It is the last day of our trip…Sunday the 15^th of April.  We have left Recherche Bay and are making good way up the Channel – should be in Lindisfarne around 3pm.  This time tomorrow I will be sitting at my desk… hard to believe.  Below are the blogposts I wrote on Thursday and Friday, when we were out of range.  Will do some more later.

Thursday 12^th April

Tonight we are anchored in a nice little bay just outside Bathurst Harbour.  The wind is howling in the trees and we could see, as we came toward our destination, that there were gusts of 35 knots or more.  But…here we sit, rocking gently, our tummies full of very nice food – nothing more comforting than a big plate of hot food on a cold autumn evening.

Last night we anchored in Clayton’s Corner, which is within the Harbour.  Right next to us was – a yacht!  Giebateau, from Holland.  I have put exclamation marks because this is such a remote part of the world, and this harbour is so very VERY big.

This morning we walked up to the bushwalkers hut, and found Paul and Caroline in there, having a bit of R & R away from Giebteau.  Very nice people, and full of information about sailing the oceans blue.  They have been sailing for six years – they worked hard, saved money, then sold everything so they could realise their dream and just sail way.  Not sure how old they are; quite a lot younger than Pete and me…(No children.)  They have had amazing adventures on their beautiful yacht – all the way up to the Arctic Circle, down to the Antarctic, around Cape Horn, around the Cape of Good Hope.

Caroline said, sadly, that they could no longer live in Holland.  It is all so very dangerous. Kids used to fight, when Paul and Caroline were schoolchildren, but in those days they would just punch each other a bit, maybe score a bleeding nose or two, then become friends again.  Now, she said, sighing deeply, the combatants have KNIVES.  And GUNS.  She said she really didn’t mind the huge influx of refugees from war-torn countries, and in fact was glad, at first, to welcome them.  What she, and Paul, find difficult is that a big majority of the newcomers don’t want to learn Dutch, don’t want to obey the law, want a separate education system.

All a bit too sad, too discouraging.

Our trip down from Pilot’s Bay yesterday was great.  It was very cold and those of us who weren’t wearing thermal underwear suffered more than…well, more than I did… We got out through Hells Gates in the dark, with no difficulty at all.  Thank goodness!  I can’t imagine how ghastly it would be in high wind and big ocean swell!

We were accompanied nearly all the way by four large albatross, wheeling gracefully around the boat.  At one stage Pete was having a snooze on the couch while I sat, a bit dopily (we got up at 4.30…) at the helm.  I suddenly saw, in between the 3 metre high waves,a black object – OH NO!  A rock!  Danger danger!  Then the rock stuck its head up again to look at me – a darling seal, not a dangerous rock!

The wind and the waves were with us all the way down to Port Davey, and we were able to continue up to Bathurst Harbour with a reasonable amount of daylight.  It is so very beautiful here.  Clayton’s Corner was a very nice, safe anchorage, and there was even a nice solid jetty where we could tie up the tender when we went for our walk up to the hut.  We ate our leftover chicken curry, then, with hardly any discussion, went off to our cosy bunk a bit before 8… Pete read about two and a half pages and then starting a session of gentle, rhythmic snoring.  I read a bit longer but soon was in Sleepyboboland as well.  It is so tiring, being at sea – not sure why…there is a lot of sitting and quite a lot of lying-on-the-couch… So did we wake up bright and early after such a long sleep time?  Well, no…

We took the tender up a bit further and went for a walks around Melaleuca at midday.  It was overcast and cold but I was very happy to see Deny King’s fabled house, and to experience the quietness, remoteness and sheer beauty of this part of the world.  We spent a bit of time in a birdwatching hide, all very comfy but…not a single bird flew by.  As we were walking back to the tender, we saw a beautiful little green parrot.  Pete thought it was a ground parrot; I thought it was an orange-bellied one.  My main reason was that I thought ground parrots couldn’t fly – why, after all, are they called GROUND parrots?  Well I looked in my bird book and Pete was right – ground parrots are terrestrial but they do flutter and fly when alarmed by large clomping human feet.  And, so wonderful, there have been a few sea eagles, flying overhead to welcome us.

Just a few more easy steps around the coastline until we arrive in Hobart…

Friday 13^th April

No Friday 13^th is not a sad or inauspicious day on 2XS.

We are safely anchored in New Harbour, right on schedule.  We left Schooners Cove at a civilised hour – two cups of tea at the beginning of the day improved me enormously.

And then the trip to Muttonbird Island was breathtaking.  Such a wild, rugged coastline.  And here we are, in the Southern Ocean, which is just as one would expect – a huge, rolling sea, silvery grey, rolling and tumbling towards the land.  On one side, great cliffs, clefts, caves, mountains rising straight from the sea.  And on the other side – the wide, wild expanse of the ocean.  Absolutely captivating. 

Pete left me guarding the boat at Muttonbird Island.  We were anchored in amongst a giant kelp forest and someone needed to keep a sharp watch for rugged rocks and anchor drifting.  As well as these reasons for me to stay aboard 2XS – my unspoken abhorrence for Pete’s trip ashore…(Well I might have said something negative – ahem – once…)  He was off to slaughter some muttonbirds.  I love these birds, and have reveled in being able to see huge rafts of them bobbing on the water, or flying off across the sea.  Pete loves them too, but he, nonetheless, wants to eat them.  (He has a licence, for putting out the net, and also for watching muttonbirds, so he is not breaking the law, in case you are wondering…)

So I sat on the deck, watching to see if we were about to crash into the steep, rocky cliffs, or the jagged reefs close by.  I made a cup of coffee and read my book but with minimal concentration – what would I need to do, if Pete didn’t return??  Other than weep and wail??  2XS is too large to drive into the narrow inlet where Pete had gone with the tender.  And the water is too wild for swimming on a rescue mission, towing a lifesaver buoy between my teeth.  Fortunately…he returned, with the little dinghy bobbing about, at times totally vanishing between the big waves.  I was VERY happy and relieved.

It took another hour or so to get to New Harbour, where we are presently anchored.  I enjoyed this bit of the coast.  Not just enjoyed, I LOVED it.  Maybe not so much fun for Pete, who had to steer 2XS through a wild, high sea, with winds up to 60 knots…We were surrounded by beautiful scenery and magical seabirds – gannets, gulls, albatross.  And some lovely little birds which Pete had christended CrazyBirds.  They would dive, swoop and then tumble across the waves.  TrickyBirds!  I found them in my bird book – storm petrels.  Along the top of the cliffs we saw about four sea eagles as well, all of them being pursued and harassed by smaller birds – forest ravens, and I’m not sure what else.  The poor eagles don’t get a moments peace from their tormentors.

Tomorrow – Recherche Bay; nearly home!!