Sailing Taurus NZ

We arrived at Lakes Entrance on the 22nd of January after crossing the Bass Strait and having spent about a fortnight in and around Flinders Island. As we stepped ashore we felt pretty worn out, a fatigue born of constant movement, incessantly windy anchorages, and sleeping night after night with one eye and one ear open. The Furneaux Group is an incredible place to visit, but relaxing it was not.

Still, as if to prove the saying that there is ‘no rest for the wicked,’ Cara and I packed Taurus up the next day and left the odd sensation of a still and stable berth to head further up ‘river.’ I say ‘river’ because that is what it looked like to me, but I was later corrected by a local who told me that the river is in fact a lake — a long, stringy lake with a current.

I confess that I knew almost nothing about the region we were visiting, having only heard vague mentions of it from other cruisers. Indeed, in my ignorance I had been describing the entire area as ‘Lakes Entrance,’ but Lakes Entrance is in fact just one of several towns in the wider area known as Gippsland Lakes. It is, however, the town closest to the bar, which it lends its name to, so it’s true to say that you enter Lakes Entrance to visit Gippsland Lakes.

Gippsland Lakes is Australia’s largest inland waterway system. A massive network of lakes, marshes and lagoons that cover over 600 square kilometres. Much of this waterway lies broadly parallel to the Bass Strait, separated from the ocean by a thin stretch of coastal dunes that extend for just over 151 kilometres or 94 miles. Appropriately enough, these dunes are collectively known as Ninety Mile Beach (though ‘One Hundred and Fifty One Kilometre Beach’ might be more appropriate in our metric age, though it’s a tad less poetic and lot more of a mouthful).

We were leaving Lakes Entrance so precipitously because we had been invited to a cruisers’ get together in Paynesville, a town ‘up lake.’ Ever the social butterflies, we couldn’t turn down the offer of talking sailing with like minded souls, especially with the added incentives of pizza and beer.

After our recent experiences it felt strange to sail in protected water, with barely any wave, swell, or chop. With fifteen knots from astern we threw a sail out either side and glided along as smoothly as the black swans we saw all around, but without any of the frantic kicking that these icons of grace secretly resort to. It all seemed far too easy.

Three hours of stress free sailing later saw us inside the Paynesville channel and tied up to a free berth in the centre of town. Paynesville is a picturesque town of some 4,000 souls and has the deserved reputation of being Victoria’s boating capital. Visiting felt a little like stepping back in time. The weather was perfectly sunny and warm, and friendly people would come to the berth to look Taurus over and have a chat. One lovely gentleman we met this way, Wilson, invited us to tea at his house the next day. Everyone seemed healthy, happy, and affluent; and the town was as neat as a new pin. It was a bit like visiting the Australia that you imagined Australia would be like back when you were a kid.

The easy going nature of the place was underscored by the incredible number of free visitor berths and moorings, both in Paynesville and throughout the wider Lakes area. Some of the berths are marked ‘four hours,’ but we were told that this should be interpreted as “for hours and hours.” Local boat owners happily occupy the various berths for as long as they want, with a knowing nod and a wink and a “They’ll ask me to move if they want me to.” So, when in Rome and all that.

Peter, who runs the local Facebook Group for sailors, met us at the dock and pointed out the wine bar where we would be meeting up later, all of maybe fifty metres away. It was great to meet some like minded souls and afterwards we were invited to the yacht club for ‘one for the road.’ Much of the conversation focused on the impending ‘Paynesville Classic Boat Rally’ which runs from February 27th to March 1st. This biennial festival has grown quickly over the past few years and threatens to eclipse the more famous Australian Wooden Boat Festival in Hobart. This also being biennial allows the two festivals to nicely complement one another, and together they provide an annual boatey celebration. Taurus was invited to attend, easily qualifying for the over twenty five years old stipulation, but time is marching on, and we have a long way to go if we want to make the most of the season north of Bundaberg. In typical generous Aussie fashion Peter later leant us his ute so that we could hit the local big smoke of Bairnsdale. We had to try and find a new kayak paddle, for reasons described below…

Next morning we took the free ferry that plies from Paynesville to Raymond Island to bother the island’s most famous residents: koala bears. Visiting the bears is one of the ‘must do’ items on the Paynesville tourist trail. Worried that we might not be able see any of these elusive marsupials a local advised us not to look up into the trees, but look down for “koala shit” on the ground. In the end we simply followed the other tourists and it became pretty clear by the crowds around the trees where the koalas were!

That evening Cara and I were invited aboard Blue Affinity once more. Dusty had been replaced by Mick’s wife, Ilonka, who was visiting from their Western Australian home. The conversation and wine flowed freely, and Mick secured his reputation as an exceptional host and wine maker. It felt a little strange having drinks and nibbles on the fly bridge, so high above everyone else, but it was a strangeness that one could get used to!

At the end of the evening we heard live music coming from the pub opposite the berth, so rather than doing the sensible thing and going to bed, we decided to go dancing! With more enthusiasm than skill we lit up the boards and pretended we were thirty years younger…

Slightly worse for the wear the next day, and feeling thirty years older, we left Paynesville and headed out to explore some of the Gippsland Lakes area. It being ‘Australia weekend’ there were crowds of people out and about enjoying the sunshine (and not a hint of ‘Invasion Day” in this neck of the woods!). We had to avoid an unusual maritime hazard as we left our berth, a floating shed complete with jazz band! Apparently a common site in Paynesville, ‘The Shed’ ties up at various berths to give free entertainment to the locals.

Our first stop was Duck Arm, a short sail away and a lovely sheltered spot. We blew up the kayaks and went for a paddle, spotting pelicans, swans, and even an eagle of some kind, but no ducks with arms.

