We awoke to a glass out in our very sheltered anchorage on the Tamar River. The water was incredibly still, stretching out like a sheet of satin. It was cloudy and drizzly though, and as we didn’t have far to go that day, we had a lazy morning on the boat. As we set off, we realised it was the perfect location and conditions to try and recalibrate the boat’s compass. We’d tried previously with no success, and were quite keen to have it working properly before the upcoming long passage. Matt steered the boat through 360 degrees, ever so slowly, again and again, until finally the compass came up with a deviation reading and he pronounced it fixed. Phew!
Motoring down to Kelso Bay, near the mouth of the river, we anchored near Laylah and No Regrets in the tiny, crowded anchorage, before spending the afternoon prepping for our overnight passage. I was hoping for early to bed and a solid night’s sleep, but that was not to be our lot. In the late evening, as the tide was dropping, we became concerned about low water under our keel. We had drifted back over a little sandbank and Matt was worried that we might touch the bottom.
Staring down at the water out the back of the boat, it did indeed look very, very shallow. ‘I think we better move,’ Matt said, ‘we’ve just touched.’ And so it was all hands on deck to raise the anchor and reposition. Of course, the winds had picked up by now and were gusting strongly. In the very tight anchorage, it took us over 30 minutes and multiple attempts to reset the anchor in the dwindling light. Finally, we felt we were secure and went to bed. It was pretty bumpy overnight and I didn’t sleep well. Waking just before our 4 am alarm, we got up and got moving.
It was pitch black as we navigated through the green and red lights of the channel markers, weaving our way to the mouth of the river. Once there, the water became very lumpy and I felt sick. Once the mainsail was up, I retreated back to bed, leaving Matt to it. The first watch was all his! At midday, I emerged to find us sailing along quite well, both the main and headsail out. I took the afternoon watch and we jibed around the north east corner of Tassie earlier than we’d expected. After an early dinner, I went back to bed and was then back up at 9.30 pm. The full moon had risen, lighting up the night sky. I had dolphins to keep me company on my night watch, their bodies glowing in the phosphorescence on the side of the boat shaded from the moon. It was an incredible sight!
With the winds dying out, I’d had to turn the motor on not long into my night shift. Several hours later, about 2 am, we were motoring along uneventfully when all of a sudden, I felt a strange shuddering. I leapt up and raced to the helm to see our speed rapidly falling. ####!, I thought. The motor. Something’s happened! I called out to Matt, but the change in boat movement had woken him and he was already on his way up.
Suspecting that something had wrapped around the prop, Matt threw the boat into reverse, maneuvering to try and dislodge whatever it was. A huge piece of kelp came flying out from under the stern. That was our culprit. It seemed we had gotten most of it off. With the prop now spinning more freely, the boat stopped shuddering and began to pick up speed. It was good enough for now, but still not one hundred per cent fixed. And how scary. To lose our propulsion in the middle of the night, in the open ocean. And what if the kelp hadn’t dislodged? In the past, when something had wrapped around the prop, Matt had had to dive underneath the boat to free it manually. I shuddered to think of him swimming underneath the yacht in the darkness. It was an eventuality we had failed to consider. We vowed to buy an underwater torch when we reached Hobart.
The rest of the passage continued uneventfully, and when I emerged after my next sleep, it was to the cliffs of the Freycinet Peninsula, looming majestically above the coastline. We followed Laylah into Wineglass Bay, with No Regrets not far behind. By 9.15 am we were anchored in the stunningly beautiful bay; 29 hours since leaving the Tamar River, quite a bit earlier than we had originally predicted. We had sailed down a fair chunk of the Tasmanian coastline and were now in one of arguably the most famous, and most picturesque parts of Tassie. The Freycinet Peninsula. Wineglass Bay. I couldn’t wait to explore.
While we were cooking eggs and bacon for breakfast, we had a call from Karen. They were going to shore and did we want a lift? Yes, please! We all wandered along the beach and then up the very, very steep track to Wineglass Bay Lookout.
