Broome
Tuesday June 15 - Wednesday 23 360nm, 72.5hrs
Saturday we departed Dampier at 0700 hours with virtually no wind and motored for the first two days. Trolling we caught a 110cm Spanish mackerel, and I got to tick ‘fishing line burn’ off my list of universal laws of sailing. I did find out, whilst rummaging around for burn cream, that we have a rather well stocked medicine box. Good to know. I landed the 'mackie' though, even with burns across four fingers. Such a hero, eh? Shortly after relaunching the lure Colin was hauling in a tuna. He decided that to keep his clothes clean he would engage in nude filleting, though he won’t let me post the photographic evidence.
The days were overcast and cool, though Sunday we had to cool off with the salt water hose, and the nights balmy enough to do all my shifts in shorts!
Having learned from our last overnight sail, when it was too rough to make meals, I had prepared dinners and lunches for two days. This was a good idea not well executed as I had not factored in lunch Monday, forgetting we weren’t scheduled to arrive until evening, or the fact we might be delayed by 12 hours, which is exactly what happened. The weather turned boisterous around 0400 hours Monday and we were slowed to 4 knots until around 1300 hours. We then had to remain at slow speed so we would arrive in Broome during daylight hours. With the nights currently longer than the days this meant after 0630 hours.
A penny dropped watching Colin during the rough conditions, and I realised that one shouldn’t expect to be sure footed during such passages. Colin wholeheartedly agreed, and his re-enactment of staggering around the boat with small sidesteps, holding onto anything and everything as he moved from one side to the other, elicited a huge belly laugh and much relief.
There is a lot of bird action out on the open ocean, and we had half a dozen birds circling the lure on Sunday. It does look like a fish after all. We also saw our first sea snakes, and had the joy of watching the bioluminescence in the boat wake. A couple of birds hitched a ride for an overnight rest too, always a treat watching them shake themselves off in the morning and take to the skies once more.
Click images to enlarge
The days were overcast and cool, though Sunday we had to cool off with the salt water hose, and the nights balmy enough to do all my shifts in shorts!
Having learned from our last overnight sail, when it was too rough to make meals, I had prepared dinners and lunches for two days. This was a good idea not well executed as I had not factored in lunch Monday, forgetting we weren’t scheduled to arrive until evening, or the fact we might be delayed by 12 hours, which is exactly what happened. The weather turned boisterous around 0400 hours Monday and we were slowed to 4 knots until around 1300 hours. We then had to remain at slow speed so we would arrive in Broome during daylight hours. With the nights currently longer than the days this meant after 0630 hours.
A penny dropped watching Colin during the rough conditions, and I realised that one shouldn’t expect to be sure footed during such passages. Colin wholeheartedly agreed, and his re-enactment of staggering around the boat with small sidesteps, holding onto anything and everything as he moved from one side to the other, elicited a huge belly laugh and much relief.
There is a lot of bird action out on the open ocean, and we had half a dozen birds circling the lure on Sunday. It does look like a fish after all. We also saw our first sea snakes, and had the joy of watching the bioluminescence in the boat wake. A couple of birds hitched a ride for an overnight rest too, always a treat watching them shake themselves off in the morning and take to the skies once more.
Click images to enlarge
Monday the wind picked up around 1900 hours, and we battled the rest of the way to arrive at Gantheaume Point Tuesday around 0730 hours, lucky to get a mooring through a local who goes by the name of Zorba. Following the coordinates, we initially scoped out the wrong mooring. I asked the captain, are you sure this is it? Shouldn’t we look for the number on the ball? But he insisted we had the correct GPS location. We were going back to attach a line to the thick leads when a girl raced up in a dinghy and threaded a rope through. How nice of her, we thought, and as we approached I asked if we could use that line or one of our own? This is when we found out ‘she’ was a ‘he’ (it was the flowing locks of fair hair that fooled me), and that he was a runner from Absolute Ocean Charters, whose mooring it turned out to be. How embarrassing! The dinghy did have their name on the side, but it’s so much harder to put two and two together when you're sleep deprived.
Finally settled on the correct mooring which, lo and behold, had the correct mooring number on it, we managed some toast and a cup of tea before crashing. I think I could have slept all day, but we had to be up and off the boat at high tide so we wouldn’t have too far to haul the
dinghy up the beach. Sure it has wheels, but it still weighs a ton.
Our friend Maxine was ready and waiting for us on the beach to welcome us with open arms, taking us to stay with her and Arnhem in their beautiful home, even though they had family arriving in a few days for their oldest son’s wedding. We feel very lucky to have such warm and generous friends.
Click images to enlarge. Photos by Nic and Maxine
Finally settled on the correct mooring which, lo and behold, had the correct mooring number on it, we managed some toast and a cup of tea before crashing. I think I could have slept all day, but we had to be up and off the boat at high tide so we wouldn’t have too far to haul the
dinghy up the beach. Sure it has wheels, but it still weighs a ton.
Our friend Maxine was ready and waiting for us on the beach to welcome us with open arms, taking us to stay with her and Arnhem in their beautiful home, even though they had family arriving in a few days for their oldest son’s wedding. We feel very lucky to have such warm and generous friends.
