Pelting rain and howling wind
An American couple at the end of a trip up to Bundaberg from Tin Can Bay (at the bottom of the Great Sandy Straits), were traversing the channel and within 20minutes of coming in through Burnett Heads when this year’s event hit. On bare poles (no sails) they were nearly laid flat during ‘white out’ conditions. Miraculously, they managed to avoid hitting any of the channel posts marking the entrance. There are plenty of them creating something of a runway effect at night with their red and green tops virtually strobing their presence. It’s one of the reasons why Bundaberg/Burnett Heads is so easy and safe to access even at night.
Further horror tales emerged. The Lady Musgrave ferry, MV Main Event, that delivered Lucas and family to us at Lady Musgrave Island only a week before, was 1.5 hours late returning. It’s a big power cat and covers the 49nm trip roaring along at 22knots. Not this day. Noticing it’s late return, we located it using Marine Traffic (an AIS App) limping along at barely 9. The skipper later told us he was reduced to just 3knots and had actually been forced to hove-to after registering a gust of 70knots. A first for him. He basically stopped his vessel and pointed the bow into wind to let the boat drift plus present minimum exposure against the wind. It was a small wonder we heard the passengers cheering as the ferry came alongside at the end of our jetty!
Crazy clouds announcing a trough
At the conclusion of 9 days of hard yakka in the marina we were keen to get off the jetty. Instead of heading out and traveling immediately, we anchored off in the river for a day to gather ourselves and get some rest. We often do this just to re-calibrate.
We’re now on a new mission: One to revisit Hobart. Every long journey starts by making a shortish one so we set sail with light northerlies down the funnel of Hervey Bay with a plan to reach South White Cliffs; a location known to us and deep into the Great Sandy Straits. A very menacing and dynamic sky was in evidence with up to four emerging water spouts along the flanking Fraser Island horizon. Reconsidering our anchorage for Northerly/NW protection we ducked into Riverheads at the head of the Susan River. As luck would have it, it wasn’t too crowded but it is narrow, tidal and the combination of a shale seabed plus a variety of unattended vessels, some on anchor and some on moorings, some lit at night, others not; it all made for an edgy time. We were well protected from wind but this IS ‘storm season’ and the clouds during the day confirmed the presence of unstable air. Lots of it.
Inbound!
The following day, weather predictions pointed to further storms. We’d discovered that a tiny 28’ boat had paid out 45m of nylon rode giving it a 90m swing arc bringing it far too near us. Being small and light it was flung about in the competing forces between wind and tide. We too were doing a bit of crazy circle-work. We had a dread thought of getting anchor wrap like we did once at Laurieton. We shifted upstream 100m to give ourselves a bit more peace of mind plus we dropped out an extra 10m of chain for good measure. Were were glad we did. Our 2nd evening at Riverheads delivered an even bigger light show. The storm cells came closer and lingered longer. Electronics were once again in the oven and we were kitted up and expectant. Go sailing they said. You’ll have fun they said. Mmmmm!
Clearly not a settled sky
Once again we’d been spared although this time there had been a little bit of gusting wind causing nearby anchored, but unattended vessels, with unknown lengths of chain to move about and alarmingly near. The engine was on in case we needed to maneuver. In the dark it’s terrifically disorienting. Would it be too much to ask for this stuff the happen in daylight? Round 2 at Riverheads lasted longer and there was another albeit smaller storm cell visit at 2am. Go sailing they said ...
The outlook for the following day was for a wind change. Time to visit South White Cliffs. We like it there; a broad and open anchorage ideal for SE protection. Bliss. A bit of space around us. Southbound boats as a part of the spring migration away from the tropical north were scattering to every possible perceived bolthole. A low pressure system was forming at the other side of Fraser Island. One thing was for sure, the prospects of exiting through the Wide Bay Bar to progress towards Hobart were exactly zero, and zero for perhaps 1 week yet.
Motoring out of South White Cliffs AFTER 3 days of rain.
We settled in by lunchtime and well pleased. A couple of neighbouring boats were known to us. Great. Some playfriends, we thought. We even dropped the dinghy and paid a visit. Weather forecasts suggested that winds would strengthen around 4pm. We were tucked in as close as tides would allow to some nice protective hills. Aaahh, yes this would be a nice change from the previous 2 nights. Strangely, by late afternoon a couple of boats suddenly re-anchored. Was there something we were missing? A quick call revealed Tin Can Bay had been hit by a 70kt storm cell and there had been a mini tornado inland. The wind had come in from the west and we were all anchored expecting a southeasterly.
Storm cell picked up on radar over Tin Can Bay
Little purple pin to the north was were we were.
Hastily, we repositioned ourselves under a spooky cloud canopy and paid out 55m of anchor chain in 5m of water for good measure. 65m weighs 150kg, and the usual water depth to chain length ratio is 4 or 5:1, just to give an idea of how seriously we were taking this. Chain in the locker is pointless and is only ballast according to sailing guru Alan Lucas. Friends nearby joked that they only had 2 loose links left in their chain locker. They had dropped the lot. We sat and waited for what might eventuate. We were all sitting ducks and were not kept waiting long in late afternoon light. 2 1/2 tense hours passed as lightening lit the sky and scenery around. The closest the storm cells came were about 3km. Luckily the cell that hit Tin Can Bay and was looking like it was on its way to us, was dispersed by the bottom of Fraser Island and slipped up the seaward shore behind us. Another equally huge cell raced up the mainland coast with both Riverheads and Bundaberg scoring an overhead pass. Supa Trooper, Sans Succi, Cruising Kitty and The Albatross, all fellow New Caledonia Rallyistas from last year were in Bundaberg and confirmed the overhead visit. Indeed The Albatross had lightening arc through the shore power and damage some electronics. What a lucky escape we had. Then came biblical rain for 3 days and the listlessness of cabin fever. Go sailing they said. You’ll have fun they said. From here, and the days yet before conditions abate sufficiently to cross the Wide Bay Bar and sail further south, Hobart might as well be the moon.
Our poor dinghy had to be bailed out twice.
Excellent story, brilliantly written Evz ♥ Chook.
ReplyDeleteSo lucky it went around, can imagine how harrowing it was watching it roll towards you on the radar
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