DOWN UNDER DOWN UNDER

Michael Pocock

We hit Australia, not literally we hasten to add, just north of the widest point at Gladstone in early September. The attraction of Gladstone as a port of entry was based entirely on the prospect of a reunion with our good friends Tod and Else Phillips (OCC) of Coquitlam with whom we have crossed paths irregularly since 1984. Gladstone has little to recommend it to the visiting sailor unless you have friends with wheels, as all the facilities are widespread and even the completion of the new bridge will only partially relieve the isolation of the marina.

After Gladstone we cruised south, visiting Bundaberg, Mooloolaba and Brisbane where we were splendidly entertained by Jo Beard in the absence of her husband, David (OCC), our Port Officer there.

Moving on we came to Sydney which has the greatest concentration of OCC members in the southern hemisphere. We lay at the Middle Harbour YC having been introduced by the retiring OCC Rear Commodore Australia, Sid Yaffe. John Maddox, the current Rear Commodore and Port Officer, sailed with us from the Pittwater to Sydney. Sid and John and their respective wives made us extremely welcome and looked after us superbly during our stay.

One cannot fail to view the Opera House but, to us, of equal fascination was the exhibition high up in one of the south pylons of the Harbour Bridge. Extraordinarily sharp photographs taken during the construction demonstrate what a superb engineering achievement the bridge was when one realises that it was opened as long ago as 1934.

We made a non-stop passage from Sydney to Eden, the traditional jumping off spot for crossing the Bass Strait. On 17 November we sailed from Eden and this was where the cruising took on a special quality that will long be remembered. The forecast spoke of north-east winds of 25-30 knots which seemed acceptable, and we passed Gabo Island and entered the Strait as the sun went down. We later came to learn that Australian forecasters are accurate in direction and conservative in strength and this time was no exception. The north-east winds steadily rose to 40 plus knots and we ran with ever increasing speed on a south-south-west course aiming for the west coast of Flinders Island. There should perhaps be a special prayer, `O Lord preserve us from heavy weather gybes on old mainsails'. Ours had already passed the 40,000 miles mark and with two gybes in the strongest conditions it was a wonder it survived. The Bass Strait is notoriously rough and we would have no argument with that assumption -- the bottom comes up from a great depth to less than 50 metres with steep fronted seas. All of which is more bearable with the sun shining.

In Mooloolaba we had succumbed to temptation and installed GPS -- the price was so low that it seemed stupid to sail without it. Now was the chance for this wonderchild to show its worth. As the evening came closer visibility reduced and a policy for the coming night had to be chosen. On dead reckoning we would have had to steer for the widest gap in the string of islands ahead of us. With the GPS we were able to feed in a waypoint that led us into a sheltered bay on the south side of Inner Sister Island, and with thirty minutes of daylight left we dropped our hook for an unexpected night in, after an exhilarating run.

It remained windy, sometimes extremely windy, while we worked our way round Flinders Island to Lady Barron. At this stage we were bound by our schedule and we sailed for the Tamar River 9O miles to the south-west with entirely the wrong wind and much more of it than we would have liked. Like all things unpleasant they are so nice when they stop and we sailed into the Tamar in lovely sunshine with a fair flood tide that swept us up to Beauty Point like an express train. We picked up a mooring off the Port Dalrymple YC and were amazed when someone pulled out from the shore almost immediately. Imagine our delight when we recognised Hugh Clay (OCC) whom we had imagined was well on his way to South America. We overlapped with him for 36 hours and did what we could to help while he forced a good deal more than a quart into the proverbial pint pot. Aratapu was looking remarkably short of freeboard when he left for Hobart the following evening.

In two easy days we made our way 35 miles up the Tamar to Launceston and this was where the true nature of cruising in Tasmania showed up. Firstly the Commodore, no less, of the Tamar YC rowed across to bid us welcome, something that has never happened to us before in our travels. Secondly, we called at the boatyard to say that we were lying to their deep water mooring and would like to stay for five days, and how much did we owe them? They dismissed the notion with the comment that it was only a mooring!

In Launceston we were joined by our Commodore, Mary Barton, for the passage round Tasmania to Hobart. A couple of extra night's stay were necessary in the Western Arm, close to the mouth of the Tamar, to allow a front to pass through and then we sailed back to the east. Our cruise round to Hobart was achieved without a night at sea, with only one morning of strong head winds, and with a series of delightful stopovers along the way. In Port Arthur we visited the old penal settlement, now restored into a much more attractive setting than it can have been for the original inmates, and we enjoyed the spectacular rock formations around Tasman Island and Cape Raoul.

