Coral Bay - Mauds Landing
Friday May 07 - Tuesday 11 185nm, 34hrs
Friday the weather window we’d been waiting for to head north finally arrived. Rude of it to arrive at 3am in my opinion. As my sister said, early morning is the best time of day…for sleeping!
We cruised along at 5.5 / 6 knots throughout the night, but at midnight, just after I’d come off my shift, Colin noticed the speed drop to around two knots. He looked up to see if the wind had changed and how the jib was setting, and did a double take…the jib wasn’t there!! Seems the shackle had come undone at the head (top) of the jib and it slid down the forestay, and although the tack and clew (along the foot of the jib) were still in place, the entire body of the sail was in the water. I heard a slightly urgent request from the captain to join him upstairs, and we managed to pull the rather heavy, water laden sail out of the water and lash it to the deck. Then came the 'not so fun' task of pointing the boat into the wind to put the main up. It’s always a bit scary for me because I feel like I’m suddenly in the middle of a raging storm, not having realised how strong the wind was when it was from behind. Fortunately Colin had planned ahead and put two reefs in the main, and once the sail was hoisted I was discharged back to bed, where I lay like a deer in the headlights for a while. Did I mention the joys of cruising yet? Overnight sailing deserves its own special category.
Saturday, arriving in Mauds Landing just north of Coral Bay, we anchored off the point in the company of a few other boats. It was a relief to be out of the wind and waves, for me anyway. I may have mentioned that the captain and I have slightly differing definitions of “nice sailing conditions”.
Sunday, just as the last boat was leaving, we awoke with the bay to ourselves. My mother asked if it was because Colin had been playing the bagpipes. I assured her it wasn't, but that I had been practising the ukulele.
Putting R2D2 to work we got four loads of washing done, and with the wind up a little the laundry dried almost as we watched it. Much more interesting than watching paint dry...there’s a lot more action. Colin made water while we washed, to replenish supplies.
The afternoon was spent putting the jib back on its track. This involved a hike up the mast to bring the halyard down the forestay, then feeding the jib back up the track. We achieved this with fairly minimal swearing from the captain.
Click images to enlarge
We cruised along at 5.5 / 6 knots throughout the night, but at midnight, just after I’d come off my shift, Colin noticed the speed drop to around two knots. He looked up to see if the wind had changed and how the jib was setting, and did a double take…the jib wasn’t there!! Seems the shackle had come undone at the head (top) of the jib and it slid down the forestay, and although the tack and clew (along the foot of the jib) were still in place, the entire body of the sail was in the water. I heard a slightly urgent request from the captain to join him upstairs, and we managed to pull the rather heavy, water laden sail out of the water and lash it to the deck. Then came the 'not so fun' task of pointing the boat into the wind to put the main up. It’s always a bit scary for me because I feel like I’m suddenly in the middle of a raging storm, not having realised how strong the wind was when it was from behind. Fortunately Colin had planned ahead and put two reefs in the main, and once the sail was hoisted I was discharged back to bed, where I lay like a deer in the headlights for a while. Did I mention the joys of cruising yet? Overnight sailing deserves its own special category.
Saturday, arriving in Mauds Landing just north of Coral Bay, we anchored off the point in the company of a few other boats. It was a relief to be out of the wind and waves, for me anyway. I may have mentioned that the captain and I have slightly differing definitions of “nice sailing conditions”.
Sunday, just as the last boat was leaving, we awoke with the bay to ourselves. My mother asked if it was because Colin had been playing the bagpipes. I assured her it wasn't, but that I had been practising the ukulele.
Putting R2D2 to work we got four loads of washing done, and with the wind up a little the laundry dried almost as we watched it. Much more interesting than watching paint dry...there’s a lot more action. Colin made water while we washed, to replenish supplies.
The afternoon was spent putting the jib back on its track. This involved a hike up the mast to bring the halyard down the forestay, then feeding the jib back up the track. We achieved this with fairly minimal swearing from the captain.
