QLD 2012 #3 Lady Musgrave
At the end of my last scribbling we had left Golden Haze (aka Tubby) safely snugged away on a mooring on the Brisbane River under the watchful eye of our mate Noel. Now, after another month of toil, we have flown into Brisbane and a couple of hours at the local Wooley’s in preparation for the final leg north and our Queensland Holy Grail, Lady Musgrave Island.
Noel had kindly replaced the house batteries for us while we were back at work and I’d arranged for a new gas hot water system so we could put an end to the pommy bath technique (pass the deodorant Vic). With a full fridge, hot showers on hand and plenty of battery power we were looking in pretty good shape. I’d taken the precaution of ordering some seriously good weather before I left Hobart (Vic still scratches her head about how I do that) and we cast off for a wander down to the mouth of the Brisbane River before turning hard to port. An overnight in the ‘breakdown berth’ at Scarborough Marina gave me the chance to source a couple of bits for the new gas system and the next day we were on track to berth in Mooloolaba just ahead of one of those delightful cooling natural deck washes. (Vic calls it rain.)
My mate and long time sailing buddy, Chris Vorbach turned up in due course to cart us off to his Ponderosa nestled in the hills behind Mooloolaba for a night of frivolity, tall tales and salty reminiscences. Funny things memories, they just don’t make waves as big as they used to in the olden days.
With due consideration given to the tides for our crossing of the Wide Bay Bar and the subsequent smooth waters inside Fraser Island we headed to sea around 1030 the next morning, getting into Pelican Bay just after dark. A night time entry through the Wide Bay Bar is not something I would have contemplated twenty five years ago but with chart plotters and lead lights being what they are today the risk factor on top of a relatively benign sea wasn’t too daunting, as proved to be the case.
The comfortable night’s sleep was followed by a sparrow fart heaving of the anchor in order to grab a slice of the incoming tide and the opportunity to sail over the Fraser Island shallows with plenty of water under the keel followed by a lunch of Bourkey’s infamous smoked salmon pasta. We enjoyed this fine alfresco meal in the delightful calm waters of Kingfisher Bay after a swim and a rig check before the over nighter to Lady Musgrave.
With a forecast of light nor’ westerlies and an incoming tide at LM around 1100 the next day, matched up with no sun in the eyes for the lagoon entry, our passage plan for the 90 odd mile sail meant an evening departure from Fraser Island and a leisurely overnight sail. As my mate Taj will tell you, you have to have a plan, and fortunately, this one went off without a hitch.
With a magnificent day break, the temperature heading for a balmy 28 degrees and a low gentle south easterly ground swell we sighted LM in the distance mid morning, funnily enough turning up just where it was supposed to be. LM is a coral atoll wrapped around by a coral reef, which along with Lady Elliot Island form the southern most coral outcrops on the Great Barrier Reef. The last time I’d been into LM was on a delivery south with the kids some years back and other than the local tourist operator exhibiting an irritatingly larger presence than the last time I was there nothing much had changed.
Making your way through the bommies inside the virtually fully enclosing reef surrounding the island is no great hardship. The dark grey/black coral outcrops have plenty of water over them; the lighter brown ones should be avoided. And of course the chart plotter tracker is turned on for the entry so that there is a get out plan in place in the unlikely event of a hasty midnight departure turning up on the cruise agenda. It’s one of the first things you learn in tug school; always have a get out plan.
That first afternoon we settled the boat down, started setting up the sun shade, had a swim followed by a walk around the island nestled in the western corner of the lagoon and generally fluffed around like a couple of new ducks in the proverbial watery hen house.
A day in the Life - Lady Musgrave style.
I’d been telling Vic about the mandatory post breakfast bath on LM for weeks beforehand and the next morning saw this traditional ritual plunge come to fruition, the beginning of a day that just kept on getting better. The water colour is a brilliant turquoise blue and so pure and crystal clear that you can see the chain all the way to the anchor, set in sand some 25 metres off the bow.
