Lagrange Bay to Dampier
Tuesday July 20 - Wednesday 21 50nm, 10.5hrs
Tuesday, as we left Broome at 0600 hours, we passed a boat named Hue Mungus and we thought to ourselves, "Mate, if you think that’s humongous b-b-b-baby you just ain’t seen nothin’ yet… you ain’t been around!"
The wind was barely enough to fill the sails so we motored all the way to Lagrange Bay. Colin pulled in a school mackerel on the way. Fresh fish for dinner again.
We knew Lagrange Bay would be rolly and uncomfortable in the wrong breezes, but decided to chance it, and if it got too unpleasant we would haul up stumps (or weigh anchor as it were) and go. Fortunately the wind and the waves lined up for the night and we had a pleasant sleep.
Wednesday was another departure at 0600 hours but in a complete white out! Waking up in a cloud I thought I can’t be in heaven as I’m sure I haven’t spent quite enough time in purgatory. Captain weather goat told me it was possibly an inversion, which of course was my second guess. Whatever it was it was a touch eerie in the quiet calm, and didn’t clear until around 1100 hours. It also made the cockpit and associated soft furnishings as wet as if it had rained.
With the clouds gone and the water glassed off we saw all sorts of sea life – whales, massive jellyfish with a schools of tiny fish underneath, birds cashing in on a bubbling fish frenzy, dozens of sea snakes, and Colin cleaning the bow.
The day remained flat until around 1400 hours when a gentle SW breeze blew in, unfortunately right on the nose. We continued motoring straight into it, hoping it wouldn’t pick up and force us to crack off. Alas, by morning we were tacking frantically, zigzagging back and forth covering a lot of miles but not getting anywhere. At times the wind and tides slowed us down to one or two knots an hour. We had anticipated a three-day passage from Broome, but I suddenly had a feeling we were going to be out here for a week.
Then the worst thing happened – we hit a whale. It makes me feel sick to even retell it, but once we were in Dampier and able to find out the weight of the average humpback is 30 to 40 tonnes, and the boat is only 7.5 tonnes, I felt much better about its chances of not being hurt during the encounter. The captain was on watch when the incident happened, and this is how he told it:
As the sun set on the second day of motor sailing, the breeze swung slightly and we were able to head more directly towards Dampier. Shortly after tacking, though, the motor started sputtering - a sure sign that dirt in the fuel had been stirred up by the increased motion of tacking. I decided to kill the motor and sail slowly through the night, giving the fuel time to settle.
At around 0130 hours, going less than three knots, I looked out under the jib to see two dark shapes a couple of boat lengths ahead to leeward. Just as I realised they were whales they seemed to realise we were not. They dived, but just a little too late, and a second later there was a sickening thud and the whole boat shuddered to a dead stop. We’d hit one of the whales.
I raced below to check if the hull was intact and the keel still attached. Luckily there was no obvious sign of damage but we checked regularly over the next few hours to make sure all was ok.
Me? I was off watch and asleep. I woke with a start to the almighty thud and shudder, yelled, then promptly fell back asleep. I had no clue what caused it, and assumed it was an involuntary jibe or some such thing. It wasn’t until I came back on shift at 0200 hours that Colin told me. My concern was immediately for the whale, not even thinking it could have taken out the keel.
Click images to enlarge
The wind was barely enough to fill the sails so we motored all the way to Lagrange Bay. Colin pulled in a school mackerel on the way. Fresh fish for dinner again.
We knew Lagrange Bay would be rolly and uncomfortable in the wrong breezes, but decided to chance it, and if it got too unpleasant we would haul up stumps (or weigh anchor as it were) and go. Fortunately the wind and the waves lined up for the night and we had a pleasant sleep.
Wednesday was another departure at 0600 hours but in a complete white out! Waking up in a cloud I thought I can’t be in heaven as I’m sure I haven’t spent quite enough time in purgatory. Captain weather goat told me it was possibly an inversion, which of course was my second guess. Whatever it was it was a touch eerie in the quiet calm, and didn’t clear until around 1100 hours. It also made the cockpit and associated soft furnishings as wet as if it had rained.
With the clouds gone and the water glassed off we saw all sorts of sea life – whales, massive jellyfish with a schools of tiny fish underneath, birds cashing in on a bubbling fish frenzy, dozens of sea snakes, and Colin cleaning the bow.
The day remained flat until around 1400 hours when a gentle SW breeze blew in, unfortunately right on the nose. We continued motoring straight into it, hoping it wouldn’t pick up and force us to crack off. Alas, by morning we were tacking frantically, zigzagging back and forth covering a lot of miles but not getting anywhere. At times the wind and tides slowed us down to one or two knots an hour. We had anticipated a three-day passage from Broome, but I suddenly had a feeling we were going to be out here for a week.
