Escape from Two Rocks, Western Australia

After nearly a week at Two Rocks waiting for southerly winds and for the swell to be down enough to negotiate the narrow exit from the marina into the Indian Ocean, it finally looked like escape day. We trudged to the top of the hill before 0700 to see how things looked. Much improved from the huge waves of the past two days, but still every once in awhile a breaker of some import made its way to our exit path. Time's a'wasting. We decided to go for it.  

Easier said, than done. After yesterday's torrential downpours and 40 knot winds, we had a lot to do this morning before departure. We'd put out extra lines. The sail cover was sopping wet. And before we could leave the tiny harbor everything needed to be stowed securely … all the lines, fenders, fender board … or we were afraid we'd lose them overboard.

There's always a strategy to getting off the boat off the dock unscathed. In this case, the wind was blowing us off the dock which was good, but there wasn't much room for maneuvering. The bow was facing into the fuel jetty and turning the bow into the wind is not easily accomplished in tight quarters. We sprung off with a bow line, let the stern swing out and around and the bow came into the wind nicely. I hauled in the spring line as we passed the dock and then began tidying up lines. David did circles in the harbor while I coiled lines and stowed fenders. We couldn't procrastinate any longer. We headed for the exit. I said a silent prayer to Neptune to hold off on any breakers until we were clear.

David revved up the engine and we shot out … about as fast as a sailboat can go. There was no turning back and as I peeked around the corner and saw a breaker coming, I held my breath. We made it around the corner in time to take the wave on the bow. David kept us into the waves and managed to keep Cups on our incoming track with the leading lines aligned behind us. It was only 3.5 nm over the reefs to open ocean, but we were barely making 3 knots … it was a long, exhilarating hour and we were both queasy by the time we got through. The sky was grey. The sea was grey. The day was grey. In fact, our faces were a bit grey, come to think of it.

Because we'd spent so long waiting for weather in Two Rocks, we gave up on our plan to day-hop up the coast and instead, decided to do an overnight to Port Denison to save a little time. The winds were forecast to be light and we thought we might have to motor yet again. In fact, we had fickle winds which fluctuated between 6 and 16 knots which meant we were either lolling along at 3 knots or making miles at 7 knots. It was so pleasant to be sailing again, we decided we'd ride the winds as long as we could. Every once in awhile, a bit of blue sky peeked through the grey, but more often the scattered showers, showered on us.

We saw several whales … humpbacks, we think … making their way south. We could see the spouts from a long distance and only caught a couple of pix where the whale is actually almost discernible.

Day turned into night and the winds stayed with us. We were still feeling queasy and though I'd made a chicken-rice passage soup, neither of us was interested in eating. A cup of tea and a granola bar sufficed for lunch and dinner. We started our watch schedule early. Sleep seemed to be the best thing to overcome feeling crappy. A long, cold night lay ahead, but the sky cleared and a sliver of waxing crescent moon shone brightly midst a million stars. We saw only one ship during the night … 11 miles away … just a light on the horizon and a blip on the radar screen.

Morning dawned sunny. Having each been up half the night, we were sleepy, but feeling much better. Still, tea and granola bar seemed the only palatable breakfast. We counted 15 different whale sightings during the day. Wow! (but still no good photos!). The wind left us mid-morning and we cranked on the engine, arriving in Port Denison by late afternoon – just before dark. The tiny harbor is well-protected by a breakwater and filled with moorings and pens. It was calm and inviting. It's a lobster fishing port, but there was room for us on the jetty. Hallelujah! We're going to sleep well tonight.

Another day...or two...in Two Rocks

The swell was up, but it was sunny and the wind was southerly. We thought we might leave, but then we saw huge combers breaking over the sea wall quite regularly. We walked up the hill to get a better view of the marina entrance … oh, man, it didn't look good at all. Breakers were making their way around and over the reefs and pounding the breakwater and shore. We watched as several large waves broke at the harbor entrance.  

We decided to ask a local crayfisherman and get his take on the situation. The cray boats go out everyday, no matter what the weather. The Alba Marina III had just come in. We asked the captain for his recommendation and I quote … “You'd be fucking crazy to go out in that today. I haven't seen it this bad in two years. We had to go five miles south to find a clear way in through the reefs.” He further explained that if we could do 24 knots like he does, there would be no problem since we could outrun the waves. 24 knots … not in our wildest dreams. However, we'd be running into them and not surfing down them and getting turned around, knocked beam-to the wave and broached seemed a real possibility.

The forecast shows similar swells for the next couple of days and northerly winds, perhaps settling down over the weekend. We may be here for a few more days. Get used to it. Patience and prudence are a big part of the cruising life. We'll figure out how to make lemons into lemonade in the next few days … I've got plenty of sugar aboard.

Leaving Mandurah - Heading North

 

Leaving a place that's been pleasant and safe and leaving behind the generous, hospitable people who have made our stay so memorable is always bittersweet, but moving on is what we do. After a blustery, rainy, grey two days and nights, the weather dawned sunny and clear. David topped the water tanks while I disconnected the electric. We idled the engine for awhile to make sure there were no surprises. The transmission sounded a bit stiff, but loosened up after a forward-reverse trial. We were off the dock by 0815. Not too early, but early enough to be respectable.

The short 35nm hop north up the coast to Fremantle … Freo, the locals call it … was a typical first passage after a long sojourn on land. We forgot little things. The autopilot switch got bumped and we thought the drive had a problem till we figured out what had happened. What a relief! The southwest swell had us a bit queasy for the first hour or so, but a cup of tea and a few miles under the keel had us feeling right again. The forecast called for S/SW winds at 15 kts and sun. We saw light winds from the north and on-again/off-again showers. No matter … we were in good spirits and back to sea.

This coast is rife with reefs and we were vigilant on watch. It's always good to spot a reef, the waves breaking and crashing high in the air, at a good distance. We threaded our way through the North Channel at the top of Garden Island and then made our way to the Fremantle Sailing Club. This friendly club offers 3-free nights of berthage to visiting cruisers and we were keen to take them up on their offer. Sam, on behalf of the harbourmaster, met us in the club tender and led us to the wooden Collector Jetty for tie-up.

We'll be here only long enough to catch another short weather window to make our way further north. Freo is the main port for Perth and has an interesting history. We're hoping to linger long enough to do some exploring.