Houtman Abrolhos Islands
Wallaby and Easter Groups
East Wallaby Island, Turtle Bay 50nm, 8.5hrs
Wednesday April 14 - Saturday 17
Wednesday April 14 - Saturday 17
Wednesday, up before dawn, and feeling like a rubber ducky in a spa bath we washed back and forth with the surge getting ready for our departure. There was really nothing for it but to drop the lines, now a complicated tangle of 200m of our rope plus jetty ropes, and get out as quickly as possible hitting as few things (like pylons) as possible.
Having extricated ourselves by 0630hrs we once again set sail for the Abrolhos, this time the Wallaby Group.
With a constant tail wind, and more roll than we would have liked, we were anchored in Turtle Bay on East Wallaby Island by 1500hrs. We had company on the way with a pod of dolphins surfing the bow waves and swimming alongside us. It felt like we were being personally escorted!
With the only other boat in the bay on anchor we had our pick of moorings and took the one closest to shore. Colin circled it before we hooked up, just to ensure we had adequate depth if we were to swing. There was still a mighty wind and the water was murky, but we were happy to be here rather than in the yacht club spa bath.
Thursday and the wind is still blowing, but the water is much clearer. It’s midday before we launch the dinghy and head to land. Although the island is small we spend a couple of hours exploring, despite the swarming flies. Facing the wind no problem, but as soon as you turn around at least 50 flies (that were probably patiently waiting on your back) descend onto your face. I felt like ‘Pigpen’ from the Charlie Brown comics. Undeterred they would enter every orifice, so we fashioned our frill-necked hats into fly repellent clothing. Excuse me, nature, but this is a little unmanageable and I’d like to lodge a complaint.
At the only shelter on the island was a small tourist group eating lunch. They had flown over for the day, and I struggled to understand why anyone would choose to pay a lot of (or any) money to fly to a dry, barren island and have lunch with trillions of flies, some of which I’m sure they ingested. But I’m sure some people (including me) can’t understand why you would want to spend the night on a boat during a cyclone. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed exploring the island, but I didn’t pay to fly there, just endured many hours of uncomfortable sailing. Hmmm…
After walking the length of the runway to the East side of the island we were told by two separate people NOT to walk on it as the pilot won’t land if you do, and they were there waiting for a plane. It arrived shortly and I said hi to the pilot, Wendy, who is a friend of my Aunty Lesley, and who we had dinner with on our last trip to the Kimberley.
Back in Turtle Bay a charter boat was struggling to moor up so we offered a hand. It seems in the storm the float ball had wrapped around the lead lines. “Your balls got a bit twisted…” I shouted to the man at the bow. “…and no-one wants that!”. He agreed.
Then off we went fishing, trying a variety of rigs in various locations at varying depths, giving each combination at least five minutes before declaring it a failure. As a last ditch effort I trolled as Colin dinghied us back to the boat, and just before the sun disappeared caught two tailor! We dined like kings.
Click images to enlarge
Having extricated ourselves by 0630hrs we once again set sail for the Abrolhos, this time the Wallaby Group.
With a constant tail wind, and more roll than we would have liked, we were anchored in Turtle Bay on East Wallaby Island by 1500hrs. We had company on the way with a pod of dolphins surfing the bow waves and swimming alongside us. It felt like we were being personally escorted!
With the only other boat in the bay on anchor we had our pick of moorings and took the one closest to shore. Colin circled it before we hooked up, just to ensure we had adequate depth if we were to swing. There was still a mighty wind and the water was murky, but we were happy to be here rather than in the yacht club spa bath.
Thursday and the wind is still blowing, but the water is much clearer. It’s midday before we launch the dinghy and head to land. Although the island is small we spend a couple of hours exploring, despite the swarming flies. Facing the wind no problem, but as soon as you turn around at least 50 flies (that were probably patiently waiting on your back) descend onto your face. I felt like ‘Pigpen’ from the Charlie Brown comics. Undeterred they would enter every orifice, so we fashioned our frill-necked hats into fly repellent clothing. Excuse me, nature, but this is a little unmanageable and I’d like to lodge a complaint.
