat, straight stretches of road through desolate Aussie outback, fulfilled that desire. Along the way, we stopped in Cairns to visit a bit more upscale port and then to Port Douglass where we dined on monster prawns served over ice and with a side of creamy dill dipping sauce and honey dijon sauce with a view of mangrove delta, shrimping boats, and mud flats where those heavenly mud-crabs that go for 90 dollars a kilo dwell. Sublime. Arriving to the Daintree is spectacular. We spent the night on a ranch and awoke in the morning over-looking a pasture leading down to the Daintree with Brahman cattle and horses eating just below our porch. Nice change of scenery from the deep blue. The Daintree area is unlike interior Australia and most of coastal Australia. It is a rain forest and quite different than how one may picture Australia. Bird life is abundant. Spectacled fruit bats dangling upside down and are three feet long, roost in the thousands painting the mangrove trees as black as night. Did I mention Crocs? Of course we had to pursue the infamous salt-water crocodile on a two-hour boat cruise on the Daintree river. The Discovery channel doesn't do them justice as to show how truly terrifying and amazing beasts they are (and I live in Florida-Gators are as common as snow-birds and oranges). We spotted several 14-foot salties and one 16 footer that is forever etched into my mind. Swim in Australia? Never. Those beasties have been spotted a hundred miles out to sea. They say in places you aren't even safe in a dinghy. Everywhere one goes, the river banks are lined with signs warning non-Aussies not to swim. The Aussies understand. I love this country. What about the snakes? Yes, they are a reality and Australia has the worst ones in the world as far as size, temperament, and venom. The Skip and I managed to sneak away from our tasks a few mornings and evenings to an abandoned drive-in movie theater where the taipans (deadliest land snake in the world) warm themselves on the asphalt. Dad had received the information about this place from a guy at a cocktail party who when asked for directions to this locale refused to give them to us as he thought we were nuts to pursue these 12-foot, highly aggressive, and common snakes. We managed to find the theater but came up empty-handed on this front, however, as I was driving to Daintree, I did manage to get some photographs of a road-kill, red-bellied blacksnake, another deadly cousin to the cobra. Beautiful snake. Beautiful land.
I almost forgot to mention our day-trip to Eungalla National Park which is an pretty, hour-long drive through sugar-cane country and up into the rain forest from Mckay. It is famous for being a refuge to the elusive and greatest oddity of evolution: the duckbill platypus. Imagine an egg-laying, venomous, mammal that has a bill, well, like a duck's and a bit of a temper. They aren't very big, at a couple of feet long, but as we watched a male chasing a non-receptive female (sorry, bloke-the sheila doesn't like ya') as they maneuvered in circles biting each other, I thought the great creator must have a sense of humor. White cockatoos screeched overhead. Majestic place and a nice escape from the dust-bowl of the being up on the boat-stands in a boat-yard.
So, all's well that ends well and the BEG is slipping through the water nicely after her three-week and very costly makeover. To Darwin, via the Whitsundays, we go. Fishing lines are out. Hopefully the muses, sirens, and mermaids will inspire me to write more. We love Australia and the Aussies. They are as you may imagine them. Strong. Independent. Frontiersman. Friendly. I liken them to a slightly different twist of our westerners. As always, love and miss you all. Te amo, Merce.
"Brown-Eyed Girl" out...
Mckay, Australia with a population of just over 100,000 doesn't offer much to the boater except that which we truly needed-an excellent marina with skilled laborers. From lifting the boat out and placing on dry-stands, cleaning and painting the bottom, treating the exterior of the hull, oiling the bow-thrusters, taking the prop off and lubricating drive-shaft and changing-out seals, inspecting rigging, welding stress-fractures in booms, cutting and wiring for new and old water-makers, sewing cushions, replacing VHF, complete inventory and re-organizing of food and cleaners, preventive maintenance of engine, cleaning exterior and interior of vessel, and sneaking away for great red-throated emperor fish and chips when a break could be found, dropping boat back in water, working out any bugs with any of the aforementioned, re-cleaning the boat after work had been finished; Mckay was the place for us to accomplish our tasks. The skilled help is here and the city doesn't offer much more than pubs filled with drunken Aussie coal-miners who are getting their fill of schooners of draft-beer and getting "a skin-full." The Captain and this 1st mate are glad to have closed this chapter of the trip. Hats off to the Skip who worked diligently alongside the workers putting in 16-hour days, at times, making it happen. So, if it has been a while since I have written to you, my loyal readers, I must confess I haven't been that inspired, nor had the luxury of writing.
