Wednesday 7th December

Happy birthday to my darling mother!!

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...

Tuesday 6th December

We left Yeppoon this morning at a very civilised time – 11.00.  No other boats were out on the water, but 2XS was on a mission – go south!  We actually had a very pleasant trip, and managed to go at a respectable speed, around 8 knots.  Our other recent days we have been battling against all manner of natural elements – wind, waves, tides, currents - and have hardly got above 5 knots. 

The water was all very shallow, even way out almost out of sight of land, and it was mostly still a muddy brown colour.  We went across a patch marked on the chart where the depth sounder indicated it was barely above 1 metre below the bottom of poor vulnerable 2XS.  Pete’s eyes were very wide as we crossed this large expanse of very shallow water, but all was well, we didn’t run aground or even have a moment of scraping or panic.

Snapshot: We are anchored, as firmly as possible, in Pacific Creek, in amongst the mangroves and the shrieking cicadas.  Pete is having a well-earned XXXX Gold and I am very happily sipping a cup of tea.  All is well.

This creek is very wide and shallow and it meanders around amongst the mangroves for a long way.  Alan Lucas, the author of our current bible, Cruising the Coral Coast, says, very sternly:

“Don’t swim here.  The existence of crocodiles is beyond doubt.”

He also says this creek is a nice safe anchorage in a cyclone, but that there are sandflies and mosquitoes.  As we made our way up, we came across an old wooden boat, Huon, moored in the middle of the creek.  A very excited woman came out and waved at us so we backed up for a chat.  She and her husband live on the boat, in the middle of nowhere.  I asked how she was.  “Look where we live!” she said, ecstatically waving her arms at the muddy water and the mangroves.  “Why wouldn’t we be well?”  Her husband, a more pragmatic character, came out and gave us advice on where to anchor and what awaits us at the end of The Narrows – a lively dodgem game of barges, boats, dredges, ferries and tugs coming in and out of Gladstone.  He works on shore, and is building 30 kilometres of roads – from where to where we didn’t dare to ask… We asked about Alan Lucas’s warning and he laughed heartily.  “No crocs,” he said.  The crayfisherman moored near him has been here eight years without a sighting.  “Crocs eat fish!” he shouted.  “And…there aren’t any fish in this creek.”  Not sure why not – it all looks very fertile and pleasant, for fish and for crocodiles.  He also told us they have never seen a mosquito, which is a good thing.  “But,” he added, “The sandflies are THIS big, and that’s between the eyes!”  We were invited to envisage sandflies as big as sparrows…

We are leaving at 5am to get through The Narrows with the right sort of tide.  Maybe we wil get to Bundaberg by nightfall.

Later in the day…ie 8.45 on 6^th December…

So where are we??  Sitting in a dodgy anchorage in Graham Creek, at the other end of The Narrows.

So what happened?  Well while I was sitting contentedly at the computer, in Pacific Creek, Pete was sipping his cold beer and muttering away about tide, wind, depth, times.  Every now and then I would make a soothing humming sound indicating assent or support or outrage, whatever seemed to be the required tone.  So imagine how startled I was when he suddenly leapt to his feet and said, “Right then, you agree, we’re off!”  It was by then about 4.00pm and his idea was that we would get to The Narrows an hour or so before high tide.  The rising water would then allow us through.  This had been the plan for the following morning, but he had decided that this made Wednesday an impossibly long day, with no possibility of getting to Bundaberg in daylight.

The Narrows weren’t all that narrow, really.  But…very shallow!  We held our collective breath as we watched the depth sounder…would we get stuck?  Would we run aground, ignominiously??  Well no…we managed to get through, following the jaunty red and green markers, until we got to Graham Creek.  It was quite dark by then and we were totally bamboozled.  Bright lights here and there, the electronic chart shrieking DANGEROUS TARGET every two or three seconds, icy sleety rain and high wind which made it very difficult to have a good look beyond the windscreen.  Pete did a wonderful job steering us up the creek, but even he was beginning to sound just a wee bit high-pitched…

My job was to try to look though the sleet for flashing beacons and landmarks (I wasn’t very good at this) as well as pressing the ACKNOWLEDGE button every two or three seconds to stop the DANGEROUS TARGET shrieking thing – I excelled at this complicated task.  (The DANGEROUS TARGET shrieking thing is one of our least favourite function of Pete’s very efficient, if eccentric, electronic chart system.  It activates whenever there is a boat nearby.  Thank you, we say, yes that’s great, we know now, we have seen it and identified it.  NOW SHUT UP!!  But…it doesn’t shut up…and here is no volume control so we are stuck with it.) 

