Message in a Bottle - Just wait 10 minutes February 2005

Message in a Bottle – Part 9
Magic in Tassie - Wait 10 Minutes!

Just another day in sunny paradise. What? This is Tasmania “Wait 10 minutes and the weather will change”
Australia Day weekend and the seagoing crew of Magic arrive to the worst pen at the best address, hmmm Mersey Yacht Club in Devonport – so says the cruising guide. A climb over 2 fishing boats then a hop over the rail onto decaying ply sheeting over a couple of floating pontoons, a trapeze act along a piece of steel then a climb up a rusty ladder; finally the bar is in sight. Boags beautiful Boags, the nectar of Tasmania. Introductions all-round as Ganghook, the Very Beautiful Buxom Wench and crew (Cheese, Mona, Bernard, Lu Lu, Albert, and Sailor Sam) join with other sailors in the Van Diemens Land Circumnavigation, our sailing companions for the next 4 weeks.
Yachts of all sizes, so many names, too many beers, it’s going to take a lot of briefings and beers to get this right. To those unfamiliar with the event, the VDL Circumnavigation was initiated many years ago by, among others the indifatigueable Joe Cannon. The event is organised by the RYCT every 2 years and this year as held in conjunction with the Royal Geelong YC. The circumnavigation was well planned and supported by a wide range of yachties from all over Australia with one husband and wife crew from the US. So many people from a diverse backgrounds all with a love of sailing. The crew of Magic were overwhelmed by the kindness and generosity shown throughout the cruise and after while we remained in Tassie. Many of the sailors we met have become very good friends.
The sights of Devonport at taken in, and surprise, surprise a shoe shop is found, yes you guessed it, a very dashing pair of shoes (all terrain Land Rovers) are purchased for the Captain. He’s in trouble now, the shoe bug has him.
January 27 2005
A fleet of 31 boats set sail for the tiny timber-walled port of Stanley; all jostling to lead the pack. Magic has nothing to prove, for a weekend warrior she is not, the adventurous crew stay at the rear of the fleet as there’s fishing to be done and the sights of the North Coast of Tassie to be enjoyed. The historic fishing village of Stanley is the first port of call, there’s a Nut (a volcanic neck) to be climbed the first of many such high places. Already the Wench has developed a dislike for all things high, and Tasmania has a lot of high things, hills, rocks and mountains, none of which have cafes at the top. An apparently very uncivilised little state.
A couple of days exploring finds the old ANZ bank where the skippers dad worked (as well as a Commercial Bank, Bank of NSW and ES&A bank), several gift shops, a cheese and wine bar, craft shop and heaps of cafes, and the pub where most of the circumnavigators are found. In short, lots of places to spend our hard earned treasure. Best of all the quaint and colourful little houses associated with 150 years of fishing are in good condition and well patronised by holiday makers during “the summer months”. More on the summer months later.
On 30th the fleet headed for Three Hummock and Hunter islands for a night anchorage before heading down the notorious west coast. During the day we received a weather forecast for strong NW winds on the west coast. The cruise commodore decided this was an ideal opportunity to push on to Macquarie Harbour, the narrow entrance of which is appropriately named Hells Gates, which becomes difficult in strong NW winds. So we were committed to our first overnight sail in the roaring 40’s.
So on we rolled through Hunter Passage. Magic still at the rear of the fleet and the conditions in the passage were somewhat akin to entering Prince Regent River in the Kimberley. Six knots of current in a narrow channel against the prevailing westerly winds kicked up the waves into short sharp seas which tend to launch little boats into the abyss on the other side creating all sorts of stuff to happen below including the “galley shut” sign to be hung out. Fortunately aboard Magic, not being the fastest horse out of the stalls, things were not too bad below. We know this because the log noted, “No position Daun was sleeping at 3 am”; then “still no position Daun still sleeping at 5:30”; then at 9am “the radio sked awoke Daun and we now have a position”. (To be a Beautiful Buxom Wench one needs lots of Beauty sleep.)