That being said, I did manage to weasel my way away from the boat for a couple of days with the original "BEG" for some true out-backing on a 12 hour drive to Daintree National Forest for some outstanding Croc viewing. I learned to love driving on the left (scary at first and slightly embarrassing when you get in the wrong side of the vehicle with the keys in your hand and grab air reaching for your seat-belt on the wrong side) and it had been six-months since I been able to quench my need for speed. Flat, straight stretches of road through desolate Aussie outback, fulfilled that desire. Along the way, we stopped in Cairns to visit a bit more upscale port and then to Port Douglass where we dined on monster prawns served over ice and with a side of creamy dill dipping sauce and honey dijon sauce with a view of mangrove delta, shrimping boats, and mud flats where those heavenly mud-crabs that go for 90 dollars a kilo dwell. Sublime. Arriving to the Daintree is spectacular. We spent the night on a ranch and awoke in the morning over-looking a pasture leading down to the Daintree with Brahman cattle and horses eating just below our porch. Nice change of scenery from the deep blue. The Daintree area is unlike interior Australia and most of coastal Australia. It is a rain forest and quite different than how one may picture Australia. Bird life is abundant. Spectacled fruit bats dangling upside down and are three feet long, roost in the thousands painting the mangrove trees as black as night. Did I mention Crocs? Of course we had to pursue the infamous salt-water crocodile on a two-hour boat cruise on the Daintree river. The Discovery channel doesn't do them justice as to show how truly terrifying and amazing beasts they are (and I live in Florida-Gators are as common as snow-birds and oranges). We spotted several 14-foot salties and one 16 footer that is forever etched into my mind. Swim in Australia? Never. Those beasties have been spotted a hundred miles out to sea. They say in places you aren't even safe in a dinghy. Everywhere one goes, the river banks are lined with signs warning non-Aussies not to swim. The Aussies understand. I love this country. What about the snakes? Yes, they are a reality and Australia has the worst ones in the world as far as size, temperament, and venom. The Skip and I managed to sneak away from our tasks a few mornings and evenings to an abandoned drive-in movie theater where the taipans (deadliest land snake in the world) warm themselves on the asphalt. Dad had received the information about this place from a guy at a cocktail party who when asked for directions to this locale refused to give them to us as he thought we were nuts to pursue these 12-foot, highly aggressive, and common snakes. We managed to find the theater but came up empty-handed on this front, however, as I was driving to Daintree, I did manage to get some photographs of a road-kill, red-bellied blacksnake, another deadly cousin to the cobra. Beautiful snake. Beautiful land.
I almost forgot to mention our day-trip to Eungalla National Park which is an pretty, hour-long drive through sugar-cane country and up into the rain forest from Mckay. It is famous for being a refuge to the elusive and greatest oddity of evolution: the duckbill platypus. Imagine an egg-laying, venomous, mammal that has a bill, well, like a duck's and a bit of a temper. They aren't very big, at a couple of feet long, but as we watched a male chasing a non-receptive female (sorry, bloke-the sheila doesn't like ya') as they maneuvered in circles biting each other, I thought the great creator must have a sense of humor. White cockatoos screeched overhead. Majestic place and a nice escape from the dust-bowl of the being up on the boat-stands in a boat-yard.
So, all's well that ends well and the BEG is slipping through the water nicely after her three-week and very costly makeover. To Darwin, via the Whitsundays, we go. Fishing lines are out. Hopefully the muses, sirens, and mermaids will inspire me to write more. We love Australia and the Aussies. They are as you may imagine them. Strong. Independent. Frontiersman. Friendly. I liken them to a slightly different twist of our westerners. As always, love and miss you all. Te amo, Merce.
"Brown-Eyed Girl" out...
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Photos prior to arriving in Australia
banded sea-kraits-deadly but friendly
duckbill platypus-strangest animal en the world-venomous,egg-laying mammal, with a bill and webbed feet-rare to see
2 pics of tribal dancing on Tanaa-men wear nothing buy skirts covering front
pig hunt
smallest pig ever killed
Eungalla Park in rainforest-misty park where platypus' abound
Mt. Yassur on Tanna-most accessible active volcano in world people stand at edge of crater, delayed night photo, esxplodes every few seconds-2minutes
Bull shark
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