Portland, Victoria - en route and arrival

 

We had planned an early start, but you know how that goes. It was still dark at 0600 and quite chilly. Our bed was warm. We reasoned there was no rush since the weekly island supply ship was due that morning, usually arrived about 0630-0700, and took up a good portion of the harbor getting situated. We didn't want to meet her in the entry pass. So it was that we got up late, Searoad Mersey arrived late and we had a bit of late start. Schedules tend to elude us.

Portland is an overnight away. The weather forecast called for several days of favorable weather and for once, the forecast held true and, in fact, the icy south winds arrived earlier than scheduled. The exit through the pass was a bit exhilarating, reminiscent of some Polynesian atolls we visited. Waves were crashing on reefs and shoals all around us. Three sets of range markers helped us find the clear, narrow path through it all, to the calm on the other side. There's always a quick adrenaline rush as you commit to the channel and then there are a few minutes of tumultuous water and you're in the clear. Whew!

Dolphins stopped by to bid us adieu. Just a few though, nothing like on our arrival. They're better at welcomes than goodbyes. Then we were skirting along King's east coast, a few miles off, with beaches and heavy surf clearly visible. Far enough off to avoid the shipwrecks and the flies!

The wind was fresh and just off the port beam. We tooled along with jib alone at 7 kts. The southern swells seemed huge (5-6m / 15-20') as we surfed down into a trough and then up again. It was hard to stand watch since things appeared on the wave crests and then disappeared again as we sank into the troughs. The radar and AIS served us well identifying freighters and oil rigs along our path long before we could see them. The wind remained steady and cold through the night. We kept up our speed and track with little adjustment to the lonely jib which was earning its keep. No drama … the best kind of passage. Despite the late start, our arrival in Portland was earlier than expected. We covered the 189 nm, anchorage to anchorage, in ~30 hours. For us, a quick trip.

Three ships were anchored off Portland, another was stationary, waiting for its harbor pilot. A seal greeted us in just outside the port, one flipper up and a peeking head. We had a moment of anxiety when we started the engine to enter the breakwater and the low fuel alarm sounded. It seems with all of our jouncing about during the night, an air bubble crept into the fuel line requiring a quick burp, then all was well.

The harbor is situated behind a large, protective breakwater and turning the corner heading towards the yacht club was a pleasant respite from the rolling waters on the other side. Several ships were loading and unloading at the wharf. Huge piles of wood chips and stacks of timber lined the dock and the air smelled of fresh-cut wood.

We were surprised to see a large, unoccupied marina in the process of being built. Not only was it not shown on our charts, but it took up a good portion of the anchorage area in the northwest harbor. The inner harbor near the yacht club appeared full of local boats and the two free moorings we spotted were not suitable for Cups. We reconnoitered for nearly half an hour before finally deciding on a good spot. The hook set well in the mud. Sano y salvo, the Spanish say. Too tired for exploring today, but tomorrow maybe.

Days and Ways to Celebrate

A daily list of mostly obscure holidays and fun ways to celebrate them.

My Way Day

This is a day to have "your way" (not at Burger King!) Sounds a bit selfish to me, so share a little of the "my" and make it an "our". Make "our" favorite dinner or watch "our" favorite movie. More fun doing things together anyway.

Just Give Us a Good Night's Sleep

We're looking forward to a good night's sleep. We haven't had one since we left Triabunna several days ago. Our first night at sea was a tumultuous one off the east coast of Tassie and Flinders Island as you'll remember. Our second night, anchored in the little notch of Inner Sister Island was great until about 0230 when a swell found its way into the previously calm cove and rocked us gunwale to gunwale in awkward jerks and lurches for the rest of the night. By morning, with a change in the wind, we were happy to head to Deal Island, only 35 nm away.

We remembered our calm nights (and not so calm nights) at Deal Island. The forecast (need we say more?) was for calm weather from the S/SE and the anchorage at East Cove off Deal Island is perfect for that. We arrived to find five boats already anchored and two more coming in right behind us. It's a large enough bay and everyone had plenty of room. We could see the current churning in the Murray Passage behind us, but the anchorage was calm and peaceful. The only problem with the anchorage is its grassy bottom, sometimes tricky for holding. We set the anchor well, let out plenty of scope and headed to bed around 2230.

The wind was variable, coming from all directions alternating in short 20-25 gusts and then calms. We had swung around with unpredicted fresh westerlies and all boats were now on a lee shore. We checked our position before heading to bed, set an anchor alarm and felt relatively secure that we were holding in place. Ah, a full night's sleep ahead and we were definitely ready for it.

We heard a radio hail around 0200. Another boat in the anchorage had dragged and was nearly on the beach before being able to weigh its anchor and motor off. In the process, however, the anchor chain jammed, causing the windlass to pop a circuit breaker. In trying to reset the breaker, the switch broke leaving them with no windlass and an anchor hanging from the bow that could not be deployed.

