The original Savage Oceanic 42' yacht.

A yacht owner takes special pride in their choice of boat. (even more so than with car selection). Many yachties believe that the heyday of yacht building and design was several decades ago. Infact that quality of yacht structure, layup technique and hull strength can not readily be reproduced today due to the extreme cost of materials, labour etc. Many of the best Australian built yachts are over 30 years old now (or more) and still sailing on.

Just by chance we shared the anchorage with the very first Jack Savage Oceanic 42/46 Kinta III. Her present owner Dave has been sailing her for the past 20 years.

I couldn't wait to be asked aboard. Kinta III looks beautiful, shiny white and is so stylish inside. This yacht is a true reflection of the skills and love that Dave has lavished upon her. To put it simply this 1977 yacht is a timeless classic and a real restoration piece.

A 1977 beauty.

Not only did we enjoy admiring Kinta III but Dave turned out to be a collector of some hard-to-find information about Oceanic's history. He told us that Sea Trek III was resprayed in 2005 at Brisbane. He also explained why green was under the present white top coat. Amazingly he had an advert for ST3 when she was for sale and named Harita.! Wow I was impressed. Between us we have page 1 and 2 of the 'blue prints' and Dave has promised to scan copies of review articles from old sailing magazines. We are looking forward to having him as a guest aboard. He solo sails and it was just great to meet such a knowledgable and discerning fellow cruiser.

Advert for Harita: probably 15 years ago.

Referring back to a previous blog I think that in meeting Dave we have found some buried treasure. Anyway there is nothing like another yacht of the same design in the same anchorage to bring out the competitiveness in an owner. I couldn't believe my eyes when I found Glenn over the side giving ST3 a good scrub along the water line. Kinta III certainly doesn't have any growth on her bottom.

The yoga king busy cleaning.

Glenn says, yea right! Everyone knows how much I love YOGA!!!!!

 

Posted with Blogsy

Pearl Bay, Keppel Islands and getting lost.

Leaving Hunter Island behind we sailed south to Pearl Bay, choosing it as a safe anchorage overnight. The winds blew from the east. It is well protected, and we'll certainly call in here for a visit next year. It is a beautiful place and we shared it with six other yachts.

By 06.05 am we had raised the anchor and motored out of the bay. Within minutes the bay was totally empty. Everyone else had the same idea, an early start to head south. We wanted to reach Keppel Island by mid afternoon. It is 50nm away (approx 92kms). We like to sail, and the main was raised in preparation.

On our route south we needed to pass well clear of the active 'military exclusion zone' of the Broad Sound and Shoalwater Bay. Two helicopters constantly circled above us for well over an hour, as the live "war games" were being conducted.

It looked like an annoying mosquito from where we were.

I'm not sure of what was happening in the "out of bounds" zone, but we watched numerous fires burn through the undergrowth and down to the beach. In this huge uninhibited area no homes were in danger, unlike those in NSW at present.

Numerous fires along the coast.

After 6 hours of sail-assisted motoring the wind finally picked up. We were smiling from ear to ear. This is what gives a sailor a high. It is a most exhilarating feeling being able to slice through the waves under sail alone. It's not the speed that counts but rather the motion of the yacht through the water. It just feels right to move so gracefully with the wind.

We did hit 8 knots (14.5km per hr) at one stage but the camera person was a too slow.

Breaking the sound barrier.

Keppel Island

We settled into Long Beach at Keppel Island for a cosy evening. We now had internet and phone coverage. A change in the weather and a strong wind warning had been issued for the next day. We knew that we would have to move Sea Trek III around to the other side of the island in daylight hours.

We were both awake well before 5.30am and treated ourselves to a fresh spring sunrise as we relocated.

Dawn at Keppel Island: great.

Keppel Island used to be called "Great Keppel Island", and was a popular tourist resort some years back. It's another crumbling resort that provides limited services to yachties: basic items, including ice creams. Also scattered about the island are simple lodges in the style of Eco-tourism.

As usual we went exploring ashore and we find that we need to get off the yacht and walk as often as possible. It's amazing how quickly deconditioning of muscles occurs, and then normal walking becomes an effort. We certainly weren't expecting the Astro Turf to be rolled out for Glenn's arrival.