The water was a supposed extremely comfortable 28 degrees, although by now I had begun to suspect our temperature gauge was telling fibs. My subsequent snorkel to examine the condition of the hull revealed a transducer populated by so many barnacles that it resembled King’s Pier at the end of a Hobart race and the infestation of these little critters on the prop explained the loss of a knot of boat speed on the passage north from Brisbane. Half an hour driving the scraper supplied a temporary cure for the loss of performance and concurrently managed to get my major chore for the day out of the way.
Now before we left Hobart I’d had a discussion with an old mate Angus about my search for a cruising spinnaker, to which he had volunteered that his was currently and would continue to languish in the forepeak of his Zeston 40, unloved and unlikely ever to see a sea breeze again. We had agreed that I would give it a run and if luff length etc were compatible then in due course we would strike a deal. After transplanting the kite into Tubby’s forepeak for the test sail I promptly forgot about the discussion until we were well on the way north and it suddenly occurred to me that we were still in possession of Angus’ kite.
Oh well, I thought, we’d agree to give her a test, little realising at the time that the balmy waters off LM would be the venue. So with a 10 to 12 knot north easterly blowing, Tubby, Vic and I wandered out through the hole in the wall and hauled the spinnaker to the masthead, sock and all.
Not to put too fine a point on it I decided that Angus really needed photographic proof that his kite in fact not only had all the right attributes for a life on board Tubby but was also being lovingly cared for, so once it was set and drawing nicely I cast of in the dinghy, camera in hand and some timely instructions to Vic about not leaving me to perish should the outboard konk out. ‘At least sling me a couple of beers on your way past Sweety!’
In due course and with photos a plenty I rejoined the girl(s), and as if on cue a couple of hump back whales put on a performance for us. Vic had been asking when the whales I’d been promising would turn up and this was a show that was definitely worth waiting for. With LM forming the backdrop, blue sky topping off the pure brilliant colour of the water, breaching whales in the foreground and Tubby nosing along under a gently setting, purloined Tasmanian kite, life couldn’t get much better! But wait; there’s more (as the actress must have said to the bishop)!
Fairfax Island, about three miles north of LM is a long uninhabited ribbon of coral sand and looked a likely place to hide behind while enjoying some lunch before a bit of desert island exploration, so in due course, with the anchor down and a feed out of the way we were once more in the dinghy and looking to play Robinson Crusoe and girl Friday.
It’s a little difficult to describe the sense of wonder that can envelop one when wandering along a beach with only your footprints to show the existence of mankind and as you’re contemplating it all a pod of turtles poke their heads above the water to say “G’day folks.” Mind you, the sight of a buck ass naked yachty on their beach front probably raised a few turtle brows that afternoon.
We headed back to Tubby none the worse for wear other than a little cheeky sun burn and headed back into LM where Vic hauled a couple of strange looking fish out of the water before we enjoyed a twilight gin on the afterdeck. An eye fillet stuffed with olives, blue cheese and semidried tomatoes was washed down with a boisterous young red before a couple of tired and replete old yachties retired to dream the dreams of tropical desert islands while being rocked safely and gently to sleep in the solid steel hull of good old Tubby.
The next few days saw three old salts (Tubby feels like part of the family) enjoy various combinations of the above until, with a freshening northerly forecast and the hint of Bundaburg on the wind we sadly hauled anchor and set course for the mainland and the rum jungle of civilisation.
Our subsequent journey south was a study in getting the boat home as quickly as possible without too many headwinds. Ricky Buchannan’s father Jim kindly agreed to join me for the passage from Southport to Hobart, with my old mate Jimmy Mc Cormack also doing the leg to Sydney. Vic bailed out of the run south from Brisbane, siting work commitments and tossing in some timely advice that either more engine room insulation was required or the boat had to improve its sailing performance. Thus, now back in Hobart, a feathering prop has just been installed and soundproofing is high on the agenda.