Pete got us to our anchorage, and I managed to cook a meal in the midst of The Narrows.  I peeled the veggies on deck so I could try to look for flashing beacons etc, and then I popped up and down the stairs to prod and poke and stir.  Dinner was ready more than an hour before we were actually able to stop and eat it so maybe it wasn’t QUITE as delicious as it otherwise might have been.  But…we were so tired, and so hungry, by the time we stopped that we did a sterling job tucking into it.  (Lamb and rosemary sausages from Yeppoon, mashed potatoes with lots of cheese, stir fried green beans, onions, zucchini, mushrooms. In case you were wondering…)

Now I am going to set my trusty iPhone alarm for 4am…will write again from…Bundaberg!  But…maybe not… Pete is doing that muttering thing again.  He is standing staring at the chart screen, with a whole lot of depth numbers rolling off his tongue.  Maybe we have to up anchor and move again.  Thank goodness we are FULL of food, and a lovely shared bottle of red wine…

Welcome to the world another beautiful baby girl, to our Rachel’s sister Sophie and her partner, Cameron (?) – Eleanor Mary.  I have seen a photo and she is – wonderful!  All these lovely new babies this year…I wonder if they will meet in the future and do that 6-degrees of separation thing??  For example…Matilda and Elektra and Eleanor and Jemima??  Blessings to them all…

9.30 OH NO...Pete is upping anchor...what next???

Tuesday 6^th December

So, have I found out why is Yeppoon?  Well I have discovered that it started out as a sugar and pineapple growing centre, then became a bit of a tourist mecca.  And now it is the third fastest growing area in the whole of Australia.  Not quite sure why…but lots of new shopping centres are going up, lots of suburbs springing out of the ground.  Maybe land is cheap?  It is all quite pleasant, and there is a beautiful big wide beach.  Maybe a series of beaches.  And Great Keppel Island is only a ferry trip away.  But…and this is a very big but…while the beach is nice, the water is not.  It is warm (25, so the helpful blackboard warning us NOT to swim informed us), but very shallow and therefore there are lots of choppy waves and treacherous rips.  You can only swim between some very narrowly spaced flags, in the brown-ish churning water.  Not only but also…jellyfish!  We are moored at the end of a very long arm of this nice little marina, and the sea around us is absolutely thick with jellyfish.  Jellyfish soup!  Even if they weren’t poisonous it would be very creepy, to get in there amongst them.  They are actually very pretty, in an eerie way.  Well pretty if you like pale, opaque pulsating mushrooms with a faint blue rim and far too many fat squashy translucent tentacles.

I am longing for my happy snorkel days, but actually – don’t scoff – it is quite cold.  Last night I got out of bed and hunted around for my mohair blankie… Pete and I get lots of exercise walking to and from the facilities.  We are, as I said, at the far end of the marina, on White arm.  To get to it, we have to negotiate Yellow, Green, Grey and then turn off at White.  Can you imagine how often I got lost??  I would, for example, walk along cheerily with my big bag #2 of clean, dry washing, and find myself – oops – at the end of Grey arm, looking out sadly at 2XS across an expanse of brown and white (white being the jellyfish) water.  Back I would go, to the junction of White and Grey which I had missed.  And many variations on that theme… Even when I negotiated the maze correctly, it was still nearly ten minutes to get to the facilities.  Never mind, I still love a marina!  And this is a very nice one.  Hot showers, clean washing machines, delightful helpful staff in the office, courtesy car. 