Roll out the green carpet.

I just had to try out this empty hammock: post card in a tropical setting.

"Not leaving here, ever".

The fabled "Mooring Ball tree" bearing fruit.

The water here is exceptionally clear, and we followed a stream into the large mangrove swamp behind the sand dunes. Rumour has it that a saltwater croc lives here. On closer inspection we saw a familiar yacht tied up in the mangroves. A really high tide would be required to set her afloat again.

'Prosper' not going anywhere in a hurry.

On our second day at Keppel we decided to venture away from the beaches. We needed to do some strenuous exercise. The signage for the various tracks was old, weathered or broken.

"We can't get lost here Jen, it's an island" said Glenn. Hmmmm I thought. ( I hoped that the gremlins were not listening).

We started heading along a likely looking track that wound upwards, and then got steeper and higher. Basically it became a mountain, and I wondered why we were being so energetic in the middle of the day. Thirsty and hungry and hot and unfit and breathless. The horror of being middle aged and overweight. Much much later we reached a lookout. The views were spectacular, but we were nowhere near the old resort, and broken roads lead out in several directions.

Sea Trek III is way way over there somewhere.

A couple of back packing guys passed us and suggested a route for us to follow. Their English was very poor and we all smiled at each other a lot. We basically headed away from them.

Many side trails were overgrown and increased our uncertainty. We needed to go back down to sea level to steer a better course. And so we slid and tripped on our bums down an embankment on the side of the mountain. Not a pretty sight. We reached low scrub and grass lands and just kept walking. We were really exhausted and already we had been stumbling about for more than three hours. It was then that I noticed an intensity of blue in the sky, a clarity without haze. For a reason that I can't explain I knew that this was the clarity of the sky over clear water, and that the main resort beach was " this way".

After another half an hour we reached the crumbly holiday resort. And would you believe it, there were people just sitting around under a tropical pavilion happily drinking icy cold beers, and ordering meals from THE RESTURANT.! No one had told us that the old resort was still serviced day trippers and casual holiday makers. Chocolate ice cream for me, and hot chips with tomato sauce and a beer for Glenn. Thank goodness I kept my laundromat coin collection in the base of the day pack.

Unexpected outdoor seating.

The delightful woman behind the counter told us the easy way to get back to our bay, and needless to say it was a flat stroll along two beaches, and a few low headlands. Short and direct.

Faded fun from other summers.

The weather looks favourable and with Promised NE winds and we will be sailing again tomorrow.

The back of Glenn's head again, a spontaneous pose as we rounded the last rocky headland and back to ST3.

 

Posted with Blogsy

Hunter Island: any treasure here?

By Jen at Hunter Island: the Duke Islands group.

We were both getting a bit "stir-crazy" onboard of Sea Trek III and perhaps this was because of boredom. We were not sailing (again) because the weather had conspired to keep us at Hunter Island for four nights. No phone access, internet or outside news and no progress south.

We were reading lots of books. Glenn thought that the Duke Islands were a bit "Scottish" because of the sea, steep hills and farm connection. His reading of Treasure Island, and Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stephenson had cunjoured up images of boyhood games involving shipwrecks and buried treasures. Perhaps we would find treasure while we were here? I agreed with him that we should keep looking for our "travel treasures" as we trudged up different peaks each day to catch the view at the top.

Treasure Island?

I enjoy beach combing, and am always on the lookout for anything unusual. Without many personal possessions on board, found objects become my treasures. I felt that I had really "struck it lucky" when I found a beautiful but crumbling Nautilaus shell. (I had regretted leaving a complete specimen behind on the Thomas Islands recently) This was wonderful to photograph because of its shapes and pearl-o-essence .

A treasure for Jen: Glenn uncertain.

From the top of the barren ridges and headlands we watched large ancient turtles ride the currents through the narrow passage of aqua waters between Marble and Hunter Islands. I could see them pop up their heads but organizing the camera meant that I was repeatedly too slow for a successful photo. Weirdly Glenn had become a Turtle attracting devise: he could spot them as they surfaced, and then they would dive below when I appeared. I just wanted a photo of one of these gentle guys. I have been trying for months. In frustration Glenn took the camera and guess what: within seconds a face appeared and Bingo: a photo! Another treasure for me.

