Message in a Bottle - Old Sydney Town to Boags January 2005

Magic on the East Coast

Ed: The New Beginning (year) is now somewhat longer in the tooth than we intended. Apologies.

A little ship rolled out of the mist, her white hull barely visible in the swirling vapours, the water is churned up by passing ferries and other craft, the mast is swaying as the beginning of New Year is born. Magic in the metropolitan wild anchored in Farm Cove. The view is magnificent, the still sleeping city of Sydney, with the lights constantly changing from red to amber to green, the omni present Opera House and the climbers on the Harbour Bridge just starting to breath the fumes of the early morning traffic as vehicles of all types hurry their way so their occupants can start the working day. The Manly Ferry chugs up the harbour waters transporting more reluctant workers to their respective city bound occupation spaces. All the while the Captain is back from the short version (Syd to Eden) of the Hobart race, and the wench is overjoyed. The year has a whole lot more in store for the crew on board Magic.
With the rugged 2004 Sydney to Hobart rapidly fading into the distant memory of many a sailor, the sulphur smell of fireworks too is drifting into the far away corner of our memory. The crew regroup and are ready to take to the challenge of the Tasman Sea and Bass Strait or The Paddock as the locals call it.
It’s the 13th January 2005 and the little convoy of Magic and Taipan throw off the mooring lines holding us to the city and the CYC marina at Rushcutters Bay. Our flotilla is bound for the terrors of the Bass Strait – is it really that treacherous? The sun is high and the spirits are fulsome; some might say a little too robust. Much merriment has been had; we’re on our way yet again.
Sketch plans for more lockers and cupboards (for shoes, I hear you ask) have been drawn up and forwarded onto a well respected carpenter in Tasmania, to accommodate the products of shopping frenzies in Ol Sydney Town. In addition, a special trip is planned to transport unwanted cargo to Perth in March.
Port Hacking is first stop for the crew. A quick grounding on the sand bar to re-familiarise the crew with Magic’s capabilities when the locals living adjacent to Barraneer Point moved the starboard marker and then into the anchorage to enjoy the many splendours of Gunnamatta Bay. Both crews gather on Magic to devour a feast of a roast lamb and chat about the days events before bedding down for the night.
An early start and away we go, gently nudging our way over the sandbar amongst the pelicans and the scatterings of small fishing dinghies, the lure is thrown overboard and the trawling begins. A ninety mile passage lays at our bow, the sails are set, the orders are issued, what more can be done; a good book is calling. We sailed into the wee hours of the morning and dropped anchor behind Snapper Island catch some zzzzzz, (which was all we caught, there is a serious lack of fish on the NSW coast).
With the morning light comes the opportunity to cross yet another river bar and negotiate under the lifting span bridge guarding the entry to the Clyde River. Alas, the wench makes a bad call and Magic bites the dust, ( bogged would be a better turn of phrase). After much under the breath muttering we were afloat again and retreating to the safer depths to wait for the high tide before attempting the bar at Batemans Bay again. Three hours later and a chat with a couple of the local fishing boats we are over the shallows of the bar and heading under the raised bridge to explore then shores of the Clyde River and Batemans Bay.

16th January 2005
The river passage is well marked and a pleasant motor-sail to the historic village of Nelligen with the crew from Taipan onboard. Nelligen was the ferry crossing for the Princes Highway till the early 60’s and the starting point for at least one gold rush.
We returned to the port and did a little run round the bay as well as a walk to the top of the nearby hill and around the foreshore. Farmed oysters are plentiful here but nothing on the rocks to speak of. Headed for Eden on a rising barometer. A strong Nor’easter blew us into anchor in Snug Cove as we awaited the passing of a southerly change before venturing into Bass Strait. We visited the museum to see and read about old Tom the killer whale with attitude and a liking of Humpback tongues and lips. We visited the site of Boyd Town and enjoyed an inadvertent swim in the dinghy as we landed. What a vision Boyd had with his grandiose scheme to develop whaling and his poor commercial attitude. The remains of the church built at he back of Boyd Town is magnificent and urgently needs protection from the elements if it is to remain a significant site. At last the weather forecast is suitable for crossing the paddock and we head for Gabo Island and the open sea.
21st January 2005
Magic slowly heads out into the wild blue yonder only the winds are calm and her motor is labouring, the propeller is not coping and a slow 2.5 knots is all she will do. However, never fear Ganghook to the rescue, with a single bound he disappears over the stern into a pool as black as night with tools in hand and snorkel in mouth he bravely battles the slapping stern as Magic rolls about the Bass Strait the wench keeps a vigilant look out for “SHARKS”. Yes we are 4 miles offshore and the bravery factor is enormous, is Tasmania really ready for such a super hero? Try as he may, the motor still labours, the crew turn back to Boyd Town for yet another night.
A meal, a sleep a lot of discussion and we are off again, this time 4.5 knot over the ground and we are away. Watch out Tassie. For 2 days and 2 very long nights we motor with an after guard of seals. The Wench has begun to doubt the adventures of the brave sailors who have gone before her across the so called treacherous Bass Strait one is beginning to think it’s a boy’s club, full of tales of terror to keep the women home and the food coming. Hmmmmm!
Books are read, the fishing is very poor, and the excitement it beginning to build as the promise of wind is on its way. At 1am the captain is below enjoying his slumber when suddenly away she goes, wind glorious wind, the sails are hoisted and the wench is putting Magic through her paces, a new day is born land is not far beyond the horizon.
1600 hours, 25th January 2005
“Land Ahoy” was the cry, Cheese the trusty ships rat has emerged from scrubbing the bilges and makes the call, “all hands on deck”, the home of the Scallop Pie is only a Boags away.