I am aware that I am writing this partly in past tense, partly in present.  This is because we are hovering, ready to go, but not quite sure when.  It is chilly and rainy with an icy little wind blowing up and down the arms of the marina.  Inviting??  Well if the wind is in the right direction, it might  well be.  We have a long way to go and not all that much time to do it.  It is possible we could get to The Narrows, aka Cattle Crossing Area.  I am looking at the pages in Cruising the Coral Coast and it is, as the name would suggest, a narrow passage of about 20 nautical miles between Curtis Island and the mainland, accessible at high tide.  So we might set off and bob about at the entrance, waiting for high tide either tonight or early tomorrow morning, and then negotiate the passage and find ourselves at Seventeen Seventy (a small town on the outskirts of Gladstone) within a day or so of Bundaberg.  Who knows??  And who knows when we will be back in internet range.

Last night we were still very tired from our few days of sailing against the wind and the sea.  We sat over G & Ts contemplating dinner.  We each offered to cook, but not with any great enthusiasm, and we both knew there was an alternative- a little restaurant near the marina facilities.  Maybe we could get something reasonable to eat there…great idea!  We rushed off through the Grey, White, Yellow, Green maze and sat at a pretty table surrounded by twinkling fairy lights in the trees.  Our lovely waitress, Wendy (an unexpectedly old-fashioned name for a cool young thing) arrived with iced water, menu, wine list.  And it was all just wonderful, a top class meal!  Worth going to Yeppoon just to go to the Waterline Restaurant!  We shared an entrée of Moreton Bay bugs, served on some sort of esoteric Spanish sausage mixture, and then had fillet steak, cooked perfectly, with a few prawns on the side, and lots of veggies, including bundles of asparagus baked in prosciutto.  And our red wine was just perfect.  (Thank you Pete!)  We went back to 2XS very happy with our fine dining in an unexpected place.

Wednesday 30^th November

We left Nara Inlet, with its calm green water, resident turtles and friendly cockatoos early this morning to get James to the airport on Hamilton Island.

We will miss him.

Heading south now, hoping to get to Goldsmith Island tonight.  I will write more next time we are within internet reach.

And…I tried to publish this tiny weeny blogpost as we cruised just out of Hamilton Island Marina and…Computer Said No.

So now we are sitting in a little bay on Goldsmith Island, way down the south of the Whitsundays.  I had a very quick dip in and out of the water – I have a fear, irrational it may be, of the sea in the evening, and in the dark.  Now it is G & T time, and dinner time, but we are absolutely full.  At lunchtime, after we had walked James to the airport (he was the very last Jetstar passenger to check in to his flight) I felt an overwhelming need for fish and chips.  We did our shopping, I sent some postcards, and then – fish and chips it was.  We ordered fishermen’s baskets and they were heroic in proportion, almost as big and wonderful and the ones Michael bought for us in Townsville.  And now we are stonkered, maybe not able to eat our (leftover Bolognese) at all.

(Postscript – we didn’t manage, we just had sakata biscuits and cheese)

We had a funny experience at the marina, where we arrived at about 10.30 (make note of this time of day if you ever want to take advantage of this particular form of Hamilton Island Marina good fortune.)  I had loads of rubbish to empty into the bins, an eagerly-awaited task.  Rubbish builds up on boats and it is always a great relief to be able to dump one’s wrappings and tins in a good solid legitimate wheelie bin.  There were some big bins alongside one of the charter boats, so I stopped and asked if they were for public use.  “Goodness yes,” said a pleasant posh-sounding man (later to be revealed as a New Zealander.)  He asked if we were on our own boat, and traveling on, and when I said yes, he asked, a bit hesitantly, if I would like their leftover food.  It would otherwise go into the aforementioned wheelie bin.  So off I went with a big bag full of olive oil, garlic cloves, balsamic vinegar, half-bags of sugar and flour.  When I came back, my new BFF was waiting with his wife with: a quiche, some chicken schnitzels, some boxes of cereal, some ham… They followed me back to 2XS a few minutes later with more goodies.  Pete and James, still on the boat, were fascinated and slightly appalled. 

So off I set again.  A young bloke was taking photos on the end of the pier.  He asked if we were on our own boat, and when I said yes, he asked if we would like some leftover food… well heydiho YES please!  He led me to a very swish-looking chartered catamaran, aptly named Serendipity, and started loading my arms with even more luxurious goodies.  I looked out the window and saw Pete walk past and called him on board.  He looked a bit dubious but when the blokes on board asked if he wanted their leftover beer his reticence vanished.  They filled a polystyrene eski with cans of lemonade, food from the fridge, this and that.  I set off to have my shower and postcard purchase time, and Pete went back to 2XS.  He did THREE more trips back and forth because every time he walked past Serendipity he was plied with more goodies.  And when we got back to the boat, after walking James to the airport, we found a bottle of Sacred Hill Shiraz Merlot on the outdoor table as well.

