Category: Australia (Page 4 of 8)

Shellharbour – Wollongong – Sydney

June 22, 2014 / terry

15-18 June Shellharbour NSW

We spent a few days exploring the Illawarra Region, which encompasses Wollongong, Shellharbour, Kiama and a host of other smaller places. The area is dominated by Lake Illawarra with Wollongong situated n its northern shore and Shellharbour to the south. Everything seems to cling to a very narrow coastal plain, with spectacular views of the Great Divide from most places. Flat land is scarce and most towns and housing developments are perched on the slopes of the numerous coastal hills and peaks. We didn’t get the bikes out.

Shellharbour Village

Shellharbour has two distinct faces. Shellharbour Village is the old town, with some quaint old buildings, an excellent Art Deco Hotel from 1929 and a wonderful cafe and restaurant strip on the main street. Food prices are excellent for a seaside village and the ocean provides plenty of first class views. Shellharbour City is the opposite. Glittering new shopping centres and fast food outlets abound and the ubiquitous Bunnings makes its presence felt. The Stockland Shellharbour shopping mall boasts over 220 shops but we might as well have been anywhere in Australia because it seems like almost everything is part of a chain or franchise these days making one shopping mall much like another. Our favourite place was the fish markets, certainly the best we ever encountered. The produce was cheap, fresh and well labelled. Unfortunately, we were on count-down to flying home so we didn’t need any seafood.

Kiama was a very picturesque town with a marvelous historical strip of police station, court house and hotel providing a wonderful streetscape. The coastal scenery was equally impressive and we admired the couple of active blow holes. The main one near the lighthouse was not nearly as active as “The Little Blowhole”, which shot several huge eruptions skywards.

Quaint Kiama

The Little Blowhole, Kiama

Some Sunday Markets at Dapto lured us, promising a huge collection of stalls and “garage sales”. We love markets but this one disappointed, largely due to the cold and wet weather. Many stalls were abandoning their spot and packing up. The place was full of some very strange people who used some very colourful language. We bought some socks and some excellent olives before heading off to find the Air Museum at Albion Park Rail. Along the way we passed the storage place that we have planned to leave Sandpiper for our trip home so we dropped in to organise things. While chatting to the girl at the counter, we mentioned that we had been to the markets at Dapto and she stared at us in amazement. “What did you do that for?” she asked. We could see her point. The Air Museum was closed for renovations so we just went back to Sandpiper.

Our favourite haunt, the Shellharbour Hotel

Our favourite haunt, the Ocean Beach Hotel in Shellharbour Village

We used the local bus system to go into Wollongong for the day, partly to simply check it out and partly to ensure that we knew all about the buses and trains to access Sydney for an upcoming three day trip. Being a senior, I took advantage of the $2.50 all day pass, that will be even accepted for the train trip to Sydney, along with all trams and ferries in Sydney. Christine is a month and a half too young to have such bonuses.

Wollongong struck us as one of Australia’s ugly cities. There are parts that have redeeming features, such as the area down near the quaint little harbour and Flagstaff Hill, but elsewhere some really awful examples of 1960s and 1970s architecture clash with unkempt older buildings. Smother the whole lot in advertising signage and graffiti and you get the picture. The streets seem full of people who look as though they live there. Given the high cost of tattoos and piercings, one would think that everyone had jobs because we seemed to be the only unmarked or untagged people around. However, the Illawarra has the highest rate of unemployment in the country, currently running at a staggering 22%. We also noticed the prevalence of martial arts studios, along with a “free fight gym” and a “body building supplements warehouse”. Wollongong just did not grab us at all. Give us the outlying areas any day.

Wollongong Harbour (good fish and chips)

18 to 21 June – Sydney

We dropped the Land Cruiser off at Shellharbour Automotive for a few minor repairs and adjustments then caught the bus into Wollongong to catch the train to Sydney. We had planned carefully, giving ourselves just enough time to get off the bus and access the station. Trains run on the hour but we were anxious to avoid the long wait. After alighting from the bus and walking up hill for 10 minutes or so, we both had to admit that nothing looked familiar. A quick consult of Google Maps had us heading downhill again with Christine’s knee complaining and my ankle on a knife’s edge. Somehow, we managed to make the station with 5 minutes to spare and got on to the train. Christine, being a mere 59 years old, had to pay $13 for the privilege whereas I, as a senior with grey hair to prove it, got away with a $2.50 ticket that gives me a whole day’s travel on any form of transport between Newcastle and Wollongong. Christine can’t wait for her birthday.

The train trip is one of the best we have had, rivaling the Hue to Danang leg in Vietnam. The track winds along the edge of the Great Divide, through beautiful eucalypt forests and patches of rainforest. There were wonderful displays of tree ferns and bird’s nest ferns and some amazing high crossings over deep river valleys. Coal mines, both abandoned and working, dotted the escarpments. It is a terrific train trip and probably taken for granted by the majority of commuters that travel the line.

Once in Sydney itself, we left the train at Central Station and transferred to a City Circle train to get to Wynard, giving us a short walk to our hotel, the City Hotel Enterprise in Clarence Street. This is a small boutique hotel in an excellent location, with easy walking access to Darling Harbour, Circular Quay and China Town. The room wasn’t ready for us so we left our backpacks and walked for a while to get our bearings before finding lunch. Our last visit to Sydney was in 1989 so we had a bit to catch up on.

Once settled in to our room, we relaxed for a while. A friend from Project Vietnam, Corrado, rang to say he was downstairs with his wife Han, a lovely girl from Ho Chi Minh City. We caught up with them and walked the short distance to Darling Harbour where we completed a circuit, stopping at two establishments to eat and have a few drinks. It was good to catch up with Corrado again and meet his wife, who is settling in to her new life in Australia very well.

With Corrado and Han in Darling Harbour

An early rise was called for because we had booked a day tour with a company called Oz Trails, having seen a brochure in the hotel foyer. This tour proved an absolute winner. We were picked up in a minibus just around the corner from the hotel and joined an amazingly cohesive yet very cosmopolitan group of 24. There were several US citizens, including a very entertaining African American from LA, a lovely young girl from Antigua who is currently studying in Melbourne, a very nice family from India, a backpacker from Wales, a family from Singapore and a couple more that we think were from Hong Kong. Our driver/guide was a wonderfully knowledgeable and funny guy named Les. He clearly loves his job and he displayed an amazing knowledge of the history of Sydney and the Blue Mountains. He had been to the State of Origin Rugby the night before and was still sporting his blue and white fake dreadlocks as evidence.

The tour took us through Sydney’s Western suburbs (through some absolutely dreadful traffic) to the Blue Mountains. Having climbed the escarpment, Les took us to a lookout over the Jamieson Valley and we were completely blown away by the sight. A thick layer of cloud lay across the valley about 100 metres below us, creating a vision that rates number one in all time great natural wonders for us. One guy who had been to the Grand Canyon told us that this was better by several degrees but he may have been taken away by the moment. It was a staggering sight. Much to Christine’s horror, I crawled across to sit on the ledge, suspended over an awesome drop into the clouds below. It felt completely safe and secure, yet strangely, when I saw others do the same thing, I couldn’t bear to watch, especially the girl doing the one-legged yoga pose.

It is only a short jump to the top of the World

We tore ourselves away from the glory of the valley and Les drove us around to the opposite side, to Scenic World in Katoomba. We were last here in 1989 and things have changed considerably. There are now two cable cars, one crossing the gorge in front of Katoomba Falls and The Three Sisters and another bringing people back up from the valley below. The cable car had been upgraded to handle more passengers and now features a glass floor so you can have the thrill of looking past your feet to the tree tops far below. The cloud fill was still present but showing signs of lifting.

The Katoomba Rail

We took the cable railway down the cliff at a staggering 52 degree fall to the ledge that provided access to the myriad coal mines that honeycomb the cliffs. The last mine closed in the 1930s but the rail remains, giving tourists a thrill ride up and down the escarpment. At the bottom, Les took us on a very informative guided walk through the rainforest, stopping frequently to fill us in on history or items of natural wonder. We failed to see or hear any sign of a lyre bird so that Aussie icon remains un-ticked on our list. The walk is very well documented with signage and even a few sculptures depicting things from the coal mining days. A cable car took us up over the forest again back to the top. The great thing about Scenic World is that it is a one fee entry, giving unlimited access to the three rides. We took another ride up and down the cable railway, enjoying the feeling of being dropped over the edge of the cliff. The place is excellent value, given that there are literally kilometres of wonderful walk trails that we did not have time to explore.

From Katoomba, we headed to the small village of Leura, developed towards the end of the Nineteenth Century as a weekend getaway for the well to do Sydney siders. It is filled with lovely old houses and streetscapes lined with beautiful deciduous trees. I am sure that autumn is something special. We found a bite to eat at one of the many cafes, perused a few antique shops and wandered through the sweet shop, surely one of the best anywhere. Once back on the bus, it was clear that the sweet shop was a hit with a lot of the group, with exclamations of, “I never thought I’d find THESE in Australia.” There were musk sticks, Jaffas, Hershey Bars and Starburst Gummy Bears and all sorts of things being passed around the bus.

Wentworth Falls

The next stop was the beautiful Wentworth Falls, which require a 250 step downward march to see from a lookout. The base of the falls is another 1200 steps down but we didn’t have time for that thank God. We spent a bit of time admiring the falls and photographing young people doing Toyota jumps before trudging back up the steps. We took in an aboriginal petroglyph of a kangaroo prior to driving down out of the mountains again to the plains below.

We were to complete the tour on a ferry leaving from the Olympic Ferry Landing at Homebush so Les gave us a driving tour of the Olympic facilities. It is good to see that the whole complex is being used well and that there is no sign of the big white elephant. The ferry ride was a bit of a disappointment because the sun was setting rapidly and it was almost too cold to sit outside. The final part of the trip, into Darling Harbour, gave us some spectacular views of the Harbour Bridge and the CBD skyline. We were able to get off the ferry and complete an easy walk to our hotel in Clarence St, with only a brief stop along the way for a beer. It was a long but excellent day. The whole tour was only $79 each with another $35 for the Scenic World rides. It is so good to find some tourist attractions in Australia that are realistically priced.

We had a day in Sydney chasing up some items needing repair for Sandpiper. Our autopilot has ceased to function so we had to find a way out to an address in French’s Forest to drop it in to the Raymarine service centre. This took us across the harbor to Manly via the ferry, always a terrific ride. The weather was perfect and the seas flat, giving us some terrific views of the harbour. The bridge appeared smaller than I remembered it, possibly because I have seen so many big structures since 1989 and one’s perspective changes. Never the less, it is an amazing thing and deserving of the hype. Some iconic sights are better “in the flesh” than in photographs (eg Uluru) but the Opera House isn’t one of them. These iconic clam shells are beautiful in photographs but small and a bit pathetic in the flesh. The Opera House contributes to the whole harbour effect, working in conjunction with the bridge, Circular Quay, the Sydney Tower and the buildings of the CBD. Sydney wouldn’t be Sydney without it but by itself, the Opera House struggles.

This is not Sandpiper.

Another excursion required us to find a Whitworths Marine store in Drummoyne, which had imported into its stock some much needed parts for our Power Winch. A bus trip took us out past the huge Sydney Fish Markets and across the beautiful Anzac Bridge. It is actually quite a lot of fun to pick a place in a strange city and do the research of how to access it via public transport then navigate around. It was a challenge. We were sorry that time did not permit a tour of the fish markets, a sojourn we always appreciate.

