Sadly, Toby was unable to make the sail to Cocos due to a family member being
ill. I set a new date of departure from Carnarvon for Wednesday June
23. The weather forecast was for southerly to south easterly winds up
to 20 knots for the next 5 days in the Shark Bay area. I cleared
Customs the day before, had to smile when filling in the departure card
and writing “Sadiqi’ for the name of the ship I was departing mainland
Australia on.
When the boat started to heel with the freshening breeze I noticed she
appeared to be taking in water in the head. A bit of a concern nearly
40 miles out from Carnarvon! After further investigation, tasting the
water to make sure it was not fresh and sticking my head into very
small cupboards I decided the boat was not sinking. While in Carnarvon
I had, accidentally, left the seacock open to the head, a fair amount
of water had spilled onto the floor and obviously disappeared into some
floor space that did not drain into the bilge. The flow of water dried
up after a time. Something to be investigated further when I get to the
Cocos Islands.
After having had my head in small, confined places I was not feeling
the best and had to spend a good deal of time on the helm to still the
stomach. The deteriorating weather did not help – winds up to 30 knots
and rain squalls again.
The next day the winds were still 20 knots plus with rain squalls and I
was still not feeling the best. I had to sit outside in the cockpit
while eating to either let the meal settle or feed the fish. By Friday
my stomach had settled and the weather had improved. The boat was
rolling along at around 5 knots in big swells with winds 15 to 20 knots
from the south east. One of the problems with sailing down wind is the
boat roles from side to side. Before the next rain squall came through
and I reefed (furled) both the main and the jib.
By Saturday I needed a good meal, decided on beef curry. If the fish
were going to get it then they were in for a surprise. Fortunately the
fish did not get a feed and I felt very much better after a good meal.
The winds had not abated (20-30 knots) and I only had the jib up and
that was partially furled. Watching the shearwater seabirds swoop and
soar down the wave troughs and up the crests with hardly the flap of a
wing was amazing. I’m sure they were doing it for the hell of it and
because they could. Having flown hang gliders for 7 years, reaching
heights of 10,000 feet and distances of 100 kilometres I was in awe of
the seabirds flying agility and skills. These birds were still doing
there thing over 600 miles from shore. I observed a Partial Luna
eclipse something I would probably have been oblivious to had I been in
the city.
I was trying to travel 100 nautical miles per day. This is a
conservative average speed of 4 knots. Pushing the boat any harder is
highly likely to cause breakages and the motion is uncomfortable for
both boat and me.
The winds were fairly strong through Sunday ranging between 18 and 25
knots. I had been led to believe that the South East Trade Winds
usually blew at around 15 knots for the time of the year. At 3am we
experienced our first broach, that is the boat and I. This is where the
boat starts to surf down an unusually large wave and wipes out – well
not quite. A four and half tonne surfboard (Sadiqi) trying to hang-ten
on a huge wave does not bear thinking about. Smithy the windpilot just
could not deal with the forces. When the boat picks up speed the
corrections will, more than likely, make the boat round up toward the
wind, this then leaves the boat sideways on the wave and wind –
otherwise know as a knock down. The other thing that happens in a
broach, the boat rolls say more than 40 degrees, is that things happily
sitting on shelves on one side of the boat rapidly move to the other
side of the boat in an untidy and possible painful fashion. This broach
ripped the port lee-sheet (weather cloth) and bent the stanchion onto
which it was attached. I lashed the remains of the lee-sheet and tidied
up the cabin as best I could.
Sleep - I try to get as much sleep as I can usually during the day.
Sometimes that just means lying in the bunk tucked in with lee cloths
and resting. I get to listen to all the creaks, groans, taps, rattles,
splashing and wind howling in the rigging etc. The worst is when
something falls over and rolls from one side of a locker or floor to
the other. Every couple of days or so the pullies attaching the lines
from Smithy to the tiller start to squeak. This is not a bad noise as I
know that Smithy is happy and working. I think if there was any one
thing that got me on this trip it was the rolling from side to side
while sailing down wind with just the jib up. The sleeping bunks are
narrow and the lee-cloths hold a person in place up to a point.
However, the body is constantly bracing against the rolls – exercising
while sleeping.
Eating - Again, sailing down wind over a long period of time (over a
week) the rolling motion presents a challenge to the cook. One needs to
be an octopus when working in the galley. Anything that can roll (eggs,
onions, potatoes etc.) will roll and anything that can slide will. And
you have to hold on and keep your balance as the boat is rolling
around. When cooking on the stove great care has to taken that you are
going to get to eat the food as opposed to wearing it.
Bathing - No hot and cold running water for a shower– this is probably
the easiest bit due to modern day conveniences – baby wipes. Everyday I
give myself a good wipe over and end up feeling a clean as the,
proverbial, Babies bum. This saves a considerable amount of water too.
By Tuesday June 29 I was half way to Cocos having covered just over 600
nautical miles. 5,000 metres of water under the keep, no ships on the
horizon and a limitless sky - inspirational. The winds were still
strong 20 to 30 knots and still from the south east. I had spent days
on the same tack that is not changing the sails from one side of the
boat to the other. Just before midday we experienced our second broach
or knockdown. Fortunately, or unfortunately I was awake at the time. A
large quantity of water gushed through the gap between the washboards
and the hatch and entered through the open vent above the galley stove.
