Fai Tira Blog Monday 16th August

Almost at Mackay 19:08.71S 154:35.70E

 

 

We woke to a beautiful Friday morning. It felt almost Spring-like. The seas were flat, the horizons long, the few clouds broken and light, stretching like overlapping pillows before merging into a gentle haze in the blue distance.

The wind had by now dropped away to almost nothing, so it was engine on and a day spent in the sun, motor sailing.

We’d been in close company with David and Valerie on Angel since leaving Vanuatu and surprisingly, considering the distance we’d travelled, they were still in visual contact.

Our feathery passengers gradually flew the roost and by early morning they’d returned our boat to us, showing their appreciation by leaving us with a deck full of crap.

 

 

Pete with White Capped Noddy

 

 

One of the Australasian Gannets

 

Anyway it was calm and sunny. Mackay was now within touching distance and although we were now, due to the lack of wind, faced with two complete days of hand steering, spirits were fairly high.

We’d almost finished what would be our third longest passage so far, been bashed around by some unrelentingly tough weather conditions, and listened to reports of other BWR vessels that were struggling and being assisted as other fleet boats rallied round.

So there we were feeling quite relaxed, if not just a bit smug, trundling along in our little tin boat with all its unsophisticated gadgetry thinking we’re almost bullet-proof, nothing could go wrong now could it?..........’Fraid it could and did!!

As the evening approached Angel closed in considerably, their lights glowing brightly to our starboard against the now rapidly darkening mauve of a tranquil evening sky. Also just visible, on our port side, was the barely perceptible twinkle of a new set of lights quite probably those of another BW boat.

By now the wind had almost completely died, with the sails becoming more of a hindrance as they as they flapped and flogged, causing the boom to rattle and swing making the boat yaw and cumbersome to steer.

Although the engine had been running smoothly most of the day, my near-paranoid awareness of sound had been alerted over what I felt were slight and almost indiscernible note changes. As the night progressed, what had once been indiscernible had now become distinct, and during Jeremy’s watch I knocked back the revs in order to reduce the load.

The engine responded by losing its persistent laboured chug and settling back into its normal rhythmical tick. It was an instant short term remedy that was never going to be the answer to what was obviously a more deep rooted problem.

We were now in nursing mode with the boat now limping along rather than powering. By the time Pete had arrived on watch things had deteriorated and my fitful slumber was full of sounds, half imagined but unfortunately mostly real. And it was with more than a little reluctance that I dragged myself from bed at about 2am to change the remaining fuel pre-filter.

With the boat now stopped, we informed David on Angel of our problem.

 

 

David and Valerie on Angel

 

It was then that Mark on Blue Magic made VHF contact.

It was his and Chrissie’s boat light that had been the new distant light, and as it happens came over the hill like the proverbial cavalry to the rescue (ok, ok there weren’t really any hills)

 

 

Chrissie on helm of Blue Magic

 

 

Mark asking how the repairs were going

 

They were now also aware of our plight, although at this stage it still really didn’t feel that much of a plight, surely the next filter change should cure it?.

The procedure didn’t take long and my head emerged from the depths of the bilges bleary eyed, smelling a bit like a garage forecourt, but fairly confident of success, perhaps then life could return to normal?

It did but not for long. This was now causing concern. Both filters were now new. All that remained unattended was to change the engine mounted one and dissemble and clean inside the casing of the first one we’d replaced, a task I was reluctant to take on at what was now 2.30am.

However, our normally trusty lump of mechanical power, obviously didn’t feel well, letting us know the only way it could.

Once more we came to a standstill and the boats, around us, that were once just good company now started to change into support mode.

Below deck the boat was beginning to look a state, with open bilges, and tools, rags and spilt diesel littering the floor.

Both Pete and myself were in deep frustrated and sometimes irritated (well me anyway) conversation about our next plan of action, while Jeremy, who’d been awake the longest, stood at the helm with eyes looking like overfilled travel bags, making sure we pointed the right way.

The symptoms were identical to those we’d previously experienced. It’s almost certain that it had to be a fuel supply problem, and on that basis and the possibility of having picked up a faulty batch or rubbish from an agitated tank during our rough crossing, we decided to once more replace the first in line paper filter element. Once again our success was short-lived.

We consulted the manual for advice and also to remind ourselves of any other past solutions, and cleaned the engine fuel strainer. The last in line filter is the engine mounted one. We’d failed to locate one on a recent re-stocking trip, so I removed, cleaned and re-installed it.

By now we were in regular radio contact and I was in constant communication with Mark, all of which was being monitored by David and Valerie on Angel.

The air intake filter was replaced, filters were by-passed, and the fuel flow checked and re-checked at every connection through to the engine. And on advice from Mark injectors were bled. Each time, any success proved unsustainable. It was now just around 4.30am and long past the time when more than just our ideas were exhausted. Pete was keen to try running the fuel from a jerry can, directly to the engine, by-passing just about everything.

