Harmonie - Purple Sky at Night - Pioneer Bay, Orpheus Island, Queensland, Australia

Purple Sky at Night - Pioneer Bay, Orpheus Island, Queensland, Australia

Harmonie

Don and Anne Myers

Tue 1 Jun 2010 23:01

18:36.525S 146:29.076E

We arrived in Pioneer Bay on Orpheus Island Saturday (5/29/2010) after motoring 6 hours and 35 miles to the northwest. It was another beautiful day with positively no wind. We arrived just in time to prepare dinner for the captain and crew of Storyteller (John, Sue, Annette and Tony), and the six of us spent our first really sultry evening sitting in Harmonie's cockpit looking out over completely calm, flat water to the western sky where the setting sun left behind an array of clouds turned ten different shades of purple. Red sky at night is a sailor's delight, but what about purple? We weren't sure at the time, but pretty much figured it out later.

After carefully washing all the dinner dishes, including the special real glass wine glasses that only come out in completely calm weather, all were stacked neatly on the galley countertop to dry overnight. At 3am, we were thrown into the front-loader washing machine again, this time on the normal wash cycle instead of heavy duty, but the stern smashing into the wind-against-current choppy waves was still enough to wake us both up and cause me to wander aimlessly around the cabin for the better part of an hour making sure everything was ok. At 4am, the stern smashing died down enough for me to go back to bed after making sure the still-drying special glassware was settled firmly on the countertop. Two hours later, the first big roll occurred. We could tell it was a big roll because I rolled into Don and he had to hang on to the side of the bed so he wouldn't roll out. At the same time, there was a series of 'clink-clink-clinking' coming from the kitchen. In less than two seconds I went from laying-on-my-side-squashed-into-Don mode to up-on-my-feet-save-the-glassware mode. Before the next big roll, you'll be relieved to learn that our precious glasses were saved. We continued to roll in a big way and it wasn't long after the wine glasses were stowed in their specially designed, cushioned storage spots that Don was up, the instruments turned on, and the engine running. Next, up came the dinghy. A feat in itself when the boat is rolling as it entails Don getting into the dinghy to attach a halyard (rope that runs to the top of the mast usually used to hoist sails) to the lifting harness, then climbing out of the dinghy onto the boat and guiding the dinghy up and over the life rail onto the back deck while I lift the dinghy using the halyard and mainsheet electric winch. In other words, I had the impressive job of pushing the electric winch button while Don wrestled with two hundred pounds of flying dinghy with attached outboard swinging from the mizzen mast while the boat rolled in the building swell. With a few well-timed shoves, the deed was done. Five minutes later, the anchor was up and we were off. We weren't sure where we were off to, since we had planned to stay a second night at Orpheus Island, but we were off.

From start to finish, it took us about twenty minutes to vacate the rolling anchorage. There were only about ten words exchanged between us the whole time. They went something like:

Don: "Where are you going?"

Anne (while leaping out of bed): "To save the glasses!"

Don (joining Anne in the galley): "Let's get out of here"

Anne: "Ok"

Don (while shoving the swinging dinghy onto the back deck): "Arrrrrggggghhh"

That's fourteen words, but still pretty impressive. I guess if you live together for three years on a boat, there is no need to exchange a lot of words at six in the morning when the boat is rolling ferociously and you aren't sailing at the time.

Speaking of few words, as we pulled up anchor, we noticed the crew on Storyteller doing exactly the same thing. No consultation between boats needed.

That's the first time we've ever had to vacate an anchorage. We knew the wind was going to shift to the southwest in the morning, and that the anchorage wasn't sheltered well for a southwest wind, but the southwest wind wasn't supposed to amount to much so we weren't worried. Oops. It's good it happened in daylight because it wouldn't have been as fun at night. Later, in another anchorage, we ran into some friends on another American sailboat (named Baraka) who had exactly the same thing happen to them in the same anchorage. Only for them it happened at 3am and they had to wrestle with an anchor chain wrapped around a coral head in the dark on a rolling boat. I wonder if the sky was purple the previous evening for them too? If so then perhaps a purple sky at night means a sailor's flight. In the end, we all laughed about it. Besides, it makes for a good story.

The other good thing was that the gustier-than-planned southwest wind made for good sailing to our next, very calm, anchorage - but that's a story for another time.

Anne