Our sail from Tasmania north bound was very good. We left Low Head, the pilot station at the entrance of the Tamar River, the first Friday of May ’09 in the late morning with very light winds. Most of Tasmania was covered with a heavy low-lying smoke-blanket from various fires. During the day the wind and seas picked up and by early next morning we were at the entrance of the passage between the islands at Deal Island. It was very cold out in the night and we both tired from not sleeping well. I caught a cold and was very sea sick. The skipper luckily had only a little attack of sea-sickness. A wet and cold front with strong winds chased up extreme water dykes against the current and we had a testing ride to the anchorage. We went down for two days to recover.
The following Monday we had a healthy walk on the island between the wallabies and cheeky cape barren geese and enjoyed the beautiful views. Tuesday we hoisted sails in soft breezes on our way north. The breeze soon changed into wind. Wednesday the winds in front of a 50knots westerly chased us over Bass Strait with big seas for a day but Mylady was doing her normal thing with the usual ease. Once around the corner at Gabo Island we were in the lee of mainland Australia, the sea smoothed and in contrast to the past day and ‘n half, the wind only occasionally jumped up lightly to eventually get us into Quarantine Bay at Eden. We slept like rocks in this calm bay with the chime of bell frogs on the background.
Eden is an active port. Big fishing boats come and go regularly. The quay is like a bumble bee with supplier trucks, crew actively engaged, loading trucks receiving bucket loads of fish and rushing off to the ice storage. On the other side of the quay the local grown mussels were washed and sorted on their boat. They also had a point of sale to the public. A BIG pipe-laying vessel with Adelaide, South Australia as home port came in. It is a boxed island of about two hundred and fifty by forty meters and five or more storeys high. A large Singapore towing vessel had it in tow. Two harbour tug boats were doing their bit of the push and pull to maneuver the pipe-layer to its berth.
We were alongside a neglected and unoccupied yacht at the inner pier. A considerate local fisherman came to warn us that it was a bad spot for when the wind would change later in the afternoon at expected gale force. With the speed of light we got our empty LPG-gas cylinder out when he offered us a lift to town - we had heard and read about the more than healthy walk uphill to town. The friendly fisherman dropped us at the refill shop and from there we wandered through Eden exploring all the shops and facilities. We thoroughly enjoyed the butcher’s ware and his outgoing friendly chat. And we saw how the fish is scooped half-a-ton-a-time from a successful catch onto a big fishing boat weighing it down almost level with the water surface.
The Eden museum was interesting, their focus point, the famous killer whale ‘Tom’ and its clan that helped the whalers of Eden in their toil of whaling. The clan would round-up a whale and once it was harpooned, Tom would take the harpoon-line in his mouth to put a drag on the line to tire the whale. For ‘payment’ the orcas ate the tongue and lips of the whale. There were recordings where men that fell in the water were ‘protected’ by the orcas.
Our next stop going north was Bermagui. We arrived just before midnight. The wind was light and the East Australian Coast current running south, formidable. Bad weather was beating further north and due at our whereabouts soon, so we opted for refuge in Bermagui. We were on the bar at the entrance before we knew it. It was difficult to judge the distance to shore in the dark and we realized too late the speed with what the swell forced us onshore. Big waves picked Mylady up and carried us over the bar while breakers crashed with thundering noise on the rocks next to us. Finally we could pick-up the red and green markers and not even properly lined up to the strikingly bright and big leading triangles, we charged through the spewing foam into the channel. Eelco kept looking back at how close this disaster was. In the narrow channel all breakers were gone and the fast flowing current and swell pushed us at a hair’s width passed the unlit buoys of the shallows.
All at once we were in the sanctuary of Bermagui Harbour. Packed with boats we eventually rafted up, three thick. Our spot was touching shallow but well protected and calm. The large fishing trawlers were also in harbour, waiting for the bad weather to strike the next day and to pass. When we walked to the headland the next day, two of the green buoys in the channel were swept away and onto the breakwater. The entrance was a spectacular show of wild seas. We looked at each other with a did-we-came-through-that-last-night?-look and turned away.
Bermagui was an affluent, small town. Sport fishing, the game of the rich, was the hum in this town. The bakery was excellent and affordable. While we walked to the goldfields at Beauty Point just north of Bermagui, we were picked-up by Martin, a German immigrant since forty years. He was our spontaneous host for the rest of the day and took us on a tour to Central Tilba, a historic town kept in its original form and now a tourist attraction.
Central Tilba stood at the foot of the impressive Drommedaris Mountain that rose just short of eight hundred meters high.
We passed historic Tilba Tilba with its handful of buildings, naturally the hotel and pub was one of them, and the century old cottage of Foxglove Spires with its award winning garden. I loved the country town of Cobargo. When I commented on the chime of the bell frogs Martin informed me “No, it’s the small bell bird.” Like always, something to be learned everyday. With arms full of fresh veggies from his garden we got back to Mylady with satisfaction and gratitude. It is days like this that make traveling so rewarding.