Then the worst thing happened – we hit a whale. It makes me feel sick to even retell it, but once we were in Dampier and able to find out the weight of the average humpback is 30 to 40 tonnes, and the boat is only 7.5 tonnes, I felt much better about its chances of not being hurt during the encounter. The captain was on watch when the incident happened, and this is how he told it:
As the sun set on the second day of motor sailing, the breeze swung slightly and we were able to head more directly towards Dampier. Shortly after tacking, though, the motor started sputtering - a sure sign that dirt in the fuel had been stirred up by the increased motion of tacking. I decided to kill the motor and sail slowly through the night, giving the fuel time to settle.
At around 0130 hours, going less than three knots, I looked out under the jib to see two dark shapes a couple of boat lengths ahead to leeward. Just as I realised they were whales they seemed to realise we were not. They dived, but just a little too late, and a second later there was a sickening thud and the whole boat shuddered to a dead stop. We’d hit one of the whales.
I raced below to check if the hull was intact and the keel still attached. Luckily there was no obvious sign of damage but we checked regularly over the next few hours to make sure all was ok.
Me? I was off watch and asleep. I woke with a start to the almighty thud and shudder, yelled, then promptly fell back asleep. I had no clue what caused it, and assumed it was an involuntary jibe or some such thing. It wasn’t until I came back on shift at 0200 hours that Colin told me. My concern was immediately for the whale, not even thinking it could have taken out the keel.
Click images to enlarge
Dampier
Saturday July 24 - current 320nm, 75.5hrs (3days, 3.5hrs)
Saturday around 1030 hours we made it to Dampier, still a little rattled after what is now referred to as 'the whale tale', glad to no longer be hammered by the wind, and finally having a SE-E wind in our favour during the final approach.
During our time in Dampier we were reassured we are not the first boat to hit a whale, and that the 30 to 40 tonne creature would have been fine after the bump. It still makes me heartsick to think about it though. We have decided to keep the motor running on future night passages during whale season, hoping the noise will provide them with some warning.
Dampier has been a whirlwind of chores and socialising, neither of which are quite finished.
Sunday – shopping, removing broken mast and deck lights, dinner at the Sailing Club.
Monday – we received two invitations to a BBQ on shore that evening. Trish and Tim from Quoll ll and Coralie and Smillie from Blue Lagoon both dropped by in their dinghies to let us know about it.
Tuesday – shopping and laundry. Although we love our hand-operated Ezywash, there’s nothing quite like an industrial Maytag to get your clothes clean, and we took advantage of the one in the boat harbour that was a mere $3 for a huge load. It was in high demand with all the cruisers in the bay but we got a few loads done over a couple of days. Being quite the social hub, we chatted with Sharon from the 'trailer sailor' Emlyn (I didn’t realise trailer sailors came in 33’!), and reacquainted ourselves with Stephen and Gayle from Snow Goose, who we had met in passing at Silver Gull Creek and spoken to on the radio. At their invitation we had drinks with them on their motor boat later in the afternoon.
Wednesday – more laundry, filling of jerry cans with diesel, cafe lunch.
Photos by Coralie and Nic. Click images to enlarge
During our time in Dampier we were reassured we are not the first boat to hit a whale, and that the 30 to 40 tonne creature would have been fine after the bump. It still makes me heartsick to think about it though. We have decided to keep the motor running on future night passages during whale season, hoping the noise will provide them with some warning.
Dampier has been a whirlwind of chores and socialising, neither of which are quite finished.
Sunday – shopping, removing broken mast and deck lights, dinner at the Sailing Club.
Monday – we received two invitations to a BBQ on shore that evening. Trish and Tim from Quoll ll and Coralie and Smillie from Blue Lagoon both dropped by in their dinghies to let us know about it.
Tuesday – shopping and laundry. Although we love our hand-operated Ezywash, there’s nothing quite like an industrial Maytag to get your clothes clean, and we took advantage of the one in the boat harbour that was a mere $3 for a huge load. It was in high demand with all the cruisers in the bay but we got a few loads done over a couple of days. Being quite the social hub, we chatted with Sharon from the 'trailer sailor' Emlyn (I didn’t realise trailer sailors came in 33’!), and reacquainted ourselves with Stephen and Gayle from Snow Goose, who we had met in passing at Silver Gull Creek and spoken to on the radio. At their invitation we had drinks with them on their motor boat later in the afternoon.
Wednesday – more laundry, filling of jerry cans with diesel, cafe lunch.
Photos by Coralie and Nic. Click images to enlarge
Dampier Spring Tides
Thursday - we had planned to clean the boat inside and out, but on our way to shore to squish mud between my toes at low tide (as is my wont) we got stopped by Stephen and Gayle and invited to Sam’s Island. Couldn’t say no to that! They picked us up in Snow Goose and away we went.
From the DCA website (Dampier Community Association) I gleaned the following historical facts about Sam’s Island...
Sam Ostojich arrived in the Pilbara in the 1960's and fell in love with Tidepole Island, now affectionately referred to as ‘Sam’s Island’. Local lore suggests that Sam’s first visit to the island was on a makeshift raft, where he found himself stranded for a few days. His fondness for the island inspired him to construct a castle, carting materials from the mainland. Over four decades, Sam transformed the rocky site by hand, into an oasis. Hamersley Iron gave Sam a gentleman’s lease, and in 2005 when he passed away he was buried on the island with his beloved cat.