We certainly scored!  The New Zealand people told me that in Europe, at yacht clubs, there are co-ops where you can leave your leftover half-used packet of sugar or whatever, for the next people to take on board.  But here – it all goes in the bin.  So these two boatloads of departing people were more than thrilled to be able to give us their soy sauce etc.  I spent a very happy half hour unpacking and consolidating, pouring this into that, and discarding the packaging into the next available wheelie bin.

And yes we still did have to go shopping.  Our new BFFs didn’t give us: toilet paper, Jif, Cruskits/Ryvita, tins of tuna, tonic water, lemons, potatoes. 

And…oh how amazing – Pete bought a new Precioussss!  A lovely new dark blue snorkel, with matching mask, to replace the ever-leaking, ever-disappointing Pink Preciousss.

James and I have been fascinated by boat names.  Jaw Crusher – yucko, why?  Sushi Maker – ditto.  Spank Me – oh so Playboy Mansion.  Seabear – great name.  But today we came across the best name of all – I want Pete to change 2XS to this: For Pete’s Sake.  We also found one called Life of Brian but none of us is called Brian so maybe…not appropriate.

Tonight we are having An Early Night. Pete is a bit bewildered – why is he so tired?  “We didn’t have a late night, did we??”  Well… I stayed up till nearly midnight.  We played Oh Hell and I won, with the most amazing score – we have taped it to the wall, near our Family Photos and Rachel’s origami 2XS:

James – Minus 21

Pete: Minus 23

Me: Minus 8.

A glorious victory I don’t think!  And then I went to bed to read a few pages…Snoozyland beckoned… I could hear, through my snoozing,  rumbles of conversation, bursts of laughter, serious tones.  And eventually Pete came to bed and James went to his cabin – 2AM.  Not a late night??  I got up early and crept around boiling the kettle very quietly.  I woke Pete at 8.00 because i knew we needed to get to Hamilton Island and thought maybe he wouldn’t like me to glide 2XS out of Nara Inlet without him at the helm.  As for our darling James – well he missed out on chocolate pancakes, and he missed out of gliding out of Nara Inlet and into Hamilton Island Marina!  He appeared, slightly bemused, at 10.30 to witness the Food Acquisition Tango.

Friday 2^nd December

Happy Birthday Brother Pete in Hobart, and tomorrow Andrea, his beautiful wife.  Last year I excelled myself by sending her a very lovely birthday message two days early…this year maybe I won’t be able to send either them anything; Computer Says No, we are in a remote and inaccessible bit of the world again.

We are both very tired.  Fortunately we got to this anchorage, on Hunter Island, part of the Duke Island group, somewhere off the mainland coast, south of the Whitsundays, (21 degrees latitude, 150 longitude, if you want to place us accurately), at 2.30, so we can have a relaxing afternoon.  I am going to cook fried rice with prawns and lots of fresh vegetables and without the boat rocking wildly beneath my feet – a big treat!

Yesterday we left at Goldsmith Island mid-morning, quite confident that we would get to Digby Island in good time, to get a nice safe anchorage.  We underestimated…the wind and the sea were against us and we ended up having to take shelter in a little stony bay on Prudhoe Island.  This was not a recommended anchorage on any of our charts or in any of our cruising books.  So we stayed up all night, taking shifts of two hours, to sit and watch that the anchor didn’t uproot itself from its stony ground and leave us to be washed up onto a very rocky and inhospitable looking shore.  Our fears were needless, as it turned out, and the anchor held nobly all night long.  I quite enjoyed sitting up because, miraculously we were able to get Local ABC Radio Queensland and I was able to listen to Tony Delroi for the first time for many many months.  I thoroughly enjoyed the quiz in particular, and now I know all five countries which border land-locked Laos: Thailand, Burma, Vietnam, Cambodia, China.  (I got all of them except Burma, as did several of the hapless contestants.)

