Wednesday 7th December 

Well yes we did up anchor and move, but only a few hundred metres or so down the creek, to get a more secure anchorage.  All was well and we got up reasonably cheerily at 4.45 to start our epic journey to Bundaberg.  It was many miles through the industrial port of Gladstone.  Many miles of coal mountains slag heaps, derricks and jetties and piers, and, as promised by our helpful denizens of Pacific Creek, a whole life-sized computer game’s worth of tugs, barges, container ships, ferries, all whizzing busily up and down across.  We got out of this are before7.15, which is, so the coast guard told us, when BUSINESS starts on the water.

We did have a moment of high drama – a Man Overboard simulation.  Pete was inside, making phone calls, and I was happily steering the boat along the shipping lane.  I could see a tug coming towards us, towing a large mysterious object (less mysterious when it got closer, just another thwacking great barge.)  It was horrid on the sea – icy rain with a strong wind driving it straight into my eyes.  I picked up the nearest Tilley hat – Pete’s, oh dear – and rammed it on my head to protect my eyes while I stuck my head out around the windscreen and looked at the tug.  The wind picked up velocity and WHOOSH off blew the hat.  It disappeared swiftly into the surging sea… I called Pete and he dropped the phone and ran out on a mission to Save The Hat.  I didn’t think there was much hope, but Pete turned the boat around and went backwards and forwards until I could reach it from the back steps.  Great relief all round!  And a great recommendation, yet again, for Tilley hats – they float!

(I didn’t lose his hat but I did lose his money… Yesterday Pete’s jeans were sopping wet, as was his big thick jumper so I hung them up on the line to flap around in the wind.  Better, I thought, than having them lying around inside going all festy.  What I didn’t know was that he had $200 in his pocket…alas and alack, the notes have vanished into the wind.)

Did we get to Bundaberg, I hear you cry.  Well no…it was really difficult out there, with a big swell, relentless cold rain, and high wind, all against us.  We both got very wet and tired.  The worst thing was looking at the chart, which is what you do, when you are on the helm.  Look at the chart, look out the (wet wet wet) windscreen, look left, look right, then stick your head out into the elements to get a proper glimpse of the conditions.  The chart has lots of information – depth, time, speed, course, this and that.  It also tells you how long your planned journey is going to take… When we left Gladstone, it said: 8hrs 35 minutes.  After an hour or two battling the elements it said; 9hrs 20 minutes.  And as time went by, it kept capriciously changing its mind.  Occasionally it would say: 7hrs 48 minutes, just to make our hearts leap with hope.  (Of course, it is NOT a capricious instrument.  It changes its mind because of wind and wave and tide and current.  That is why it is so disheartening – it is telling THE TRUTH.)  So there we were, with another nine, or eight, hours to get to Bundaberg.  Gettign wetter and more tired with each passing hour.  Pete muttered away, looked at books, charts, cruising guide, and then said, “Nope.  We’re getting out of this!” 

Our destination was Seventeen Seventy, on Round Hill Creek.  Alan Lucas says:

“It is the site of Captain Cook’s first landing on what would one day become Queensland.  It now boasts a a delightful little retirement and holiday center known as Seventeen Seventy.”

This answers the question I hadn’t asked yet: Why is Seventeen Seventy??  I am very pleased to be here.  I had heard about this little town, and sailed past it last year.  Now we have been forced to take shelter here, and it is indeed, as Herr Lucas says, a delightful little town.  It is much warmer here than out at sea.  Whither the cold icy rain??  It is very windy, but quite warm and sunny.  To get there we had to lurk around Round Hill Head, bouncing up and down in an uneasy manner, until the tide had come up a bit more.  This is because there is a bar to get into the bay here.  We are prepared for bars now and have a good technique.  (Well Pete has a good technique.  I stand encouragingly near the helm and tell him when waves are about to break behind us, or across at us.  And then I say WEEHEE as we surf majestically across the bar.)

Our anchorage is very pretty but very shallow.  It is possible we will wake up in the morning high and dry.  A good opportunity, says Pete, for me to get out and scrub the hulls, which are once again covered with thick green sea-lawn.  We are probably staying here in Seventeen Seventy tomorrow.  We have heard the weather forecast…oh deary me… Gale force winds, seas of more than seven metres… We are staying in 1770!  Strangely – no internet access!  So there wil be a BlogGap but not as big as the South Pacific BlogGaps.

Oh goodness - a tiny flicker of light on my Telstra Modem thingy!!  maybe it does work after all...