Click images to enlarge. Photos by Nic and Maxine
Whilst in Broome we filled jerry cans and gas bottles, did washing and provisioning, bought more fishing lures (having had a mackerel take our last and luckiest lure on our way up), cooked dinners of fresh fish and pawpaw salad, walked on the beach at sunset, swam, and relaxed in local coffee shops and at home. We had the best bed that didn’t move, and a car to use when we needed it. Such royal hospitality for us salty sea dogs. We felt very loved.
Though we had planned to return to the boat Sunday, COVID was shaking things up again, and Maxine’s parents, arriving from Sydney at 1430 hours, had to self-isolate pending results of a test, so we threw our stuff together quickly and Maxine organised a lift to the boat for us with Yoshi and Hannah, the bride and groom to be. Thanks again to our hosts extraordinaire for your amazing hospitality.
Click images to enlarge
Though we had planned to return to the boat Sunday, COVID was shaking things up again, and Maxine’s parents, arriving from Sydney at 1430 hours, had to self-isolate pending results of a test, so we threw our stuff together quickly and Maxine organised a lift to the boat for us with Yoshi and Hannah, the bride and groom to be. Thanks again to our hosts extraordinaire for your amazing hospitality.
Click images to enlarge
Sunday I was keen to see the camels at sunset and convinced (some might say nagged) Colin to go to Cable Beach in the dinghy to get photos against the setting sun. To get to shore we had to dodge rocks and time our run in between sets of waves. Colin managed this successfully (clever Colin) and I raced up the beach to see the magnificent beasts. Once back in the dinghy I said to Colin, “I think, if I had a camel, I could be happy.” I do love those beautiful creatures.
Click images to enlarge
Click images to enlarge
Monday we met a work colleague of Colin’s on the shore for a chat, then walked the beach marvelling at the patterns made by the little balls ejected by the sand crabs as they dig their holes. I find them quite fascinating.
Arriving back at the boat we noticed the fish, normally milling around quietly, were in a frenzy. Why? Bigger fish! Colin grabbed the first lure he could get his hands on, a bright shiny brand new straight out of the packet Barramundi lure. They weren’t Barramundi in the water, but the lure worked a treat, and Colin had no sooner cast his line than he hooked a trevally, and he'd no sooner hooked a trevally than a shark appeared!
However, in another of life's fishing lessons, the line snapped. Apparently it should be replaced every couple of years. Information we could have done with sooner, although I'll admit it's not rocket science. Heavy sigh and goodbye Barra lure. The second lure fared better and Colin was able to land a Golden Trevally. A couple from another boat, Paul and Brenda from Sheer Tenacity, were kayaking past and saw the action. They probably think we catch fish like that all the time, and who am I to disavow them of that notion?
Just after lunch the wind started to pick up. We knew there was a northerly storm coming, which is why we weren’t planning to leave Broome before Monday, but I had underestimated just how uncomfortable it would be on a mooring, facing into the wind with no shelter. The complicating factor, of course, was the current, which held us side-on to the wind and pitched us back and forth like a rag doll. Sure, you’d pay good money to get thrown around like this at the Royal Show, which is precisely why I no longer go! We lurched (and cursed) all night, and all items not tied down ended up on the floor as usual, though we were better prepared for this after our last rolly passage. In the morning Colin observed that I didn’t store my belongings properly prior to the storm, but I objected and said "Yes I did, right there on the floor!"
We lost a whole fishing rod during the storm. Now that’s a first, even for us! It was in a rod holder on the stern, but the dinghy, tied to the stern cleat, must have snapped back so hard the rope flicked the bottom of the rod and launched it! I hoped it might wash up on the shore for someone to find.
Colin managed to cook dinner, bless him, accustomed as he is to rough conditions, and we stayed up late knowing we wouldn’t get much sleep. Around 0300 hours we got 18mm of rain (according to the weather report) and as the boat swung to the south the rolling got worse (how was that even possible?). Messy business. The rest of the night was punctuated with what sounded like cymbals crashing, though it was just the saucepans and crockery and cutlery slamming back and forth in the cupboards and draws. Not especially conducive to sleep.
Click images to enlarge
Arriving back at the boat we noticed the fish, normally milling around quietly, were in a frenzy. Why? Bigger fish! Colin grabbed the first lure he could get his hands on, a bright shiny brand new straight out of the packet Barramundi lure. They weren’t Barramundi in the water, but the lure worked a treat, and Colin had no sooner cast his line than he hooked a trevally, and he'd no sooner hooked a trevally than a shark appeared!
However, in another of life's fishing lessons, the line snapped. Apparently it should be replaced every couple of years. Information we could have done with sooner, although I'll admit it's not rocket science. Heavy sigh and goodbye Barra lure. The second lure fared better and Colin was able to land a Golden Trevally. A couple from another boat, Paul and Brenda from Sheer Tenacity, were kayaking past and saw the action. They probably think we catch fish like that all the time, and who am I to disavow them of that notion?