Located only a short distance across the water from the Dampier foreshore, Sam’s Island is an historic and iconic Pilbara landmark.
Click images to enlarge
From the DCA website (Dampier Community Association) I gleaned the following historical facts about Sam’s Island...
Sam Ostojich arrived in the Pilbara in the 1960's and fell in love with Tidepole Island, now affectionately referred to as ‘Sam’s Island’. Local lore suggests that Sam’s first visit to the island was on a makeshift raft, where he found himself stranded for a few days. His fondness for the island inspired him to construct a castle, carting materials from the mainland. Over four decades, Sam transformed the rocky site by hand, into an oasis. Hamersley Iron gave Sam a gentleman’s lease, and in 2005 when he passed away he was buried on the island with his beloved cat.
Located only a short distance across the water from the Dampier foreshore, Sam’s Island is an historic and iconic Pilbara landmark.
Click images to enlarge
Friday - The difficulty of provisioning in Dampier is that the local IGA has very limited and limp supplies. However, Snow Goose put us onto 'The Good Grocer' - a well-stocked IGA in Karratha who deliver, with the first delivery free and only $10 for subsequent deliveries. We placed our order for the next day and were very impressed by the whole operation - fabulous fresh produce, minimal packaging, and the driver (Maria) backed right up to the pontoon for us! What a fantastic service for yachties.
Click images to enlarge
Click images to enlarge
Saturday - farewells to Coralie, Smillie and Peter aboard 'The Esky', given our imminent departure to The Montebello Islands Monday and their engagements with FeNaClNG and Angel Island Saturday and Sunday. Dinner at the Sailing Club with Stephen and Gayle.
FeNaClNG - Fe[Iron] NaCl [Salt] NG [natural Gas] - is an annual festival event held by the City of Karratha
Click images to enlarge
FeNaClNG - Fe[Iron] NaCl [Salt] NG [natural Gas] - is an annual festival event held by the City of Karratha
Click images to enlarge
Sunday - phone calls to friends and family, lunch and live music at the Sailing Club with Stephen and Gayle, afternoon footy - the Dockers actually win a game!
Monday - Huey, the weather god, is having a laugh and blowing the wind all over the place. We stay put for another day.
Tuesday - Huey is still laughing. We stay put for another day. Taking advantage of the Hullaballoo café I have cake for lunch (the captain has a more sensible sandwich), followed by a beach walk, then another yachties evening BBQ organised by Coralie and Michelle. Thank you, gals. What a delightful way to spend an evening, with just the right amount of risqué fun.
Click images to enlarge
Monday - Huey, the weather god, is having a laugh and blowing the wind all over the place. We stay put for another day.
Tuesday - Huey is still laughing. We stay put for another day. Taking advantage of the Hullaballoo café I have cake for lunch (the captain has a more sensible sandwich), followed by a beach walk, then another yachties evening BBQ organised by Coralie and Michelle. Thank you, gals. What a delightful way to spend an evening, with just the right amount of risqué fun.
Click images to enlarge
Wednesday - He is still laughing. We stay put for another day. After a week of pretty nice weather I finally blow up one of the stand-up paddle boards on a wretchedly windy day and go out, theoretically to catch up with Coralie and Trish in their kayaks, eventually finding each other on my way back. We had guests aboard when I returned to the Esky, Gayle and Stephen getting out and about.
Thursday - Huey laughs harder, and we stay put for another day. I’d spread the word amongst the yachties about a last meal at the Sailing Club - hankering as I was for another fish sandwich with beer battered chips - and we were joined by a few crews. Another delightful evening in great company. The wind had at last died down by the time we returned from dinner, so we took the opportunity to pull the dinghy up onto the bow.
Friday - Huey must have fallen off his cloud laughing - the wind was the worst it had been all week! It was blowing in the right direction, if only it would die down enough for us to safely lift the anchor. It blew so much that the boat, which we had only cleaned yesterday, was covered in red dust again, every square inch of it. Not until 1530 hours did the wind dropped sufficiently for us to weigh anchor, and we finally got to head south.
Click images to enlarge
Thursday - Huey laughs harder, and we stay put for another day. I’d spread the word amongst the yachties about a last meal at the Sailing Club - hankering as I was for another fish sandwich with beer battered chips - and we were joined by a few crews. Another delightful evening in great company. The wind had at last died down by the time we returned from dinner, so we took the opportunity to pull the dinghy up onto the bow.
Friday - Huey must have fallen off his cloud laughing - the wind was the worst it had been all week! It was blowing in the right direction, if only it would die down enough for us to safely lift the anchor. It blew so much that the boat, which we had only cleaned yesterday, was covered in red dust again, every square inch of it. Not until 1530 hours did the wind dropped sufficiently for us to weigh anchor, and we finally got to head south.
Click images to enlarge