We also enjoyed the delights of Paddy’s Market and the nearby China Town. Sydney’s China Town is very extensive and boasts of being the largest in Australia. Friday night is wonderful, with the Dixon St mall providing an endless selection of great street foods and small market stalls. The numerous Asian restaurants in the area all competed to provide an array of well priced menus. We grabbed a stomach filling supply of delicious snacks and headed back to the comfort and warmth of the hotel room. We gorged on deep fried crab things, prawns on sticks, an amazing noodle dish and other assorted things that we had already forgotten the name of. This is fine dining at its best.

Sydney represents somewhat of an enigma to us. It is always being compared and contrasted to Melbourne. We can only judge them each from a tourist perspective. Sydney wins hands down in the visual department, although Melbourne can counter with an amazing number of spectacular photographic vistas. The problem we have found with Sydney is that if you step away from the harbor, the city is so closed in as to be claustrophobic, whereas Melbourne is so wonderfully open. Its wide streets and long square grid plan makes moving around the CBD a dream whereas movement in Sydney largely consists of waiting at traffic lights. The labyrinth of narrow roads is choked with buses and cars all wishing to be somewhere else in a hurry. Sydney also seems to have been far less protective of its heritage architecture over the years and sports some serious faux pas in terms of the old and the new. On balance, Melbourne is the winner for us.

There was never a shortage of people on the streets of Sydney.

From here, it is back to Shellharbour to bed Sandpiper down for a month’s rest so we can head home to Perth to see our darling grandchildren. On our return, the weather will drive us north to warmer climes, but that is a story in the making.

Canberra and Jervis Bay

June 16, 2014 / terry

7 & 8 June – Bairnsdale to Canberra

After a couple of days in Bairnsdale, mostly spent cleaning the boat and doing a few minor bits of maintenance, we hit the road again heading north. The sailing is over for a while and we aim to tour Canberra, our only other visit being back in 1989, a very fleeting visit.

We followed Hwy 1 as far as Cann River, through Lakes Entrance and on to Orbost. The road is good as far as Lakes Entrance but after that the overtaking lanes largely disappear and the “Rough Surface” signs become more common. Fortunately, the Queen’s Birthday long weekend did not produce a lot of traffic, possibly because the weather is currently not very conducive to getting out and about. From Lakes Entrance on, the road wound inland up the ranges, through some spectacular forested hills. In places, the stands of mountain ash with low understorey of bracken fern reminded me of karri country in the SW of WA. The numerous creek crossings and deep valleys contained some gorgeous tree ferns and there were even places where the road had a ribbon of moss running down the centre. Coming into Orbost, we crossed the Snowy River, winding across a flood plain soaked in emerald green. It was a glorious drive, only marred by the need to concentrate so hard in negotiating our rig around some sharp bends and up and down the deep valleys.

At Cann River, we turned off onto B23 to climb sharply up into the Snowy Mountains. It was still not alpine country but the altimeter in the Land Cruiser showed a definite change and the rainforest gradually gave way to more woodland forest. Eventually, we crossed the border into NSW, an event marked by an amazing change in road quality. The verges were suddenly wide enough to pull up on in an emergency, the surface was generally good and we rediscovered the joys of passing lanes to let our collected tail of cars get by.

Our stop was an early one at a small town called Bombala, about 35km inside NSW. We stayed at a small and cheap Shire run caravan park that was half full already by 1pm. We found that an extended family, half living in Victoria and half living in NSW, had got together for a family reunion. There were caravans, kids, dogs, bikes, warm fires etc. It all looked very cosy. When the Eagles got too far behind in their match against Hawthorn, we wandered across the river into town to admire the quaint old buildings and streetscapes. The town has a look of having seen better days.

The charming Olympia Theatre in Bombala

Two of the four hotels in tiny Bombala.

The next day’s drive took us across the Monaro Plains, a plateau at around 1000m altitude behind the Snowy Mountains.

On the Monaro Plains. It was as cold as it looks.

The Monaro region consists of vast rolling plains of low grasses with only occasional woodlands, most of the original vegetation having been long since cleared for sheep and cattle grazing. The mountains in the distance added to the spectacular scenery. We stopped for a while in Cooma to tour the Snowy Mountains Hydro-Electric Scheme Interpretive Centre, which proved interesting enough and gave an excellent view of just what was what and how the waters had been harnessed. We rolled into Canberra around lunchtime, planning to stop at a roadside stop on the outskirts and research the caravan parks. Amazingly, this proved impossible, with absolutely no information bays or rest areas for the final 20km into the city. We ended up driving right across town to the Canberra Information Centre in Dixon. They sorted us out and we negotiated a short drive on to the Alivio Tourist Park to set up for a three night stay.

Once set up, we drove down to Lake Burley Griffin to get the bikes out and do an around the bridges ride. The full circuit of the lake is 28km but we just did a short ride of about 5km. Being a holiday, and a sunny one at that, the crowds were out and we had lots of company on the ride. It is a great way to take in the fabulous vistas of Canberra, the city’s greatest asset. Everything is so well planned and all the significant buildings are shown off to advantage. Add to that the autumn colour still hanging on many of the trees and it was really quite beautiful. The wind, however, was biting but we are getting better at knowing just how many layers of clothes are needed for each situation.

Getting up close and personal with Sir Robert Menzies

9 & 10 June Canberra

The Monday was the Queen’s Birthday holiday (everywhere but WA) so the city was quiet. We took the opportunity to do the full tourist circuit using the typical red double decker open bus that one finds in almost every city of the World. We spent the first leg upstairs in the open air, but the wind chill factor was pretty grim. We got off at the National Gallery to get our fill of “kulcha” but found that it didn’t open until 10am, so we were forced to kill time in the coffee shop. What a shame.

The crazy thing about the bus is that it only comes around every 2 hours. We can do a museum in 10 minutes if we are really on our game. The National Portrait Gallery and National Galleries took us a bit longer but we still couldn’t get the times to work. The Portrait Gallery was interesting enough but the National gallery seemed to be over full of pieces that struck us as absolute rubbish. I never pretend to be an art expert, but pieces of black plastic with a few burnt holes in it next to a white canvas with a splash of spilled grey paint on it is not worth 10c of this tax payer’s money. Even the famous “Blue Poles” is better seen in a magazine than viewing the original. Call me an art moron but I just can’t see the merit in it.

It was sunny anyway so we were happy to walk through to the Old Parliament House. The Aboriginal Embassy on the lawns out the front is still going but down to about 5 small tents at present. The building houses the Museum of Democracy and the organisers had taken advantage of the public holiday to have kid’s events. The Kings Gallery was filled with kids and tables building things out of Lego. The exact link to democracy escaped me but the kids liked it. We sat for a while in both the Senate and the House of Reps to just soak up the history of the place. The leather on the benches is still oozing history.

I cross the floor of the House

It is only a short walk up the hill to the new Parliament. We have visited this before on our last time in Canberra and the Hop On Hop Off Bus appeared so we jumped aboard to continue the tour through the wonderful embassy area full of glorious buildings, each reflecting some aspect of the culture they represented. We alighted in the central CBD to find a bite to eat. The shops were quiet but there were enough eateries open to keep people happy. Prices seem cheap by Aussie standards and there is plenty of variety. We tried some Turkish fast food before walking on in deteriorating weather to the next bus stop outside the Casino. Why does every city need one of these things? Why not just have a big bucket to throw your money in to? Canberra’s is right next to the Convention and Conference Centre, an excellent marketing move.

We had to have a “selfie” somewhere.

The next leg of the bus tour took us to the War Memorial. On our last visit, we made the mistake of trying to visit on November 11, even getting there at 11am. The crowds were ridiculous and we abandoned all thoughts of touring the museum and Shrine of Remembrance so we felt obligated to give it our best this time around. We managed the World War II Gallery, the Flight gallery, the Discovery Centre, the hall of Valour and the Café before we found ourselves “displayed out”. As museums go, there are none finer than this. The displays are stunning but we have a limited capacity to keep touring static displays.

The bus dropped us off back at the Information Centre and we got in the car to head off to the shops for a few supplies. Christine elected to leave her finger in the door while closing it, changing the shape of the tip of her index finger in ways that made me ill (and her too). The blood began to flow so it was out with the first aid kit, to find it woefully understocked. I found a pharmacy in Dixon and bought enough supplies to get her going again but she won’t be doing any nose picking for a while.

By this time, the day was nearly done and we have found that once the sun lowers, the temperature simply plummets. With zero and sub-zero recordings over the last few days, we headed back to Sandpiper and the comfort of our $14 electric heater.

Our final day in Canberra was another full one, starting with a drive up Black Mountain to the Telstra Tower. This prominent feature of Canberra can be seen from almost anywhere. The building itself is worth a visit because it is an amazing piece of engineering. We rode the lifts up 70m to the observation decks, the first of which was enclosed and nice and warm. The next two were exposed to the elements and the temperature was in the very low single figures. However, the view was worth it, affording uninterrupted views across all of the ACT and nearby Queanbeyan in NSW. It was a worthwhile visit after touring the city the previous day and seeing all the sights again from a different perspective.

The Telstra Tower on Black Mountain

The view from the Telstra Tower

Back at ground level, we navigated our way out of Canberra proper to the Gold Creek Village, a collection of tourist attractions some 15kms to the north. Here we wandered amongst the dinosaurs in the Dinosaur Museum. The displays out the front satisfied us however, and we didn’t bother to pay up and enter the facility to experience the full deal, complete with animated models. This looks like a wonderful display and certainly one that kids would love.

The charming miniature world of Cockington Green

We did pay to tour the charming miniature world of Cockington Green, a huge array of marvellous miniature buildings, villages and landscapes. The developers have done a staggering job of integrating everything into a very entertaining place. Miniature railways run through the exhibits and a steam driven small train hauls willing passengers around the grounds every hour or so. Another amazing display was found inside in the form of several exquisite doll houses with unbelievable detail to all rooms. We spent several delightful hours wandering around this fantastic place.

A minature soccer match

The amazing international section

The Gold Creek Village also features a reptile park but Christine and reptiles don’t mix well so we trekked right across the ACT (it doesn’t take long) to enter NSW at Queanbeyan, a small rural town which benefitted greatly (or not depending on your outlook) from its proximity to the nation’s capital. By the time we arrived, our stomachs were protesting and so we were attracted by a cafe sign offering a wonderful sounding steak sandwich for $7.70. Alas, they must have been good because they were sold out. We settled for a plain hamburger and sat down to watch. After seeing a number of later arrivals served before us, we enquired. We had been overlooked so we got a refund and headed off chasing other fare. It was now after 2pm and things were winding down so we had to settle for a pie and sausage roll with coffee at Donut King. By the time we had explored Queanbeyan and crossed the ACT once again to reach Sandpiper, the dark was on its way and the temperature dropping quickly. It does that here.

After an early rise, we were on the road by 9am and headed north along the Federal Hwy, a luxurious dual carriageway which eventually turns into the Hume Hwy and winds its way to Goulburn and on towards Sydney. At Moss Vale, we left the Hume, and joined the Illawarra Hwy to cut through to the coast at Shellharbour. We knew that we had a 1000m to drop before hitting the coast but we were not quite ready for the awesome experience of towing a 25’ boat down the Macquarie Pass, 15 kms of down, down and more down. It was low gear, brakes, anchor over the side, grab some trees etc. It was such a long way and so narrow. For much of the trip, we followed behind a yellow truck with a trailer and figured that he would shield us from anything oncoming but he eventually pulled over and insisted we pass.