Later the next afternoon, we reached Cape Sorrell lighthouse abeam of Hells Gates in a 25 to 30 knots following wind and turned east towards the entrance training wall which was out of view behind the lines rolling combers crashing into the sand either side of the entrance channel. At this stage we had the #3 and double reef’d main and were rapidly slewing towards the direction of the entrance. (Teeth chattering stuff) At last the training wall was sighted and we furled the main, leaving only the #3. During this time we had been following another sail which was about 2 miles ahead. We reached the training wall in sight of the entrance and the water calmed somewhat. Suddenly, Daun viewing our approach on the nav program on the computer called that were too far to the west that we were in the wrong bay, a second later an unidentified voice on the VHF rang out, “you have to turn right, the green boat should be following the leads and turning right” Hells Gates right.
At this moment Ganghook decided to reduce speed and sail by furling the #3. Yep, you guessed it the bloody furler took this opportunity to demonstrate that bolts holding plastic end plates to an aluminium drum without washers can pull through and jam the furling line. The Buxom wench raced to the wheel while Ganghook released the halyard and raced forw’d to douse the sail. Magic stopped slewing and plunging and we passed Entrance Island in somewhat calmer conditions with the green machine performing as usual.
The green boat referred to in the VHF message was in fact a blue boat which had passed Entrance Island and presumably the crew in their jubilance at having safely passed thru Hells Gates failed to notice the leads to the right and neatly ran into a sand bank with about 300mm of water covering. The Magic captain had the right bay and later the electronic charts were found to be adrift by about 1 nautical mile. The blue boat was dragged off the shoal by one of the many “shed boats” seen on our circumnavigation. Meanwhile Magic and her crew continued on into Macquarie Harbour and headed south for Farm Cove in anticipation of an early start to traverse the famous Gordon River. Most of the fleet retired to Strahan to replenish their supplies. At the pub.
The next day we headed up the Gordon River to Heritage Landing, the principal destination of the “tourist” charter boats sailing from Strahan. Making our way upstream in the cold rainy climate, synonymous with the west coast, we were passed by one tour boat with a number of celebrating VDL circumnavigators, while we were enjoying morning tea in style- fresh scones, with cream and jam and tea from the silver teapot. At Heritage Landing we found a single 2,000 year old Huon Pine tree with a number of stems which covered an area about the size of half a netball court. Further upstream past Butler Island (made famous by the photograph) we stayed at Warners Landing, the site of the Hydro camp associated with the Gordon below Franklin Scheme of the 70’s and Sir John Falls.
During our stay at Sir John Falls we were introduced to the Wait 10 minute principal by one of the VDL Circumnavigators. If it raining now wait 10 minutes and the weather will change, either for the better of worse. By now the weather was becoming more inclement (typical west coast) and we were forced into wet weather gear and winter thermals. The Magic crew dinghied up the Gordon over several shallow rapids to reach the Franklin. The topography in both rivers was very different. The Gordon is generally steep sided and fast flowing while the Franklin is more gently sloping with limestone outcrops and lots of pools and riffles. Several days were spent exploring the pristine forests along the Gordon River before making our way downstream to Strahan to rendezvous with the rest of the Fleet.
While making our way downstream a storm warning was issued for all SW Tasmanian waters and the Magic crew sheltered by dropping the anchor mid river, reversing into a tiny tributary of the Gordon and mooring the stern to trees on both banks . While Magic managed to stay out of the wind a fair bit of tree fell about on the ship.
At Strahan a big shindig had been organised in the local pub and the crew of Magic were going to strut there stuff. So dressed to the nines the Captain attired in his Vicars outfit complete with beanbag belly and afro wig masquerading as (Father Bendover) and the Wench disguised as Marcel Marso they embarked on another steep learning curve – what was your name again? Entertaining the patrons and locals alike.
February 6
A 3am start- (yes in the morning) another thing the Captain has discovered about the Wench is that she doesn’t do mornings. Our days sailing mostly light nor’ wester takes us to Port Davy only accessible via boat, small air craft or foot. By 5pm we are in sight of Cape St Vincent and the Western Pyramids and we have another change in the weather. The predicted westerly arrives with a vengeance (you don’t want to know how much) “Galley Closed” and we are almost instantly surfing down steep waves.
The # 3 as the perfect sail and we appeared to be catching the rest of the fleet most of who were motoring. As the light was failing fast we followed an S & S 34 behind Breaksea Islands into the main channel leading to Bathurst Harbour. Once again the furling gear on the genoa failed us and we were heading east with quite a bit of air behind us. Fortunately the water was calm as we approached Schooner Cove and flew around the corner to discover almost the whole fleet anchored in the dark. Weaving our Magic thru the crowd was both exhilarating and fearful (heart in mouth kinda fearful) they enjoyed seeing us come to anchor under sail 2 boat lengths from the steep side of the cove.