Three days after our arrival in Bermagui, the small boat fishing fleet dared it out on the water. There must have been about fifty of them. They queued to be launched and they queued in small circles, droning just like a swarm of bees in the harbour to be hauled out. When the fish bit they seemed to anchor all on one rock, sharing the catch.
In rain we left Bermagui but for most of the day we enjoyed sunshine and light winds. We stayed very close to the coast and enjoyed the sightseeing of the mostly developed coastline as well as the little effect of the counter current.
After dark we arrived at Broulee Island where we were well anchored and protected from the southerlies. Broulee is a holiday suburb, no town. As we walked through the neighbourhood we were introduced to the loud cacophonic chattering of the wild birds and screams of the parrots, cockatoos, rosella, and what-have-you’s. It was a madhouse, but fascinating colourful and pretty.
Near the “whole in the wall” on the south side in Jervis Bay was our next anchor spot. It was easy to go in by night and we were well protected. Jervis Bay initially was a port for ships carrying produce of inland settlements to Sydney. Eelco kept commenting on the lots of colourful fish that swam around our boat.
The coastline at Jervis Bay with its magnificent sheer cliffs was a display to appreciate with its outcrops, caves and collapsed walls, shaded in mist and haze. The turmoil of rebound swell and waves with counter current kept us at the lighthouse of Point Perpendicular, the entrance of the bay, for hours. After lunch we finally started the motor to get away.
Greenwell Point, about an hour south of Sydney and fully built, was a sleepy town. A lot of people we didn’t see, so we guess most of the houses are for holiday purposes. We anchored next to the moorings in the river where strong current ran constantly and sea-grass strung as a horizontal wall from our anchor chain. The Dutch immigrant butcher had a good selection and was a great source of info. One petrol station, real estate and general store were the centre of town next to the pub which was filled with gambling machines. We came to Greenwell Point to see the admirable seventeen feet stuffed crocodile in the pub. It wasn’t there. The croc moved with one of the previous owners further up country. We left without filling up with freshwater because it was too difficult.
Port Hacking just south of Sydney was a safe anchorage. The incredible air traffic that landed and departed seemed never-ending and kept our fascination. At Sydney we were joined for the first time on the water by other sailboats. We entered Sydney on the Queen’s birthday. It was a sunny, summery, public holiday in June and there were hundreds of boats out in Port Jackson. Anchored across from the Opera House, close to the zoo, we enjoyed a magnificent Sydney night skyline. An expensive tour into the Blue Mountains was worth every cent even though it was freezing up there. Time flew whilst we enjoyed some of the anchorages around Sydney.
Broken Bay was a soul refreshing place. We explored the many arms of the Cowan Creek on the mighty Hawkesbury River. Ku-Ring-Gai Chase National Park surrounded us. Thick bushland covered the sandstone weathered rock. We walked to some aboriginal rock engravings in the park near Bobbin Head. Colourful crimson rozellas delighted us with their presence. I spotted a small stingray in a cozy creek and was surprised to find it so far, almost forty kilometers, inland.
A south-westerly blew us to Fingal Bay just south of Port Stephens. It was a beautiful anchorage with a long white crescent beach. At the southern end of the bay was a long rocky outcrop with builders smoothed by the grinding waves. The rock wall must have been a storey high. When we left it was almost lost in the dramatic foam fury of the Tasman Sea southern swell.
Port Stephens was a very expensive area, except in Salamander Bay we found a good value for money bakery. Karuah had some aboriginal touch to it. The Port Stephens is a big cruising area.
Further north the Camden River and Laurieton were our next stop. I liked Laurieton a lot. We had perfect weather. Summer sun and hot during the day, cooling to just before cold at night. Doing the bus trip to Port Maquiry gave us a good overview of the area. After a week it was time to move north again, the wind was right.
We entered the Clarence River in rain just before it was completely dark. A broaching wave took us skiing on the paint of our hull over the bar and into the river. Mylady and skipper righted spontaneously. They’re a great team.
The Clarence River is an amazing cruising area. We loved it, from the bridge, the big wide water, awesome cane fires, fascinating birdlife, and spooky thick fog in the mornings to the friendly people. Grafton was our turn around point. In Lawrence we had a very interesting tour on a sugar cane farm. Maclean, a Scottish town, is our ‘working’ town as we support the hardware store for all our boat maintenance and the post office for a shipping address. We have spent a month here. We could easily spend a whole season here – we still might one day. There are more than hundred islands in this river and everywhere one can anchor.
From Coffs Harbour we clear for New Zealand before the end of August. In December we will be back here in OZ to explore this very big island a little more.
Take care and please drop us a note.
Regards, MisA-le and Eelco