To tell the truth I was a bit peeved that Glenn was always spotting turtles before me. However he doesn't understand animals as much as I do, and can be confused by their movements. "What's happening over here?" he called out at 6 am. We were raising the anchor. There was a lot of splashing of flippers nearby. "I think a big turtle might be scratching", he concluded. I looked over towards the shore and smiled to myself. "No not scratching Glenn, mating!". "Oh, really?" he replied. He did seem a perplexed, as if he was wondering why they would bother.

Turtles mating, not scratching.

Glenn likes to cook and he said that these Donuts would be a real treasure. Yummy: yes, gone by the evening: yes. But I was getting tired of this theme....the blog needed to be written.

 

Totally delicious: Gertie would be proud.

By now I felt a little mischievous. I was not going to be out done by "Glenn the Turtle Whisperer" and marvelous cook. He was just getting a bit too big for his own hat. He had suggested the theme for this blog: "Treasure Island" but could get no further with the creative writing. Hmmm I thought. And so I presented him with this Pirate Bootie.

Valuable hair.

And that brings me to the unexpected thread that readers have picked up on: The back of Glenn's head. Looking back through the blog since leaving Sydney I must agree that it is a frequent photographic subject. And so as not to hold you in suspense any longer, here it is:

 

Hope to be more south soon.

 

Posted with Blogsy

Curlew Island and Hunter Island (not a National park).

 

A day prior to ST3 leaving Mackay Marina we said farewell to the crew of the Astrolabe I .She is a beautiful steel yacht with a well thought out design. Kim and Ian have owned her for 15 years while running a business in Kettering, Tasmania. The crew of John and Keiran will assist in the voyage that will include a visit to the Louisiades. Their ultimate destination is Japan for the snow season. Fair winds; we'll be following your progress with extreme interest. (I just love the wild and adventurous Tasmanians, and they are vey well represented in the sailing community, such a friendly bunch).

Off to the snow fields of Japan!

Glenn always wakes up at first light. We sleep in the V berth at the front of Sea Trek III, under a large clear window (escape hatch). No daylight saving in Queensland and summer is on the way. Our passages are commencing earlier. It's a terrible curse for me to be an "evening person" when on a voyage. I need to wake up long before my brain is ready. To ensure that my essential boat tasks are completed prior to "anchors up and away", I have compiled a list written in large black font. I can read it easily incase I can't think how to find my glasses. Strangely the list seems to be growing. It's a case of the more I know, the more i realise that i don't know.

We left Mackay Marina without incident and once again we needed to travel through the maze of moored container ships off Hay Point. Glenn enjoys the thrill of getting up close and personal to these giants. We counted 34 neatly moored ships in formation plus four more inshore. Red Seto was parked right in our path, and we were trying to sail! The end result was a marvelous photo of a crew member looking down at us.

Right in the middle of our plotted course.

You are looking at him, looking at me.

Curlew Island beckoned. We had enjoyed the overnight stop here some weeks ago in the delightful company of Ocean Child. A large tidal sand bank made for an interesting lagoon. We had the idea of doing some exploring this time in the extended daylight. This is the only benefit of rising early that I can find.

The tides here are more than five and a half metres ( plus) and it was a full moon again. We timed the dinghy ride out to the bar to coincide with the slack-water either side of the low tide by 30 mins. The bar was " high and dry". We know from experience that we needed to keep a very close eye on the dinghy because lapping waters charge in and out very quickly.

The sand bar looked unimpressive when we anchored.

By the time we had anchored and refreshed ourselves it was time to head to the sand bar. The wind was picking up as often happens in the afternoons, and we were drenched by the short chop before we arrived at the bar. The sand bar was a visual surprise. (We didn't see any of the promised stranded prawns, Bruce). The sculptured patterns left by the tidal flow that had previously rushed out were spectacular: A moonscape or the Grand Canyon comes near the strangeness of these firm mud/sand formations.

Giant steps are what you take, walking on the Moon...

Magical layers.

