Crossing the Great Australian Bight and entering South Australia was one of the biggest milestones of our journey. We were now in the final state of our circumnavigation of the mainland of Australia. We were almost home!
Being in South Australia was particularly exciting for another reason. It meant that we could finally fly back home to see our family and friends. It had been 14 months since we’d last been in Victoria and we were missing everyone desperately. I was especially looking forward to seeing my niece and nephews. Port Lincoln was where we would fly from, the first town we’d reach with a marina where we could safely leave our boat. But Port Lincoln was still some 250 miles away from Ceduna. There was still plenty of cruising ahead of us before we’d get there.
But for now, in Ceduna, we could see land and our first priority was to get off the boat and stretch our legs. After a shower and brekky on the boat, Matt rowed us over to the long jetty and we tied up, before walking into town. I had fancied a nice lunch at the Pub but it was shut, so we ended up having pizzas at the local takeaway joint. Before too long, the lack of sleep from our long passage was catching up with us and we wandered back to the boat. The afternoon was spent vegging on the boat watching Netflix and we polished off the leftover pizza and a bottle of red for dinner.
After a solid sleep we awoke refreshed the next day. We’d had a message that our friends Dave and Michelle from SV Luna Sea were in the area and organised to meet them. The last time we’d seen these guys was up in the Kimberley in July. They’d since returned to their home town of Mooloolaba and were now down here in their caravan. What great timing for us. We agreed to meet them in a days time a little further down the coast at Smoky Bay.
After a quick trip into town to stock up on groceries, we motored out of Ceduna and headed south to Smoky Bay. Once again we were the only boat in the anchorage and we savoured being in the calm, protected bay. It was very shallow in parts and we only had about ten or twenty centimetres under the keel at low tide.
Rowing to shore on Friday, we were excited at the prospect of seeing our friends. We hadn’t had any company since leaving Esperance ten days ago. We spent a lovely afternoon catching up with Dave and Michelle and meeting Michelle’s parents, Jim and Irene. Knowing that I’d be keen to get some washing done, Michelle invited me to use the washing machines at the caravan park, and we both had a long overdue proper shower too. A real luxury for us!!
The afternoon turned into dinner at the local Community Centre and then card games back in Jim and Irene’s caravan. Before we knew it, the sun was setting and we were in danger of rowing back to the boat in the dark. We hastily loaded up our washing, plus the slab of beer that Dave had bought for Matt and lugged it down to the water. The most incredible sky met us, glowing a brilliant orange, pink and purple. We arrived back on the boat at 9pm, just as the last streaks of colour were fading from the sky. After flashing our lights a few times to let Dave and Michelle know that we’d arrived safely, we fell into bed. It had been a big day!
The following morning we found the gang fishing off the jetty. They were doing pretty well, and already had a little haul of squid and fish. We said our goodbyes and left them to it. It had been a wonderful and unexpected treat to catch up with them down here. Who knew where we’d meet up next time?
Motoring out to Franklin Island, the wind picked up slightly and we could see that our wind instruments were still not working properly. It was pretty rolly in the anchorage, so we left early the next morning, motoring away under grey and overcast skies. It was a dreary day, made worse because I wasn’t feeling all that well. Thankfully it was calm in the anchorage at Streaky Bay where we stopped in the afternoon. We rowed to shore and wandered through the small town. Being a Sunday, pretty much all the shops were shut and the streets were deserted.
Back on the boat, we checked the weather and reassessed our passage plans. I had hoped to stop at Baird Bay, Venus Bay and Flinders Island on our way down the peninsula to Port Lincoln. However, it looked as though there were some strong winds approaching and both Baird Bay and Venus Bay require very settled weather and minimal swell in order to enter safely. We threw a range of scenarios and options around, but soon realised that we would not be stopping at all the places I’d earmarked. With the weather that was forecast over the next week, there were places we could have hidden and waited, but the likelihood of a rolly and uncomfortable anchorage was high, and without a functioning motor for our tender, we would also likely be boat bound, as rowing to shore in strong winds and swell is not the best idea.
Additionally, we could see that if we didn’t round the bottom of Cape Carnot in the next few days, then we would be stuck in the Eyre Peninsula for at least another week, possibly more. Normally that wouldn’t worry us, but just around the corner was Port Lincoln and our ticket home. We were tantalisingly close and the closer we got, the more impatient we became.
So we came up with a compromise. We would leave early from Streaky Bay and aim straight for Baird Bay. If the winds and swell were mild, we would enter Baird Bay and try and have a swim with the seals there, before leaving for Point Sir Isaac the next day and then rounding the Cape before the adverse winds blew in. It was the best we could do. Our longing to go home far outweighed the disappointment of missing some cruising.
So we set off from Streaky Bay with the sun rising behind us through a thick blanket of clouds. We negotiated the calm, although very shallow waters, through South Channel and then once we were out in the ocean proper it was as if the brakes had been slammed on. The sea was lumpy and swelly and we were barely making four knots of speed. It was going to be a long, hard slog.
