Bremer Bay to Dillon Bay - A Quick Hop

 

We gathered up enough energy to head out of Bremer Bay this morning. Light, variable winds were forecast and for once, everyone agreed … coincidentally, they were right. We wanted to check out the small fisherman's boat harbor near Fishery Bay, located behind a rock groyne (breakwater) on the west side of the Bremer Bay, just to see what it looked like. It was quite snug and filled with moorings and small fishing boats. It would definitely not be a place for Cups to anchor and most of the moorings didn't look hefty enough for our big girl if there was a blow.

Just south of Fishery Bay we got a giggle out of Shiit Beach. In fact, we couldn't believe it when we first saw it, but it appeared on both chart programs, so I guess the name is correct. We found no more info about it except there was dirt road access and car parking there. It looked nice enough. Obviously named by a Texan with a drawl. Sophomoric senses of humor, I know, but we're easily amused.

We motored out of the bay and back into the big southwest swells of the Southern Ocean. There would be no sailing today and the going was lumpy with the swells on the beam. Just two bays away … about 10nm … was Dillon Bay and an anchorage called Little Boat Harbour that looked to be a fine place to spend the rest of the day and the evening. From a distance, the sand-duned hilltops at the entrance to Dillon Bay looked more like snow-covered mountains.

The Little Boat Harbour turned out to be remarkably well-protected from the swells … serene and glass-smooth calm. We snugged up as close to shore as we dared and I spotted a sand patch. The anchor dug in well. The beach looked inviting, but not that inviting. We opted to write the day away. We'll be in Albany soon with lots to see and do. In the meantime, we're content aboard sipping cuppas and sundowners and watching sunsets.

Another Day at Bremer Bay, WA

After a reasonably long nap, we were up and about, but not anxious to launch the dinghy or go to shore. It seemed like too much work. Instead, David spent some time working on the galley stove. The gimbal pin had not sheared off as we'd feared, but rather the hefty machine screw that holds the pin in place had come loose. He had to remove the stove and dismantle the side of it to be able to replace the screw, which he did. It's swinging and swaying once again just as it should. The loose screw was actually “missing in action”. We've yet to find it, but midst the 50 pounds of screws, washers and nuts David has stowed aboard, there was a replacement. I'm sure we'll find the missing screw when we're barefoot one night.  

We'd only planned to spend the night here before heading out, but the forecasts didn't quite agree. In fact, five different forecasts provided five different scenarios. The BOM (Australia's Bureau of Meterology) was calling for NE to SE, clocking to SW, then backing NE to NW … not good for sailing west and definitely not good for finding an anchorage that could accommodate all those possible wind directions. Predict Wind was calling for NW winds; another source called for NE winds, while BuoyWeather forecast S/SE … all for the same area in the same timeframe. Obviously, no one really knew what was going to happen with the low that was moving east. If they couldn't agree, the heck with them.

Though the anchorage had a bit of a roll when we arrived, it was certainly tolerable. Not so, however, as the night progressed. Light north winds had us parallel to the shore and broadside to the swell. We rocked and rolled the whole, long night through, murmuring harsh words every now and then as something slid or crashed and required us to get up. The anchor alarm sounded about every two hours, adding to the misery. We weren't dragging, just moving around on our leash as the wind directions changed. We survived despite my whinging.

The wind direction changed to SW and we've been “good as” ever since, quite comfortable and able to nap to our heart's content without too much wave action to disturb our rest.

And here we are another day later, still in Bremer Bay and still we have not launched the dinghy to go ashore. There are things going on ashore … a caravan park, a general store, folks coming to and from the beach and vehicles driving along the beach. I'm sure we could participate in all the activity, but honestly, we're just too lazy.

Oh, no, that's not it. A better excuse? David just slapped another patch on the dinghy bottom and it has to cure for at least 24 hours before being immersed in salt water again. Yeah, that's our story and we're sticking to it.

Esperance to Bremer Bay

 

We regretfully left Esperance after nine lovely days and headed west towards Albany, our next port of call. With early morning light winds, we opted to leave a little later than usual and do an overnight run to Bremer Bay, ~135 nm miles away, as a stop in between. A late departure ensured a daylight arrival which we prefer, especially when we're searching for sand patches in which to anchor.

The winds were not quite as predicted … what a surprise! The forecast of 18-25 knots were mostly from the south, not SE, and a bit more boisterous than anticipated. We saw gusts to 40 knots and sustained winds in the high 20's for most of the night. We moved along rather briskly in bumpy, rolly conditions … the persistent southwest swell was up to 3 meters (~10') and the southerly waves built with the winds, making for very confused seas. We managed, but I was glad I had a passage soup ready to heat and eat with little fuss and minimal time below deck.

The night was clear and beautiful. A sliver of a crescent moon glowed in the sky, but it was short-lived and had already set before David took over watch at 9pm. The stars took over the sky, twinkling and sparkling in a brilliant display. The pungent smell of smoke was thick in the air … farmers miles away doing controlled burns of their autumn fields.

A loud crash during David's watch around 0400 had us both scurrying into the galley. The gimbal on the stove had broken. The gimbal pin looked to be sheared off (after only 28 years … things just don't hold up any more). There was my poor stove laying a-tilt, a kettle of passage soup teetering precariously close to toppling off. The soup secure, David lifted the stove out of the other gimbal, set it down on the base beneath and lashed it in place. It still worked, just a bit low for convenient use. Something to repair in Bremer Bay, perhaps?

We had little to no sleep during the night and the sunrise was candy for the eyes. Pinks, purples, oranges filled the sky and lent a rosy hue to the grey ocean waters behind us.

Our approach and anchorage in Bremer Bay in the early morning was more than welcome. Bremer Bay is just beautiful. The anchorage is fringed with a white sand beach. The clear, aquamarine waters were absolutely dazzling and a-sparkle with the bright morning sun. There were lots of people on the beach … camping, walking, fishing … most stopped to watch us anchor. Not much to watch, the anchor caught immediately. We tidied up and headed below for a quick cuppa and a long, well-deserved nap.

That's our day/night at sea … I'm thinking your day on land was a bit more exciting and less bumpy ... and your stove's probably not broken.