Crossing the Gulf of Carpentaria

While we had really enjoyed our time in the Torres Straits and around Seisia and Bamaga, our next challenge loomed large, ever present in our thoughts and our conversations with other yachties.

The Gulf of Carpanteria. 350 nautical miles. Two to three days of non stop sailing.

Up to this point our longest passage had been 25 hours, so we were looking at more than doubling that time.

There were many things to take into consideration. Should we leave directly from Seisia? Or should we sail further south to Weipa and cross from there? We’d heard from other yachts who’d headed south that they’d had an uncomfortable time bashing into wind and waves, and some rolly anchorages on the way down. It was a shorter distance as the crow flows from Weipa to Gove than from Seisia to Gove, but which route would put us on the best angle to the waves and the swell? Was the forecast wind too strong? Would it get stronger or weaker over the next few days? We heard from a few yachts who described their crossing as a ‘washing machine’ – how similar were the current forecasts to those conditions?

In the end, after much umming and aahing, the decision was made. We would leave on Tuesday 25th May. I was a bundle of nerves the night before, still questioning whether we should go, if the weather and seas would be ok? I didn’t have a great sleep that night, but in the end decided that a leap of faith was needed, and that we were indeed ready for this. Terry and Leonie from Sens de la Vie were heading across as well. It was comforting to know we’d have some friends out there with us.

After a final weather check, and conference between Matt and Terry, the final decision was made, and we set about readying the boat. Objects that could go flying were stowed away, pot restraints were screwed on, food items were taken out of the pantry for easy access, jacklines were tied onto the deck, and torches, life jackets and warm clothes gathered.

We left Seisia at the very civilised hour of 9.30am. Why leave at the crack of dawn when we’d be sailing for two to three days? We’d estimated that leaving early to mid morning should have us arriving in Gove Harbour in daylight hours two days later. As we motored out of the channel we received a text from Brian and Sandra who’d departed Seisia on Sunday and were almost at Gove, ‘We’ll see you in two days after the washing machine!’ Not the most comforting message ever received!

Nonetheless, we continued on, manoeuvering through the numerous shoals of Endeavour Strait for an hour before shutting off our engine, unfurling our headsail and setting our course towards Gove. We were on our way!! Matt was really pumped and excited, looking forward to the trip. I was too, but also felt a little apprehensive and a bit nervous. Still, I had total confidence in both our abilities and our boat. We could do this!

We settled into the sail and with winds about 20 to 25 knots from behind, we were flying along. At first the conditions weren’t too bad, but as we progressed further out into the Gulf, we began to encounter big, sloppy, confused seas. Waves were coming at us from the side, rocking the boat uncomfortably. The ‘washing machine’ description turned out to be a fairly apt one!

After dinner we started our shifts. I was taking 6 to 12 and Matt was on from 12 to 6. Give or take half an hour. By utter chance, it turned out that we would be sailing across the Gulf under a full moon, and not only that, but on the second night there was going to be a full supermoon lunar eclipse. I couldn’t believe our luck! The full moon meant that there was plenty of light and we wouldn’t need to use torches at all. Although we still turned on the radar at night, we could see all around the boat very well, which was much more comforting than being in the pitch black, the case if there was no moon.

As I began my first evening shift, I watched the sun set directly in front of the boat and the full moon rise directly behind it. It was pretty magical!

The wind was still blowing strongly and I had my life jacket and tether on, as per our usual precautions during night watches. After a few hours of sitting at the helm, holding on tightly and riding up and down the three metre waves, the wind picked up. Suddenly our 7ish knots of speed had rocketed up to over 9 knots with the wind strength shooting up to over 30 knots. Wowsa!

With the boat heeled over, I knew I had to de-power us, so I set about furling the headsail in a little bit. A challenging manoueuver in the strong winds on my own. Matt had only been dozing and he’d felt the sudden acceleration and leaning of the boat, so he jumped up to help. I had it mostly under control, but was grateful for his helping pair of hands. With the boat stabilised, Matt returned back to bed, and I completed the rest of my shift, hanging on tightly as Cool Change rode up and down the big seas. I’d taken sea sickness tablets so I didn’t feel sick and I tried to enjoy the experience. Terry called in on the radio to see how we were doing, ‘What a wild ride!’ I told him. Their boat had been knocked around and Leonie had hit her head, so Terry slowed his boat right down. I hoped Leonie was ok.

I gratefully swapped places with Matt when he came up for his night watch. Although it was hard to actually sleep with the rocking and jerking motion of the boat, it felt amazing to just be able to lie down and close my eyes. I dozed a bit, my body becoming accustomed to the movement. As our cabin lies across the stern of the boat, we sort of slide up and down the bed as the boat rocks back and forth.

About 3am, I felt a huge jerk as my body was suddenly thrust along the bed. I heard a big whoosh and properly woke with a start. ‘MATT!’ I yelled, scrambling to get up, my heart thudding. ‘I’m ok, I’m ok,’ he yelled down, ‘it was just a massive wave. It flooded the cockpit.’ Matt emerged down into the cabin, completely drenched. A huge wave had broken right in the cockpit dumping water everywhere and completely saturating him. I jumped up and grabbed him some dry clothes as he towelled off and got changed.

Luckily, since we were about as far away from Melbourne as you can get, and still be in Australia, the night was as warm as the water. Water temperature was in the high 20s and the maximum air temperature was around 28 degrees. Matt reckons it only dipped down to a ‘chilly’ 27 at night. He’s exaggerating, of course, and although he only needed to add a light long sleeved top for night watches, I would wear 3/4 pants, a hoodie and a head scarf.

