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

Log Entry 15th March 2008

The wind continued to blow strongly at 20-25 knots from the south east all of this past week, with more of the same forecast for today. Rather than wait for fine weather, my good friend Phil, highly experienced sailor that he is, volunteered earlier in the week to crew with me, so that I might gain experience sailing in heavier weather; particularly the sort of conditions that require sail reefing and a greater awareness of the sensitivities of the boat. As our two younger girls were not keen to experience the heavier going Yolande volunteered to stay home and babysit, so the final crew comprised Phil, his son William, Helena and myself.

A revised BoM forecast earlier in the morning indicated an easing of the conditions to a 15-20 knot south-easterly and we left the harbour under a crisp clear blue sky and steady breeze. A minor mishap that may have contributed to a later problem was the outboard stopping prematurely as we exited the harbour. I don’t think I attached the fuel line properly and the engine ran dry. As we already had both the main and headsail up, we simply tilted the outboard up and out of the way and didn’t worry about it, (big mistake).

The conditions in the bay were very favourable for boating as we beat steadily north-eastwards out of the markers, towards the passage between Green Island and King Island. Lara cruised along at 4 to 5 knots until were about level with King Island where we tacked to head south. Helena was very keen to beach the boat, perhaps have a swim and try her luck fishing with a hand reel. Passing close to the Thorpe Memorial Beacon we continued into Waterloo Bay until we were well past a coral outcrop before tacking to starboard, sailing until we gently nudged and moored on the long sand spit that joins King Island to Wellington Point. I was surprised but pleased that despite the shoal keel we were able to anchor so close to terra firma, climbing down from the bow into only about two feet of water. The sand comprising the bottom and the spit itself is quite coarse but still very pleasant to walk barefoot on.

Watching the kid’s gymnastics trying to climb up on to the bow though, I think however that we will have to invest in an extendable boarding ladder on the transom, and moor stern in; although I am grateful to Phil for demonstrating the ancient art of walking up the anchor chain, which made the boarding task easier. After a bit of a wander, in which Helena and William collected a few shells, we had a bite to eat and thought about returning to the harbour. Unfortunately today coincided with the local council election, and neither Phil nor I had voted as yet and I was mindful of the waste of money an electoral office fine would be for failing to vote should they decide to impose one. (The electoral office had imposed one against me some years ago – ouch!)

Leaving the spit was uneventful as the south-easterly blew us gently away from shore and we headed off on a broad reach south before practising a few gybes and starting the run for home. The water near the harbour beacons was full of boats participating in Saturday races and we were mindful to adjust our steerage several times so as not to interrupt their course.

We entered the harbour under full sail, ghosting down an avenue of tightly packed boats moored on either side of us, until reaching the ninety degree turn to starboard required at the end to approach the mooring pontoon. We dropped the sails at this point and intended to use the outboard however it refused to start, not a flicker of life at all. After some frantic fiddling and starter cord pulling we gave up on the engine, luckily realising that the gentle south-easter was blowing us in the right direction anyway. As the pontoon space was already taken up, Phil jumped over the bow at the last minute to cushion Lara as we nudged up against a dive boat against which we rafted up. The marina crew had already shut up shop by this time so we tidied Lara up and left her there for the staff to rack in the morning.

Phil had an expert look at the engine, drawing no doubt on his vast experience and knowledge accumulated from twenty plus years as an RAAF engine fitter dealing with things mechanical; after which he pronounced he had no idea what was wrong with it! He did manage to start it though by bypassing the hand throttle (which automatically engages the prop on any setting other than idle) and opening the throttle fully. I am now wondering whether the float bowl, (do they have one still?) was bone dry from my earlier error and needed to refill before the engine would start. I’ll read the instruction book during the week and have a fiddle with the outboard on Friday to test my theory.

Thanks again Phil for your expert tutelage, we didn’t reef a sail but maybe next time! (And yes I at least voted locally, arriving at the booth with fifteen minutes to spare.)