David chatted with them on the radio and promised to help at first light. But now we were awake and aware that they were circling in the anchorage, round and round for the four long hours until daylight. We had a cup of tea, played a game of gin, chatted. We were only too aware of their predicament, having been in similar situations ourselves in the past. The nights are never so long as when you're waiting for the dawn. With each gust, we wondered if another boat would drag … maybe Cups?

Finally, morning came. A crew member picked up David in their dinghy. He had the problem sorted out and the windlass working and unjammed within an hour … at least until it could be properly repaired and the circuit breaker switch replaced. They happily anchored close by. We're invited for cocktails. That's how it is with cruisers.

Now...maybe tonight we'll get a full night's sleep? Tomorrow...Deal Island magic!

Days and Ways to Celebrate

A daily list of mostly obscure holidays and fun ways to celebrate them.

Homemade Soup Day

It's February, homemade soup will taste good tonight for dinner. Here's a good recipe.

Tasmania's Unpredictable Weather

 

The weather forecast for the last couple of days sounded something like this:

“A front moves over Tasmania today, followed by another and another and then a trough forms before another front moves through. Winds will be variable 5-50 knots from the North, South, East and West. Primary swell from the northeast at 3 meters; secondary swell from the southwest at 1.5 meters.” Three separate sources (who probably all rely on the same primary computer-generated source) disagreed as to what was supposed to happen. It made it kind of hard to decide where to go to anchor and when to head north. Our take on the GRIBs wasn't any better than what the forecasters were spouting. We ended up moving from Chinaman's Bay back to Spring Bay, Triabunna when strong W/SW winds were forecast, but actually strong north/northwest winds prevailed. We waited.

Finally, everyone agreed on 2-3 days of southeasterlies 10-15 kts increasing to 15-25 kts, then decreasing again. Sounded like a forecast we wanted to believe and after delaying another day to let the northerly swells subside, we gave a tot of rum to Neptune and began our trek north, expecting a fine downwind sail. Strong easterlies made for a brisk beam reach, but a stop at world-famous Wineglass Bay seemed inadvisable. We were disappointed, but we continued on.

We made good time up the coast. The switch to SE 15-25 kts presented itself sooner than we expected, but we were sailing downwind and that was no problem. The 35-40 knot SE winds, however, had us a little more concerned. We clocked a 56 knot gust and thought this was really a bit more than advertised. The trip was … boisterous. We like that word boisterous; it covers all sorts of conditions. It's comparable to exhilarating. This portion of the passage was like a downhill sleigh ride. The northern swells hadn't quite disappeared, but the SE swells built quickly. We'd surf down one wave and then hit a mogul of a northern swell. Below decks was absolute bedlam. Some things we thought were well stowed were flying in all directions, ending in a heap on the saloon sole.

The wind was ice cold. We were all bundled up in offshore foul weather gear, extra fleeces, socks, watch caps and still the sting of the cold made itself known. Salt water spray and then rain, made the night watch miserable. A grey dawn showed little relief from the swells and wind. It's funny, but describing the seas and even taking pictures, never quite do the sea justice. When it's angry and roiling around you, crashing and careening the boat from all sides, the strength of it seems so amazing. The noise as the wind howls through the rigging is nearly deafening. Yet looking at photos after the fact, it looks like a normal day at sea.

David noted a broken sail slide on our reefed main around 10pm and we wrestled down the sail to find that two more sail slides had broken as well. We were relying on the jib alone, but it was doing just fine. Surprisingly, the autopilot was handling the seas and winds quite admirably. Though that didn't improve the bumpy ride, it was certainly better than manning the wheel as the waves broke and crashed around us.

We were heading to Lady Barron Port on Flinders Island in the Furneaux Group of islands on the eastern end of the Bass Strait. Needless to say, it was a long, sleepless night. As we approached the entrance to Lady Barren Port, a narrow, shoal-lined passage, the southeast swells were rolling in. The tides were wrong and the rollers were stacking up. It just wasn't prudent to enter and we reluctantly passed on by.

Where to now? With continued S/SE winds, we figured we'd take advantage of the winds, turn northwest and head to Deal Island. A couple of dolphins swam past … this was the right decision.

Aeolus, god of the wind, heard us discussing our plans, however. The wind began clocking to the west almost immediately. It was 15 miles back to Lady Barron Port or we needed to find shelter somewhere in the many islands of the Furneaux Group.

Stay tuned.

Days and Ways to Celebrate

A daily list of mostly obscure holidays and fun ways to celebrate them.

Groundhog's Day

This is my kind of day. We're going to watch Groundhog's Day tonight. Check out what Punxutawney Phil is doing in Pennsylvania and see if Spring's right around the corner or another six weeks away. Really...I'd be a Gobbler's Knob if I could.