The views from the lookout were breathtaking. It was warm and sunny and the vibrant blue sky and aqua water contrasted with the white sand and the green hills. What a day!! We spent some time just soaking it all in. Here was the Tassie we’d been promised. Just gorgeous.
Back on the boat, Matt had swum underneath to check the prop and discovered that there was still kelp wrapped tightly around the prop shaft. Chris offered the use of his diving gear so Matt could more easily remove it. With the use of the scuba equipment, it was a quick job, and Matt then dove under both Laylah and No Regrets to check their props, as both boats had suffered similarly to us during the passage. No Regrets was fine, but Matt removed the same sort of troublesome kelp from Laylah’s prop shaft, making sure to keep well clear of its sharp rope cutter.
Chris and Pete helping Matt with the scuba gear:
We spent the evening watching a magical sunset light up the majestic Hazards, and of course, having a wine at Wineglass Bay.
We chose to stay another night in Wineglass Bay, but Laylah and No Regrets moved on. There were lots of boats in the anchorage, but lots of boats were leaving as well. We watched even more arrive throughout the second day. It seemed that this was a very common stop on the way down to Hobart, and right now it seemed that everyone with a boat was on their way to Hobart. The Wooden Boat Festival was on later in the week, for the first time in four years and it promised to be a pretty big event. We hadn’t particularly planned to be in Hobart for the festival, but if we happened to make it there in time then we’d definitely go.
For now, though, we decided to spend another day making the most of the sunny weather in this gorgeous location. Walking along the beach, we hiked back up to the main lookout, before continuing down to the carpark and over to the other side of the peninsula, returning along Hazards Beach track and the Isthmus Track. The views from the track were expansive, a deep blue sheet of satin stretching out to Coles Bay and Swansea. It was a glorious day and we enjoyed the walk, stopping often to soak up the views.
But the sunshine wasn’t to last long. Clouding over and becoming quite cold when we arrived back at the boat, we discarded our earlier ideas of having a swim. The cold and cloudy weather continued into the following day, as we left early for our passage south to Maria Island. Feeling confident, I hadn’t taken a seasickness pill and when the ocean became messy and rough passing Schouten Island, I was feeling terrible. I lay down in the cockpit and only arose when we moved out of the swell and into Mercury Passage, protected by Maria Island.
Anchoring in the huge but well protected Shoal Bay towards the south of Maria Island, we were one of about fifteen other boats. The flotilla was well and truly on its way to Hobart. It was cold, grey and overcast, and I was still feeling pretty crappy so we spent the afternoon on the boat. Fortunately, it was calm and flat overnight. Most boats departed early the next morning, headed through the Denison Canal, but we bucked the trend, making our down the outside of the Tasman Peninsula. Brian and Sandra had told us of a very pretty little bay on the coast and I had plans to spend my birthday there, doing some hikes. Much nicer conditions greeted us as we headed south, with the sun even poking its head out a few times. Following seas and lots of dolphins made for a pleasant day.
As the conditions were so good, we decided to make a pit stop into Pirates Bay, where we tied onto one of the public MAST moorings and went for a walk. Hiking through a bush track we emerged right onto the east coast to discover several lookouts over the rugged coastline. The formidable rock face towered over the ocean. This was much a much closer look at the cliffs than we would be getting in our yacht!! We stopped at the lookouts for Tasman Arch and Devil’s Kitchen, although the benign ocean and lack of swell meant that the blowhole was pretty much inactive.
Tasman Arch and Devil’s Kitchen:
Returning to the boat, we walked through the uniquely named Doo Town. Look at that, I pointed out to Matt, gesturing at a sign outside a house that said ‘Make-Doo.’ What a strange name. Then we spotted Gunnadoo, Doo-N-Time, Doodle-Doo, Dr Doo-Little and the list went on. There seemed to be a theme going on here. It wasn’t until we stopped at the food truck for a snack, that we learnt about Doo Town and how the houses came to be named all things Doo. In the 1930s a man called Eric Round placed a sign outside his weekend cottage called ‘Doo I.’ His neighbours followed by naming their shacks ‘Doo-Me’ and ‘Doo-Us.’ It caught on and apparently most of the town’s 30 cottages now have ‘Doo’ names. A quirky little town.
