We have avoided Yamba for two years. The channel to get there goes around tight hairpin bends and over worrying shallows, hugging small islands closely in other places. My bravery to be on the water do not need to get stuck somewhere in the mud. Two years ago we bumped over some boulders here on the Clarence River and that event seriously rocked my ‘security’. How the fishing fleet of Yamba comes and goes is something I just don’t even want to know about – practising my ostrich head-in-the-sand approach. But guilt for being here and not explore, which goes against the grain of being a tourist, made us decide to try it. Then during our last social visit with another cruising yacht in Iluka, they mentioned with detail how a friend of theirs dragged numerous times at Yamba. Oops, that meant poor holding – and a strong blow was predicted for two days. ‘Maybe we shouldn’t go.’ ‘What the heck, we just go’ the boss man said. I stayed below decks busying myself with all kinds of nothing in the galley during our trip to Yamba, to prevent being confronted with my what-ifs. Only once did we plough through the mud when we gave way to the ferry and left the channel. When we anchored further up the narrow channel, the anchor gripped immediately the sticky mud and we stayed put for a few days. We were in Yamba after all, and enjoyed the climb to the lighthouse and looking over the coastline dotted with surfers. We also supported a local dentistry once again.