On the Macquarie Pass

We sat behind the big yellow truck for protection

Once at the bottom, I naively thought that we would run along a coastal plain south to Jervis Bay. For a while, things were good, running on the Princes Hwy in the form of a big freeway but this eventually gave out, turning into terrible road works that wound through coastal mountains then into a horrific stretch between Kiama and Berry. We arrived in Jervis Bay, our next sailing destination, in a state of complete exhaustion.

We had chosen to launch at Callala Bay on the northern shore. The town consists of a small cluster of rather impressive beach houses with an associated school and shopping centre. Amazingly, there is no fuel outlet so it was a good thing we had enough for our needs. We found the launching ramp and a parking bay good enough to stay in for a bit. We walked to the shops, then returned to slowly rig the mast and ready Sandpiper for sea. Chatting to some locals, it seems the navy is currently bombarding the eastern shore of Jervis Bay (as they do) so a number of excellent sailing destinations are out of bounds. The positive signs were that everyone was bringing in loads of big squid, so we are hopeful of returning to a seafood diet. We rigged and settled down for the night, ready to launch in the morning.

Sunrise at Callala Bay

With the morning temperature still low, we slept late and took our time getting in the water. The ramp is an interesting affair, very steep and without a finger jetty. A regular long high jetty is nearby but is 6 or 7 metres away from the ramp so long lines are needed to control the boat. The area is subject to a low surge and even a small shore break in places. This surprised me because Jervis Bay is quite deep but the further south one heads the larger the swell effect. Good team work saw us in the water and up against the jetty for a brief time before motoring out to check out a suggested overnight anchorage behind Red Point. Jervis Bay is a marine park and many areas are total sanctuary zones, meaning no anchoring. In our case, all forecast winds were in the northern quadrant we were committed to returning to Callala Bay at the end of the day. Red Point looked good, with a secure anchorage area behind a protruding finger of reef, but no better than the anchorage around the launching area.

We raised all sail and headed south across the bay to an area known as the “Hole in the Wall” after a beach side rock formation. The low rolling swell increased markedly as we drew closer to the entrance to the open ocean but it was long and low and the wind waves small so sailing was pleasant, despite the temperature. As we passed the spectacular Point Perpendicular, the northern headland on the Jervis Bay entrance, the dull thuds of exploding ordinance started. We watched the shore line in vain for explosions or smoke trails but saw none, although later in the day a smoke trail from a shell landing did show up.

The beaches we were headed for were not suitable for a landing without the tender set up due to the onshore breeze so we admired them from the water and sailed towards the western shore and past HMAS Creswell, a naval training facility, and towards the small settlement of Hyams Beach. A naval helicopter appeared, flying low, and headed towards a large power boat motoring out of HMAS Creswell. It must have been practising dropping men onto the boat because we could see it hovering over the vessel with what appeared to be people being lowered on lines. The enormous cloud of spray caused by the rotors actually looked like smoke and must have been unbearable for the sailors on board the boat.

The aptly named Perpendicular Head at the entrance to Jervis Bay

The aptly named Point Perpendicular at the entrance to Jervis Bay

The rest of the sail was more of a motor straight back into the wind. Along the way, we marvelled at the gannets feeding. They pick their prey from quite a height, then dive steeply, entering the water like a bomb hitting. They seem to be underwater for some time before suddenly popping to the surface like a cork. It is an amazing spectacle. We headed across to the area that we had seen fishermen successfully squid fishing the previous afternoon and drifted for an hour or so. We were actually disappointed that we only caught one but at least it was a big one and enough for a delicious meal.

An excellent Southern Calamari Squid

A down-side of the fishing was that I had to retrieve fishing rods from their storage space under the cabin floor. On lifting the floor, I found, to my horror, that there was quite a lot of greeny-brown liquid sloshing around in the bilge. It had two distinctive odours; (1) portable toilet chemical (2) urine. It seems the porta-potty cap was leaking, and the contents ended up in the bilge. Fortunately, the toilet had only been used for No 1s since its last emptying. Even so, soaking up loads of chemical infused urine and sluicing out with Napisan was not a pleasant job. Christine watched. She does real nappies with the grandchildren so I guess we are square.

The night anchorage was taken up inside the main mooring area with no public mooring vacant but we made sure we anchored over sand and left the precious seagrass undisturbed. As night fell, I turned on the LED spotlight at the rear of the boat in the hope of attracting squid. The squid stayed away but we did lure a big school of yellowtail scad. I caught one to rig up on a squid jig but this tasty morsel also failed to attract anything. The poor little fellow died in vain.

Our time on Jervis Bay has been very short, yet the place has definite appeal. The water is clean and sparkling. The warm Pacific Current keeps the water warmer than its latitude would suggest and the large area of marine reserves maintains a healthy population of marine life. The surrounding forests are equally attractive. All in all, a place worthy of a visit.

June 13 Shellharbour

The morning was incredibly beautiful, with low mists drifting over a glassed out anchorage. It was a warmer morning than any we have experienced for weeks and we both donned shorts for the trip back through the moorings to haul the boat out. The clutch on the Power Winch failed again with the boat only inches from its destination so we had to muck around a bit to get things squared away. Sourcing the required parts for the winch in Sydney is a priority. Once on the hard ground again, we squared things away and prepared to hit the road to Shellharbour, an outer suburb of Wollongong.

The thought of driving back over the terrible stretches of the Princes Hwy filled us with fear but the return proved easier than the drive down. Perhaps we were fresher or maybe it was the fact that the sun was shining. It still wasn’t fun, but at least it was bearable.

Shellharbour Village is a delightful seaside village with more eating establishments than people, with the result that prices are excellent and options plentiful. We set up camp in the Shellharbour Seaside Tourist Park and marvelled at the amazing views across the bay to the industry of Wollongong in the distance. Lots of surfers braved what appeared to be suicidal conditions with a big swell running. Christine caught up on a lot of washing while I headed down into the bilges to deal with more of the left over nasty stuff.

After housework and showers, we walked into the village to stroll up the hill along the main street, purchase a few bits from the butcher and stroll down, pausing for a suitable break at the local pub. We even managed to sit outside and have a beer, the first time we’ve managed this since SA.

The Gippsland lakes

June 6, 2014 / terry

28 May – 5 June – Gippsland Lakes

From Sale we drove the 100km or so to Paynesville, via Hwy 1 and Bairnsdale. Paynesville if a small waterside hamlet with more boats than houses and new canal developments beginning to have an impact on its quaint old world charm. The place reminded me of the Mandurah of my childhood, but then this is the low season and I can imagine just what a bun fight it is over the Australia Day Weekend or at Easter. One look at the front row of shops (actually the only row of shops) tells the story. There are more cafes here than anything else and every other shop finds an excuse to sell coffee.

Across the narrow McMillan Strait from the town lies Raymond Island, housing its cluster of houses owned by people chasing that little bit extra when it comes to privacy. The lifestyle comes at a cost, because the only way over is via vehicular ferry, running every 20 minutes. In peak periods, locals can wait for up to three ferries. They must really like the place.

The Raymond Island ferry

We located the King St launching ramp and set the mast up, the first time since returning from our trip home in March. Then we launched and started the motor, the same motor that has given so much trouble so far on the trip. On the Murray River, it would run fast but refused to idle or run slowly. I’d stripped down the carby and cleaned the jets and all seemed good on land. Once underway, things were fine as we slowly motored away into McMillan Straits, until I increased speed. We went fine for five minutes then suddenly, the motor just stopped. I restarted, and set off, increased speed and ran for four minutes before the motor stopped. After repeating this a few times, the motor was down to running either at ultra low speed or not running at all. We crept back into town to tie up outside the pub and consider what to drown, our sorrows or the motor.

Christine rang around until she found a mechanic with time to help, a bonus being that he was across the road from the ramp and would take the boat on the trailer mast up. We spent the night on the jetty listening to small dogs yap. It seems the local habit is to walk the dog to the pub, tie it up outside, and forget it for a couple of hours. Some people should swap places with their dog.

The next day, the motor was even worse and getting past the car ferry was a bit nerve racking. We somehow managed to dock and began retrieving the boat. It was within half a metre of being totally on the trailer when the electric winch decided to jam. Christine suggested getting help from the people across the road but I said I could deal with it. After half an hour of frustrating efforts, I reluctantly agreed that she could seek help and she came back with a young man and his tractor, who promptly used the winch on the tractor to retrieve the yacht the last little bit and towed it over the road. Christine is starting to be proven right a bit too often lately. I’ll have to watch that trend.

The bikes out at Paynesville

With the boat in the hands of the medicos, we drove to the town centre, seeking solace at the bakery in the form of a hot chocolate and sausage roll. The calories finally gave us the guilts so we parked up and got the folding bicycles out of the car. The ferry took us across to Raymond Island, the main attraction being a large colony of koalas. In all our travels, we have never managed to see an actual koala in the wild. All the ones we have seen have been resting upside down in the middle of the road. On Raymond Island, it doesn’t take long to find them. It is just a matter of looking for the gum trees that are missing lots of leaves. Some trees have been so badly hammered that the authorities have wrapped large plastic sheets around the trunks so the koalas can’t climb them. We rode around the island, racking up koala after koala. In fact, I think we have now ticked off that particular item. Mind you, we still haven’t seen a live wombat in the wild.

Two of the rarer type of koalas

A real wild koala

We rode away from town along the edge of Newlands Arm, an idyllic stretch of water with some lovely scenery. The weather was gorgeous; given that we were in the last few days of autumn and we spent time just sitting in the main street observing life. Any scene that is full of water, boats and greenery is a peaceful one.

On our return to the mechanics, we found a group of very frustrated workers. “We just get it right and it suddenly misbehaves again,” they complained. Tell me something I don’t know! The light was fading fast, as is does by 5pm here, and we agreed that we’d spend the night in the launching ramp car park and return the boat in the morning. Fortunately, the East Gippsland Shire recognises the importance of boaties to their economy and provides good free facilities in the form of good clean toilets and free hot showers so living in the car parks is possible.

The next day, the boat was returned to the workshop and we drove into Bairnsdale, a surprisingly large regional city of around 12,000 people. It is pretty, with wide streets and some attractive vistas of the Nicholson River. It is possible to access the Gippsland lakes from Bairnsdale and so there are a number of river cruisers and houseboats tied up. We walked and window shopped, stopping for a few odd bits and pieces. When I came across a Dick Smith store, I relented and replaced the Android Tablet I’d left on the bus back from Melbourne. It hurt, but it was time to move on. I have promised myself to actually look after this one but that it a poor promise, given that it is my forth in two years.

We drove another 30 odd kms out to Lakes Entrance, where the lakes enter the Tasman Sea. Originally, access to the sea only occurred in times of flood, but artificial channels now guarantee tidal flow. This was done in the latter part of the Nineteenth Century to allow maritime traffic to reach the inland towns of Bairnsdale and Sale. The town was rather quiet, but the numerous motels and cafes were testimony to the crowds that flock there in season. The front waterside walk was freezing, despite the clear skies and warming sun. We sought solace in a pub and had fish and chips, fresh Lakes Entrance gummy shark with an excellent salad for a senior’s special of $10. Can’t complain. On the way out of town, we stopped at a lookout that afforded amazing views of the lakes system. It is hard to gain a full appreciation of the sheer size of the Gippsland Lakes. Hopefully, a week of cruising will do the job.