We rigged up a long line, allowing the fuel container to be positioned in the cockpit, the extra height using gravity to give the flow a boost. I disconnected the existing feed and Pete, complete with mouth full of diesel, handed me the end of a line that was gushing diesel like a fireman’s water hose and acted like a fountain on connection, spraying most things close by including the engine and me. With the jubilee clip secured and the hose free from leaks, we fired up the engine. Although obviously still not right, it was at least running. So I left what looked a bit like a battlefield below, to emerge into a day lit cockpit with Jeremy somehow still managing to stay upright at the helm. We felt tired, fed up, frustrated but mostly unconfident.

Pete had been talking to the others about options and the tow offered by Mark and Chrissie was beginning to sound like a good one.

Yes you’re right we are on a sail boat, what do we need an engine for anyway? Trouble is sails also require fuel and with zero winds forecast for the next three days, they weren’t going to get any and we’d go nowhere, completely re-arranging our schedule and missing important dates.

There was still 250 miles left to go. The newly hatched plan was to limp forward for as long as possible, with Angel and Blue Magic in support and the tow being the main back up if sailing options failed.

The limping soon stopped with the engine finally expiring at about 6.30am. We still had about 8 knots of wind so up went the cruising chute looking great, like a large orange kite as it flew off the front of the boat. However, with the speed barey reaching 2 knots the towing option was initiated. Bridles were positioned and procedures formulated, and at about 10.30am the sleek blue form of Mark and Chrissies Discovery 55 made a close positioning pass, with Mark standing on the fore deck launching a bag in our direction containing Pete and Jeremy’s dinner and lunch of chicken and bacon (some delivery service!!)

After the next pass we were hooked on. The weather forecasts were correct, the winds died, the seas remained flat and before 11am the convoy of 3 boats headed out on the 250 mile journey to Mackay.

 

 

Mark and Chrissie towing the line.  (he he)  

 

 

 

It’s difficult to describe just how much this new sense of reliance had the effect of a new kind of bonding even with these guys, who were already good friends. And interesting just how many new aspects of people’s characters quickly emerged. All of those around us rapidly revealed themselves as efficient, organised and extremely competent sailing teams, with an overriding capacity for the welfare of their fellow travellers.

Mark, with the support of Chrissie, calmly directed operations, whilst Angel’s constant presence was a reassuring influence with Valerie acting as our eyes and warning beacon, by alerting all passing merchant shipping of our restricted manoeuvrability. All of this combined to have the effect of making us, sat at the back, feel quite cocooned and cosseted.

 

 

David and Valerie on Angel recovering Marks warps and our fender

 

Chrissie even prepared food for Pete and J, sending cooked chicken and steak back to us. It was tied to a long line sealed in a polythene bag, lashed to a buoy and launched overboard (most other takeaways use scooters for delivery!!).The thought conjuring up all sorts of images of smiling great whites as they waited in line outside this hospitable and generous floating restaurant..

What actually happened was: our speed was too high and both J and I stood on the fore deck, boat hooks in hand, and watched as the now detached and out of reach packages just went floating by. As if that wasn’t bad enough, things became even more serious when a coupling bowline slipped and everything else floated by, including our fender and valuable and vital lengths of Blue Magic’s warps, which somehow had to be retrieved.

The scene that followed was about as surreal as it could be!.  Angel returned from their position, about ¼ of a mile in front and travelled back the further half mile to the position marked on our chart plotter, by the man over board button, activated by Pete.

So there we were, two tied-together boats, parked in this massive expanse of calm, clear, glistening blue that was the Coral Sea; under clear breathless azure sky, totally isolated 150 miles off the Australian coast, with both crews sitting around like relaxed spectators at a Sunday afternoon cricket match, watching as Angel practised their man-overboard procedures in order to regain some bits of string and a beaten up old buoy......Be difficult to write a script for this!!

 

 

Angel on Point warning ships of our inability to manoeuvre

 

For us the entertainment continued when, during the hand back of the recaptured lines, a trailing end drifted past and wrapped itself round Mark’s prop. He confirmed that he’d already been tempted for a swim as he quickly donned his snorkelling gear, tied himself on and dived for an inspection.

The rope cutter had done its job and with the smiling great whites probably sleeping off their steak and chicken lunch, he emerged all intact with the offending end!!

It was late on the evening of Sunday as we entered The Hydrographer’s Passage and into the Great Barrier Reef. The large crescent moon rose late and set early, so the darkness was only interrupted by the brilliant star lit sky and the flashing lights of the posts marking the channel.

Late during the previous day we’d been joined by Bionic, and our convoy now of four emerged in daylight from the other end.

 

 

Bionic

 

 

Sunrise

 

 

A voyage of Discovery

 

It was a rather ignominious arrival for us, and one that we’d rather had been different, but if this was meant to happen, then we couldn’t have chosen better company. It’d be hard to over emphasise our appreciation at the genuine care, concern and friendship they continually displayed.

We know that we weren’t at risk and the conditions always kind, but if things had been different, we also know that their commitment would have remained unaltered.

 

Big Big Thanks!

 

Don’t think we’ll forget our trip across the Coral Sea!

 

 

Mackay in sight

 

 

The support team

 

 

Heather and Nick from Mackey shipyard with Tony