Just after lunch the wind started to pick up. We knew there was a northerly storm coming, which is why we weren’t planning to leave Broome before Monday, but I had underestimated just how uncomfortable it would be on a mooring, facing into the wind with no shelter. The complicating factor, of course, was the current, which held us side-on to the wind and pitched us back and forth like a rag doll. Sure, you’d pay good money to get thrown around like this at the Royal Show, which is precisely why I no longer go! We lurched (and cursed) all night, and all items not tied down ended up on the floor as usual, though we were better prepared for this after our last rolly passage. In the morning Colin observed that I didn’t store my belongings properly prior to the storm, but I objected and said "Yes I did, right there on the floor!"
We lost a whole fishing rod during the storm. Now that’s a first, even for us! It was in a rod holder on the stern, but the dinghy, tied to the stern cleat, must have snapped back so hard the rope flicked the bottom of the rod and launched it! I hoped it might wash up on the shore for someone to find.
Colin managed to cook dinner, bless him, accustomed as he is to rough conditions, and we stayed up late knowing we wouldn’t get much sleep. Around 0300 hours we got 18mm of rain (according to the weather report) and as the boat swung to the south the rolling got worse (how was that even possible?). Messy business. The rest of the night was punctuated with what sounded like cymbals crashing, though it was just the saucepans and crockery and cutlery slamming back and forth in the cupboards and draws. Not especially conducive to sleep.
Click images to enlarge
Tuesday morning was slightly less rolly, and we left the boat as soon as we could to meet Arnhem and his middle son, Alby, on shore. Maxine had it written in her diary to lend us a car today for provisioning, and we were very glad she had. Whilst waiting we got to meet Zorba, whose mooring we were renting. Turns out his boat was the blue one near us with all the orange fenders, and yesterday we had seen him hauling a huge mooring ball onto it, which was now in the water close to shore. He was planning to pick it up once the water receded – the beauty of tides!
Our lift arrived and we dropped Arnhem and Alby home and got to meet Maxine’s delightful parents, Graeme and Peg, and deliver yesterday’s catch. Arnhem and Alby - two strapping men who don’t seem like they’d be bothered by a few drops of rain - seemed to take a rather unnatural interest in my raincoat, but it turned out they were conspiring to put money in my pocket for the fish without me knowing. The flaw in their plan was the raincoat is clear, including the pockets, so Colin noticed the money as we were leaving. I had to chase Arnhem and Maxine around trying to give it back, then finally just leave it on the table and run away (It reminded me of the time my oldest niece was two and put her hands up to protect her face as a huge hound licked her. With her hands covered in slobber my sister picked her up and ran around trying to wipe it on us as we all scattered. Eventually my niece just licked it off herself and that was that). Then…we shopped, including a trip to the camping store to restock barramundi lures and buy a new rod and reel. We were served by the same man who sold us the previous lures and when we said we’d already lost one he asked if we’d gone out barra fishing. A fair question I suppose, since we’d lost a barra lure, and I’m not sure he knew what to make of it when Colin said no. I’m not sure what to make of it myself!
Returning to the boat we were approached by a man from the Department of Transport who wanted to see we had our life jackets and safety equipment in the dinghy, saying the anchorage was considered open water. Because it was all moorings we hadn’t thought it so, but of course with hindsight it is an area not to be complacent in, especially with its strong currents and rough conditions in certain winds. We were lucky to be let off with a warning, and another lesson learned.
The water was calmer when we reboarded the boat, but the roll continued due to once again being side-on to the waves. With the wind still strong it made for another uncomfortable and restless night.
Click images to enlarge
Our lift arrived and we dropped Arnhem and Alby home and got to meet Maxine’s delightful parents, Graeme and Peg, and deliver yesterday’s catch. Arnhem and Alby - two strapping men who don’t seem like they’d be bothered by a few drops of rain - seemed to take a rather unnatural interest in my raincoat, but it turned out they were conspiring to put money in my pocket for the fish without me knowing. The flaw in their plan was the raincoat is clear, including the pockets, so Colin noticed the money as we were leaving. I had to chase Arnhem and Maxine around trying to give it back, then finally just leave it on the table and run away (It reminded me of the time my oldest niece was two and put her hands up to protect her face as a huge hound licked her. With her hands covered in slobber my sister picked her up and ran around trying to wipe it on us as we all scattered. Eventually my niece just licked it off herself and that was that). Then…we shopped, including a trip to the camping store to restock barramundi lures and buy a new rod and reel. We were served by the same man who sold us the previous lures and when we said we’d already lost one he asked if we’d gone out barra fishing. A fair question I suppose, since we’d lost a barra lure, and I’m not sure he knew what to make of it when Colin said no. I’m not sure what to make of it myself!
Returning to the boat we were approached by a man from the Department of Transport who wanted to see we had our life jackets and safety equipment in the dinghy, saying the anchorage was considered open water. Because it was all moorings we hadn’t thought it so, but of course with hindsight it is an area not to be complacent in, especially with its strong currents and rough conditions in certain winds. We were lucky to be let off with a warning, and another lesson learned.
The water was calmer when we reboarded the boat, but the roll continued due to once again being side-on to the waves. With the wind still strong it made for another uncomfortable and restless night.
Click images to enlarge