While hanging on and watching the water coming in I could not help but
think, in a detached way, that this can’t be good. Sadiqi righted
herself after what seemed like ages but in actual fact was seconds. It
took awhile to clean up the mess in the cabin. The victim of the deluge
of sea water appears to have been the Sea-Me radar detector/reflector.
Electronics and sea water don’t go together. I was very grateful that
seawater did not get anywhere near the navigation equipment or radios.
Wednesday the winds eased a little and the sun was shining. I decided
to cook up a hearty Lasagne – mince, source, béchamel, pasta sheets the
works. The lasagne was half way cooked in the oven when the weather
started to turn for the worse. It is amazing how fast the weather
systems move and how rapidly it changes. The Lasagne was edible and I
was very grateful for it that night and the next day. The weather had
deteriorated with increased seas and swell – I be guessing at 6 meters.
Winds were u p to 35 knots with the rain squalls. It was a long and
rough day.
On Sunday July 4 at 11.00 I spotted land, well green palm trees anyway.
What a sight after just over 12 days since leaving Carnarvon. I dropped
anchor at 14.00 at Direction Island there was not another yacht in the
anchorage, much to my surprise. The water was a brilliant clear
turquoise blue. I would have to say breathtakingly indescribable I was
not sure about the meter long black tip sharks swimming around the
boat. I had tried to radio in to get customs clearance.
Why would you
work on Sunday in a place like Cocos (Keeling). My celebratory Bundy
and coke tasted absolutely fantastic.
The Police arrived the next day to clear the formalities. I asked them,
if by any chance, the sharks were vegetarian. That got a laugh.
Apparently the black tip sharks have not eaten anyone - yet. I think
the sharks were on the AFP payroll making sure yachties visiting
Direction Island did the right thing.
1222 miles sailed in just over twelve and half days using less than 20
litres of diesel.
ill. I set a new date of departure from Carnarvon for Wednesday June
23. The weather forecast was for southerly to south easterly winds up
to 20 knots for the next 5 days in the Shark Bay area. I cleared
Customs the day before, had to smile when filling in the departure card
and writing “Sadiqi’ for the name of the ship I was departing mainland
Australia on.
Just after 7.00am I waved good bye to fellow cruisers (Mike and Janie
on “Run away”, Mike and Helen on “Proteuos II”) and headed out of the
Carnarvon Fascine on high tide with a dolphin escort. The winds were
light in the morning, which meant motor sailing and using Ken the
Autopilot, well while it was working anyway. Ken fell apart, literally,
and spent most of the trip to Cocos on compo! By midafternoon the wind
started to strengthen. I engaged the ever reliable Smithy – the
WindPilot (Pacific) that, pretty much, steered the boat the rest of the
way to Cocos.
on “Run away”, Mike and Helen on “Proteuos II”) and headed out of the
Carnarvon Fascine on high tide with a dolphin escort. The winds were
light in the morning, which meant motor sailing and using Ken the
Autopilot, well while it was working anyway. Ken fell apart, literally,
and spent most of the trip to Cocos on compo! By midafternoon the wind
started to strengthen. I engaged the ever reliable Smithy – the
WindPilot (Pacific) that, pretty much, steered the boat the rest of the
way to Cocos.
When the boat started to heel with the freshening breeze I noticed she
appeared to be taking in water in the head. A bit of a concern nearly
40 miles out from Carnarvon! After further investigation, tasting the
water to make sure it was not fresh and sticking my head into very
small cupboards I decided the boat was not sinking. While in Carnarvon
I had, accidentally, left the seacock open to the head, a fair amount
of water had spilled onto the floor and obviously disappeared into some
floor space that did not drain into the bilge. The flow of water dried
up after a time. Something to be investigated further when I get to the
Cocos Islands.
After having had my head in small, confined places I was not feeling
the best and had to spend a good deal of time on the helm to still the
stomach. The deteriorating weather did not help – winds up to 30 knots
and rain squalls again.
The next day the winds were still 20 knots plus with rain squalls and I
was still not feeling the best. I had to sit outside in the cockpit
while eating to either let the meal settle or feed the fish. By Friday
my stomach had settled and the weather had improved. The boat was
rolling along at around 5 knots in big swells with winds 15 to 20 knots
from the south east. One of the problems with sailing down wind is the
boat roles from side to side. Before the next rain squall came through
and I reefed (furled) both the main and the jib.
By Saturday I needed a good meal, decided on beef curry. If the fish
were going to get it then they were in for a surprise. Fortunately the
fish did not get a feed and I felt very much better after a good meal.
The winds had not abated (20-30 knots) and I only had the jib up and
that was partially furled. Watching the shearwater seabirds swoop and
soar down the wave troughs and up the crests with hardly the flap of a
wing was amazing. I’m sure they were doing it for the hell of it and
because they could. Having flown hang gliders for 7 years, reaching
heights of 10,000 feet and distances of 100 kilometres I was in awe of
the seabirds flying agility and skills. These birds were still doing
there thing over 600 miles from shore. I observed a Partial Luna
eclipse something I would probably have been oblivious to had I been in
the city.