Thankfully that was the last of the excitement and we swapped watches just before sunrise. By that time both the wind and the seas had died down a fair bit, and I sat fairly contentedly holding my mug of hot coffee, and watching the full moon that was now in front of the boat. I could see ‘the man on the moon’ very clearly, but to me it was most definitely a lady and she was peering down at me with a bemused expression, as if to say ‘what are you doing out there?’ It’s amazing what thoughts a tired brain conjures up.

I sat and watched the sun rise in the east behind the boat; first a faint tinge of colour colouring the sky, before the fiery ball emerged from the horizon and up into the clouds. Always a special experience and a time to be grateful.

The slightly better sea conditions continued into that day and we mostly abandoned our shift times, just napping in short stints and swapping over constantly. By this time, the fatigue was really starting to kick in. The lack of sleep was a killer and I felt utterly exhausted. In addition to the normal tiredness, the seasickness pills I took made me really drowsy and I found myself battling to keep awake during my watches.

I tried a number of tactics to combat this. I started snacking constantly, because I figured surely I couldn’t fall asleep if I was eating. So I ate; mandarins, fruit cake, chips, crackers, cold sausages, banana pancakes, toasted sandwiches, brownies and icy poles. There was plenty of ready to grab food as I’d prepared heaps and heaps in preparation for the passage. I ate so much that after a while I couldn’t stomach the thought of any more. I took to singing out loud to the songs on our playlist. Or tapping myself on the face, willing myself to stay awake. The lack of sleep plus the effect of the pills and the consequent exhaustion and tiredness was one of the most challenging parts of the passage; I’ve never coped well without enough sleep. Thankfully, we both seemed to sleep a bit better during the second night and actually felt like we got some proper sleep instead of just dozing.

On that second day, we didn’t see a single other soul, just a wide expanse of water and waves. By this time we were on a slightly different tack to Sens de la Vie and a bit ahead of them so we couldn’t even see them on the chartplotter. We were totally on our own. Nothing to see and nothing to hit. I did spy a few flying fish however. Did you know that flying fish actually have wings and actually fly up and out and across the water? I always thought it was just a term for the fish that leap out and skim across the water. But these little fish actually flew, their tiny wings beating furiously. Very, very cool! Consider my mind blown!

At some stage of the journey we were joined by a little bird. He flew onto our deck and proceeded to ride with us for about 24 hours. Sometimes he’d be blown off by a big gust of wind, but he’d find his way back and settle back down again. At one stage, he edged up right alongside where I was sitting, it was nice to have the company.

Once again the sunset and rising of the moon fell in my evening watch. The sunset was absolutely spectacular, bright streaks of orange and yellow stretching across the sky.

That second night there was also a ‘super blood moon,’ which is a total lunar eclipse coinciding with a supermoon. A supermoon takes place when the full moon occurs near the closest point in its orbit to Earth and a lunar eclipse occurs when the Earth passes between the sun and the moon. Apparently supermoons coincide with total lunar eclipses only once every four to five years. How incredible that we would be able to view this amazing sight in the middle of the Gulf of Carpentaria.

We had heard that the eclipse was due to start at about 9 pm, and I’d promised to wake Matt up then so that he could watch too. As I glanced up at the moon I could see what I thought was a big cloud passing in front of it. It was still a fair bit earlier than we expected the eclipse so I just dismissed it as a cloud. But the cloud didn’t pass across, and I started to wonder – maybe this was actually the eclipse? I radioed Sens de la Vie, and Leonie confirmed my suspicions, the eclipse had indeed begun. I raced to wake up Matt.

We sat completely entranced for the next hour or so, as the moon was very slowly covered up and then turned a deep orange red colour. It was as if a blanket was very slowly pulled over the moon, and as the bright light emanating from the full moon was covered up, the sky darkened and stars began appearing. As there was absolutely no light pollution around, other than that from our boat, the stars were incredibly bright. It was magical!

Thankfully, the seas had calmed significantly so we were able to sit pretty comfortably and marvel at such an incredible sight. ‘Did you ever imagine we’d be watching a lunar eclipse in the middle of the Gulf of Carpentaria, on our own boat?’ I said to Matt in awe. ‘And in the nude!’ he replied. Well, Matt was in the nude as he’d come up from his sleep but I was wearing a hoodie and a head wrap; as I always got a bit chilly during the night watches. Matt tried taking some photos and he managed a couple, but the boat was still rocking too much, so he gave up and we just sat and absorbed the sight.

After a while, Matt retired back to bed and I was on my own again. The blanket was peeled back off the moon and as the bright light reappeared, the thousands of stars faded away, completely hidden from sight. It really was like magic.

When I came back out for my morning watch there were some interesting cloud formations across the sky. I’m not sure if they were the famous ‘Morning Glory’ clouds that the Gulf is famous for, but they were cool nonetheless. The sun rose from behind them.

It was almost midday when we finally sighted the coastline. Land ahoy! There were some big waves building and the wind was no longer favourable for sailing so we switched on our engine. The last part of a trip always seems to take forever, but this really was a long way in and over and around to Gove Harbour, taking us four hours to motor in. Once we had passed Bremer Island, the seas dropped and it was lovely and calm.

Finally, bang on 55 hours after we left Seisia, we dropped anchor in Gove Harbour, waving madly at Brian and Sandra who came out onto the deck of Sealeaf to welcome us. We had arrived! Excitement and relief combined to give us both a second wind of energy and after a quick shower we dropped our tender and headed over to the Gove Boat Club for dinner and drinks with Brian, Sandra, Dave and Michelle. Our little tribe was missing Terry and Leonie who had dropped anchor near Bremer Island and would motor into Gove the next day.

Falling into bed that night, we felt happily exhausted and very pleased and proud of ourselves. We were looking forward to the next leg of our journey; discovering the unique and isolated coastline and islands of the Northern Territory.

Always remember we are under the same sky, looking at the same moon

Maxine Lee