Click images to enlarge
If, by definition, cruising is "boat maintenance in exotic locations" then we must be due for a malfunction, as Mauds Landing really is rather exotic. Right on cue, and luckily before we embarked on our second four loads of washing, the water-maker broke. Last time we were here the prop dropped off…with a little help mind you. However, this time I was in no way responsible for the demise of the equipment. Colin had his suspicions about this vital piece of cruising equipment yesterday, and they were confirmed this morning with a quick trial. What to do??? We’re not just talking about drinking water here, but fresh water for all your regular ‘household duties’ (other than watering the garden and the chickens). Anticipating we would need parts, we couldn’t stay in Coral Bay to do the maintenance as it was near on impossible to get water, other than from the caravan park a mile and a half out of town, and that's after a six mile return journey to the jetty by dinghy. Trying to think of other places to do maintenance Colin was cursing the Fremantle Sailing Club who were racing to Exmouth, leaving no room at the marina until the 18th, not even on the service jetty! We could get water a Bundegi near the North-West Cape, but it’s a very exposed anchorage and a schlep to get jerrycans filled, and we couldn’t actually get anything done there as there is nowhere to send parts. Weighing all the options, Denham won out. Wrong direction, ‘tis true, but easy to order parts from and closer to home if we can’t get the water maker fixed. Ahhh, another overnighter to look forward to (not).
Monday had started out blowy and rolly with a nor'easter, which by midday had eased, but our best laid plans to go snorkelling were waylaid by the need to 'umm and ahh' over the water-maker dilemma, involving numerous phone calls and very serious deliberations. I did manage a swim to shore before dusk, with the captain on ‘shark patrol’ in the dinghy. The wind had dropped completely, and though I floated the idea of leaving that night the captain thought it best to have a relaxing evening and a good night’s sleep and leave early in the morning. A stellar plan, but then, without any breeze to hold it against the swell, the boat started rolling. Then, as we sat quietly eating our dinner while we pitched to and fro, the insects arrived. I started to feel like I was in a David Lynch movie. First the flying ants, then other winged insects of all sorts - wasps, moths, crickets, beetles, and even butterflies. We turned off the lights and Colin put a torch in the cockpit to lure them out. “What about your dinner?" he asked, given I was still eating. “I’ll finish it by feel”, I replied. I may have unwittingly eaten a little extra protein that night. We slammed shut the hatches, put the fans on to combat the warmth, and completed our ‘relaxing evening’ watching flying insects crawl over the faces of royalty as we watched an episode of The Crown. Good ol’ Liz, always maintaining a stately calm in the face of adversity.
Click images to enlarge
Monday had started out blowy and rolly with a nor'easter, which by midday had eased, but our best laid plans to go snorkelling were waylaid by the need to 'umm and ahh' over the water-maker dilemma, involving numerous phone calls and very serious deliberations. I did manage a swim to shore before dusk, with the captain on ‘shark patrol’ in the dinghy. The wind had dropped completely, and though I floated the idea of leaving that night the captain thought it best to have a relaxing evening and a good night’s sleep and leave early in the morning. A stellar plan, but then, without any breeze to hold it against the swell, the boat started rolling. Then, as we sat quietly eating our dinner while we pitched to and fro, the insects arrived. I started to feel like I was in a David Lynch movie. First the flying ants, then other winged insects of all sorts - wasps, moths, crickets, beetles, and even butterflies. We turned off the lights and Colin put a torch in the cockpit to lure them out. “What about your dinner?" he asked, given I was still eating. “I’ll finish it by feel”, I replied. I may have unwittingly eaten a little extra protein that night. We slammed shut the hatches, put the fans on to combat the warmth, and completed our ‘relaxing evening’ watching flying insects crawl over the faces of royalty as we watched an episode of The Crown. Good ol’ Liz, always maintaining a stately calm in the face of adversity.
Click images to enlarge