Fai Tira blog Friday 2nd October

 Red Island to Gove 12:11.98S 136:41.91E

I t was just after 8 am when we left the windy anchorage at Red Island, whilst contemplating the prospect of 3 nights at sea before reaching our next destination, Gove.

We’d also made arrangements with Chisel to leave at about the same time, but as we drifted out, Jeremy, laid back as ever, raised a cup of tea as we passed at the same time giving us a nonchalant, queen like, wave and you kinda knew, just then, that he’d be coming past eventually.

The passage out was narrow and shallow. It took us close to the jetty where, quite late, the evening before we’d stood, for half an hour, watching the playing of a big fish that turned out to be a shark, and wouldn’t you know it the same guy was there. He was also accompanied by other familiar faces that we’d seen. We all began to wonder if any of them had been home at all (must be addictive, this fishing lark!)

As we headed towards the red and green cans marking the channel, and turned sharp left, the depth remained very shallow. Even once outside, as we turned into wind to hoist the main, the gauge was still only registering 3 metres.

Initially the winds remained light and from the South East. The genoa was pulled into place and held in position with the spinnaker pole, but for long periods we barely bettered 5 ½ knots. Latter as the wind settled into a pattern and the boat stabilised, we set the sail plan to goose wing formation. Still not much speed, but it all felt fairly relaxed and with an ETA of something like 10am on Wednesday,,,,, why worry?

It was around mid-morning when a glance over our shoulders revealed the dark blue hull of Chisel as it effortlessly pulled us in. Normally the average performance of our boats is often quite comparable, but in light winds we really do struggle and even someone in a bath tub and a big handkerchief would go past!!.... Sorry Jeremy I didn’t mean....!!

As the afternoon progressed, the winds remained light and we had a short period of motor sailing while we charged the batteries, the increase in speed also giving a chance to close in on Chisel.

The shallow water, we’d experienced as we left the island, extends for many miles out to sea and even at mid-afternoon we were still only registering 10 metres of water under the keel.

I’d been watching the chart plotter and monitoring our progress as we moved from the large area of blue towards the white of the open sea, for some reason almost expecting something to happen, it did. It was nothing dramatic, but almost immediately we passed from one area to the next, there was an increase in the wind speed (clever things these electronic gadgets!) With the winds now increased to a healthy 15-20 knots and Fai Tira skipping along at 7 knots plus, our ETA in Gove tumbled to something like 4pm on Tuesday.

Dee’s experience of night time sailing is still very limited and a lot of what was 

on view still new to her. So it was great, as the evening progressed and darkness took hold, to be able to look over the stern and witness the dramatic appearance of the moon in the form of a complete and huge orange orb as it rose from a dark blue sea, before evolving into a brilliant yellow beacon with a shimmering brightness that reflected off the water and then spreading a subtle glow across the boat... Fantastic!

My first watch ended at midnight. Part of the hand-over brief was to report the lightening lit sky in the distance above the bow. At about 1 am my presence on deck was requested! The frequency and strength of the flashes had intensified, and the possibility of a sudden storm meant preparation and that meant reefing down the main. So with me on the helm and Pete at the mast pulling on the canvas, bits of string and hooking rings onto things, two tucks were applied. It immediately curtailed our speed, with it dropping from a heady 7-8 knots, to a more mundane 6. And then watch at the fading intensity of Chisel’s navigation lights disappearing as she went away until they eventually diminished blending in to the now black horizon.

Some of the night sailing was testing. Although the breeze remained strong it’s direction varied enough to make the wind vane unreliable, and even with two reefs in, it wasn’t until later on in the watch that things began to settle down, and although the boat speed was low, about 5 ½ knots, we were at least consistently travelling the right way.

As the last hours of darkness began to recede, the moon relinquished its power and dissolved with the first grains of daylight, we then reverted to a full main and with the boat travelling along at 6 ½ -7 knots settled down for a rest after, what felt like, a bumpy and somewhat turbulent night.

The main excitement occurred just after midday, with a visit from the Australian Coastguard and Immigration Authorities. If you’re thinking long boat ride for a check up, you’d be right. They actually flew over, passing low above our mast in their high-speed twin engine turbo prop aircraft. Naively we all stood on deck waving, hoping to attract their attention. We needn’t have worried. It wasn’t long before the VHF crackled into life to the sound of an extremely polite female voice. They’d identified both us, Chisel and Moonshadow and each was directed to the appropriate channel while she checked out our credentials (Somehow feel, there’s just got to be a crude, inappropriate joke lurking there in the background!)

The other daytime excitement was a terrific dolphin display and they hung around for a good half an hour, providing us all with delightful free entertainment. The seas quietened dramatically in the afternoon, something much appreciated by Dee, who was now beginning to feel the need to have her feet planted on something that didn’t move. However, it also meant light winds and with our ETA drifting out, it was now looking like a night time anchorage,,,,, not ideal!

For much of the second night we motor sailed, and for me the boredom of what was looking like an uneventful night, was the unexpected emergence of another dolphin pod. This time they were of a much larger and darker variety.

