Honey, shall we go out in a gale? What kind of question is that!
After hiding away, first at Low Head, then at Dark Hollow and finally at the Tamar Yacht Club sheltering from one cold front followed by another; and yet another, it did look like we'd checked into the mythical 'Hotel California' where you can '...check out any time you like but you can never leave!' We'd gone to bed last night feeling quite glum and thinking it might be a fourth postponement and now next Thursday, before 'just maybe' it would be possible to go further. A morning viewing of Met-Eye suggested that although conditions were strong in the early part of the day, winds would be from the west. The wind would be from behind pushing us exactly in the direction we wished to go. What a nice change. The price would be the 'strength' but from behind. If you are moving forward at 6knots, the apparent wind is whatever it is less the 6 knots of movement. It was also meant yto lessen during the afternoon (although it didn't do so until sunset). Sounded OK and the best part was that once we'd be on anchor at Tomahawk Bay the wind would remain from the SW meaning that we would not be anchored on a lee shore. Golden! The possibility of good night sleep instead of an anchor watch. What's not to love?
The decision to just 'go' was made rapidly and independently. The Bloke was very gratified to see me preparing by the time he'd returned from the ablutions. Passage food had already been prepared mid-week when we thought Wednesday would be 'leaving day'. All good. We got organised, taking off all the extra lines we'd attached in readiness for the 'blows' we'd just sat through. (Tasmania had been swathed in RED on the computer wind predictions for the whole week - plenty of 50knot winds). By 10:30 we were motoring out past the hulks used by the Australian Maritime Training Centre and on our way, with the ebbing tide shortening our journey by 30mins. What a well oiled machine!
It wasn't long before Low Head and all the details on the shore with which we'd become familiar in the preceding week started to become small as we were whisked away in a freshening wind on a mostly sunny day. That's when we began to hear a strange bellowing sound. It had us wondering for a few minutes before we recalled that the old Fog Horn at Low Head Lighthouse is sounded every Sunday at noon for tourists. It was loud when we heard it out to sea, heavens only knows how the operators coped when it was in regular use!
Part of the sound generating equipment.
As you can see, it's not insubstantial and you really can hear it from a long way.
It was certainly blew it's socks off today at 25-30knots with the occasional blast of 40 for good measure but it was perfectly OK and it wasn't long before we were piping down some swells at 10.5 knots! What a bobsled ride! We averaged 7.0 knots for the trip. The Bloke thought he's spare me the details of the actual wind velocity but I told him to cut it out because I know what the sea looks like at 20, 30 and 30+ knots. It is, what it is and pretending otherwise is for no purpose.
We began the day with just the headie up and as the wind freshened it was furled to the 3rd reefing marker and then successively until there was barely the lace in a pair of 'frilly knickers' flying. The only time it was a little hairy was rounding the top of Waterhouse Island. By this time the swell, (that infernal Bass Strait) tide and wind created an evil cocktail across the reef at the head of the island, kicking up the water so that I could see through the tops of the cresting waves before they came crashing down and sounding like a steam train. The Bloke was helming at this stage and was mightily encouraged to be in view of completely calm water in the lee of the Island if we could just stop from rounding up and get there! It helped a lot to just keep pointing the bow without focusing on what was going on behind. Trying to second guess if the next wave would shove Zofia's bum this way or that didn't help at all. If one wave knocked us off course the next one tapped us back again. Of course, time seemed frozen while we were in the thick of it but it probably only took 15 minutes to jibe and get around the top of the Island and into flat water. Phew.
Tomahawk Island
We chose to anchor inshore behind Tomahawk Island although the Cruising Guide suggested an anchorage beneath the Lighthouse as one commonly used by cruisers heading for the Furneaux Group. Good luck to them, we thought as we sailed right on past it! We wanted something a little more embracing even if it was described as potentially rolly. The assessment in the guide was spot on. Happily, the anchor snatched in like a beauty. No fuss. Time to unclench all those muscles that we suddenly noticed were tight and we were rocked away to a well earned sleep.
Sunset over Tomahawk settlement.
Rum rations earned tonight.
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