Mary left us in Hobart to fly north to join Pat's brother Peter Barton in Phuket, and we settled down to enjoy the delights and excitements of Hobart at Christmas time. Just before the Sydney-Hobart fleet arrived we transferred from Constitution Dock to a berth at the Derwent Sailing Squadron. What marvellous facilities overseas yacht clubs have, ones that no UK club could even dream off. During our visit we were hauled out on the club lift and we antifouled for a sum way way below any other that we have ever enjoyed before.

While we were in Hobart the British Steel Challenge fleet arrived from Rio and we were pleased to be able to add to their welcome. Despite their rigging problems the event was obviously a very real success and the crews were given a great welcome in Hobart. All the crews seemed to be in very good heart and their response to the local hospitality created a very good impression in the city.

Our port officer, John Solomon, who was away on the Sydney-Hobart when we arrived, made us very welcome on his return and we also enjoyed the company of Hugh Garnham (OCC).

In the middle of January we sailed away down the Derwent and down the D'Entrecasteaux Channel, enjoying attractive anchorages and sheltered waters. From Recherche Bay we embarked on the most significant passage when rounding south-west Tasmania. The winds recorded at Matsuyker Island are said to average 35 knots from the south-west and we should presumably be thankful that the day we chose was no more than average. It was a long hard slog and, although we did not reach Port Davey, we did get a peaceful night in Louisa Bay and finished the passage in relatively windless conditions next day. Port Davey and Bathurst Harbour are only accessible by some rugged bush walking or by air or water. There is therefore a great feeling of escape from civilisation when one reaches this true wilderness environment. Because of our 7ft (2.l2m) draught we could not take Blackjack up the Melaleucca Inlet which leads inland. We were, however, determined to meet Peter the Pom and so we mounted an expedition in our sailing Tinker, plus outboard, on what turned out to be one of the wettest days of our time in Tasmania. Peter and his wife Barbara mine for tin in the moorland basin at the head of the inlet. They have a 33 ton barquentine rigged vessel and twice a year they sail to Hobart with a cargo of 6 tons of tin ore and return with an equivalent load of stores, fuel and new equipment. They are a remarkable couple, totally independent and dedicated to their mine. It was a great thrill to meet them, but our return to Blackjack in our overloaded and underinflated Tinker with a strong following wind was just a trifle hairy.

To be honest we enjoyed Macquarie harbour, the only other refuge on the wild west coast, even more than we did Port Davey. There is road access to the old fishing harbour of Strahan and therefore a steady flow of tripper boats serving the constant stream of land-based tourists. There is, thankfully, room for everybody. Once safely through Hell's Gates there is plenty of delightful sheltered cruising to enjoy, with the opportunity to go some way up the beautiful Gordon River even with our draft.

Nobody spoke well of Port Phillip and the approach to Melbourne and, having dallied long enough in Tasmania, we decided to head futher west. We re-crossed the Bass Strait to Portland, which proved a useful place for minor re-stocking after the very limited opportunities on Tasmania's west coast. Once again we took local advice and made no attempt to reach Adelaide -- instead we visited two anchorages on the north coast of Kangaroo Island on our way to Port Lincoln. Port Lincoln is at the centre of the best cruising area on the south coast with a wide variety of sheltered anchorages within easy reach. In the Sir Joseph Banks group we found a colony of sealions on a sandspit. When we rowed in closer for better pictures the younger generation were filled with curiosity and came and swam playfully around the dinghy.

It should be said that South Australian cruising is not without its drawbacks. The first of these is the poor holding in many of the anchorages. Local yachtsmen carry large fisherman-type anchors with the flukes ground to sharp points. Our faithful CQR was not ideal. The second is that onshore winds come straight off the Southern Ocean and have a sharpish bite to them. Finally a combination of cold water and white pointer sharks makes one reluctant to spend much time in the water.

The weather system is such that in February and March a series of high pressure systems move eastwards south of Australia with fresh easterly winds between them and the shore. They are interrupted by small fronts that upset the pattern, bringing south-westerly winds of fairly short duration. The weather forecasting from Melbourne and from Perth (which overlaps in South Australia) is excellent, and with reasonable patience it should be possible to cross the Bight on entirely fair winds.