At the only shelter on the island was a small tourist group eating lunch. They had flown over for the day, and I struggled to understand why anyone would choose to pay a lot of (or any) money to fly to a dry, barren island and have lunch with trillions of flies, some of which I’m sure they ingested. But I’m sure some people (including me) can’t understand why you would want to spend the night on a boat during a cyclone. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed exploring the island, but I didn’t pay to fly there, just endured many hours of uncomfortable sailing. Hmmm…
After walking the length of the runway to the East side of the island we were told by two separate people NOT to walk on it as the pilot won’t land if you do, and they were there waiting for a plane. It arrived shortly and I said hi to the pilot, Wendy, who is a friend of my Aunty Lesley, and who we had dinner with on our last trip to the Kimberley.
Back in Turtle Bay a charter boat was struggling to moor up so we offered a hand. It seems in the storm the float ball had wrapped around the lead lines. “Your balls got a bit twisted…” I shouted to the man at the bow. “…and no-one wants that!”. He agreed.
Then off we went fishing, trying a variety of rigs in various locations at varying depths, giving each combination at least five minutes before declaring it a failure. As a last ditch effort I trolled as Colin dinghied us back to the boat, and just before the sun disappeared caught two tailor! We dined like kings.
Click images to enlarge
Friday morning was considerably rolly with a noreasterly wind, which was not predicted on any of Colin’s weather models. The wind changed, but it was taking a while for the swell to die so we went ashore. Colin warned me to be careful getting out of the dinghy because of the swell, and I was careful, really, but not enough to stop me landing on my bum in the water. Colin just shook his head in disbelief, as he often does, while I laughed and tried to get up.
After the onslaught of flies yesterday I brought a mesh dive bag with me to put over my head. Couldn’t see a bloody thing but it was very effective for flies.
The shore was strewn with sea biscuits and beautiful shells, presumably washed up during the storm. I don’t think I’ve seen a sea biscuit other than whilst diving, so seeing so many was quite something. I loved walking along the edge of the weedy patch where I would occasionally sink deep into the spongy sand over seaweed, saying to myself “It’s time for a moonwalk Miss Jane.” (Those old enough to remember ‘Mr Squiggle’ will catch my drift).
During our walk to take photos of the Osprey nests, we passed the same lizard skin we saw yesterday, strategically positioned on one of the cairns that mark the paths, but someone had turned it to face a different direction. How odd!
Click images to enlarge
After the onslaught of flies yesterday I brought a mesh dive bag with me to put over my head. Couldn’t see a bloody thing but it was very effective for flies.
The shore was strewn with sea biscuits and beautiful shells, presumably washed up during the storm. I don’t think I’ve seen a sea biscuit other than whilst diving, so seeing so many was quite something. I loved walking along the edge of the weedy patch where I would occasionally sink deep into the spongy sand over seaweed, saying to myself “It’s time for a moonwalk Miss Jane.” (Those old enough to remember ‘Mr Squiggle’ will catch my drift).
During our walk to take photos of the Osprey nests, we passed the same lizard skin we saw yesterday, strategically positioned on one of the cairns that mark the paths, but someone had turned it to face a different direction. How odd!
Click images to enlarge
West Wallaby Island, Shag Bay 3.5nm, 40min
Saturday 17 - Sunday 18
Saturday 17 - Sunday 18
Saturday, another rolly morning with another unpredicted noreasterly wind.
Fiona and Lloyd, our first guests, land ahead of schedule and we meet them on the track next to the runway. I enjoy my last ‘moon walk’ as we head back to the dinghy, anticipating a move to a less rolly site.
We find it in Shag Bay’ on West Wallaby Island, and in the afternoon we take off on a beach and bush walk in search of the forts built by the stranded crew of the Batavia who were banished to the island. Though we fell short of our mark, we were lucky enough to see wallabies, nesting Wedge-tailed Shearwater chicks, and glistening cowrie shells amongst other treasures along the beach.
