The Hinchinbrook Channel
Fleck
Mon 28 Jun 2010 01:54
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Date Monday morning, 28th June
Previous anchorages Little
Pioneer Bay, Orpheus Island, Palm group 18:35S 146:29E
Scrubby
Point, Hinchinbrook Channel, 18:17.1S 146:06.5 E
Current
position
Rockingham Bay 18:09.4S 146:04.6E
Good Morning, The downside is that we have hit a
hole in the wind pattern, with just a little SW wind this morning insufficient
to send us anywhere. Same yesterday, but the upside was perfect conditions to
traverse the Hinchinbrook Channel: a must do according to the pilot guides and
the Lonely Planet, and so it turned out. Firstly our trip up here: another
excellent passage: thanks, it must be said, to the wind rather than any nautical
skills aboard. We left Airlee Point at 10.15 hours, Hannah taking her turn
to release the mooring lines and jump aboard our fast reversing yacht from the
pontoon finger at the very last minute. A diminishing wind of initially force
seven was forecast, but inshore at least we had only a light breeze to carry us
out to Armit Island where we could turn to resume our passage up the coast. As
we approached this mark the seas kicked up a little, enough to start the
mainsail and its sheet slatting about. From the other side of the cockpit I
watched in awe and wonder as a loop of rope snaked under the winch handle,
then cleanly lifted it out of its socket, and finally flipped it with a
double back sommersault overboard and down into Davey Jones' wet storage
department. You get quite fond of inanimate objects, and that winch handle had
been with us since 2005, and had seen off so many windy challenges in the depths
of night that he was practically part of the family. I said a little prayer
for him at lunchtime, and then vowed to replace him in Cairns with a locking
handle version: the King is Dead, Long live the King! Meantime we do have a
spare: spares do take up space, but at sea there are no shops.
Vowing to be a little more careful and watchful I
set our new course, noting that we would pass close to Rattery Island. Popping
below for the proverbial cuppa, I emerged as on so many occasions to find said
Island dead ahead, but still about 5 cables off. No panic. Rather than the
hassle of gybing I chose to sail as close as possible to the
cliffs, oblivious of the depth guage until its anchorage alarm
triggered at 0.5 metres of water under our keel. Panic, gybe all standing, ropey
mess in the cockpit, but no grounding. Will I never learn? From below, forward:
'What was that? Don't you know I'm trying to read?'
With the last of the small offshore Islands in our
wake we faced a long run towards Cape Bowling Green (yes, it is the flattest
cape on the whole coast). I was fretting that the wind would, as forecast, die
away, but instead it steadily got up, and by dusk we were making really good
progress, rolling quite a bit however, and so supper of pasta and garlic tomato
sauce was an easy choice: it can be eaten with a spoon out of a
bowl!
An overnight sail: a good passage wind, and anyway
no comfortable anchorages. Hannah took the first watch. I was woken at 23.30 hrs
with the succinct 'It's raining, the wind's changed, I'm going to
bed!'
She was right on all counts, but the rain was not
much, and the change in wind direction was to our favour, saving me from a night
time spinnaker pole gybe. Problem was the force seven winds. A great sail in a
fully crewed boat, but our double reefed main was feeling the strain, and we
were sailing well up to our maximum hull speed, so it was logical to pull down
the third reef again. Always an effort at night, and wet, as we had to come onto
the wind and waves for a few minutes; but well worth it, with better
balance and a less 'out of control roller coaster feel' to the proceedings.
Speed quite unaffected. Rounded the Cape at 03.00 hours, and then settled down
for the run accross Cleveland Bay towards the Palm Islands. Not much traffic
about, and at dawn I retired to my bunk for some sleep. Hannah made an
early call to the loo, and woke me up. 'Arn't you supposed to be keeping watch?'
Little Darling.The Wind Gods smiled again during
daylight, and we ran all day towards the Islands: Mostly
under Aboriginal control, and we were warned, crime was rampant (I do
wonder if these warnings are actually true). Anyway gathering dusk and the
attraction of a sheltered anchorage were all the incentives that we needed. We
did have an 'enjoyable' exercise navigating through the narrow passage
between Pelorus and Orpheus Islands in the face of my incorrectly placed GPS
plots, but fortunately we had arrived with 20 minutes of daylight remaining: I
am a cat with nine lives, or what?
Yes, we did wonder about the names, but neither of
us can remember enough of the myth to know how appropriate these might
be. Pelorus is round and pointy, Orpheus long and thin: can't see that that
helps much! Anyway Orpheus has a nice anchorage in Little Pioneer bay and that
is where we dropped our hook in the company of three boats lying on courtesy
moorings. Next morning one of these boats was off at 06.30. The crew were
courteus enough to wake us up. I shot up into the cockpit, pulling on some
trousers as I went. 'We think you might be dragging your anchor' they said. 'Oh,
thanks' I mumbled, noting that we were as firmly rooted to the bottom as we had
been all night. An odd incident, but we did have plenty of scope out, and with
only a light early morning breeze we may have been drifting around our
anchor with the current. Over breakfast we reviewed progress: 180 nm in 33 and a
bit hours, not at all bad.
A gentle sail over to Lucinda: a Sugar Port at
the entrance to the Hinchinbrook Channel. There is a sand bar here, so the
port had to be entered from the Channel rather that the open sea: a
fifty mile detour for south bound ships.Finally, after the first jetty was
destroyed in a collision with a freighter during servere weather in the
confined swinging basin, a very long jetty was built out over the bar to
open water. Smacks of one planning cock up after another. I should
know!!
We did careful tide calculations to see if we would
get over the bar, and I anounced to the crew that we would have a least a metre
and a half to spare. Hannah bet that there would be less than one metre. She has
such faith. The least we recorded was 0.6 metres so I lost the bet and another
of my nine lives.
The Hinchinbrook Channel is spectacular. The
mountains of Hinchinbrook Island lift the moist tradewinds up, and it rains
all the time. It is a classical verdant tropical rainforest area, and the
foreshores are equally green with very extensive mangroves. The Channel, on
average a half mile wide is (today) completely calm, and it is a strange change
to the rolling blue ocean. We got through to
the northern end, anchoring off Scraggy Point. Actually a beautiful spot with a
beach and palm trees. Off again at first light and with quite a dense early
morning fog. It is years since I have seen fog. Picked up an internet signal
outside the only settlement in the Channel, so we both did some emails before
breakfast. Hannah says we lost the world cup to the Fatherland 4-1. Won't do
much to boost sterling, will it!
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