Log Entry 25th May 2008

A Sunday forecast of SE-SW 10-15 knot winds, tending to the NE in the afternoon, saw us out today for another leisurely Sunday sail. Took the opportunity to invite my father along as he has always had a keen interest in boats, although hasn't owned one himself. Dad was instrumental in fostering my interest in sailing when he purchased a Sabot for us kids in the early 70's. In fact our destination for the day, (another short voyage to King Island), is where I had sailed the Sabot as a fourteen or fifteen year old many, (many!) years ago.

Many yachts on the water today however most were almost stationary in the light breeze. I used the outboard to help push us along at 3-4 knots towards the spit between King Island and Wellington Point. Dad had the helm for the outward leg whilst I stood on the bow taking photographs. It was about this time that one of the plastic handles on the forepeak hatch decided to detach and fall overboard. I don't know exactly what sort of plastic it was made of but it sank like a stone!

Anchoring by the stern we waded ashore and went for a wander. As usual the girls collected a truckload of dead coral and shells as we took all of ten minutes to circumnavigate the grass and mangrove hummock that comprises the island itself.

Despite its relatively small size it is an interesting place, just large enough to generate (in me anyway) what travel writer Thurston Clarke refers to as "islomania", idyllic fantasies of fiefdoms and laird-ships, dreams of self sufficiency, a sense of isolation and of being in control of one's destiny. The island was in fact inhabited from 1904 to 1906 by a banker, his wife and family of seven children, one of whom suffered from polio. It was thought that the sea air and regular bathing were helpful in moderating the effects of this terrible disease. Hard to imaging any formal structure existing even then on a place so small, but apparently it was somewhat larger in area until eroded by the destruction of protective mangrove banks. The family lived in tents and a marquee and according to surviving notes from a grandson, were very happy with their lot.

In 1943 the US Navy built a gunnery school on the tip of Wellington Point where they practised shooting what ever sort of guns they used at that time. King Island also proved useful to them as a "bombing" range where aircraft dropped silk drogue targets after gunnery practice. (These notes courtesy of Peter Lulow's "Moreton Bay People" and the Redland Shire Council's record of local history.)

We shared the spot with other families in tinnies and cabin cruisers, along with some sea kyakers and the obligatory jet ski. Had a yarn with a couple of gents who turned up in a beautiful little trailer-sailer that I mistook for a Cherry 16. The older chap, a designer and boat builder by trade, was responsible for building this very attractive boat called a Redfin 520. Apparently they are available in plan or kit form from his firm "Trailaway Boat Kits" in Loganholme. The thing fairly flew along in the light air.

After a lunch of coffee/tea and fried snags on bread rolls we retrieved the anchor for the trip home. The wind had swung around to the NE by this time, enabling us to reach at a reasonable rate of knots northwards to intersect the harbour channel. Joining the usual queue of returning boats we ran slowly towards the harbour, using the outboard for the last kilometre or so. Started the usual tidy-up dropping the sails and bagging them. As the marina staff had finished for the day, we Left Lara against the East Coast pontoon for them to retrieve in the morning