We had our leftover Bolognese for dinner, and it was very nice, especially in contrast to our extremely nasty lunch.  In amongst our gifts from departing yachties was a big bag of frozen chiko rolls.  Waste not want not…I fried up a batch of them in some not-very-nice PNG vegetable oil (wasn’t going to waste our lovely olive oil on chiko rolls…)  This was the most unhealthy meal we had eaten for ages, even nastier than the fried rice I made with tinned corned beef in the Solomons.  The rest of the packet went into the sea to feed some fish, which will, I think, be very surprised with the taste sensation.

This morning we got up at 4am – well we were already up, in fact – and set off once again into the wind and the choppy sea.  Very hard going.  We hardly managed to go more than 5 knots, so it was slow and unpleasant traveling.  But here we are, in a perfectly nice anchorage near a sandy beach so all is well!

Saturday 3^rd December

We left our perfectly nice anchorage, which was, in fact, a bit rolly-polly overnight and set off hopefully for a destination further south.  Island Head Creek was only 35 nautical miles away – easy-peasy!  We could surely get here by lunchtime.

Well we did get there – by nightfall… It took over ten hours of heroic battling through stormy seas.  The wind blew, up to 35 knots, and the sea was BIG – 3-4 metres, unrelenting.  We took turns at the helm and steered our way up and over the waves to prevent too much crashing.  (The autopilot would have led us to Island Head Creek, but we would have had much more wear and tear on everything, boat included.)  2XS was wonderful; neither of us felt in the least alarmed, although we did get very tired.  This cheery little boat just kept on going, up and down, over and never under the waves.  The sea was beautiful, a pale jade green, and occasionally we would get a sudden rainbow dropping down briefly onto the deck.

Our only scary moment was when we FINALLY got to the mouth of Island Head Creek.  Pete steered us around the eponymous island and into the “creek,” which is, in fact, a big wide shallow river, lined with mangroves.  We were both anxiously gazing at a stony little outcrop on our right when we looked to our left and saw – an enormous breaking wave bearing down on us sideways.  EEK!  Pete uttered a few startled expletives and pulled the engines grindingly into reverse.  This had the effect of stopping the boat dead in its tracks and the wave slipped past us with no effect at all.  I’m glad he was at the helm; I would have just stared at the wave in horror, which would have been no help whatsoever.

Once we were safely in the creek, we thought we were home and hosed.  Pete pointed out to me a large sea eagle, majestically welcoming is to its habitat, and I started thinking very seriously about a lovely hot shower and a lovely cold G & T.  We were both exhausted, and salty.  I had more salt encrustation than Pete because, when it was my turn at the helm, I kept peering out around the windscreen, which was – no surprise – both salt-encrusted and wet, so visibility was very poor.  And every single time I stuck my head out to have a quick look, a big rush of spray would hit me right in the moosh.

The first and second anchorages in the creek were no use to us at all – much too shallow, with the SE wind blowing ferociously right at the boat.  Our usually infallible Cruising the Coral Coast book said the best anchorage was at the head of the bay.  Well that couldn’t be too far away, could it?  Well it could – it took another half an hour to get there, down a long and lonely expanse of darkening water.  I was so tired I didn’t even look for crocodiles with any real enthusiasm.  Just as the light was fading completely, we came around a bend in the river and found – five yachts peacefully anchored!  We were so astonished we perked up and anchored right amongst them.  We hadn’t seen a boat for days, except for one battered-looking monohull limping off looking for shelter a bit before Island Head Creek.  And suddenly there we were, surrounded by yachts. 

We dropped anchor and I rushed for the shower, which didn’t manage to cough up any hot water for me at all.  I didn’t mind, all I wanted was to remove the layers of salt and grime so I could lie on the couch with my icy G & T.  Pete did manage to get hot water for his shower, which he richly deserved, because while I say we took turns at the helm, I only did about a third of the work, if that.

The weather forecast is ghastly – strong winds, in the wrong direction, so we are going to stay here.  It is lovely.  We are anchored in the midst of the mangroves, cicadas are chirping, the other boats are bobbing around gently.  The only thing is…NO SWIMMING.  And no phone or internet. 