Back at Paynesville, things were looking up but it still took the better part of the afternoon to finish up, get the boat back in the water and get underway. As promised, the motor performed perfectly but then it’s done that before. With the hour late, we decided to just motor over to Raymond Island and park up on a public jetty for the night.

The next morning, the cold kept us in bed until the hour was acceptable. We tested the outboard by motoring back to where the car was parked and retrieved some extra warm clothing, scarves and beanies and then on a short distance to the refuelling jetty.

With everything finally in place, we set off to motor the length of Lake Victoria, a trip of around 19 nautical miles. It was peaceful (despite the drone of the motor) and the scenery, if not spectacular, was at least restful and pleasant. The sun warmed us and at one point we were both actually in shirts and shorts. We stopped for lunch near Pelican Point and I waded along the shore in icy waters to collect a few crabs for bream bait later. Then it was on past the little town of Loch Sport to Holland’s Landing, where we decided to ease around into the lovely little cove at Blonde Bay, a perfect anchorage for the night. I tried fishing but didn’t even manage a bite. However, the spectacular sunset almost made up for the lack of action. It is so good to be back on the water and away from the crowds. The next step is to get the sails up again. They haven’t been used since Port Lincoln, way back in March.

Sunset at Blonde Bay

It was a very peaceful night, with only the honking of swans and the occasional cry of a plover to remind us we were on the water. However, it was cold, well down in the single figures somewhere and we didn’t bother attempting to rise until after 8am. When I did, I stuck my head outside and found that I could barely see the stern of the boat and certainly no sign of land, which I knew to be less than 100m away. What a pea-souper. We settled down to breakfast, noting that there was a very light NW breeze blowing that, hopefully, would blow the fog away. Alas, it seemed to bring more fog.

About 25m visibility

A movie on the laptop took up some time, along with doing dishes and other minor bits of housework, until the visibility reached the point that it was safe to proceed, around 11am. All hint of a breeze had gone and we motored in to Holland’s Landing in glassy conditions. There were a number of people perched along the wharf fishing but no one seemed to be catching anything. We chatted to one couple from Moe who were on a bit of a fishing holiday with little success. The shop at the caravan park was closed up and no one had seen the manager for some time so we abandoned hopes of getting a hot shower and cast off again to navigate the length of McClennans Strait to Lake Wellington. After only a mile or so, we stopped to fish and have some soup for lunch, to try and warm us up. It was getting colder by the minute and the wind was starting to pick up. It is the first wind we’ve seen on the Lakes but it was from the East and blowing around 15knots so any thought of sailing back through Lake Victoria to Loch Sport was squashed and we continued to motor the length of McClennans Strait to put our nose into Lake Wellington.

Cold, wet through McClennans Strait to Lake Wellington

Lake Wellington really has little to interest us, unless we wanted to navigate some of the rivers on the far side and the sky had turned very black, with a lot of rain coming soon so we motored back to Seacombe Landing and tied up at the launching ramp. With only one car-trailer in the car park and the weather worsening all the time, we figured we wouldn’t be a nuisance tied up to one of the two landing jetties. A short while later, a couple of young guys in a Swiftcraft came roaring along the Straits and proceeded to try and “park” the boat alongside as though it was a sports car. Every manoeuvre was made with full throttle of the 140HP outboard and they made a complete hash of things. It was really quite entertaining watching their antics, all of which could have been avoided if they had just backed off the throttle and eased alongside.

The next morning was once again foggy but with around 200 metres visibility we motored through McClennans Strait and across Lake Victoria to the small town of Loch Sport. There is a choice of accommodation here, because there is a marina with hotel or a new town jetty, with affording secure berths for all directions. In our case, we were the only ones at the jetty so we could choose our berth according to the wind direction. Good use has been made of baffle boarding so the wave motion from the 10-15 knot westerly was negated and we enjoyed a nice calm berth.

The day had set in for solid rain, with 20-40mm forecast and flood warnings out for the Gippsland lakes. We went and saw the caravan park owners (just new) and organised a shower and gas bottle refill so we could keep running the heater. The ablutions are wonderful; clean and hot, so we immediately felt revitalised. After a Facetime linkup with the grandchildren back home, we walked under umbrellas down to the Loch Sport Supermarket to pick up a few odds and ends. They had a range of ex-rental DVDs for $3 each so we grabbed three and settled in for an afternoon of movie watching. The generator was set up because it has been several days since we saw any sun for the solar panels and the batteries were starting to suffer. I tried a little more fishing but it was cold and miserable outside and I didn’t get a bite so I gave up. I have seen one small bream caught on the lakes and had one bite myself so I’m not a fan of the place as a fishing location. We in the West are used to better than that.

The night was a noisy one, but comfortable enough. The noise was caused by the slapping of the waves on the baffle boards on the jetty. They did their job well, creating a lovely calm enclosure despite the freshening North West wind. The morning showed little improvement on the previous day and the weather reports suggested that another 10 to 15 mm of rain could be expected on top of the 25 mm so far. Obviously, other parts of the Gippsland received a lot more, with flood warnings out for most of the local rivers.

Christine can cook anything in her Coleman Oven on a metho stove.

By 10am, the sky at least showed some signs of breaking in patches so we set off and put up the headsail, our first sail raising since Port Lincoln. We ran before a 10-15 knot westerly eastwards along Lake Victoria and pulled in to Duck Arm in idyllic conditions. Duck Arm is a narrow inlet about a mile in length and Picnic Arm is a tiny inlet running off that. We hitched up to a mooring in Picnic Arm to make lunch and noted that the day was definitely looking up. Both Duck Arm and Picnic Arm are quite delightful, with beautiful little stands of picturesque bushlands and some gorgeous green farmlands.

The pleasant weather was short lived and the rain set in again as we sailed on main and a half jib across Lake Victoria to pick up the markers for the winding channel into Bunga Arm, a long narrow inlet formed by a series of sand dunes cutting off the low lying river flood plains that eventually formed the lakes system. It rained the whole length of the channel to the Steamer Landing, where we tied up to seek some relief from the cold. There was a charter power boat tied up as well, with the occupants huddled inside. The continuing rain ruled out any idea of walking across the sand dunes to look at the Ninety Mile Beach, so that was postponed for tomorrow. It is getting quite hard to put up with the weather. It is frustrating that the time we spent getting the trailer and motor fixed was unseasonably warm yet as soon as we launched, things turned for the worse. It is now officially Winter and it really is pushing things a bit to be trying to sail Victoria in Winter. It might be time to head North.

Black swans and pelicans abound

The weather responded to our threats by turning on a absolutely lovely day, with the temperature reaching a warming 19 degrees and the sky being more blue than grey. Best of all, there was no rain and not a hint of wind. While the wind is good for sailing, it also produces a chill factor.

In these glorious conditions, we first took a short walk across the dunes that separate the Bunga Arm from the Tasman Sea to gaze down on the huge expanse of the Ninety Mile Beach. The sea was dead calm, but a large swell was producing a heavy surf break. Some wonderful fishy looking gutters made me wish I had packed some surf fishing gear.

The Ninety Mile Beach

Over the dunes from Bunga Arm to Ninety Mile Beach

Then it was off to negotiate the intricate winding channels back out into Lake Victoria to motor east to Metung. Sailing was certainly not an option, with the sea producing perfect mirror images of the sky and far off mountains. Along the way, we were entertained by the sight of a seal cavorting on the surface and a pod of four dolphins feeding on something. It couldn’t have been fish because I am convinced that there are no fish in the lakes system. We checked out the eastern side of Raymond Island and noted some lovely looking beaches and a public jetty, a great looking spot for an overnight stop.

Metung struck us as a quaint village that has been bought by the bored and idle rich, to be turned into a toy fishing hamlet with bling. The upside is that it is very well done and the perfect place to land, stroll, sit and drink coffee or even fish and chips with a beer. We elected for the latter, and enjoyed a very nice feed at the Gallery Fish and Chips. While strolling around the town, we were thrilled by the gorgeous crimson rosellas that were in abundance. The bird life on and around the lakes is quite amazing. Our favourites are the huge sea eagles, that work in pairs and seem to delight in flying over a flock of floating ducks. The ducks scatter in extreme panic and the eagles flap away well satisfied to hunt something within their reach.

The public jetty at Metung

Fish and Chips with a beer at Metung

It was tempting to stay the night in Metung and indulge ourselves further, but the waist line saw sense and we motored off again to return to the eastern end of Raymond Island, where we had identified a good overnight stop. It proved a good choice, except for the fact that the jetty seemed to be a major tern roost and so took on a decidedly fishy smell. We avoided this by pulling Sandpiper along the jetty into the shallows. The surrounding bush is very beautiful. To us westerners, all the plants are familiar, yet not. That is, there are banksias, but not our species. None of the eucalypts look familiar and even the ground covers, weeds and grasses are somehow different in appearance. The combined effect is quite charming.

With our intention being to pull out in the morning, we spent some time organising sails, lines and fishing gear. It was a pleasure to be outside working in the warmth of the sunshine, but the forecasts were all for a return to the cold and wet weather so it is time to leave Gippsland. We had some light rain during the night and early morning but remained dry for the short trip back to the car and trailer in Paynesville. We retrieved the boat without drama but were a bit horrified at the terrible staining on the hull below the water line. Locals say that a week in the water can result in barnacles growing and we were thankful to avoid them, but the brown stain will need attention. We scrubbed down the worst of it and intended stopping at the pressure wash bays just out of town but we proved to have a mere 20cm too much head room to get in, so we headed off to find a caravan park in Bairnsdale.

We did not experience the Gippsland Lakes at their best from a weather point of view. It is simply too cold to be on the water. There are endless tracts of wetlands that would be worth exploring in the porta bote but we didn’t even feel motivated to launch it because the thought of putting through heavy fog, drizzle or, at times, driving rain, was not the least enticing. The bird life is certainly amazing but we had to leave the cabin to see it. The fishing for certainly species is legendary, but for us is might as well have been a legend because we failed to catch a single fish, despite quite a few hours trying. Never the less, we are glad we came and experienced this part of the country. It is fascinating and warrants further attention.

For the next three weeks, Sandpiper will play the role of caravan as we head off to Canberra and the NSW South coast.

The Murray River to Sale (Vic)

May 29, 2014 / terry

19-22 May Waikerie (SA) to Sale (Vic)

We faced a 1000km drive into Victoria and through Melbourne to East Gippsland to access the much talked about Gippsland Lakes. A check on Google maps gave us three possible routes, each within 5km of each other so I talked to a Victorian who was parked near us in the caravan park at Waikerie. I figure he would know because he’d been a truck driver all his life.

Unfortunately, he advised us to go down the Sunraysia Hwy through Ballarat. His advice proved poor, because for much of the trip, the yacht acted as though it was caught in a heavy sea, pitching and rolling over the horrible uneven surface. The Victorian roads lived up to their reputation. Crap!

Our trip took us through Renmark and across the Murray to Mildura. Once again, we gave up our fruit and vegetables, despite the fact that they were grown and sold in quarantine controlled lands. Travelling along the Murray, one learns to only buy as much as you need for the day.

The sheer size of Mildura surprised us, and it took quite a while to get out of town heading south. We drove through some beautiful mallee country, showing the first green of Winter to overnight in a little place called Woomelang. Christine had found this gem on WikiCamps and it sported a FREE caravan park with hot showers and powered sites. We are not sure why they do it but it was a bargain at any price. As has been our practice in small country towns, we headed off for a pint at the local to talk those that know all. Alas, the pub was shut, not quite boarded up, but very much shut and definitely for sale. What a tragedy!

