Monster Day - Wide Bay Bar to Moreton Bay Storm

 

Crossing Wide Bay Bar at the bottom of Fraser Island is always a nail biter. The 3nm transit takes over 3/4 hour and requires a sharp turn. The location of the sharp turn is the poser. The nature of ocean bars are such that the seabed is a bit dynamic and the inevitable shoaling moves yet needs to be crossed as safely as possible. Many bars, mostly made famous up and down the NSW coast are dredged and CCTV cameras angled down them to assist mariners. Not so this ‘mother’ of a bar. It’s not filmed, nor dredged. The local Coast Guard at Tin Can Bay are not even located within eye shot but they do issue the ‘latest’ co-ordinates which invariably have a codicil like - “go 100m north of Waypoint X”. It’s as good as you’ll get. Leads do not exist; instructions are only to deviate this way or that. Notices to Mariners are only slightly helpful, if indeed you can locate the PDF maplet buried on the Maritime Safety Queensland website under the Maryborough Pilotage area sub-heading. Only locals would guess the area that this document might be lurking in. Google searches give links to material up to a decade old and mostly about boat losses! This just adds to the mystique and anxiety.

Aug 5, 2018, Aerial shot taken by Peter Gash 
(pilot of Sea Air Pacific flight from Coolangatta to Lady Elliot Island Eco Resort).
A good 'visual' if you will, for the path to be taken.

There are ‘rules’ set out by the cruising guide guru Alan Lucas, as to the best time to cross each bar relative to the tide and optimal wind direction and velocity as well as swell conditions. Throw into the mix that sometimes both optimal tides might be in the dark, there is an appreciable anxiety that favourable conditions align with daylight. It’s a lot of ducks to line up. But wait, there’s one more. The nearest points of shelter once outside of the Great Sandy Straits for our boat will be Double Island Point (reached about 1 hour after crossing and mostly rolly as hell) or Mooloolaba 10 hours away and itself gated by a bar. The weather needs to be good enough to get out and stay good enough for the duration of the trip. Yes, a lot of ducks to line up.

Electronic chart with The Blokes waypoints

Our actual track out during the first 1.5 hours of the trip

In anticipation of this lottery-win of suitable conditions we departed Southern White Cliffs to take the tide down to Inskip Point. Another tricky traverse since there is a particularly shallow channel just north of Boonlye Point at Sheridan Flats. As a drafted vessel - we draw 1.6m, we need a high tide to cross and to avoid getting stranded. We’ve learned to use the tide to good effect since the GSS tides reverse just south of Boonlye Point. Heading south we leave the anchorage 1 1/2 hrs before predicted high tide at Boonlye to benefit from 2-3knots of assisting current, crossing the shallows with maximum water, then picking up the outbound current all the way to Inskip Point. Super sneaky except that on the day, we encountered wind-against-tide once the lee of Fraser Island receded showing the bare opening to the ocean. It was a foamy saw-tooth horizon. The bar was ‘going off’! We’d planned to reach Tin Can Bay but the late tide and our unfamiliarity with the Tin Can Inlet decided us against going beyond Pelican Bay. This would do just fine for now. We’d sleep in deep, clear calm water with the acoustic back drop of big surf rumbling on the bar.

So began a charming and enjoyable 3 day stop at Tin Can Bay after 7 straight days aboard. This enabled a lunch with Dougie from The Albatross, some walking, some shopping and refueling, then as more boats trickled down, we were caught up by Supa Trooper, Sans Souci, Shenanigans and more. And yes, there was socializing.

The Bloke and Dougie making up stories.

The Tin Can bay Inlet and Snapper Creek are 

home to a sizeable fishing fleet and quite a big and charming marina

“When do you think you’ll go across the bar?” Was asked and discussed over and over. Thursday became Friday, which became Saturday then Sunday. Messages flew about to report how things went. The early departers reported nail biting crossings, some even that the given waypoints needed adjustment. All helpful stuff.

Location of Tin Can Bay relative to the Wide Bay Bar

So we waited for the ducks to align. In fact they looked that good, that passaging meals were prepared to feed us at least as far as to Yamba on the northern NSW coast. Southbound at last we thought!