Monday 5^th December

Well as it turned out, we didn’t stay at crocodile-y Island Head Creek.  At lunchtime, Pete listened to a weather forecast or two, rang the coastguard, and said, “Right!  We’re off!”  We had a very comfortable trip, lots of big waves but not as ferocious as the day before, and now here we are, so surprising, at a dear little marina in Yeppoon!  I have had a shower and am about to do a vast load of washing, then we will explore Yeppoon in the courtesy car provided by the marina – we have never had such a treat before, what fun!  I will be able to answer the burning question, “Why is Yeppoon?” when I get back.

Saturday 26^th November

We didn’t get to Whitehaven Beach – the wind is the wrong direction.  Nor did we power off to Bait Reef today, to go diving.  James is still unwell, with hideous stomach cramps.  His blinding headache has receded, so has his high temperature, so he is much happier.  But still not ready to have a 4 hour trip across the ocean to the Barrier Reef.  We are staying, very happily, in Waite Bay.

Sunday 27^th November

James was much better so we had a very nice time at our next destination – beautiful Cateran Bay.  Lovely snorkeling.

Monday 28^th November

Whitehaven Beach for lunch.  Lots of boats there, lots of tourists, all frolicking on the white sand.  James and I swam in to shore and walked along to the end of the beach to snorkel along the rocks.  Last year there had been lots of coral…this year, nothing… Cyclone Yasi, I reckon, has taken its toll.  James is very sunburnt.  Especially his feet, which are bright red and make me wince just to look at them… I knew he had socks tucked into his flippers, to protect his poor red feet from harsh plastic flippers.  He was slathered in sunblock (too late, she cried…) and I suggested he might like to put his socks on as we walked along the beach.  “No,” was the terse reply.  “I am already looking enough of a nerd, carrying my mask and flippers, with my bright white legs and bright red face, hair and feet.  We are about to walk through a bevy of bikini clad hot chicky babes.  I am NOT wearing my socks!”  Fair enough…

It wasn’t very far to go to Manta Ray Bay, on the top of Hook Island.  We were very lucky to get a mooring – a big dive boat was just leaving.  None of us had been there before and it was just wonderful.  As soon as we tied up to our mooring – the James and Marguerite team has this down to a fine art – we were surrounded by fish.  Jaunty little silver and blue fish with yellow tails, so thrilled to see us.  Hmmm…I strongly suspect that the dive boat people feed the fish, to impress the customers.  And we were impressed!  In amongst the myriad blue and yellow fish were big grey shapes – oh the thrill, what could they be!  James and I peered intently though the galley ahtch and saw some very big fish, large and rounded in shape – not sharklike at all. 

Weehee!  There were dozens of divers and snorkelers in the water around us, with other dive boats, so we didn’t really think the big fish could be menacing.  They certainly didn’t look scary.  And they weren’t!  Our biggest, best fish, named Alfred by James, was about as big as I am, if not the same shape – well I certainly hope I’m not the same shape as a Humphead Maori Wrasse (my Mary Who Bookshop Field Guide to Marine Fishes of Tropical Australia and South-East Asia comes to the fore!)  He was just gorgeous, a real Disney character of a fish, swimming ponderously around us, turning on his side to get a better view.  His body was a beautiful pale lemon yellow, with cross-hatching in delicate pale brown, and his face was bright blue.  Big bright blue lips, golden bulging stripey eyes – my Field Guide says the stripey eyes indicate a juvenile fish.  A very big juvenile fish!  James and I were entranced by him.  A few other very big fish came up to be admired, giant trevalley, adult and juvenile, but they didn’t hold as much charm as our darling Alfred.

We eventually wrenched ourselves away from the boat and swam around the little bay, which was full of gorgeous coral and big schools of fish.  Happy days!

Now James is better and doesn’t have to be put to bed full of medication and with a cold wet facewasher clamped to his forehead, we have been having Oh Hell tournaments every night.  Once again I am playing extremely well, with great skill but…I have only won one game.  In fact I have had almost record low scores…

Tuesday 29^th November

Snapshot:  We are moored in beautiful Blue Pearl Bay, at the top of Hayman Island.  James and Pete are staring intently at the computer, willing the internet connection to stay, well, connected, for long enough for them to put some accommodation up on the Stayz website.  They both look very hot and bothered.  I, on the other hand, am cool and happy because I have just had a big long swim and have gazed, yet again, at the fish and coral in this dear little bay.