The next destination on our journey heading south was Hunter Island, in the Duke Island group. There are many choices here for anchoring to suit all weather conditions, and SE winds at 15-20 knots were forecast. We knew that we would be staying put for a couple of days. Our references informed us that the island is not a National Park, but rather "grazing lands". Permission is required to step ashore above high tide mark. (No phone reception so there goes that bit of honesty). Farm stay holidays happen way up the other end, out of our sight.

We went ashore. A faded sign alerted us to penalties for shooting on this property. No problem for us. I thought that perhaps rabbits might have been a pest here once, or that illegal "Jolly Swagmen" were looking for sheep to steal, before jumping into a billabong. I wasn't expecting to hear from other cruisers that deer culling was the reason for the notice.

The Island had patches of Hoop Pines, but was basically bare and rocky and recently selectively burnt to ?reduce weeds.

I am fascinated by the contrast.

 

The beauty of the water around these islands was in stark contrast to the degraded lands. This is what all of the Great Barrier Reef islands would look like if not for protective legislation.

Plants don't flourish here.

A struggling Pea plant.

Evidence of a few ground nesting birds successfully hatching eggs on the ridges.

Just look at the incredible sea scape: we saw large old turtles and schools of tiny and medium sized tropical fish, as well as frolicking dolphins.

So much contrast. Thought provoking. More about our Hunter Island experience soon...

 

Posted with Blogsy

Lindeman, Goldsmith and Brampton Islands.

 

We sailed through the southern islands of the Whitsundays. We noticed that the water was less milky and far more sparkling again. We visited a few less known anchorages on our way through. We passed by the famous and now empty Club Med: Lindeman Island. It sold for under $8 million, and plans are to upgrade it with the injection of at least $200 million. 7 resorts have closed in recent years. I think that 4 remain within the Whitsundays.

 

Empty for the past year.

Plantation Bay on Lindeman Island was a good anchorage in the north easterlies. Excellent snorkelling and much less visited than many of the northern islands. As such there is more coral and aquatic life. We saw lots of turtles popping up to take a look at us. Boy are they hard to photograph! I've just about given up on the perfect turtle photo.

This turtle spotted a camera and sped away.

Sayonara .

We had a great sail down to our next anchorage, in the southern bay on Goldsmith Island. As we rounded the point we could see another yacht at anchor. Glenn said "that looks like Sagittae" and so it was. We never have any idea of where we will meet up next. It was great to catch up with Sylv and Rob. We had sundowners on ST3 and discussed our future sailing plans for next season including the Louisiades in PNG. There are about 3 or 4 boats interested at this stage. We are trying to do it without it becoming a rally, just "like minded" capable crews who would like to make the trip and look out for each other along the way.

Both the southern and northern anchorages of Goldsmith Island make a worthwhile stopover for cruising yachts heading either north or south.

 

Another Island sunset.

Glenn did a bit of scraping under the yacht and encouraged the appearance of these sucker fish: Remora. Normally they suction themselves to the underside of sharks, large rays etc. but rather fancy the yachts of several people we know. Their upper body looks like to sole of an old jogger.

Look carefully: can you see the tread of an old jogger?

Dinghy Bay on south Brampton Island was well worth exploring. It's not often that a school of fish can be observed so close to shore.

Clarity: a school of fish.

Fish playing.

We went exploring the national park walks, through to the other side of the Island: Turtle Bay looking out to Carlisle Island. We got the surprise of our lives to look up from trudging in the sand, to see this huge Kangaroo. He seemed reluctant to move from his position. We followed him down the track.

Solitude disturbed by bumbling humans.

 

Back at Mackay marina to avoid the blustery southerly weather approaching. The usual round of laundry and reprovisioning. Last time we were here we socialized with lots of friends. This time is so different. The skies are threatening thunderstorms, and the rich and famous have come in as well. This mega yacht is Sarissa: 139 feet long with 6 crew but apparently it is so sophisticated that it can be sailed by one crew. It was built for a family. Worth a look on the internet.

Sarissa Super Yacht. Note that surfboards and SUP's carried on deck just like us!

Crew busy even at night.

Too long for the finger.

A feeling of the end of the season for us.

So onward and southward when the winds settle.

 

Posted with Blogsy