It’s curious how they always seem to seek human company and an audience. This time with the viewing platform on the bowsprit unoccupied, all of their performances seemed to take place adjacent to the cockpit, where I was the only spectator, hanging over the edge, as they slid by almost within reach.

Paradoxically to see dolphins at night seems even more spectacular and exciting. Even somehow mysterious as their undefined forms simultaneously broke the sparkling surface, their backs shimmering in the reflected glow of the moon with a backdrop of pyrotechnics as distant lightening illuminated the fluffy cumulus outline, emphasising the mass of the dark interior. All it needed now was orchestral accompaniment and it would have felt like one of those distant summer music evenings spent at Hampton Court with our good friends Alan and Karen, we even had the rain, but it was the next day. (Yes,,,,, I know they don’t have dolphins, but they do have fireworks!)

What ended up as our last days sailing turned out to be a mixture of proper sailing, motor sailing, violent squalls and torrential downpours and Pete seemed to cop most of the last two.

We eventually arrived at dusk with the lights of the vast bauxite processing plant, the size of a small town, dominating the skyline of the approach, a twinkling mass of orange and green in the half light.

The anchorage turned out to be tranquillity itself. As we drew nearer, with voices from the now anchored Chisel, providing VHF guidance, the light disappeared. So faced with a mass of unlit moored vessels, we eventually decided on the course of discretion, and dropped our hook a long way out. With the engine finally quiet, the breeze hardly disturbing a hair and the sea barely rippling, the silence was overwhelming. In the background the massive bauxite plant appeared like some gigantic silent statue, with drifting steam and smoke emissions being the only evidence of activity. Our trip ashore would have to wait until the next day, the township of Nhulunbuy was too far away and everything local, namely the yacht club, was closed. So for us it was eat, feet up, drink what was left of the alcohol and crash out early to bed (aren’t our lives exciting!!!)

As well as confirming the extent of the huge unlit parking lot we so wisely avoided last night, our early morning scan from the cockpit revealed the extent of the processing plant. And what last night had looked like a mysteriously illuminated wonderland, revealed itself in daylight to be an ordinary, if very large, weatherworn, ageing, but artistically intriguing collection of silos, chimneys, pipes, sheds and workshops on a massive scale that somehow looked as though it ought to be there.

The Gove Peninsular is in Arnhem Land right on the edge of the Northern Territories in a mainly Aboriginal area. It sprang to prominence during the last 60 years, when thanks to the efforts of geologist H.J.Evans, it was discovered to be rich in bauxite, the single most important contributor to the Australian economy. Also of great importance, around that time, and as a result of fisheries research, was the discovery of huge numbers of prawns. They also had the added benefit that they were of the banana type meaning they could be fished by day, allowing the fishermen a more sociable existence

Our plan for the day, once we’d made some inroads into the jobs list, was to visit the yacht club, grab a beer then travel into town, visit a Woolworths (Oh joy) and try to gain internet access. Luckily for us the guys from Moonshadow had the same idea and we doubled up on the taxi and halved the cost at the same time giving us the opportunity to meet the crew of a new boat and get acquainted.

It transpired that Peter, The owner and captain, has been completing the rally in stages over the last two years, not always with the same crew members and this leg would take him through to Thailand. We ended up having an evening meal with them at the yacht club. They were good company and fun to be with.

Our departure the next day was an early one and we glided past the sham tinsel town still twinkling in the dark aiming to hug its jetty where brightly lit cargo ships were moored gorging themselves on a diet of conveyor loads of processed bauxite destined for who knows what part of the world.

Our next destination is Darwin, the final stop in Australia and from where Dee would leave for her trip back to the U.K. but not before we’d explored Sidney together. However, before all of that there were still 3 more days sailing to complete, including a passage through the notorious Hole InThe Wall a 50 metre wide narrow pass splitting Ralagala one of the Wessel group of islands where the tide can flow at up to 8 knots. Get it right, just after high water ebb, and it should be smooth with time to look at the scenery. Get it wrong, then make sure there are plenty of toilet rolls handy when you get spat out of the other side back into the Arafura Sea.

Our early start was to ensure that we weren’t one of those embarrassed and or arrival time needed to be precise.... It was and the scarily narrow gap finally became clearly visible at about 11am.ours being the third boat of a convoy of four to enter.

With our timing spot on we settled down, with cameras poised to watch some stunning coastal scenery that continued right through the pass. The entry was amazing with stark eroding cliff faces looking just like a man made wall almost resembling a huge building site, with the massive dislodged boulders looking like discarded masonry (A few scaffold poles and it would have been complete)

As our smooth entrance continued the rock patterns grew in intricacy as the erosion etched surfaces revealed layers of hard and soft stone often giving the appearance of huge piles of stacked wafers.

The passage through was short, lasting about 20 minutes, but it was sensational and we’re all very glad that there will never be a future time, when someone might have the opportunity to tell us what we missed.

Now on toDarwin.

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Pete, John and Dee.