The next day took us south along the terrible B220 through the towns of Donald (we looked for the duck) and St Arnaud. Both were bigger than I would have imagined, since I’d never really heard of them before. The mallee country gave way to the Grampians, all clothed in a beautiful cloak of green. Every town had a main street of autumn coloured plane trees, making us feel as though we were driving through Europe instead of Australia. Finally, the pain of the B220 gave way to the Western Freeway and we entered Ballarat, to stay the night at the Windmill Holiday Park. This place boasts an indoor heated swimming pool. The thought of actually swimming some laps was too much to resist.

We set up our “caravan” and headed into Ballarat. Ballarat is a serious city with a population 86,000 and the process of finding desired locations and parking reflected this. The traffic was medium to heavy, and some of the road habits somewhat foreign but we managed to find the train station, Target and Rivers. What more could anyone want? We bought a couple of train tickets from Sale to Melbourne so we could get to the footy on Saturday. Then it was off to the general shops for a pair of jeans (the old legs are getting cold) and an Eagles beanie from the AFL store for the big match against Collingwood.

Beautiful Ballarat

On the way home, we dropped in to Lake Wendouree, a large man-made lake in Ballarat surrounded by beautiful gardens. Once again, the autumn colours made a gorgeous display. We unloaded the fold-up bikes from the car and cycled the 6.5km around the lake, feeling every metre of it because we have let our fitness slip of late.

Cycling around Lake Wendouree, Ballarat

Then it was off to the Aldi store. We can’t wait for Aldi to come to WA. The shops are full of really cheap stuff that we probably don’t want but can’t refuse at such bargain rates. It makes shopping fun again. Mind you, we bought the Brooke James Shiraz and SSB in 2 L casks for $8.95 that we had had in Melbourne earlier in the year. It is so much better than any other cask wine it is worth a trip to Aldi.

Once back at the caravan park, we headed for the pool, despite the fact that the temperature was only around 10 degrees. The wonderful indoor pool is a delicious 29 degrees and the twin spas an incredible 39 degrees. Swimming laps then jumping into the spas and watching the giant screen TV has a lot to recommend it. The old body is feeling better already.

The wonderful heated indoor pool at the Windmill Caravan Park

The drive from Ballarat to Sale is mostly along the Western Freeway through Melbourne itself over the West Gate Bridge. Things are pretty well sign posted and the GPS on the iPhone helped a lot. Even so, we managed to get caught in the wrong lane as we passed through Melbourne and were forced to exit the freeway into South Melbourne. As we came down the off ramp, we were faced with the terrible sight of a low bridge, one of the old train subways, that was limited to 3m. Sandpiper is 3.4m where the mast rests on the rear bar work so things didn’t compute. I managed an immediate right turn into a factory area and we found a way of getting back to an on ramp and the safety of the freeway.

We negotiated the City Link tollway tunnel, surrounded by huge trucks and cement mixers, all roaring along. The lanes are extremely narrow and at times it seemed as though there was no room to squeeze through. I learned not to look in the mirrors and just focus on the lane ahead. Once clear of the tunnel, the road fed through a series of interchanges until settling down into a standard four lane dual carriageway and we were out of Melbourne.

The scenery heading towards Gippsland is very pretty, with some lovely rolling hills and low mountains inland. Once again, displays of autumn colours amongst the lush green was an added attraction. We passed through Moe, Traralgon and Sale before heading off to Maffra, where Paul and Tamsyn, some contacts through the trailersailerplace.com, had kindly offered us room to stay on their 8 acre property. We found the place with little difficulty and waited a short time before Tamsyn arrived home from picking up their lovely children from school. The property is beautiful, with a horse and donkey in the front paddock, numerous ducks and chooks out the back and a variety of fruit trees in evidence. We found a spot to park the boat and unhitched, finding to our dismay that a hose had broken on the hydraulic brake system. More repairs needed but not too bad.

Paul arrived home around 6pm and after dinner we got together to pick his brains. Paul and Tamsyn proved to be absolute gems and gave us so much valuable information and made the area sound so attractive our only problem will be doing justice to it in the time we have. It is so good to have the hospitality and help from local people as we travel. Hopefully, we will be able to repay the kindness when they manage to get over to the West.

Paul and Tamsyn’s gorgeous house in Maffra

The next day I tackled the problems with the outboard, stripping down the carby and cleaning out the low speed jets. Fortunately, Paul has a well equipped shed so I was able to use a compressor and really give things a good blast of air. After putting things back together wrongly three or four times before getting it right, all was well and the outboard restored to its best (fingers crossed).

Then it was off into Sale to find someone to help with the hydraulics. An inspection showed that it was not just a case of a simple broken pipe bit rather a break in one of the main steel lines. A contact Paul had given me was unable to help but referred me to a mechanic who could do the job and we booked it in for the following Monday, on our return from Melbourne. We arrived back at Paul and Tamsyn’s tired but content that we had our life sorted and settled in to catch up with a few administrative things and a iPad Facetime linkup with Ben.

23-25 May – Melbourne

The train trip from Sale to Melbourne took about three and a half hours on a comfortable diesel powered train. We paid about $5 extra for First Class, giving us wider seats and more leg room, money well spent. The whole round trip for two only set us back $92, much cheaper and easier than driving. The country east of Melbourne is green at this time of year and quite picturesque, with the line running back along the M1 through Tralalgon, Moe Warragul etc. We alighted in Flinders Street Station, right in the heart of Melbourne and had about an hour to kill before Azba could get off work and join us for a tram ride to her place in Richmond. We used the time to buy two tickets to the Eagles-Collingwood match and settled outside St Pauls to watch the passing parade. With Azba off work, we headed to her place to order Pizza in and consume too much wine (what’s new?).

Saturday dawned with a beautiful Autumn day, warm by Melbourne standards. We needed to access a boat supplies in Collingwood for some very specialised sealant, so we walked the 3km from Azba’s, putting Christine’s knee to the test. It held up quite well and is improving steadily. My back, on the other hand, just chooses random times to protest, usually for an hour at a time. The walk was pleasant and with the sealant procured, we trammed across town to Harbour Town in the Docklands to shop in the factory outlets. We scored some real bargains in the AFL outlets, with a great Eagles wind breaker for Christine and shirt for me. Eagles buyers were in abundance and we were both surprised by the number of Eagles supporters walking the streets. By contrast, Collingwood supporters were not in evidence but we figured they were home sharpening their teeth.

Catching a tram down Bridge Road to the MCG in full Eagles colours was fun. We were welcomed by a group of young men who had just exited the pub who hailed us as visiting Sandgropers. Most were expats and there was a lone Magpie being very quiet. Once on the tram, the group had some banter with a very rough looking Collingwood supporter and when the guys jumped off the tram again, having gone a whole four stops without a drink, and headed for the next pub, the Collingwood guy started yelling out “Eagles @$#%&”. They happily gave him the finger. Pulling up to some lights, the Collingwood gentleman proceeded to lean out the door and call across to a young girl, telling her what a lovely arse she had. She tried hard to just look straight ahead and spent the time until the lights changed trying to pull down her skirt as far as possible. He and his kids exited just before Jolimont Station and he walked along drinking from his can. True to form, he finished it and tossed it into the bushes. Where was God when you needed Him?

There is nothing quite like the excitement of sport at the MCG, even if a 55,000 strong crowd only half fills the place. We had good seats, on the first tier along the 50m line. Even with a crowd of this size, we found that Vauna Watson, a friend from Marmion Primary School was seated four seats away and a group of teachers from West Greenwood that Christine knew from her time there were two rows ahead of us. There were enough Eagles supporters around us to make a lot of noise, especially since the Eagles led for most of the match. Unfortunately, the Magpies over ran us in the final quarter by 8 points and the noise from the Collingwood army was deafening. We slunk out licking our wounds and caught a tram back to Richmond. Mike had arrived for the weekend and Azba had cooked up a delicious fish meal so we dined like kings and consumed more wine.

The train trip back on the Sunday turned out to be a short one, only to Packenham, before we were transferred to coaches so work could be done on the station at Warragul. The coach actually proved very comfortable. It concluded a very relaxing and wonderful trip to Melbourne, one of our favourite cities anywhere. The big downside was only discovered later that night. I had left my Android Tablet in the seat pocket of the bus. I have a very bad record with these things, having sat on one in a plane and smashed the screen, left another on charge under a hotel bed where the maid could hit it with the vacuum and smash the screen and just cracked a screen through no apparent cause.

26-27 May – Port of Sale

Once back in Maffra, we organised Sandpiper ready for an early departure. The hydraulic brakes need attention so we have planned to take the boat off and spend the day tied up in Port of Sale while the work is done. As often happens, the work was more complicated than anticipated and we spent a lovely day in Port of Sale and a night tied up to the jetty. Christine contacted V-Line Rail and the bus company about the Android with no luck.

Port of Sale is a small series of docks located on the Sale Canal, a narrow canal cut through to link Sale to the Gippsland Lakes via the Thompson River in the 1880s. Today, it provides secure facilities for a number of small boats and a small slipway for boat servicing.

Port of Sale

We spent another day at Port of Sale, this one no so pleasant, with low temperatures and regular light rain. Everything was damp and slushy. I checked my Google account on the Internet and found that my Android was at a place in Highfield, part of Melbourne. We could narrow it down to an address, but it was a block of apartments. Even so, we went around to the Sale Police and gave them all the information that we had. They took all the details and promised to do what they could, short of getting a search warrant for the whole building. After a number of tries, I managed to contact the tablet itself and lock it, with a screen message asking the person to give me a ring. I won’t lose any sleep waiting for the phone to ring.

With the trailer work complete, we picked it up late in the day and decided to sleep over night and pull out fresh in the morning, to head off to sail the Gippsland Lakes, the whole point of being here.

The Murray River – Riverlands

May 18, 2014 / terry

The video of our Murray River trip can be seen here http://youtu.be/rq77qnXywNE

We launched Sandpiper on Tuesday 13 May upstream of Lock 1, giving us only one lock between Blanchetown and Waikerie, our final destination. Although the trip is 108km long, Waikerie is only 42km down the Sturt Highway from Blanchetown, a measure of just how much the river twists and meanders around. Our plan was to reach Waikerie by Friday, when an afternoon bus runs back through Blanchetown so we can retrieve the car and trailer which is being stored at the caravan park in secure circumstances.

Launching at Blanchetown

On the water and underway, we found the outboard to be once again misbehaving. It does not like to idle or go slow but runs fine under load. This suggests that the low speed jets are gummed up again. I am rather put out because I was careful to clear all fuel when storing it in Port Lincoln. While the engine pushes us along the river with no problems, slow manoeuvring into beaches, jetties or locks will be a hassle.

The first day, we covered a mere 20km, overnighting on the bank opposite Crook’s Landing. The beauty of the river is hard to describe, it needs to be experienced. The vista changes at every turn, with peaceful wetlands, rolling pastures and farmlands, holiday homes and moored houseboats or spectacular towering cliffs. The river seems to maintain a good depth in most places with between 15 and 20 feet in most areas then down to 65 feet under the shadow of the sandstone cliffs. The only other river traffic consisted of a lone long distance kayaker and a beautiful modern houseboat heading downstream.

We used a book called “Murray River Pilot” to ensure that we avoided nasty things in the water and to read about all the rich history of sites along the way. It was easy to picture ourselves chugging along in a stern wheel paddle steamer in the middle of the 19^th Century delivering goods to the hardy settlers along the wonderful river.

