North of Flinders Island (20 miles), Lat 39 45S Lon 148 20E
Monday 27 January 2020
Our overnight stopover at Deal Island was just the thing; a time of rest and preparation. Plus, an opportunity to again soak in a most beautiful part of the world; due to its isolation, a place where very few people ever visit.
The day dawned still, sunny and clear. The occasional wallaby hopped along the beach a short distance off our stern, while many others grazed amongst the tussock on the hills that rose on three sides of the bay. Cape Barren geese honked a morning greeting and as 7 o’clock approached the sound of waking souls and the making of breakfast, could be heard aboard.
Some made use of the hot shower and I even had a shave. Because this truly was a big day. The day we would step beyond the familiar waters of Bass Strait, out and onwards into the Tasman Sea, with New Zealand around 10 days ahead of us.
All gathered in the saloon for the task ahead, there was a brief time to acknowledge the improbable set of circumstances that had led to us each being here together, in this one spot, at this very moment in time. Our respective life-journeys colliding in harmony (hopefully) for the exciting adventure before us. The crew’s origins including Italy, Spain, New Zealand and Australia
It seemed appropriate, as our friend and great Medical Sailing Ministries supporter Bob Brenac did before the start of a return-voyage from Vanuatu, to say a quick prayer of thanks, praise and safety, for this wonderful creation, our individual blessings and protection for the task ahead
There were indeed few tasks left to do, other than check our new rigging for tension and obvious “issues”. So around 8:30am we weighed anchor and made our way quietly out of the small cove, into Murray Pass and towards the Big Blue.
A short distance around the headland, we entered Garden Cove for a passing “good morning” to a yacht that had arrived around the same time as us late yesterday. Her name was Cool Change and she was also from Hastings, having recently cruised Lakes Entrance and Wilson’s Promontory.
After our brief exchange it was then time to circle out of the bay, pointing Chimere eastward; the light wind offering little assistance to the work of the motor.
As morning turned to afternoon, the wind grew from the stern to the point where we could dispense with the engine altogether. The immediate quietness giving way to a whole new array of sounds and sensations – the breeze through the rigging, the occasional flap of the sails, the clink-clanking of plates and cups in the galley, the whir of the wind generator above us astern, the passing waves and the predictable sounds of the lines tapping the mast.
The seas were mercifully calm. There was barely a swell and probably no more than a metre of sea, with the appearance of little white caps here and there.
With Flinders Island fading astern, the last of the iPhone communication was utilised to send a few more photos, emails and texts, plus chat with home.
The realisation that this was truly the fulfillment of a lifelong dream, and that too of my father, Bill, to be sure, was never more present than now.
Communications from this point on would be via SatPhone. An amazing little device that provides email, text and voice, plus stunning weather forecasts in a range of styles and durations, some with animated swirling arrows and fading shades of blue, yellow and … not too much red and black please … depicting direction and strength of the wind.
One thing we haven’t figured out is how to send photos as attachments. So, the regular blogs on our NZ2020 website may lack photos for the next 10 days. Although, that said, if anyone can figure it out Jorge can do it.
We were hoping to get the tracker function operating before we set sail, but there’s been an unavoidable delay. Expect something in the next 5-7 days. Although our latitude and longitude will be sent regularly to Home-Base-Linda”, so we’ll see what Matt can do with that as far as an alternative in the meantime.
Breakfast complete, and after we’d set the sails, with mainsail out one side and the genoa poled out on the other, I went back to bed for a few hours, waking to a lovely lunch of egg-muffins and bacon, on a “bed of garden salad” – prepared by Jodi – after which Jodi then set about baking two lovely loaves of bread.
“How good is this kids? When tucker like this gets served up every day. Why would ya anna eat anywhere else?”
Jodi was granted special dispensation for serving a night-watch, but I suspect she’ll be there at Jorge’s side for their three-hour stint come 12:00 midnight
Six o’clock came and went without the start of “Sundowner Time” and the ringing of the bell. I discovered later that it was for compassionate reasons, me being asleep in the saloon and the bell was sure to wake me. Isn’t that sweet?! As it turned out, the clinking of glasses had me bright-eyed and up around 6:20 and quickly slicing the fresh and still-warm bread, which we devoured with cheese, jam, honey and peanut butter.
Still Chimere marked on. A sail out each side, the 10-15 knot breeze up our tail and calm seas having us doing a bit over 6 knots in extreme comfort
As we munched on fresh-fare and shared a drop of grape juice, it was time to play an audio book with the most appropriate title, Sailing Alone Around The World, by Joshua Slocum. Something of a classic in boating circles. As the passing waves lapped the hull, we soaked up 3 episodes, with predicted fine weather tomorrow probably being conducive to playing more.
A tasty vegetable soup, with real chucks of real vegetable, appeared in the saloon soon after that, and before long we were watching a red sun sink slowly in the west behind us, and the promise of its return on the bow in around 9 hour’s time; we all hoped
It’s now 10pm. Jim has retired after his shift on watch. Gee has 2 hours to go till midnight, and life aboard is developing a predictable routine.
Gee just spotted a set of lights off the starboard bow, way in the distance … a red and a white, so it’s traveling from right to left, but no sign of the vessel on our chart plotter. Maybe it’s another yacht, maybe a fishing boat towing a net or long line … we’ll see.
Everyone else is asleep in their bunks, and that’s where I’ll be going soon
Smooth seas fair breeze and on our way – for real
Rob Latimer
NZ2020 