Finishing our meat pie and ice cream (Matt and I respectively), we arrived back to the bay to find the wind had picked up and Cool Change was bucking on her mooring. It was time to go. Sailing around the corner, we marveled at the impressive rock formations welcoming us into Fortescue Bay. An absolutely huge pod of dolphins joined us as we sailed through the entrance, leaping out of the water all around the boat.
We were disappointed to find two yachts already anchored in the little bay we’d had our eye on. They’d only just arrived too, overtaking us when we’d made our pit stop. Bummer! Our guidebook suggested behind the wreck as the most sheltered spot, but it didn’t appear there was room for a third boat back there. Dodging some craypots, we dropped anchor in front of the wreck instead. It was a bit bouncy, but it would have to do. We watched some locals retrieve fish out of the massive net they’d stretched across the bay.
We awoke the next day after a very bouncy and rolly night, neither of us having had much sleep. It was my birthday!! I’d had notions of going for a hike out to Cape Hauy and relaxing in the pretty little bay. The grey skies, drizzling rain and low cloud soon put a dampener on my plans. And the sleepless night had put a dampener on my enthusiasm. I couldn’t face another night here. Let’s just go, I said to Matt. I knew that around the corner, only a few hours sail away, was the incredibly protected waters of Port Arthur. It was guaranteed to be calm and flat. Plus there would be phone reception too.
And so we rugged up and motor sailed out into the dense fog. The low cloud almost completely obscured the cliffs and rock formations, which was disappointing, but on the other hand the seas were pretty flat and there was minimal swell. Oh, well, you can’t have everything and I was grateful for the calm sea conditions.
Motoring through the long bay into Port Arthur we found super flat and still water. The historic settlement loomed ahead, imposing and impressive, the low cloud lingering above adding to the sense of eeriness. It was an incredibly beautiful place, but it had a harsh and brutal history.
After tying up to another public MAST mooring, we headed to shore, rejuvenated and ready to explore. We wandered around the site taking in the history and imaging the horrors of life in this most brutal and barbaric place.
The Penitentiary:
Late afternoon, we retrieved our jeans that we’d stashed in the dinghy and walked along the track to Stewarts Bay. It was very pretty and peaceful. We had managed to find a restaurant and Matt was taking me out to dinner, He was very pleased with himself. On The Bay Restaurant in Stewarts Bay was just lovely and we enjoyed a delicious dinner. Walking back along the track to the boat, I was a little bit tipsy and very happy. It had turned into a pretty good birthday after all.
On The Bay Restaurant at Stewarts Bay:
Although we could easily have stayed in Port Arthur for longer, we were now close enough to Hobart that we would actually be able to make it in time for the Wooden Boat Festival. And as Matt said, he likes boats and he likes wooden things, so if we were this close then we might as well go.
After a great nights sleep and brekky on the boat, we were off, once again being joined by a huge pod of dolphins. With the light winds and following seas, it was a comfortable sail into Hobart and I felt fine. Fortunately, the low cloud had lifted by the time we were rounding Cape Raoul and we had clear views of the incredible rock formations jutting straight up out of the ocean.
It had been pretty cold throughout the day, but just as were we were entering the Derwent River, the sun came out. Seven roulettes, practising for their exhibition the next day, flew directly overhead. It was quite a welcome to Hobart.
We sailed up the river, past Constitution Dock, where we could just make out the festivities of the Wooden Boat Show and into Geliston Bay, where we tied onto our friends’ Chris and Anne’s mooring. Anne had a bed ready for us and we were going to stay with them for a week. Hobart Town here we come!
The older you get, the better you get. Unless you are a banana.
Betty White
Cool Change 