Water, Water Everywhere but not a Drop to Drink

Marina time comes into its own in bad weather. If it coincides with a much needed re-provisioning stop, more the better.

The Bloke is very protective of our boot stripe and water-line. He hates any discolouration of the hull just above the anti-fouling. To that end, the water-line was raised when we were in Hobart in recognition of the reality that we are traveling with a lot of 'stuff' on board. It's not all crew member shoes and sewing machines, there's also quite a bit of wine and other creature comforts attributable to The Bloke himself.

 

The back beach - or what can be seen of it.

As a rule marina water can be low quality with multiple boat bilges discharging diesel residues and other unsavoury stuff, so the waterline easily gets yellowed during a marina stay. The Bloke's method of minimising this is to postpone filling our freshwater tanks until the last minute and keep the hull riding high of this 'murky stuff' and within the raised anti-foul zone. It's a sneaky hack that works until the tanks run dry, I throw a 'paddy' and refuse the delivery of 'food service' until the internal taps deliver fresh water!

We arrived at the Keppel Bay Marina a week ago to re-provision and had hoped that the weather forecasts would again be wrong but,  in our favour for a change.  Are we crazy? A weather event delivered as predicted. In fact the wind as usual, located our bow almost precisely, so a 3 day booking became 1 week, and then a little longer again. Now we'll wait for the swell to drop. Oh yes, wind is only a part of the formula.

The 24 hours 9am 16th July to 9am 17th July, delivered over 250mm of rain to Yeppoon (8km away) courtesy of a surface level trough although it might as well have been a mini hurricane. 48 hours of gale force winds accompanied the rain service.

Daytime view through the deck windows

The Marina is almost at capacity with weather refugees such as ourselves and we've tried to amuse ourselves as best we can but a rocking and jerking boat with drips being wind-blown down the mast, rain being being forced through gaps above the washboard, plus a palpable 'internal atmosphere' augmented by 4 sets of sodden wet weather gear, was proving a form of water torture. No mojo for anything except for meeting up for a coffee ashore.

Resort attire; everyone in wet weather kit.

We sort of reached an accommodation with our circumstances by dusk and I'd cooked some fortifying curries. Then the taps stopped running. Nothing for it: the Bloke was sent out in the dark and lashing rain (to get wet through yet again) and to fill the tanks or face a refusal of Dinner Service. There might have been 250mm flying around the place but there was none to drink.