After sharing spaghetti Bolognese for dinner, Lloyd broke out his highly acclaimed fruit cake, which is more like a bag of fruit and lollies with a smattering of flour. Laden with jubes, jelly crystals, chocolate melts and Rolos it is a culinary masterpiece, and delicious to boot! I had asked Lloyd if he could get any more sugar into it. He thought about it for a bit, and came back with a ‘no’.
Click images to enlarge
Fiona and Lloyd, our first guests, land ahead of schedule and we meet them on the track next to the runway. I enjoy my last ‘moon walk’ as we head back to the dinghy, anticipating a move to a less rolly site.
We find it in Shag Bay’ on West Wallaby Island, and in the afternoon we take off on a beach and bush walk in search of the forts built by the stranded crew of the Batavia who were banished to the island. Though we fell short of our mark, we were lucky enough to see wallabies, nesting Wedge-tailed Shearwater chicks, and glistening cowrie shells amongst other treasures along the beach.
After sharing spaghetti Bolognese for dinner, Lloyd broke out his highly acclaimed fruit cake, which is more like a bag of fruit and lollies with a smattering of flour. Laden with jubes, jelly crystals, chocolate melts and Rolos it is a culinary masterpiece, and delicious to boot! I had asked Lloyd if he could get any more sugar into it. He thought about it for a bit, and came back with a ‘no’.
Click images to enlarge
Easter Group, White Bank 20nm, 4hrs
Sunday 18 - Tuesday 20
Sunday 18 - Tuesday 20
Sunday, and we were off at 0730am to the Easter group of the Abrolhos, getting in just in time to get the last (and best) mooring at White Bank, a magical little spot surrounded by shallow reef and with a sandbank too small to qualify as an island. We were delighted to see sea lions basking on the sand peacefully, that is until the mother of all sea lions asserted authority over the others and they loped off somewhere else to find peace.
Though the reef was only 25m from the boat, one of the women on board (and it wasn’t me) was too nervous about sharks to risk the swim, so we launched the dinghy and went to shore. On arrival the large sea lion made its way over, then came to check us out in the water. Unfortunately it only did a brief swim by, and try as I might I couldn’t get the others to come play.
The reef was spectacular, full of colourful fish and coral, and Colin and I swam back to the boat, checking out the reef closer to it on the way back.
Dinner was compliments of Lloyd, who had snagged a School Mackerel whist trolling on the way here. Thank you Lloyd, a feast fit for royalty!
Click images to enlarge
Though the reef was only 25m from the boat, one of the women on board (and it wasn’t me) was too nervous about sharks to risk the swim, so we launched the dinghy and went to shore. On arrival the large sea lion made its way over, then came to check us out in the water. Unfortunately it only did a brief swim by, and try as I might I couldn’t get the others to come play.
The reef was spectacular, full of colourful fish and coral, and Colin and I swam back to the boat, checking out the reef closer to it on the way back.
Dinner was compliments of Lloyd, who had snagged a School Mackerel whist trolling on the way here. Thank you Lloyd, a feast fit for royalty!
Click images to enlarge
Monday morning the wind is blowing hard. Surprise! We brave the conditions to explore Rat Island, donning wet weather gear and getting completely soaked on the way. The airstrip wasn’t far, which Colin wanted to check out, and we got chatting to a man who has been coming here for 40 years to dive and fish. He illuminated us about how many sharks there are around, said he would leave the water if they got too aggressive while he was spearfishing. He defined “too aggressive” by recounting a tale of a Tiger shark that kept taking his fish and then bumping his hand holding the speargun, and after ten minutes of this he thought “I can come back tomorrow” and got out of the water. Now, I love shark encounters underwater, but I reckon I’d probably be waving the white flag after the first time a Tiger shark nudged my hand.
Rat Island is pretty much exactly what I expected a fishing community to look like, and more. People have clearly put in effort to make the shacks homely, with plants and painted water tanks, and there are memorials to salty sea dogs with gardens and seats. It’s quite the place.