A stupid o’clock start was required to reach the start to the ‘Mad Mile’ and traverse it in the last hour of the making tide. We departed through Inskip Point with 23 like-minded sailors. What a procession. The crossing was much more active than predicted. A morning easterly breeze, although only around 6kt, had helped keep the swell up so we encountered 2- 2.5m instead of our anticipated 1.5m and at the turning point, as guessed at using our best eyeballs, it was a bit more. Catamarans quite often use an alternative exit - Fisherman's Gutter, but it requires both local knowledge and low swell. One such vessel was clearly sniffing around for this opening but in the end opted for the main percentages with the rest of fleet of 23 vessels.

Take a ticket.

First light and the stampede begins.

  

 

After reaching the turning point we put the sails up, sailing first in an easterly then a northerly just as the forecasts had predicted. Then the wind began to reduce and before long we were motor sailing and then just motoring. Blast. We looked inshore and further out to sea, the by now scattered boats were having a mixed bag of wind. Sometimes we had it, other times they had it. We settled into our passage. By 2:00pm, still motoring and under a sky becoming a little ugly we resigned ourselves to making for Moreton Bay and taking the longer meandering route south behind Brisbane's off shore islands and further delaying any significant progress southward. VHF radio broadcasts began to advise of imminent and nasty thunderstorm activity confirming our 'look out your window' forecast was not without foundation. 100km winds inland. Hailstones the size of golf balls and even an ETA for when the city would be 'hit'. Wonderful. Only Higgins Storm Chasers (a weather site that promotes wild weather) had mooted the possibility of these conditions.

An unwelcome scene.

Plan B became Plan C, then D. We'd want a bit of sea room and to avoid some of the channels that have very shallow areas around them which in certain conditions reveal breaking water. We could easily be blown off course and onto shoals. The shipping channels have alarming names like Spitfire Channel and Skirmish Passage. Woah! Pulling off to Mooloolabah didn't appeal since The Basin anchorage has poor holding and is crowded. The Marina would likely be full of like minded refugees and then we'd be 'locked in' by the Mooloolah River bar in coming days. Going into Scarborough Marina, an option discussed ahead of departure should thunderstorm eventuate, ruled itself out as the tide would be too low to negotiate the entrance channel. We pressed on under jib alone and endlessly refreshed the weather radar hoping for reassurance that the worst of the cells would miss us. Of course we got none and ongoing VHF reports from Southport, Redcliffe and Mooloolaba VMR's further amplified our anxiety. We stashed everything that could become a missile or hazard, took in the cockpit cushions, attached the tethers to our life jackets and jacklines and fitted the stormboards in the companionway. We furled the jib giving it an extra wrap and furled our ensign lest it shred. At least it was daylight. We chewed on a few lollies to steady us..

The barometer dipped sharply and the wind dropped

A Mooloolaba Pilot had to be pretty quick to get off this ship departing 

Moreton Bay and the Port of Brisbane. We speculated that the ship went full steam ahead to dodge what was coming.

It wasn't long afterwards The Bloke detected the drop-down curtains on a storm cell. There was no possibility of outrunning it and before we knew it, lightening was whizzing in all directions overhead. These systems often have an unknown amount of wind under them so we felt blessed that it was only in the 30knot range. Holding the bow into wind in heavy rain, our own radar and AIS were the only clues to surrounding vessels (none near). Even though we had our navigation lights lit, they'd hardly penetrate this stuff. Just holding the bow into wind rotated the boat through 130 degrees as this storm quite literally swirled through the bay.   

  By 4:30 it was mostly all over and the storm cells heading seawards  

 

We watched as the storms marched up the coast destined for Tin Can Bay, Bundaberg and further.

  After dark as we motored down the throat of Morton Bay we were passed not just by a cruise liner but overtaken by a massive container ship. We speculated if any of the passengers aboard were even aware of what had just gone on. A massive open-air LED screen added to the illumination. Surely this vessel could be seen from space. The Pilot of the container ship radio'd to inform us of his intentions to pass us (we were in any event outside of the actual channel) and thank us for having AIS (as if we'd leave home without it!). We think he was making a point to all who'd be listening on Channel 16. We weren't the only yacht out there!

Once we reached The Sand Dunes anchorage at the southern end of Moreton Island, we anchored a respectable distance from Gradiva and Supa Trooper who'd beaten us in. The Eastern horizon was still pulsing with the receding electrical storm. We ate a hearty passage meal that we'd heated in the oven during the last hour of our trip, accompanied by an 'Anchor Dram' (or 3), for medicinal effect and fell asleep fully clothed on our bunk after rather a demanding day at the office. Had all our ducks aligned today? We're not too sure, but one thing we are sure of - We are a pair of Lucky Ducks.

Waking to a beautiful morning as if nothing unusual had happened.