I was trying to travel 100 nautical miles per day. This is a
conservative average speed of 4 knots. Pushing the boat any harder is
highly likely to cause breakages and the motion is uncomfortable for
both boat and me.
The winds were fairly strong through Sunday ranging between 18 and 25
knots. I had been led to believe that the South East Trade Winds
usually blew at around 15 knots for the time of the year. At 3am we
experienced our first broach, that is the boat and I. This is where the
boat starts to surf down an unusually large wave and wipes out – well
not quite. A four and half tonne surfboard (Sadiqi) trying to hang-ten
on a huge wave does not bear thinking about. Smithy the windpilot just
could not deal with the forces. When the boat picks up speed the
corrections will, more than likely, make the boat round up toward the
wind, this then leaves the boat sideways on the wave and wind –
otherwise know as a knock down. The other thing that happens in a
broach, the boat rolls say more than 40 degrees, is that things happily
sitting on shelves on one side of the boat rapidly move to the other
side of the boat in an untidy and possible painful fashion. This broach
ripped the port lee-sheet (weather cloth) and bent the stanchion onto
which it was attached. I lashed the remains of the lee-sheet and tidied
up the cabin as best I could.
Sleep - I try to get as much sleep as I can usually during the day.
Sometimes that just means lying in the bunk tucked in with lee cloths
and resting. I get to listen to all the creaks, groans, taps, rattles,
splashing and wind howling in the rigging etc. The worst is when
something falls over and rolls from one side of a locker or floor to
the other. Every couple of days or so the pullies attaching the lines
from Smithy to the tiller start to squeak. This is not a bad noise as I
know that Smithy is happy and working. I think if there was any one
thing that got me on this trip it was the rolling from side to side
while sailing down wind with just the jib up. The sleeping bunks are
narrow and the lee-cloths hold a person in place up to a point.
However, the body is constantly bracing against the rolls – exercising
while sleeping.
Eating - Again, sailing down wind over a long period of time (over a
week) the rolling motion presents a challenge to the cook. One needs to
be an octopus when working in the galley. Anything that can roll (eggs,
onions, potatoes etc.) will roll and anything that can slide will. And
you have to hold on and keep your balance as the boat is rolling
around. When cooking on the stove great care has to taken that you are
going to get to eat the food as opposed to wearing it.
Bathing - No hot and cold running water for a shower– this is probably
the easiest bit due to modern day conveniences – baby wipes. Everyday I
give myself a good wipe over and end up feeling a clean as the,
proverbial, Babies bum. This saves a considerable amount of water too.
By Tuesday June 29 I was half way to Cocos having covered just over 600
nautical miles. 5,000 metres of water under the keep, no ships on the
horizon and a limitless sky - inspirational. The winds were still
strong 20 to 30 knots and still from the south east. I had spent days
on the same tack that is not changing the sails from one side of the
boat to the other. Just before midday we experienced our second broach
or knockdown. Fortunately, or unfortunately I was awake at the time. A
large quantity of water gushed through the gap between the washboards
and the hatch and entered through the open vent above the galley stove.
While hanging on and watching the water coming in I could not help but
think, in a detached way, that this can’t be good. Sadiqi righted
herself after what seemed like ages but in actual fact was seconds. It
took awhile to clean up the mess in the cabin. The victim of the deluge
of sea water appears to have been the Sea-Me radar detector/reflector.
Electronics and sea water don’t go together. I was very grateful that
seawater did not get anywhere near the navigation equipment or radios.
Wednesday the winds eased a little and the sun was shining. I decided
to cook up a hearty Lasagne – mince, source, béchamel, pasta sheets the
works. The lasagne was half way cooked in the oven when the weather
started to turn for the worse. It is amazing how fast the weather
systems move and how rapidly it changes. The Lasagne was edible and I
was very grateful for it that night and the next day. The weather had
deteriorated with increased seas and swell – I be guessing at 6 meters.
Winds were u p to 35 knots with the rain squalls. It was a long and
rough day.
On Sunday July 4 at 11.00 I spotted land, well green palm trees anyway.
What a sight after just over 12 days since leaving Carnarvon. I dropped
anchor at 14.00 at Direction Island there was not another yacht in the
anchorage, much to my surprise. The water was a brilliant clear
turquoise blue. I would have to say breathtakingly indescribable I was
not sure about the meter long black tip sharks swimming around the
boat. I had tried to radio in to get customs clearance.
Why would youwork on Sunday in a place like Cocos (Keeling). My celebratory Bundy
and coke tasted absolutely fantastic.
The Police arrived the next day to clear the formalities. I asked them,
if by any chance, the sharks were vegetarian. That got a laugh.
Apparently the black tip sharks have not eaten anyone - yet. I think
the sharks were on the AFP payroll making sure yachties visiting
Direction Island did the right thing.
1222 miles sailed in just over twelve and half days using less than 20
litres of diesel.