The next day we shifted to another anchorage that we had been told we had to visit: Steamer Landing. Setting off at low tide we just squeezed through the channel, with our depth monitor recording -0.1 of a metre below us at one point. We picked up another free mooring and kayaked over to a jetty for the short walk to Ninety Mile Beach.

Unbelievably, we had the whole ninety miles to ourselves, or as much of it as we could see. We strolled for half an hour and returned to the kayaks to paddle down to the next jetty at a place called ‘The Grange.’ An interesting old building lies here, but its private property so you can only gaze at the exterior.

Upon leaving I leant on my paddle to get into the kayak and it unceremoniously snapped in two, dumping me bum first into the water. Our paddles join in the middle so have a weak spot, but I also fear I may have eaten too many pies whilst in Tasmania! Once Cara had recovered, we left and I tried to paddle canoe fashion with half a paddle back to Taurus. However, I soon found out that it was easier to use Cara’s full paddle and tow her behind me. Cara didn’t object, and looked like quite the lady of leisure!

The sunset that night was stunning, but, as a friend later commented, the red glow in the sky would have had much to do with the bush fires raging in southern Victoria. It gives the image a more sinister feel doesn’t it? Less paradise and more apocalypse over the horizon.

Our next destination was a small town called Metung, where another free public jetty disgorges the weary sailor straight into the local pub. This is my kind of town planning!

We stayed on the jetty for a couple of days waiting for some bad weather to blow through. The launch in front of us caused us some concern as it seemed to have been abandoned. Tied up with skinny old frayed line, it had no fenders and was crashing and bashing against the wharf like a horny old bull fenced off from the cows. Because it had been left in the middle of the jetty we had to pull ourselves up close up to it (so the ferry could dock on the ninety degree turn behind us). Why they didn’t use the more sheltered and smaller berths on the inside of the jetty is known only to God and the absent owner. Eventually we overcame our scruples about interfering with other peoples’ boats and used some of our spare lines and fenders to better secure the boat for the duration of our stay. It meant that I could sleep better!

After a pleasant evening at the Metung Yacht Club (located next to a free shower!), we headed away to another jetty in China Man’s Bay. We turned out to be a bit big and the jetty a bit rotten, so we only stayed long enough for a short walk ashore.

We headed back down river (lake) and picked up a mooring buoy. Now, regular readers will be wondering why nothing has broken as yet, and we were wondering much the same. So, in order to put us back on track I determined that the minor oil leak that had been bugging me for weeks was coming from the diesel lift pump. I’d previously replaced the gasket but to no avail, so I decided to take it off again and use some gasket goo. Access to this item is pretty tight, I had to cut the handle off an adjustable spanner to loosen the fuel line connector nuts, and the threads were getting a bit ‘tired’ and were on my list of things to replace.

You can probably guess that a combination of me, poor access, and worn out parts meant that something bad was about to happen — and you’d be right. I managed to wreck the threads on a small brass connector which meant that the engine sucked in large amounts of air instead of diesel, which is something that diesel engines don’t like (the clues in the name). Naturally, only at this juncture did I look for a spare onboard, and naturally we didn’t have one.

Taurus was effectively stranded for want of a $10 brass fitting. We could try to sail, but the river (lake) was shallow, the bends numerous, and the wind fitful. Sailing wasn’t really an option. We had a bit of a miserable night trying to identify the offending part and worrying about its availability. Early next morning we had the Yamaha engine on the dinghy and we headed down river (lake) to Lakes Entrance, the closest town, to hopefully go shopping. Incredibly, the only place that might possibly sell one of these parts did have one, two having just come in. Thanking our lucky stars we bought both, and feeling much happier went for a big breakfast before the dinghy ride home.

Wonders of wonders, the engine actually worked with the new part, and miracle of miracles, the oil leak was vastly improved. Perhaps this qualifies as a success?

We happily motored to another free jetty, reveling in the charming sound of a working diesel engine, from which a short walk leads to an observation platform above the bar. Intending to leave the following day to sail to Eden, we wandered up to the flagstaff to have a look. From there we could readily see the ‘overfalls’ created by waves entering the bar and the tidal current trying to escape. This is similar to the classic ‘wind against tide’ scenario that causes waves to ‘stand up’ when forces are in opposition. Local seals were having a whale of a time, but it wouldn’t be the optimal time to take a boat through, though probably not impossible in the otherwise benign conditions.

If, however, you compare the below image, which was taken when we arrived at Lakes Entrance (with the tide entering) , to the calm conditions outside the bar in the video above, you can imagine how hairy it could get if you tried to come in at the wrong time in the wrong conditions. The point I’m trying to make is that a culmination of bad factors might easily bite you in the bum.

Knowing that we would have light winds the following evening, we nevertheless decided to leave at slack water after high tide in the early afternoon, rather than attempting the bar in the dark. Doing these things at night is hardly a deal breaker, especially if leaving, which is much easier than entering in my opinion, but it’s not recommended, and if things go wrong you look a bit silly or reckless. Silly or reckless is not how you want to look if things go really wrong and you end up in Coroner’s Court.

We had a pleasant evening meeting new friends, Cal and Linda on Naruny, who were tied up next to us, before getting ready again for sea. Cal and Linda kindly sent us the following video of our leaving the next day. It looks pretty easy, and at the right time and on the right day it is. Call me dull but I do like easy!

And so, we sailed away from Gippsland Lakes. A gem of a place if you enjoy boating, friendly people, and the finer things in life. Hopefully it won’t be too long before we have a chance to return.

Next time: we sail to Eden, meet dolphins, and have more nautical (mis)adventures!