Sailing Taurus NZ

The last blog concluded with Taurus in a berth at Beauty Point on the Tamar River. We had a limited amount of time to fill because Cara had been asked to cover a colleague’s work roster in Dunedin for a week. The trip home to help a friend and put some money back in the sailing fund happily coincided with our daughter, Abi’s, graduation on the Gold Coast (via a slightly circuitous route) and also meant that we could enjoy Christmas with Cara’s family.

With a month or so up our sleeves we kept a close eye on the weather whilst finishing off a few more of the endless boat jobs — such as installing a new solar panel on the new solar arch, fitting tank senders into the diesel and water tanks, and so on and so forth. As usual, the weather in Tasmania wasn’t particularly helpful, but eventually we detected a hint of a window that would allow us to sail to Flinders Island to the north east of Tasmania.

It may seem odd after all the sailing we’ve done over the past few years, but we both felt a little anxious about casting off the mooring lines and heading out to sea again. This might have had something to do with the rough weather we’ve frequently encountered around Tassie; the fearsome reputation of the seas around Flinders Island itself (the gap between Flinders and Tasmania is known as Banks Strait, a place where the Southern Ocean is forced into a narrow bottle neck); and not sailing for nearly four months whilst Taurus was on the hard.

So, it was with some trepidation that we cast off the lines and headed out of Beauty Point. A twenty knot wind with strong gusts from the north east meant that we needed to make a series of tacks to force our way up the channel of the Tamar. Constantly tacking a yacht in a narrow stretch of water can be pretty tiring, but the new winches proved their worth, and we finally made it into open water where we could relax a little.

The sail to Flinders from Beauty Point takes about eighteen hours. The gusty NW wind meant that we enjoyed a beam reach (the wind coming from 90 degrees to our direction of sail) which allowed Taurus to fly along with comparative ease. The warm weather and effortless sailing was made even better when a large pod of dolphins joined us to play in our bow wave. As usual, everything else stopped so that we could enjoy the spectacle of these incredible animals. Suddenly the nerves were forgotten and it felt fantastic to be out sailing again.

The approach to Flinders Island from the SW is guarded by Badger Island. We chose to anchor here for the night rather than keep heading towards Flinders, and try to navigate the shallow water, strong tides, and rocks in the dark. So it was that we found ourselves at 3am trying to find a patch of sand amidst the weed so that our anchor would have a chance to set. On the fourth attempt we struck gold, got a good hold, and could turn in for what remained of the night.

In the above photo you can see the sand and weed that often forms the sea floor in this region. You might think that a decent anchor should be able to penetrate a bit of weed, but the species here forms a thick layer of material, much like a mattress, that prevents the anchor finding anything to dig into. Later, after we had returned to Beauty Point, a friend gave us an old fisherman’s anchor to try. This traditional design (like that which Popeye has tattooed on his arm) has a reputation for working better than any modern anchor in weeds and rock. If I can organise a second rode I’ll definitely be keen to give it a go.

The following day off Badger was a cracker. Bright sun, warm breezes, and calm conditions. We inflated the kayaks and headed out for a paddle.

We had a fantastic time exploring the rocks, and walking ashore, but the wind was due to change to easterlies next morning. We reluctantly departed, and sailed Taurus to a mooring at Trousers Bay on the western side of Flinders Island. This mooring is one of the free state moorings and has a thick, long line. Over time we have developed a system of pulling these types of moorings up and connecting them to the mid-ship cleat. This limits our potential to swing whilst, more importantly, preventing the mooring buoy from banging against the hull during periods of calm. As it turned out we were to see little of the latter. In front of us lay the highest peaks on Flinders Island, the Strzeleki Peaks. These we thought would give us good protection from the east, but in practice the wind accelerated down the leeward slopes and raced across our ‘sheltered’ bay.

We had intended to walk a track that leads to the top of the peaks, but the strong winds meant that it was impossible to get off the boat. The winds were generally in the 25-30 knots range, but reached as high as 40 on occasion. The thickness of the mooring line became quite reassuring as a lee-shore lay close behind us.

Looking on the ‘No Foreign Land’ app we could see another boat, called Sea Eagle, on anchor further north of us in Parrys Bay. We sent the skipper an email, his address being on another app called Marine Traffic, with our phone number, and he later gave us a a call. The conditions where he was located were little better. He told us that some of his crew had made a herculean effort to go ashore to the local town, boats having to anchor some way out due to the shallowness of the water, only to find that everything was shut as it was a Sunday!

Keen to explore all possibilities, and get off Taurus if we could, we also contacted Luke, the manager of the Beauty Point Marina who had been a long time resident of Flinders Island. He told us that we certainly shouldn’t try to get into Lady Barron in the current conditions, and said that we were probably as sheltered where we were as we would be anywhere nearby. As we were on a secure mooring it seemed foolish to abandon it in the possibly forlorn hope of finding a calmer anchorage, especially as the holding might well be ‘a bit dodgy.’