Arriving back at the dinghy after circumnavigating the island we found a friendly seal next to it, looking ready to play in my opinion. We didn’t have the snorkelling gear with us though, so sadly we left to return to the boat. We were not long back when Sue and Florrie arrived bearing gifts. “Would you like a crayfish?” Sue asked. I think my reply was something like “Hell yeah!” We shared tea and cake, waved them off, and set Colin to making fresh bread to go with the two crays they left. Thank you fellow sailors.
Click images to enlarge
Rat Island is pretty much exactly what I expected a fishing community to look like, and more. People have clearly put in effort to make the shacks homely, with plants and painted water tanks, and there are memorials to salty sea dogs with gardens and seats. It’s quite the place.
Arriving back at the dinghy after circumnavigating the island we found a friendly seal next to it, looking ready to play in my opinion. We didn’t have the snorkelling gear with us though, so sadly we left to return to the boat. We were not long back when Sue and Florrie arrived bearing gifts. “Would you like a crayfish?” Sue asked. I think my reply was something like “Hell yeah!” We shared tea and cake, waved them off, and set Colin to making fresh bread to go with the two crays they left. Thank you fellow sailors.
Click images to enlarge
Batavia. One of the worst horror stories in maritime history.
Built in 1628, Batavia, a ship of the Dutch East India Company, sailed that same year on her maiden voyage for Batavia, capital of the Dutch East Indies.
On 4 June 1629, the Batavia was wrecked on the Houtman Abrolhos, a chain of small islands off the coast of Western Australia. As the ship broke apart, 40 of the 341 passengers drowned in their attempts to reach land. The ship's commander, Francisco Pelsaert, sailed to Batavia to get help, leaving merchant Jeronimus Cornelisz in charge. Cornelisz sent about 20 men to nearby islands under the pretense of having them search for fresh water, abandoning them there to die. He then orchestrated a mutiny that, over the course of several weeks, resulted in the murder of approximately 125 of the remaining survivors, including women, children and infants; a small number of women were kept as sexual slaves, among them the famed beauty Lucretia Jans, who was reserved by Cornelisz for himself.
Meanwhile, the men sent away had unexpectedly found water and, after learning of the atrocities, waged battles with the mutineers under soldier Wiebbe Hayes' leadership. In October, at the height of their last and deadliest battle, they were interrupted by the return of Pelsaert aboard the Sardam. He subsequently tried and convicted Cornelisz and six of his men, who became the first Europeans to be legally executed in Australia. Two other mutineers, convicted of comparatively minor crimes, were marooned on mainland Australia, thus becoming the first Europeans to permanently inhabit the Australian continent. Of the original 332 people on board Batavia, only 122 made it to the port of Batavia.
Built in 1628, Batavia, a ship of the Dutch East India Company, sailed that same year on her maiden voyage for Batavia, capital of the Dutch East Indies.
On 4 June 1629, the Batavia was wrecked on the Houtman Abrolhos, a chain of small islands off the coast of Western Australia. As the ship broke apart, 40 of the 341 passengers drowned in their attempts to reach land. The ship's commander, Francisco Pelsaert, sailed to Batavia to get help, leaving merchant Jeronimus Cornelisz in charge. Cornelisz sent about 20 men to nearby islands under the pretense of having them search for fresh water, abandoning them there to die. He then orchestrated a mutiny that, over the course of several weeks, resulted in the murder of approximately 125 of the remaining survivors, including women, children and infants; a small number of women were kept as sexual slaves, among them the famed beauty Lucretia Jans, who was reserved by Cornelisz for himself.
Meanwhile, the men sent away had unexpectedly found water and, after learning of the atrocities, waged battles with the mutineers under soldier Wiebbe Hayes' leadership. In October, at the height of their last and deadliest battle, they were interrupted by the return of Pelsaert aboard the Sardam. He subsequently tried and convicted Cornelisz and six of his men, who became the first Europeans to be legally executed in Australia. Two other mutineers, convicted of comparatively minor crimes, were marooned on mainland Australia, thus becoming the first Europeans to permanently inhabit the Australian continent. Of the original 332 people on board Batavia, only 122 made it to the port of Batavia.