Following the coming winter’s programmed upgrades, Tubby’s next offshore wander looks like being a Sydney Hobart Race (in the cruising division) and we want a bit of company guys. So all you blokes with a little salt water left in your veins lets see you on the start line on Boxing Day. Watch this space for more in the winter edition.
Cheers,
Bourkey
Noel had kindly replaced the house batteries for us while we were back at work and I’d arranged for a new gas hot water system so we could put an end to the pommy bath technique (pass the deodorant Vic). With a full fridge, hot showers on hand and plenty of battery power we were looking in pretty good shape. I’d taken the precaution of ordering some seriously good weather before I left Hobart (Vic still scratches her head about how I do that) and we cast off for a wander down to the mouth of the Brisbane River before turning hard to port. An overnight in the ‘breakdown berth’ at Scarborough Marina gave me the chance to source a couple of bits for the new gas system and the next day we were on track to berth in Mooloolaba just ahead of one of those delightful cooling natural deck washes. (Vic calls it rain.)
My mate and long time sailing buddy, Chris Vorbach turned up in due course to cart us off to his Ponderosa nestled in the hills behind Mooloolaba for a night of frivolity, tall tales and salty reminiscences. Funny things memories, they just don’t make waves as big as they used to in the olden days.
With due consideration given to the tides for our crossing of the Wide Bay Bar and the subsequent smooth waters inside Fraser Island we headed to sea around 1030 the next morning, getting into Pelican Bay just after dark. A night time entry through the Wide Bay Bar is not something I would have contemplated twenty five years ago but with chart plotters and lead lights being what they are today the risk factor on top of a relatively benign sea wasn’t too daunting, as proved to be the case.
The comfortable night’s sleep was followed by a sparrow fart heaving of the anchor in order to grab a slice of the incoming tide and the opportunity to sail over the Fraser Island shallows with plenty of water under the keel followed by a lunch of Bourkey’s infamous smoked salmon pasta. We enjoyed this fine alfresco meal in the delightful calm waters of Kingfisher Bay after a swim and a rig check before the over nighter to Lady Musgrave.
With a forecast of light nor’ westerlies and an incoming tide at LM around 1100 the next day, matched up with no sun in the eyes for the lagoon entry, our passage plan for the 90 odd mile sail meant an evening departure from Fraser Island and a leisurely overnight sail. As my mate Taj will tell you, you have to have a plan, and fortunately, this one went off without a hitch.
With a magnificent day break, the temperature heading for a balmy 28 degrees and a low gentle south easterly ground swell we sighted LM in the distance mid morning, funnily enough turning up just where it was supposed to be. LM is a coral atoll wrapped around by a coral reef, which along with Lady Elliot Island form the southern most coral outcrops on the Great Barrier Reef. The last time I’d been into LM was on a delivery south with the kids some years back and other than the local tourist operator exhibiting an irritatingly larger presence than the last time I was there nothing much had changed.
Making your way through the bommies inside the virtually fully enclosing reef surrounding the island is no great hardship. The dark grey/black coral outcrops have plenty of water over them; the lighter brown ones should be avoided. And of course the chart plotter tracker is turned on for the entry so that there is a get out plan in place in the unlikely event of a hasty midnight departure turning up on the cruise agenda. It’s one of the first things you learn in tug school; always have a get out plan.
That first afternoon we settled the boat down, started setting up the sun shade, had a swim followed by a walk around the island nestled in the western corner of the lagoon and generally fluffed around like a couple of new ducks in the proverbial watery hen house.
A day in the Life - Lady Musgrave style.
I’d been telling Vic about the mandatory post breakfast bath on LM for weeks beforehand and the next morning saw this traditional ritual plunge come to fruition, the beginning of a day that just kept on getting better. The water colour is a brilliant turquoise blue and so pure and crystal clear that you can see the chain all the way to the anchor, set in sand some 25 metres off the bow.