Keeping a close eye on the weather forecast, we realised that we had one more day of easterly winds before a series of strong westerlies were expected to kick in. These westerly gales were predicted to last for at least a couple of weeks, for the entire fore-casted period in fact, and would effectively prevent us from returning to Beauty Point. So it was that on the morning of our third day at Trousers Bay we woke at 6am. A strange lull in the wind had caused us to wake in a start, and noticing the calmer conditions we raced to deflate our kayaks (stored on the deck) whilst the going was good. We then waited till midday in a bid to time our arrival at the Tamar River for first light, dropped our mooring and headed back to the Tasmanian mainland.

As luck would have it, Sea Eagle had grabbed the same ‘last chance’ weather window and departed the same day. Although we were the only two vessels for miles around we still managed to find ourselves on a collision course as we threaded our way through the islands to Banks Strait. Fortunately, Cara was on the wheel and did the considerate thing by slowing us down and refusing to heed my remarks about it being a race…

The passage back was uneventful and fast. The only real excitement occurred when we came to re-enter the mouth of the Tamar River. This stretch of coast line has some notorious reefs and the entrance itself can be a fairly unpleasant place to be in the wrong conditions. We had timed our arrival to beat the westerlies which were due in the morning, but as we approached, the easterlies picked up to 30 knots plus. We intended to motor up the Tamar to Beauty Point, about an hour away, due to the twists and turns in the channel which would see us heading up wind at some points. We dropped the main as we approached the leading marks, leaving out a scrap of jib out to stabilise us and maintain some speed, and started the engine to ensure that it was nice and warm when we needed it. The oil pressure was giving me some concern and I wanted to know that it was definitely going to run okay.

So, we were all set, and as we lined up our entrance we put the engine into gear… only to find it wouldn’t engage. We tried some fruitless pushing and pulling of the lever, and then when I looked at our course I saw that we were beginning to head towards the Hebe Reef — so named after a ship that ran aground and sank there in 1808, the first of many. I said to Cara that we needed to head to windward, and she replied that she was hard-over! This meant that we had insufficient steerage to sail away from the reef. If we couldn’t get the engine into gear our options were to gybe and try to head back out to sea, or try to sail with the wind around the southern edge of the reef and then back out to sea. Neither option was particularly appealing in the conditions.

I jumped down the companion way and threw everything on top of the engine covers off, dove on top of the engine, which was still running, to reach the gear select lever on the gearbox. With barely any effort it snuck into gear with a satisfying ‘click.’ I sometimes feel that Taurus, if not actively trying to kill us at times, certainly enjoys testing us. We had never had this problem before, and haven’t had it since. Naturally, should such a problem decide to rear its head it would be at the end of an 18 hour sail, following several tiring days being blown around an anchorage, approaching a narrow channel in 30 plus knots of wind, at 3 am, in the pitch dark, surrounded by reefs.

The motor up the channel was child’s play after the fun and games at sea, and we dropped anchor outside Beauty Point Marina, rather than push our luck any further in the dark. We tested the gear select numerous times before attempting to reverse into our berth, and found it to be working perfectly. Bloody thing.

With no time left to go anywhere else, we tidied the boat and faffed around fixing things. Departure day came around and Luke kindly gave us a lift to Launceston airport. After a brief stop in Melbourne we arrived in Brisbane, where old sailing buddy Julian picked us up and took us home. He and Tracey, his wife, then generously lent us a car so that we could drive to the Gold Coast where we caught up with daughter Abi. It was fantastic to be able to catch up and celebrate her big day with her.

Early the next day we drove back to our friends’ place to drop off their car, they drove us to the airport, and we were off to Christchurch. Looking down upon the Tasman from 30,000 feet it was hard not to reminisce about the time we sailed across that sea with friends Dave and Jackie. That had been an epic mid-winter trip with gales, breakages, and a quick dip mid-sea whilst becalmed; our three hour flight with in-flight entertainment, pre-packaged meal, and free glasses of wine was certainly more comfortable, but hardly as memorable. One of the running clubs in Dunedin used to have a sign that read something along the lines of, “I might not be able to run a marathon every day, but having run one once, every day I will know that I have run a marathon.” I know that every time I fly across the Tasman Sea I will look down and know that I sailed across that sucker!

Back in Dunedin, Cara quickly fell into a work routine whilst I did DIY at her mum’s place and caught up with friends. We had agreed to talk about our adventures at our local yacht club’s last get together of the year — which was slightly terrifying, but well received, according to some polite members of the audience. I felt that we had proven the old adage, known in the forces as the ‘seven p’s’: Prior Planning and Preparation Prevents Piss Poor Performance. There had, however, been little time for rehearsal, so we did our best on the day. If any masochists out there want to watch the talk you can find it online at the following address:

https://www.otagoyachtclub.org.nz/newsarticle/161032?newsfeedId=2228401

Like having a toe amputated, I don’t recommend it.

With Christmas behind us we had time for a bit of work at one of our rentals, a bit more catching up with friends, some cat-sitting, and then packing up ready for departure back to Tasmania.

So, it is with some sadness that tomorrow we bid adieu to family, friends, and New Zealand once more, and return to Taurus in Tasmania. Home, after all, is wherever we drop our anchor, and a new sailing season and new horizons beckon.