Christine tried to use Google maps to track our progress with hilarious results

Tied up to the bank for the night, we put out a yabby trap but the yabbies weren’t playing the game. We used the wrong bait (red meat), the water is too cold, the full moon put them off or we should have been here yesterday. We had more luck with the fish, catching one nice European Carp and losing another bigger on near the boat. While the carp are said to be edible if treated well, we didn’t bother. Returning them to the water is illegal so Mr Carp spent the evening on the river bank.

The next day we covered about 35km through Morgan and on towards the small hamlet of Cadell. As we neared Morgan, the density of “shacks” and houseboats tied up on the banks increased remarkably. Some of the shacks would not look out of place in Mindarie Quays and many of the houseboats were bigger than our Dowerin house, with three decks and spas.

Morgan itself is a very historical town. When the rail head arrived in 1878, Morgan became a major centre with more than 25 boats a week delivering goods along the river. Later, when the rail pushed on to Waikerie and Renmark, the importance of Morgan fell away.

The old wharf at Morgan

The charming streetscape in Morgan

We tied up to some river bank moorings and walked up the steep hill to the little town. The main street is a quaint collection of National Trust buildings, with two hotels facing each other. We chose one for its cheaper menu and enjoyed an excellent lunch and pint. Then it was back to the boat and onwards. We had to negotiate a ferry crossing and were a little anxious that we did the right thing. In the end, it was easy, just waiting for the ferry to reach one bank then heading through. Cutting to close to the ferry while it is underway risks fouling the steel cable strung across the river.

Our path took us past the famous Morgan wharf, built as a towering timber structure to cater for the huge range in river levels in the days before weirs and locks. A lazy trip along the river took us to a pleasant sandy landing where we set up for the night. The wind dropped to nothing on sunset, creating a glorious display with the trees mirrored on the surface. The scenery proved better than the fishing.

The next day took us upstream through Cadell, on the 322km mark. Distances are all taken from the mouth of the river and marked on trees with blue signs every 2km. The small locality of Cadell is about 11km upstream of Morgan. There is little on the river itself and a small village about a kilometre away. There is a lovely picnic area with some houseboat moorings near the ferry crossing and a small launching ramp. We stopped in to the ramp to assess its suitability for retrieving Sandpiper, having decided not to navigate through Lock 2 to Waikerie because of the difficulty working with the motor. However, the ramp proved unsuitable, or at least not as good as the one at Morgan, and we had enough time to motor back to Morgan.

We continued on past Cadell for about 12km, noting that the bush becomes drier and more open than further downstream. There is the usual series of creeks and lagoons that would be so much fun to explore in a kayak. Eventually, we found a really lovely sandy beach on a sand bar at the 345km mark, opposite some stunning cliffs. I spent the afternoon fishing, catching two very large carp. If they had been any other species I’d have been over the moon, but the carp are sluggish when hooked and not much to get excited about in the kitchen. Since it is illegal to release carp, a waiting group of pelicans benefitted from my efforts, after I’d cut the big fish into small pieces so they could be shared around. A couple of brown hawks also circled overhead and snatched a couple of morsels for themselves.

The night was unseasonably warm and we found ourselves shedding blankets. The usual dew was also absent so we didn’t sleep in as late as we have been doing. By 8:30, we’d had breakfast, done the dishes and some housework and were underway again headed back to Morgan.

Christine phoned the driver of the local bus that runs a Friday service to tell him of our changed plans. We had initially organised to be picked up in Waikerie but he was happy to pick me up at the ferry crossing in Morgan on his way back to Blanchetown. This way, I could get the car and trailer and use the ramp at Morgan to retrieve.

We arrived in Morgan by 11am and tied up at the 24hour moorings on the bank just downstream of the ferry crossing. We had plenty of time to tour the Morgan Museum and pop into the local for a pint and meal. The museum is an old store shed. It contains many very interesting displays depicting significant events in the history of Morgan. The huge wharf that still stands today is actually less than a third of what once existed. The Commercial Hotel provided a wonderful lunch of braised chops on mash and crumbed chops, chips and salad for the very reasonable $15 and $12 respectively.

We have thoroughly enjoyed our short time on the river and are determined to do some other stretches later in our trip, probably late in the year on our return from Queensland. The changing vistas, the birdlife, the history and the moments of utter peace and tranquillity all works together to make the experience a “must do”. A small group sharing one of the many palatial houseboats could be a memorable holiday.

Back on the trailer at Morgan and off to Waikerie

Back to Sandpiper

May 17, 2014 / terry

Back to Port Lincoln and On to the Murray (4-10 May 2014)

We packed the car and made the long drive back to join Sandpiper in Port Lincoln. Leaving on 4^th may, we took three and a half days to make the crossing of the Nullabor, camping in the Oz Tent each night and taking a strict 100km driving rotation to try and stave off the dreaded back spasms.

In fact, we are a pair of cripples, hanging on by a thread at present. I have the back somewhat under control with the help of a nerve sleeve injection. Christine did something nasty to a knee and hobbles around with great care. Both of us have alarmingly high blood pressure levels, probably as a result of all the anti-inflammatory drugs we have been swallowing. We drive, stop, get out the blood pressure machine, try to stay calm and push on. Whatever is going on, things are slowly coming good so hopefully all will be fine in a week or so.

Once again, we encountered rain on the crossing, mostly light but heavy falls in evidence on the WA/SA border. The days were pleasantly cool and the nights chilly but bearable. Traffic was light and very well behaved, except for one lunatic who assumed that a right hand flicker means “You may pass me now!” and not “I am going to turn right into that rest area.” Luckily, I was a more intelligent driver than he was.

Sandpiper was waiting for us, safe and sound and looking none the worse for being idle. Our host, Richard, was glad to see us back and immediately plied us with his delicious coffee. He had been off to the Snowy Mountains for a trip in our absence and bought back a trailer load of old MG parts that he had stored in a mate’s shed near Sydney some 20 odd years ago. Sadly, time and vermin had taken its toll on the old upholstery and dash but he is still determined to restore his precious MGs to their former glory.

We organised a dinner at a Chinese Restaurant with John and Helen, partly to thank them for there help and support and mostly to catch up. It turned out that John was one of the best customers of the place, working his way steadily through the menu when doing night shift. His expertise came in handy and we ate more in one night than we’d eaten the whole week. The company was great and the night filled with talk of boats, fishing and bringing up kids. What more could we want?

On exiting the restaurant, we found the promised cold front had arrived in force, with the rain starting and the wind settling in to a low gale. During the night it blew quite hard and rocked the boat quite noticeably, despite the fact that we were on the trailer high and dry. We were both so glad we were not at sea somewhere.

In the morning, the temperature and driving wind gave little incentive to get up so we slept in late until things were a bit more civilized. Then it was pack up, hitch up and say our farewells to Richard, who protested strongly that we hadn’t hung around long enough. He tried to bribe us with more of his excellent coffee but we took out leave and drove north through light drizzle and fierce winds towards Port Augusta.

Driving was unpleasant, with the wind buffeting us around a lot so we made do with staying in Cowell, half way between Lincoln and Whyalla, leaving us a long but manageable drive the next day to access the Murray River. Our previous plans of sailing the top end of Spencers Gulf have been put on hold until the return trip, when it should be warmer. Of course, being in Cowell meant that buying a dozen fresh oysters was almost compulsory. Cowell oysters are our favourite and these lived up to expectations.

The next day dawned wonderfully clear and even a little bit warm. This represents a rare treat. After a slow and relaxed breakfast, we packed and hitched up, making our way out of town towards Port Augusta. Along the way, we had to locate the obligatory “Dump Point”. This aspect of our travels keeps us up close and personal with our daily bodily needs and makes us feel like one of the true “Grey Nomad” set. You know you are truly liberated when you can inflict a load of your collected excrement on any community of your choosing.

A long but enjoyable drive took us North through Whyalla to Port Augusta then South again to Port Pirie. The plan was to turn left onto the Wilkins Hwy to work East then South again to Clare. I half turned off Hwy 1 a saw a large collection of trucks, caravans and trailers off to one side in a pull over with lots of flashing lights, indicating a SA Transport Weighbridge site. With great dexterity, I swung around and resumed our travel on Hwy 1, not being at all keen on examining the latest tow weights of our rig. Our detour led us through Crystal Brook and the Clare Valley. The Clare Valley is a wonderfully scenic drive, especially in May with the autumn colours creating some wonderful vistas. The road was in poor condition and our speed was limited to 75-80km/hr but we enjoyed the views and the drive.

Christine researched the options ahead using a terrific iPhone App called WikiCamps, which gives details and reviews of places to stop along the way. Through this, she found a terrific overnight stop in a small town called Tarlee, where they promised free camping on the disused town oval with toilets and a top pub nearby. The reviews were not over stated, with the town and pub full of amazing SA hospitality and advice. This little town is a gem.

In the morning, the temperature had dropped to not much above freezing so we slept late and didn’t get going until nearly 10am. The road to Kapunda led up and over a large hill that the guys in the pub had warned was heavily populated with wombats. While very cute, they make a serious mess underneath the car when hit so we took a lot of car. Actually sighting a wombat would have been good but they proved elusive. Kapunda itself was surprisingly big with many really beautiful old stone houses of impressive size.

By comparison, our destination town of Blanchetown was very small and lacking in points of interest. Its only claim to fame is that it is the site of Lock 1, the first of many locks along the Murray River. We booked into the Big 4 Caravan Park and found it totally deserted, despite being one of the best equipped and prettiest parks we have ever encountered. As the day wore on, two other vans arrived and we enjoyed some pleasant conversation watching the daylight fade over the river.

The wonderful view from the Riverside Caravan Park in Blanchetown

An early morning view

It is illegal to release carp back into the river.

After a week of constant driving and organising, we gave ourselves a day off, sleeping until after 9am, the heavy river fog making rising pointless. The fog magically cleared around 10am and we enjoyed a very pleasant sunny day, almost producing a warmth at times. During the day, we took the time to check out the launching facilities and restock the larder with a few essentials, ready for our trip on the river.

Sailing Lincoln National Park

February 27, 2014 / terry

18-24 February – Sailing in the Lincoln National Park

The Lincoln National Park covers a large peninsula just South of Port Lincoln township. It is a very scenic area with some wonderful coves, beaches and rocky headlands. It is easily accessible by both road and sea and, of course, we chose the latter method.

We launched only a couple of days after retrieving the boat at Tumby Bay. A visit to the mechanic to again address the problem of the engine cutting out proved successful, with the problem finally being found to have nothing to do with the fuel or mixture but a very touchy stop button on the end of the tiller handle. Once disabled, the motor behaved perfectly, making docking a relatively easy process once again.

We sailed across Boston Bay to Spaulding Cove, a very beautiful bay offering protection from all winds except the North. The sail was wonderful, with the breeze steadily building, a sign of things to come. After exploring Spaulding Cove, we chose to anchor in Surfleet Cove, giving wonderful protection against the now mounting SW wind. We were to spend the next three nights here, all thoughts of leaving squashed by the site of the seas outside our little haven.

Sailing in Spaulding Cove

Surfleet Cove

Surfleet Cove proved to be a wonderful place to be stuck. There were enough fish on tap to keep us fed, with King George Whiting, Herring, Salmon, Snook and Squid. The first time I cleaned some fish and threw the heads overboard, several very large blue swimmer crabs appeared under the boat. We were swinging too much to hang crab nets from the boat so the next day we used the dinghy to put out some pots. Unfortunately, the only crabs we caught were small rock crab like things. It became a source of great frustration as we saw the big blues arrive if we threw fish scraps over but seemed unable to catch them in nets. Eventually, on a low tide, I lowered the keel enough to ground us and we managed one crab in a drop net. A single crab has never tasted so good.

