So Close Yet So Far

Thursday 29 July 2021 

120 miles east of Montague Island

After a long night in the cockpit, managing our response to the weather-change, the day emerged into the sort of weather we thought we’d left behind – wind and waves on the nose and regular stray-waves making their way into the cockpit 

This continued for much of the day, but on the plus side, it created good photo and video ops. documenting the amazing colours, drama and movement of this watery world – clear to the horizon in every direction. 

The high seas, and the wind of course drove us north-west for much of the day; our goal being to close the New South Wales coast as far south as we could, and then tack back south when the opportunity – and expected wind shift – permitted. 

Matt worked on developing several possible tracking models, from the latest weather downloads, each taking advantage of the more favourable conditions due in about 12 hours – just another 12 hours.  

As it turned out, the wind reduced progressively through the late afternoon – along with the confused sea-state – making us bold enough to put on more canvass. 

The day was just beginning on board when it was noticed that the door to the forward cabin – Sam’s cabin – was shut. Nothing unusual in itself, particularly since Sam hasn’t slept there almost since leaving Opua 10 days ago – largely because of the bunk’s greater movement in rough weather; being so far forward.  

I tried the door handle and whilst it turned, the door wouldn’t open. “Oh dear!?” I thought … “It’s happened again!!” there were few other thoughts, best not included here, but in short … on account of the rough and rather violent movements during the rough weather, the drawers either side of the cabin, had come out and were sitting on the floor – right behind the door. How did I know this?? Well, it’s happened before. On those occasions, we’ve been able to push down hard on the deck hatch above, so as to release the three catch handles. On those occasions, however, there wasn’t a big dinghy securely lashed above. 

There was nothing for it but to break the news … which Sam took very well. It’s not that any of us were changing our clothes and he had everything he needed on this side. “We’ll try and open the hatch tomorrow … but there’s no guarantee – until we arrive in Westernport, or the weather improves significantly”, I explained  

Fast forward a few hours and it was time to change the toilet roll in the port head (toilet) Those familiar with Chimere will realise that we mostly use the swisher … electric toilet on the starboard side … so what’s this about the port toilet?? Well, for the past 5 days or so, the electric toilet has not been flushing … a vital part of the process to be sure … and so, no problems, we use the manual, less swish, but 100% effective, toilet on the other side of the corridor. 

Returning to the toilet paper … no spare roll in the port toilet … simples … get one from the cupboard in the starboard toilet … none there either … just a rather damp roll on the holder which had scored a splash-hit when water came in a couple of days ago when the ceiling hatch was left open a notch.  
Well, this was bothersome … but no matter, I’ll simply get a couple of rolls from our store cupboard. Lots there … not in the Melbourne-hoarding-roll league, but still a lot by 4-blokes -on-boat-standard.  

Store cupboard … STORE CUPBOARD!! … Noooooooo!! And where do you think the store cupboard is for all, and I do mean ALL, our toilet paper, tissues and paper towels … that’s right, in the forward cabin … THAT forward cabin, the one with the door that can’t be opened. 

Nothing for it, but to share news of the unfolding onboard disaster … which I might say, everyone took on the chin … so to speak, with Sam cheerily exclaiming … “So my strategy of NOT eating very much has finally paid off!?” 

If we can’t get the cabin open tomorrow, we’ll need to develop our own disaster response strategy and maybe we can get some tips from the Captain Cook journal extracts I have in the Ships Library … after all, they didn’t have the luxury of Sorbent’s finest silky-soft … 

For me, this afternoon was a time of sleep, which I did very well, waking just as the sun went to bed … Melbourne time. Soon after, Harm knocked out a succession of pizza’s from the galley … sufficient to make a Domino’s franchisee proud. All the while, the sea had calmed off significantly, along with the wind, enabling us to hoist pretty much all our sails, tacking south-ish again, largely in anticipation of the favourable wind-shift in the night. 

After dinner, there was an hour or two of darkness before the moon made an appearance. And with the still-state of the sea, we all retired to the foredeck to simply gaze upwards at the brilliant display of stars above. Like a scene from the Lion King featuring Pumba, Timone and Simba contemplating the meaning of life … we used the canvas-covered dinghies as banana lounges, to simply soak in the serenity; all the while gliding effortlessly across the silky sea. It was certainly a scene in stark contrast to life aboard not more than 12 hours earlier. 

Looking at the latest weather forecast, things are set to improve over the next few days, as we currently lie around 120 miles west of Australia.  

I’ve started communicating [again] with various “authorities” in connection with our arrival – updating them of our current situation. I’m sure everyone has their job to do, but I sometimes wonder … why does it have to be so difficult?! In some cases, you are left with the impression that clearly, performance has little to do with customer satisfaction!  And “customer service” is something of an oxymoron.

But more of that, and our onboard toilet drama, another time. 

Smooth seas, fair breeze and so close yet so far 

Rob Latimer