I haven’t told you about Pete and his Precious.  A few days ago, I think in Waite Bay, Pete and I decided to have a go with the power snorkel.  I have probably said, many times, that I NEVER want to dive.  Not with tanks, not with the power snorkel, not with anything.  Goodness knows how/why I ever did my diving course, let alone completed it and passed the tests; I am SO reluctant to go below the surface.  I am always ready to snorkel, no matter the conditions, but diving fills me with dread.  Once I am in the water, mind you, I love it, and I am always thrilled to bits with the experience. 

So there we were, having a test dive down the anchor chain, with me steeling myself and Pete absolutely gung-ho.  I went down first, quite swiftly and competently, unblocking my ears very efficiently and breathing slowly in and out all the way down.  Success!  But once I was down there – oh dread – I couldn’t breathe.  No air coming through.  No panic; I was only about ten meters down and could just go straight back up.  Which I did, speedily.  Pete followed promptly, spluttering and saying, cheerfully “Oh Gawd, we were down too deep for both of us to get air!”  Indeed… Suddenly and unexpectedly the trusty little dive compressor…conked out!  We looked at each other in astonishment and some slight alarm – this would NOT have been fun had we been deep down under the water…how fortunate we were on the surface!  (The battery terminal had come unplugged; it was a bit dodgy and bodgy, had been McGuivered by Pete and Andrew in Port Vila.)  At almost the same moment, Pete’s snorkel detached itself from his mask and slid, silently, to the bottom of the sea…He was not a happy camper.

At one stage we had more snorkels than we would ever have needed.  I had my own good one, and had bought another (pink) snorkeling set in Lord Howe Island.  Steve Mason had left his (yellow) Lord Howe set on board for us.  And we had various other spares in the locker.  My pink snorkel never worked.  The first time I went swimming with it jauntily attached to my mask – all this new pink stuff was making me very happy – I got a mouthful of water at first breath.  Since then it has sat in the locker for many months.  Every now and then somebody unearths it and says, “What a lovely new snorkel!  I think I’ll try it out!”  Mouthful of water at first breath…it gets returned to the locker.  I should have thrown it out in June!  Because…now it is Pete’s Precious!  Ever since he lost his (sorry Steve; it was yours…) he has been on a mission to Fix The Pink Snorkel.  James and I disappear for hours, happily snorking around.  He is using a horrible ancient blue and brown snorkel with a split end (I don’t think it is meant to be brown…) and I am using my very own Precious, which has served me very well ever since my Southern Divers open water diving course.  We arrive back on 2XS to find Pete muttering darkly and cradling Precious in his hands.  He has applied many layers of glue and tape to it, and every time we test it, his face is alight with joy – Precious will work this time!  And every time the hapless tester puts her head in the water – snuffle cough, mouthful of sea.  We will be back in Hamilton Island, the World of Shops, tomorrow, and I will buy Pete, and Steve, a shiny new snorkel.  But I know Pete will keep muttering and gluing and taping Pink Precious unless I manage to chuck it out while his back is turned…

Friday 25^th November

We had a lovely afternoon and evening.  Lots of chat, catching up, laughter.  He and I had a lovely swim and saw some beautiful coral and big colourful fish scampering about.

And then this morning he woke up VERY sick.  Vomiting etc all night, and today he has spent most of the day lying on various couches and benches, trying to get out of the sun, with a violent, splitting headache.  I have plied him with strong painkillers - over the counter stuff available in good old Vanuatu.  This is making him sleep but he is still not well at all.

Snapshot: It is G & T time.  Pete is lying, drink-less, on one side of the couch, dozing intermittently, reading Peter Temple.  He too has a headache and has allowed me to give him Aspro Clear – he’s not up for the stronger Vanuatu stuff.  James is fast asleep, with a look of pain and misery, at the other end of the couch.  I am the only one with G & T…the only one with no headache.  (I have taken photos, on my iphone, of both of my snoozing male companions…)  We are anchored in a beautiful place, Waite Bay, I think, near Haselwood Island.  The sun is setting over the picturesque islands nestled around the bay; the tide is out and the sea is splashing over the reef.  Turtles occasionally swim by and raise their lovely, lazy heads to look at us.