Realising that there was no way we would be making Baird Bay before dark at these speeds, we resigned ourselves to the fact that we wouldn’t be swimming with seals today. It was time for Plan B which meant to carry on overnight to Seasick Bay at Point Sir Isaac. I was feeling pretty unwell and just wanted to get the whole thing over with. We took turns to nap during the day, and then Matt did almost the whole night shift, only getting me up at 5am so that he could have some rest.
Eventually the seas calmed and we both managed some sleep. The sun even came out on the second day and our spirits were a lot higher as we anchored in Seasick Bay in the early afternoon. It had been a long 150 miles from Streaky Bay, but we were now a huge step closer to home. Just one more big day to round Cape Carnot and Cape Catastrophe and we would almost be there.
Thankfully, Seasick Bay was a misnomer and we enjoyed a comfortable night on anchor. I made a cheese platter which we devoured with a couple of bottles of wine. Once again we were treated to an astoundingly beautiful sky glowing a multitude of vibrant colours. South Australia sure does know how to put on a sunset!
The following morning we woke to super flat seas. ‘Is this even the same ocean?’ I joked to Matt. We always find it incredible how the weather and the sea state can change so dramatically in such a short space of time. And so it was quite pleasant for the first few hours as we sailed down to Cape Carnot. Soon though the wind was back on our nose, so on went the motor as we rounded the bottom and began punching into the wind. The sea became lumpy again and our speed dropped to 4.5 knots again. Sigh.
Matt decided to troll a lure, and having lost all of his favourite ‘Qantas’ lures, he put out a rarely used skirted lure. Lo and behold, before too long, he had something big on the line. Slowing the boat so he could reel it in, we couldn’t see what it was until it was almost in the boat. It was a huge tuna, absolutely beautiful. He was too magnificent to kill, so we gave him his freedom. Not long after this a huge pod of dolphins charged up to the bow and began swimming in the bow wave. It was an incredible sight.
About 4pm we were back under sail and picking up speed. The boat was heeled pretty far over, which is not my most favourite way to sail. As we passed through the strait between Williams Island and the mainland the seas became wild and very very messy. We were in a washing machine. Still heeled right over, we flew up to Cape Catastrophe and witnessed the amazing sight of a massive pod of dolphins surround our boat. There must have been over fifty dolphins swimming, jumping and diving in the turbulent waters all around us, while the colours of the setting sun streaked across the sky above us. Just extraordinary.
And so it was with relief that we dropped our sails and ducked into the shelter of Memory Cove. Anchoring just on dark, we marvelled at how calm and serene the bay was. The next day dawned bright and sunny and we luxuriated in the calm conditions. After a much needed sleep in, we rowed to shore and went exploring.
Memory Cove is located in the Memory Cove Wilderness Protection Area of Lincoln National Park. There is a little campground which is limited to 15 vehicles per day, but we only saw a few other people. It’s an absolutely beautiful spot, reminding us strongly of Refuge Cove near Wilsons Promontory. We also discovered a little about the history of the cove and the tragic story behind its name.
In February 1802, Captain Matthew Flinders was charting the coast of South Australia in his ship Investigator. After rounding Cape Catastrophe and anchoring near what is now known as Thistle Island, a small boat was despatched to the mainland to search for water and a safe anchorage. At dusk, the cutter was spotted returning to the yacht, but half an hour later it had not arrived. A rescue party was sent to search for the missing boat, but returned to report that it had encountered such a strong rippling of tide that it only narrowly escaped being capsized, and feared that this is what happened to the missing boat.
The following day Investigator anchored in a small cove on the mainland, where the wreck of the boat was found but the bodies of the crew were not recovered. Flinders named the small cove where he was anchored Memory Cove and renamed the nearby cape to Cape Catastrophe. Nearby islands were named Taylor, Grindal, Little, Lewis, Hopkins, Smith, Thistle and Williams after the eight lost crewman. A copper tablet was erected at the site in memory. Having encountered that ‘strong rippling of tide’ ourselves, we could well imagine how a small boat could capsize in the turbulent water.
We enjoyed a relaxing afternoon on the boat, before the guys on Circala invited us over for sundowners. John, John and Steve had also sailed around from Seasick Bay the previous day, so we swapped accounts of the sail. They cooked us up some of the fresh fish and squid that they’d caught in the cove. The Tommy Rough fillets, in particular, were absolutely delicious. Before too long the bottle of red we’d brought over was gone and we accepted their invitation to stay for dinner. When we were finally delivered back to Cool Change there were several more empty bottles of red on Circala. It had been an unexpectedly big night, with some great company.
After another solid sleep, we left for the short sail up to Port Lincoln. Upon tying up in our berth at Lincoln Cove marina we were greeted by Hugh from Vagabond, who was incredibly welcoming and promptly organised to transport Matt and the outboard to his friends house where Matt could work on the engine. I tidied up and booked flights home for three days time. I was so excited!!
We had two days in Port Lincoln, exploring the town and doing some jobs, and before we knew it, we were in a taxi heading for the airport. It was time to go home!
The magic thing about home is that it feels good to leave, and it feels even better to come back.
Wendy Wunder
Cool Change 