Ganghook and the Wench spent the next few days climbing mountains and exploring the wilderness of Port Davey, the Narrows, Bathurst Harbour observing the fantastic views of this wonderful area. This spectacular park has been made famous by the King family and especially Deny King who lived at the end of Melaleuca inlet from the 1930’s mining tin and observing nature in all its glories. Deny, who died in 1991, was well known round the world for his bird observations and was the first to observe the decline of a rare grass parrot the Orange Bellied Parrot which bred in the SW and west coast. Deny believed that their decline was associated with reduced burning regime of the area. The Magic crew were so impressed with the rugged beauty of the SW that we have decided to return to Port Davey in a later voyage. Someone else described Port Davey and Bathurst Harbour as being a grey wet version of the Kimberley. During our stay we discovered the Wench does bush and climbing too. (Under great sufferance – the lure of a new pair of shoes dangling at the end of a long stick and BYO lolly provisions.)
Friday 11 February
Early start again to sail to Recherche Bay, named and discovered by Baudin in his explorations around Tasmania and the Great Australian Bight. A majestic and beautiful start to the day sailing thru huge rocky outcrops and islands with a nice little NW breeze pushing Magic around SW Cape (our second cape) where the cray fisherman were laying pots all higgledy piggledy. We flew past Maatsuyker Island on a reach and as we were keen to keep going we ended the day’s sail anchored off Southport and tucked into lamb shanks with a bottle of Wignall’s cabernet.
The next day we followed a small gauge railway around Hastings Bay and for the first time in weeks observed powerlines and cars on a made road. It was clear that opportunities for plundering and the other good bits were rapidly approaching.
Off to Port Cygnet in the Huon estuary later in the morning for a BBQ dinner at the local yacht club. A great spread was put on by the club and we retired in good time to rise early to check out the local scene. The wench discovered excellent blackberries on the road to town and after a short time we had sufficient for several meals and jam as well. Meanwhile, Ganghook searching the shores for low tide offerings discovered oysters and heaps of them. Later, after eating a hearty breakfast of fresh shucked oysters followed by, you guessed it, blackberries we spent the rest of the day exploring Port Cygnet.
To complete the native repast, the wench discovered a bakery with camembert and chicken pies and after hungrily wolfing one down she announced to all those who would listen that they were the BEST PIES IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD. A big call.
St Valentines Day dawned clear and sunny with light winds. Magic dropped the mooring and said goodbye to her friends in Port Cygnet we decided to head for the northern area of the D’Entrecasteaux Channel and explore fishing opportunities adjacent to Bruny Island. We anchored in Missionary Bay (for some quaint reason the locals call this Position Bay) and caught several flathead, before moving north to Barnes Bay and yet another BBQ at the BB Aquatic Club. What a great night the club put on.
As the bay was crowded with other anchored vessels and was exceptionally calm we decided to raft up with 2 others on a (3 tonne) mooring. Following the BBQ we quietly slipped away so that we could arise early to take in the scenery. At 3 am a sudden, strong south westerly change woke us. Magic was bucking and weaving against her neighbour and likely to break something. With the wench adorned in her Poo pj’s and in 30 knots of wind and rain we let go the neighbour and motored into the confusion and darkness. Boats were going everywhere. There were lights, shouting and some poor soul was still singing off the affects of the red wine.
We eventually anchored in the lee of the opposite shore after we worked out where we were. The wench was soaked and frozen and Ganghook had to administer first aid in the form of hot Milo laced with brandy before getting into bed with the patient to provide body warmth to stop the onset of hypothermia. We surveyed the damage the next morning an apart from a few scratches Magic came out of it well.
On 15 February the Magic crew motor-sailed out of the channel into the Derwent River and made our way to the Royal Yacht Club of Tasmania who were to be our hosts for the next 10 days, where a hectic round of maintenance was planned for Magic followed by a short holiday back to Perth. This cruising for a living is Tuff Stuff.
A special thanks to all of our friends in Tasmania who generously provided vehicles, accommodation, meals, and wonderful entertainment while we were there.
Recommended reading: King of the Wilderness The Life of Deny King; by Christobel Mattingley
Storm & Silence; A Portrait of the Tasman Sea, by Joe Cannon