This place is recommended, in our ever-reliable 100 Magic Miles book, as one of the best diving and snorkeling places in the Whitsundays.  Pete and I went straight in when we arrived at 3.00.  We saw some beautiful coral, some very lively fish, all squabbling away in a territorial manner.  Best of all we saw some very big clams.  Not our favourite colourful frilly ones.  These were big rounded shells, with pale interiors.  Pete thought they were dead but when I passed my flipper close by they – well, they clammed up!  (Not good to make comparisons…but I think the majority of the tropical fish in the world have migrated to the Solomons and to the Louisiades…)

The air is clear and we can see the outline of the islands very clearly.  This is wonderful, after many hazy days in Northern Queensland.

We had a few moments when phone reception was suddenly available.  I had a phone call from Lindy and John, in Townsville.  They said their son (my nephew) David had just got back from army exercises in Brisbane – the same exercises from which Michael was able to escape early, due to pressing domestic necessity ie a visit from his mother, Pete, and the very desirable 2XS…

David, after greeting his family, went for a relaxing swim in his backyard pool.  He was lolling about in the shallow end when he felt a strange sensation…over his shoulder was slithering – a large brown snake, going for his own refreshing relaxing swim in the pool.  See what I mean about Northern Queensland?  Pretty as can be, a hot tropical climate, a hot tropical lifestyle but…you can’t swim in the sea – crocs, stingers.  You can’t swim in the rivers – crocs, snakes.  And you can’t even swim in your own pool – brown snakes!  Brown snakes are a nasty combination of venomous and aggressive.  At least our own Tasmanian snakes: three species (whip, copperhead, tiger), while extremely venomous, also have the grace to be shy and retiring and not in the least aggressive!

In the late afternoon we saw a stranger creature speeding through the water near the boat.  A triangular white shape with a black tip – maybe a cormorant head?  A small speedy turtle?  The tip of a manta ray wing??  But no.  Pete (Attenborough) Headlam identified it on it second tour of the boat -a small and graceful black-tipped reef shark, out for a bit of an evening hunt amongst the quarrelsome fish of the nearby reef.

I am very much enjoying my Twitter moments- thank you Rachel!  And a few days ago, I had such a coincidental Twitter-inspired moment… (Possibly as a preface I have to say that most of the stuff that happens in the galley is – well it is performed by me.  Pete does all the weary–down-in-the-bilges stuff.  Fixing the engines, making sure we don’t sail into cyclones, McGuivering everything which breaks.  And I make food and drinks.  Not the G & Ts, but most other things.)

So.  I was reading a tweet which said that someone (ie some woman…I can forward you the article…) has discovered What Women Really Want.  And…What Women Really Want, you may possibly not be amazed to hear, is...a cup of tea.  The offer of a cup of tea, at times when she is tired, frazzled, stressed, or just idle.  I can’t quote, because we are, as usual. out of internet range, but as far as I can recall the writer said, slightly bitterly, “The thing is, he doesn’t even have to MAKE the stinkin' tea!  He just has to offer, and his woman will fall to the ground with gratitude and love.”  A cup of tea symbolises so much – comfort, support, concern, sympathy.  She wrote about a young woman who had a terrible bout of flu.  Her partner of a few years, grudgingly, asked if she wanted a cup of tea.  “Yes, yes,” she replied, faintly, from the couch.  “How lovely!”  He rattled around in the kitchen and shouted, “So, where are the teabags?  Do you want milk?  Sugar?”  She ended the relationship then and there…much to the MALE partner’s astonishment.  (I might copy this article, when I am back in cyberworld, and paste it into my blog…I think many of my readers will identify, most whole-heartedly.)

To continue…I was sitting at the table, having just scrubbed the deck or whatever watery task I felt needed to be completed, and was idly contemplating my computer, and the Twitter-introduced article on What Women Want.  Pete drifted by and said…MAGIC WORDS!!  “Would you like a cup of tea?”  Blink.  Blink.  I gazed at him and said, “Are you psychic?  Would you like me to read you an article on…What Women Want??  And YES please I would love a cup of tea”

And yes…he was VERY pleased with himself…