The water was a supposed extremely comfortable 28 degrees, although by now I had begun to suspect our temperature gauge was telling fibs. My subsequent snorkel to examine the condition of the hull revealed a transducer populated by so many barnacles that it resembled King’s Pier at the end of a Hobart race and the infestation of these little critters on the prop explained the loss of a knot of boat speed on the passage north from Brisbane. Half an hour driving the scraper supplied a temporary cure for the loss of performance and concurrently managed to get my major chore for the day out of the way.
Now before we left Hobart I’d had a discussion with an old mate Angus about my search for a cruising spinnaker, to which he had volunteered that his was currently and would continue to languish in the forepeak of his Zeston 40, unloved and unlikely ever to see a sea breeze again. We had agreed that I would give it a run and if luff length etc were compatible then in due course we would strike a deal. After transplanting the kite into Tubby’s forepeak for the test sail I promptly forgot about the discussion until we were well on the way north and it suddenly occurred to me that we were still in possession of Angus’ kite.
Oh well, I thought, we’d agree to give her a test, little realising at the time that the balmy waters off LM would be the venue. So with a 10 to 12 knot north easterly blowing, Tubby, Vic and I wandered out through the hole in the wall and hauled the spinnaker to the masthead, sock and all.
Not to put too fine a point on it I decided that Angus really needed photographic proof that his kite in fact not only had all the right attributes for a life on board Tubby but was also being lovingly cared for, so once it was set and drawing nicely I cast of in the dinghy, camera in hand and some timely instructions to Vic about not leaving me to perish should the outboard konk out. ‘At least sling me a couple of beers on your way past Sweety!’
In due course and with photos a plenty I rejoined the girl(s), and as if on cue a couple of hump back whales put on a performance for us. Vic had been asking when the whales I’d been promising would turn up and this was a show that was definitely worth waiting for. With LM forming the backdrop, blue sky topping off the pure brilliant colour of the water, breaching whales in the foreground and Tubby nosing along under a gently setting, purloined Tasmanian kite, life couldn’t get much better! But wait; there’s more (as the actress must have said to the bishop)!
Fairfax Island, about three miles north of LM is a long uninhabited ribbon of coral sand and looked a likely place to hide behind while enjoying some lunch before a bit of desert island exploration, so in due course, with the anchor down and a feed out of the way we were once more in the dinghy and looking to play Robinson Crusoe and girl Friday.
It’s a little difficult to describe the sense of wonder that can envelop one when wandering along a beach with only your footprints to show the existence of mankind and as you’re contemplating it all a pod of turtles poke their heads above the water to say “G’day folks.” Mind you, the sight of a buck ass naked yachty on their beach front probably raised a few turtle brows that afternoon.
We headed back to Tubby none the worse for wear other than a little cheeky sun burn and headed back into LM where Vic hauled a couple of strange looking fish out of the water before we enjoyed a twilight gin on the afterdeck. An eye fillet stuffed with olives, blue cheese and semidried tomatoes was washed down with a boisterous young red before a couple of tired and replete old yachties retired to dream the dreams of tropical desert islands while being rocked safely and gently to sleep in the solid steel hull of good old Tubby.
The next few days saw three old salts (Tubby feels like part of the family) enjoy various combinations of the above until, with a freshening northerly forecast and the hint of Bundaburg on the wind we sadly hauled anchor and set course for the mainland and the rum jungle of civilisation.
Our subsequent journey south was a study in getting the boat home as quickly as possible without too many headwinds. Ricky Buchannan’s father Jim kindly agreed to join me for the passage from Southport to Hobart, with my old mate Jimmy Mc Cormack also doing the leg to Sydney. Vic bailed out of the run south from Brisbane, siting work commitments and tossing in some timely advice that either more engine room insulation was required or the boat had to improve its sailing performance. Thus, now back in Hobart, a feathering prop has just been installed and soundproofing is high on the agenda.
Following the coming winter’s programmed upgrades, Tubby’s next offshore wander looks like being a Sydney Hobart Race (in the cruising division) and we want a bit of company guys. So all you blokes with a little salt water left in your veins lets see you on the start line on Boxing Day. Watch this space for more in the winter edition.
Cheers,
Bourkey