From Streaky Bay on the west side of the Eyre Peninsula to Esperance in Western Australia is around 600 miles and is the longest jump without a good refuge that it is necessary to make. Arrival in Esperance is not without its excitement. The Recherche Group of islands spreads for just over 100 miles to the east and makes the last night's navigation interesting to say the least. GPS may tell you exactly where you are but the chart (the latest available) carries cautionary notes stating that large areas are still based on the surveys of Lieutenant Matthew Flinders in 1802. His measurement of longitude was exceptionally good for his day, but actually varies by as much as two miles with the satellite-derived positions now obtainable! Unfortunately the islands are mostly sheer sided rock and temporary anchorages are not easily found.

We lay in the yacht club marina in Esperance and again further west in Albany and were made very welcome in both places. In contrast to the east coast of Australia visitors are a rarity in these places and we met a number of very interesting and delightful people. In Albany there are several owners with first hand experience of sailing in the Indian Ocean and we picked their brains at every opportunity.

From Albany we had an easy passage round Cape Leeuwin to Bunbury which, if nothing else, has a very sheltered small boat harbour. In a long day from there we reached Fremantle at midnight and groped our way into the Fremantle Sailing Club marina, in spite of the lights and not because of them! Be warned, the approach is lit only by two amber flashing lights indistinguishable from those guarding a hole in the road.

As we settle down to a month's stay in Fremantle we look forward to meeting our Port Officer, Chich Thornton.

And an update from Pat, written from Port Louis, Mauritius, courtesy of Mary Barton to whom her letter was sent. By the time of `going to press' the Pococks had reached Durban, South Africa, and were hoping to be in Cape Town for Christmas:

Here is a brief account of our doings since leaving the Cocos Islands on 25 June heading for the Chagos islands -- approximately due west and a little north.

We ran for the first five days with the new yankee to starboard and the staysail to port and never touched a thing once we'd set it all up right. We averaged 160 miles a day for those first five. Then the wind eased and went round a bit so we set the main, and after an eleven day passage for the 158O miles we arrived in Chagos. These islands are part of the B I 0 T (British Indian Ocean Territory). The island furthest south is leased to the Americans who have a big base at Diego Garcia (forbidden to yachts), but yachts can go to various other island groups, the Salomans being the most popular. In our innocence we just wondered whether there would be anyone else there, so imagine our surprise when we found sixteen other yachts in two different anchorages! There are no native inhabitants of these islands as they all left in 1972. Mostly they are small islands, with big palm trees and very thick undergrowth, and white sandy beaches with coral ledges.

The snorkelling was great and we found some lovely cowrie shells, many quite big. We were careful not to take too many live ones and in fact Mike found some that were already dead but whose shells polished up beautifully. Unfortunately our outboard packed up (it needs a new coil) so we were not able to get about as much as we would have liked. There are even wells on some of the islands and people were drinking the water. We felt ourselves fortunate not to have to, having made sure we still had Carnarvon water and rainwater from the Cocos where we'd had the really big awning up. (It blew very hard at the Salomans so we only used the small one). They are the sort of place where people were spending some time -- three to five months! Apart from catching fish and collecting coconuts there are no supplies, though every four to six weeks a ship from Diego Garcia comes north so that the British Commissioner aboard can stamp all the passports etc. Apparently the ship's crew then provide a good barbecue ashore for all the people on the yachts. There is also a doctor on board, and they keep a lookout for illegal fisherman who come down from the Maldives. Unfortunately the ship did not call whilst we were there.

We moved on to Perros Banos, another group of islands within the Chagos group, and found one lovely anchorage off a completely deserted island which we had all to ourselves. This was followed by a very rough seven day trip south-west across the strong to gale force south-easterly trade winds to Rodrigues. The last three days we had three reefs in the main and only set the staysail forward. Rodrigues is the Tenth District of Mauritius and may not get its fair share of the resources, but the people were pleasant, a mix of Indian and African, speaking Creole, some French and a little English. We went on a cave expedition with some young Australians, and estimate that we walked for over a kilometre underground through this great cave system. One had to have a guide with excellent torches and we took ours too -- lots of stalagmites and stalactites and interesting rock formations. All very fascinating and, of course, we also enjoyed the bus trip there and back.

Due to the very strong winds this ocean produces we covered the 360 miles from Rodrigues to Mauritius in under 48 hours. This is quite a metropolis with high rise buildings in Port Louis and terrific traffic jams -- 100,000 cars for the one million inhabitants -- all rushing around so fast and noisily!