Ashore was a well appointed camping ground, with two or three camps on most days. There is also a well developed walk trail around the National Park and we went ashore on one occasion to walk the 5km return walk to the next camp area at the Southern end of Spaulding Cove. Despite the cold blustery wind, the walk through the pristine woodlands was beautiful.

Walking the “Investigator Trail”

At no time did the temperature break 25 degrees and light rain was a constant problem. All this time, a check of the weather back home showed that Perth was going through an exceptionally hot and dry spell.

Eventually, the weather system moved on and we were able to sail back to Port Lincoln, electing to anchor in front of the Port Lincoln Yacht Club. We had arrived for the weekend of the Adelaide-Port Lincoln Yacht Race. This prestigious annual event sees a fleet of over 60 boats complete the 150 nautical mile run, sailing through the night to arrive early Saturday morning. The rest of the weekend seemed to consist of celebrations, especially Sunday, with a loud party and presentation ceremony keeping us amused from our close vantage point. A number of large yachts were anchored near us and we couldn’t believe just how many people they managed to fit into an inflatable dinghy to go ashore or return to the boat.

Presentation party at the Port Lincoln Yacht Club

Watching the rain in comfort

I keep making friends

Near the end of the town jetty, a local farm and sea produce market was set up on Sunday, with stalls selling snacks and offering wine tasting etc. It drew a good crowd of visiting yachties and locals alike and we bought a pack of delicious Spencer Gulf King Prawns.

Produce Market

The weather continued its run of low temperatures and drizzle, sapping us of the energy to sail further. In the end, we opted to pull out and head home a week or so early. This meant that the boat could stay in Port Lincoln, safely stored at our new friend Richard’s place. We will return at the end of April to head further East in search of new sailing adventures.

The trip home across the Nullabor was a mirror of the trip in, except not towing meant that we could go a lot faster. Most of the Nullabor itself was driven in rain. We only stopped at one Great Australian Bight lookout because it was so bitterly cold. We had to pack the tent away wet. All around us were rolling fields of green from all the Summer rain the area has received.

We managed the drive with two overnight stops, one at Nundroo in SA and another at a bush camp about 50kms out of Balladonia. We pulled in to Dowerin just after 4pm and immediately turned the air conditioner on, the temperature being over 30 degrees. We will have to re-acclimatise.

It is good to be home, but the next 8 weeks will go quickly and we’ll be back with Sandpiper before we know it.

Port Lincoln to Tumby Bay

February 15, 2014 / terry

30 January to 6 February – Around Port Lincoln

From Coffin Bay, we booked into the Port Lincoln Tourist Park to spend some time getting repairs done. Firstly, we needed some repairs:

The outboard is cutting out when throttling down, resulting in a nightmare when berthing
The bow of the boat had a hole in it where we hit the jetty when the motor stalled in Coffin Bay
I needed repairs because the virus I contracted in Melbourne is just not getting better and the muscle spasms are making life on the boat difficult.

The motor was dropped off an outboard service centre on the way to the caravan park.

Bow damage from crashing jetty in Coffin Bay

Our new friend John Hookings organised someone to repair the hull and remove the scratches on the side. Richard Mason is a semi-retired shipwright / surf board /canoe designer and a wizard with fibreglass. Sandpiper was parked in his back yard for 5 days or so while he did the work. During this time, we hired a chalet at the PL Tourist Village, which was a good thing because it coincided with a nasty heat wave. Richard was so helpful and accommodating, letting us come and go at will and sharing his extensive knowledge of the waters around Port Lincoln.

Several trips to a local doctor and a series of blood tests confirmed the presence of some or other virus but not the suspected Ross River. This was good news, because it meant it would clear up quicker than the nasty RRV. As it was, it had been a couple of weeks of agony. The doctor prescribed codeine which did help bring things under control until a daily improvement was noted.

While we camped in the caravan park, we were really surprised to see Dennis and Maureen Hoult, a couple from Shark Bay, parked nearby. They had been over to Tamworth for the annual music festival, one of our aims (among many). They were doing a slow drive back checking out the wonderful sights of the Eyre Peninsula. Dennis is a whiting fisherman in Shark Bay and I was little amused when they went out into town for dinner at Del Giorno’s, the holder of many awards for the best Seafood Restaurant in SA. They did report that the seafood was excellent.

Port Lincoln foreshore and jetty

The rest of the time in Port Lincoln was spent resting (sleeping in my case), watching the terrible midday movies, walking and sometimes swimming down in front of the caravan park. All beaches around here have a Shark Action Plan sign, which seems to be about as useful as WA’s baiting program but a lot cheaper. We certainly got to know our way around this wonderful little city. We continue to find that people are so helpful and friendly, whether we are talking about shop assistants, caravan park workers or just people you come across around town. People are still taking the time to stop and chat.

7 February to 13 February – Sailing Port Lincoln to Tumby Bay

With repairs complete and me on the improve, we launched Sandpiper in Port Lincoln, with Richard and John Hookings helping out with storing the car and trailer and running us back to the boat etc. It was like a limo service with valet parking.

We sailed North past Port Lincoln township inside the beautiful Boston Island, dodging the numerous fish farms dotting the bay. The tuna industry now catches wild Southern Bluefin Tuna of all sizes and puts them in large circular floating compounds. These are then towed into more sheltered waters and the tuna grown out to size using locally caught sardines and fish meal pellets. The same system is used for Yellowtail Kingfish, except these are hatchery reared on land then transferred to sea cages for growth. We also saw a mussel farm and some land based abalone farms along the coast near Point Boston.

Near Point Bolingbroke, Peake Bay

We sailed North between Louth and Rabbit Islands to overnight in Peake Bay, a large deep bay about 4 nautical miles across. We had to choose a couple of spots before finding a really calm and comfortable spot, tucked in behind Point Bolingbroke. The beach was absolutely gorgeous white sand and the water clean and clear. However, we were mindful of John Hookings’ warnings of a large great white shark in this very area over the last few days.

On one occasion, a large seal (probably an Australian Fur Seal), could be seen hunting along the edge of the narrow sand strip. We were anchored right on this line so we watched as he just passed right under the bow and kept cruising. I kept thinking about the shark and hoping the seal would make it. Another time, a large pelican came and stood on the beach opposite the boat and waited for us to clean fish. We didn’t have any but I waded ashore anyway to try to get a photo alongside it. He wasn’t having any of this and waddled off down the beach. I played the “Pelican Whisperer” and held out a hand to him. That got his attention and he came back to discuss things. I felt so guilty about the deception I went and got some of my fresh squid and gave him a snack.

The Pelican Whisperer

Over the next few days, the weather turned bad, giving everything from extreme heat and fierce North-West winds to strong cool Southerlies. We spent several days criss-crossing the bay in search of calm anchorages, three times on one occasion. Near where we were anchored was an access track through private farming property and a few boats came and went to fish the area. One guy, Steve White, turned out to be the owner of the Seabreeze Hotel in Tumby Bay and we spent a great time swapping yarns about the area. He knew the owners of the property and regularly accessed it for fishing. We promised to catch up later in Tumby Bay for a drink. The next day I talked to another fisherman, this time a professional whiting fisherman, who actually turned out to be Steve’s father-in-law. He fishes for King George Whiting by line, the netting having been stopped some years ago. It’s a small world.

Meanwhile, we managed to keep ourselves fed on seafood, with steady catches of herring and the occasional whiting. One evening, we caught four large squid so we had a couple of great meals of calamari.

After a few days of criss-crossing Peake Bay, the weather improved and we crossed the 10 nautical miles of more open ocean to Reevesby Island, the largest of the Sir Joseph Banks Group. Numerous other islands surrounded us, Winceby, Lusby, Kirkby, Dalby, Partney etc, the “by” suffix reflecting village names of Mathew Flinders’ native Lincolnshire. The trip over was terrific, with calm winds and glassy seas. For a long time, we had the company of two beautiful dolphins playing in our bow wave, eventually to be joined by a mother and her tiny calf. It was so small it must have been very young but managed to keep up with the rest.

Once at Reevesby Island, we entered Home Bay, locally referred to as the lagoon. It offers protection from most winds and is a broad expanse of reasonably shallow water and glorious white sand beaches. Seals patrol the weed lines and a wide variety of bird life can be seen on every sand bar or rocky outcrop. It is the sort of area that brings the dulcet tones of Sir Richard Attenborough to mind.

“The Lagoon”, Reevesby Island

From a more human perspective, a number of boats dotted the lagoon, one, a large white catamaran that we had been told was in the area for several months, and others, a series of smaller craft fishing for the day from either Port Lincoln or Tumby Bay. As the day progressed, boats came and went, some anchoring overnight. We found great entertainment in listening to the chatter of VHF radio from boats scattered all over the lower Spencers Gulf area for the various fishing reports and anchorage expectations of each craft. Over the next few days, we grew to know various craft by call sign, even if we’d never sighted them.

Home Bay, Reevesby Island

Crystal clear Moreton Bay, Reevesby Island

We went ashore to look at the ruins of the old homestead, just over the first set of dunes. Despite the heat, we put on stout long trousers and wore full booties for the walk, the island being heavily populated with black tiger snakes. We stuck carefully to the boardwalk. Eventually, we had to cross a samphire flat and it is this area that is reputed to be populated with death adders. We jointly decided that we could see the ruins perfectly well from the safety of the boardwalk and left exploring the buildings to others. The snake situation here is so bad that one boat reported over the radio that three tiger snakes were swimming at the back of the boat. Fisherman report them as being quite aggressive.

Old Reevesby homestead

Unfortunately, the weather forecast was not good, with a major rain event was coming with falls of up to 100mm predicted and some fairly strong winds. We elected to use a small window of opportunity to sail to Tumby Bay, a coastal town around 50km North of Port Lincoln and hole up there. We’d work out later how to get the car and trailer down from Lincoln. Anchorages off Tumby Bay are not very good so we entered their small marina. A call to the Shire about a berth quickly had us put on to a very helpful man from Modra Apartments who kindly let us use a berth for a few days to get sorted.

Tumby Bay jetty

We dropped in on our new friend Steve from the Seabreeze Hotel and destroyed the diet with a huge schnitzel each and a couple of beers. He also lent us a power cord for the berth and gave us a guided tour of some of the new developments in town. Tumby Bay is a lovely little town, with good amenities and facilities. Once again, everyone seems very friendly. Another night we went to the pub for happy hour and got talking to a couple alongside us. They immediately knew us as the yacht people from WA who had been anchored in Peake Bay. By chance, they own the farm that we were anchored off and are also good friends of John and Helen Hookings, our Port Lincoln friends. You can’t get away with anything down here.

Mast down in Tumby Bay

Rain and more rain

The rain event came with a vengeance and we spent a couple of days holed up inside the boat. John and Helen kindly delivered the car and trailer to us so we could pull out when the winds eased and drive back to Port Lincoln. There, we will re-launch and explore the many bays and islands to the South.

Christine’s culinary creations while at sea. She really is a wonder.

Cooking fish fillets for lunch (yes, she has knickers on)

Crumbed razor shell medallions and fried rice

Seafood and chicken paella

Spicy coated calamari, chips and Caesar salad

Sailing Coffin Bay

January 30, 2014 / terry

23-29 January – Sailing Coffin Bay

We spent 6 nights on the waters of Coffin Bay and its many inlets. In reality, the area that is really Coffin Bay is a wide bay first sighted and named by Mathew Flinders, after Sir Isaac Coffin who was so helpful to Flinders in outfitting the Investigator. The area broadly referred to as Coffin Bay is really Port Douglas, Mount Dutton Bay and Kellidie Bay.

The waters of the almost enclosed waters are brimming with sea life and rich in nutrients, hence the hugely successful oyster industry. A native Coffin Bay oyster was dredged to near extinction in the late 1800s to supply the Adelaide market but in the 1980s, the Pacific Oyster (originally from Japan) was introduced and Coffin Bay oysters soon established itself as the premier oysters amongst the restaurants of the East coast.

Unfortunately, the growing number of wild Pacific Oysters began to concern authorities, as they were seen to be taking too much nutrient, so a cull of over 200,000 was taken in 2010. Fortunately, we found a lovely area that they had missed, and delighted in the fact that the wild ones are much larger than their farmed cousins but just as tasty. We gorged ourselves on natural oysters and Oysters Kilpatrick.

Oysters and nibbles

Another wonderful discovery was the presence of huge black mussels. Again, these only seemed to be present in one location (that we found) and were also probably the wild offspring of imported farmed mussels. We didn’t care. We had two wonderful meals of chilli mussels, accompanied by Christine’s crusty bread rolls that she somehow managed to cook at sea.

Getting stuck in to chilli mussels and home baked crusty bread.

For fish, we had access to plenty of herring and King George Whiting, as well as a really big flounder I caught. We had hoped to feed on squid, which are said to be plentiful in SA waters, but we failed to sight on inside Coffin Bay. While snorkelling, I came across a few scallops and thought we were in real luck, but in the end only managed to find four live ones. We also tried to catch some “sand crabs”, a strange looking species that is supposed to be in these waters. We failed to see any in our drop nets.

Herring, King George Whiting and flounder.

The weather was a mixed bag, we had a couple of days of very cool temperatures, and a couple of days of calm balmy days when the temperature shot up. We managed a few swims, although even the enclosed waters of Coffin Bay have a reputation when it comes to the Great Whites. Like the weather on WA’s south coast, things can change very quickly. We relied heavily on “Willyweather” from the Internet and its forecasts proved very accurate. Our last couple of nights on the water were particularly windy, with a SE screamer that must have topped 35 knots at times. On advice from a local contact, we bought a new anchor, one suited to the conditions here in SA. It is called a Marsh Anchor and we have dubbed it Rodney, because it catches and keeps us in one spot.

A feature of sailing Coffin Bay is the magnificent scenery, with wonderful views of Mount Dutton, Mena Hill and the Marble Range. The coastline itself changes from rolling pasture land, to dense mallee woodlands and patches of spectacular sand hills. We never seemed to be far from a settlement of some sort. Besides the small township of Coffin Bay, there was the even smaller hamlet of Mount Dutton and a caravan park with associated shacks at Farm Beach, near the entrance to the ocean.

Mount Dutton Town

Peaceful Yangie Bay

The bird life of the area was all familiar, yet smaller. In Yangie Bay, we even saw black swans feeding in ocean waters, something I’ve not seen before. However, they were much smaller than the ones in the west. The pelicans too are a smaller version of ours, as are the dolphins.

We had a couple of dramas along the way. Our first was when we were sailing north in Mount Dutton Bay towing our new folding Porta-bote. Our previous Porta-bote was the 11’6” model and we thought that we would do well to sell it and buy a smaller 10’ job to facilitate storage and handling issues. What we didn’t factor into the thinking was that the smaller model wouldn’t tow as well as the old one. We were both watching the little boat gyrate in the following seas and surf down waves when we both realised at the same time that it was surfing nose down and not coming up to breathe. We both leaped at the tow line at the same time and hauled in, saving the now half drowned boat. The seas were big enough to rule out any thought of bailing out the dinghy so we carried on, the tow line shortened and holding the little bow high.

The second drama was the next morning, when we motored out of a very protected anchorage Mount Dutton Bay West to find that the wind was a lot stronger than anticipated. We motored across the bay to the lee where a couple of small boats were fishing and proceeded to set sail. We made an absolute dog’s breakfast of the whole operation and must have looked really bad in front of an audience. After several aborted attempts, we finally got sailing and reminded ourselves that one can never have too much experience.

The third and most disastrous drama occurred the morning we hauled out. The wind was up. We knew it would be because it had been all the previous afternoon and night. We didn’t know the tidal flow at the jetties would be so strong. The motor had been playing up somewhat, behaving well until it was powered down, when it often decided to cut out. As we approach the jetty area, we found three out of four jetties were taken with oyster boats, full of young bucks eager to get out and earn their quids. We chose the one vacant jetty, lined up in the 20 knot breeze and committed. Then the motor cut out. With wind and tide combined, we skated across the front of the jetties, entered the last opening, narrowly missed one oyster boat and hit the jetty bow on at a good 4 knots, taking a sizeable chunk out of Sandpiper. The skipper of one oyster boat just looked at me and said, “Shit, you hit that pretty hard!”

The Coffin Bay launch ramp, nearly the scene of our undoing.

All the oyster boat guys were very good about the whole thing and helped us get the boat alongside an empty jetty. They headed off in their over-powered oyster boats to do their oyster thing and we prepared to bring Sandpiper on to the trailer. Even this operation needed the assistance of a local out for his morning walk because the tide and wind was more than Christine could handle on the stern end. We were both shaken and stirred.

At the Coffin Bay Yacht Club Jetty

Since we were in the area over the Australia Day weekend and the weather was good, the numbers on the water certainly increased. We proudly flew the flag on January 26th and politely waved to others as they passed by. Unfortunately, it is hard to maintain the godd old Aussie spirit when some cashed up bogan is hurtling past you in his new super cruiser that creates a wake to equal the best of tsunamis. Some even deviated course by hundreds of metres to come over to us, wave cheerfully, then look perplexed as we gave them the finger in return. It is also a worry when you ease into a lovely anchorage at 10:30 to join a couple of other boats and they greet you by toasting you with their wine and beer. A bit early for us and we are hardly wowsers.

Coffin Bay is one of the great small boat cruising locations we have visited, having all the elements; scenery, protected anchorages, plentiful seafood and great facilities. We are so glad we came. Now it is on to Port Lincoln.

Melbourne back to Coffin Bay

January 26, 2014 / terry

Friday 17^th January

Our exit from Melbourne started with me cycling my way across to collect the car in Fitzroy then navigating my way back to the hotel. The GPS made easy work of it, although the morning traffic in Swanston St made progress very slow. I also suffered from a worsening cold, the sore throat strengthening.

We packed the car, got the bikes stowed away and made our way to the tollway to make a rapid and easy escape from the city traffic. We had registered our car online and we got charged our 75c via a credit card as we passed under a set of cameras. Special number plate recognition software takes care of the rest. No stopping in long queues, no searching for small change. What a cool system. I’d even sanction tolls on our freeways if it was this easy and I could be certain that all the money would go towards improving public transport but I have my doubts about that. The current government seems to have a different view of things to me when it comes to finances.

The weather had not improved, with another 40 degree day forecast, but with a late cool change expected. We had already decided to head North through Bendigo to access the Murray River, rather than the shorter drive through the Grampians. This proved to be a good choice, with the highway being closed as fires threatened the town of Halls Gap. Fires spread as we travelled. On one 20km stretch of the Calder Highway, we passed around 7 verge grassfires, rapidly taking hold in the 40km/hr winds. They were so regular, it must have been the work of some lunatic tossing matches or the like. Police and fire trucks sped up and down the highway on both sides, trying in vain to keep up with the growing threat. Later, we heard on the news that two of the road side fires had got away and damaged properties. We managed to avoid the other fires and made our way through Bendigo and then along the Murray, to research our later boat travels.

One of the many fires along the Calder Freeway.

The little town of Echuca, once a jewel on the river, is still a gem, the little hamlet on the river (partly restored and partly reconstructed) giving some lovely insight into life on the Murray before the coming of the trains. There was a wedding party coming off one of the many paddle steamers available for charter. The guys and gals in their finery all looked absolutely tortured in the stifling conditions, by now pushing 45 degrees. That’s one garter you wouldn’t want to catch.

Old Echuca port

We spent the night in Robinvale, still in Victoria, at a very grassy and green caravan park on the banks of the river. There were lots of holiday makers, most with sleek and powerful ski boats tied up along the banks. The long awaited cool change finally arrived late in the night.

Saturday 18^th January

I awoke to find the cold/flu thing had really taken hold, so Christine did the bulk of the driving. We crossed the river and spent around 100kms or so in New South Wales, cutting off two sides of a triangle as the Murray River curved around. We re-entered Victoria at Mildura then headed West into South Australia. The day was a long day of driving, with frequent stops and lots of exploring sections of river.

Mighty red gums along the Murray

I found myself thinking back to the Murray River summit organised by Kevin Rudd and the hoo-haa over the by-back of water rights. At the time, we heard a lot about the Murray being the food bowl of Australia and a 10% reduction in water availablity would mean the country would starve, or some such thing. In reality, all I could see for hundreds of kilometres was oranges and grapes, both of which are part of industries struggling to cope with over supply. We enjoy our wine, eat lots of sultanas in our muesli and are regular buyers of orange juice but from what I could see, the health of the river comes first. In one town, we were talking to a woman at the tourist centre about boating on the river. She did point out that at the time we planned to use the river, there would be a lot of water released from upstream to facilitate the annual water skiing races. Go figure. We are a sports loving nation after all.

One of many river crossing ferries. This one is at Morgan

We drove on into South Australia and the left the river, headed towards Port Augusta, into country with lovely rolling hills and the spectacular Flinders ranges in the distance. We over-nighted in Peterborough, a railway town that once sported three different gauges of railway and now tries desperately hard to capitalise on it. We set up the tent in steady rain, which thankfully eased by nightfall. We spent a fun hour with a young German couple, working over a map with us giving advice about the best way to get to Canberra. We all spent a lot of time nodding and pretending to understand what the other was saying. God knows where they are now!

Sunday 19^th January

We (well me actually) awoke in the middle of the night to batten down the hatches in the midst of an increasing wind. By morning, it was gale force, and my flu had taken a hold to the point where I didn’t care about anything. I looked on the iPhone and found that Peterborough had a MacDonalds so we packed up quickly and hit the road for a McCafe breakfast. This is a VERY rare thing for us, both being quite happy to never sight another set of Golden Arches again. But then, when there is a need….. Unfortunately, in my flu induced stupor, I failed to notice that the Peterborough McCafe was actually in Cambridgeshire, UK. Our Peterborough couldn’t even raise a roadhouse brekky, a problem that was repeated in the next three towns all the way to Port Augusta. I’ve never been so happy to chow down into a coffee and McWrap.

The drive down through the Flinders Ranges to Port Augusta was spectacular. I was so sick that I even let Christine drive and she was so scared she drove very sedately so we were both able to enjoy it.

The remaining trip back down the Eyre Peninsula to Coffin Bay was routine, with a lunchtime stop at Cowell for fish and chips and a dozen oysters to keep in reserve for another day. It is going to be hard to leave the ready access to cheap top quality oysters.

Cowell. We think they have the best oysters.

We pulled into the caravan park at Coffin Bay to find the boat all safe and sound and began the work of transferring our lives from “back of car” to “on the yacht”.