Mission Accomplished

Westernport Marina, Hastings

Tuesday 3 August 2021

It was 556 days ago that I set out on my NZ2020 Voyage to New Zealand.  A voyage that WAS intended to take just 16 weeks, or 113 days.

Like everyone of course, COVID took its toll on my plans … but now I can safely say that the “mission has been accomplished”.  It’s a great feeling of relief, now that we are tied safely to a marina wharf.  No more important decisions to make.  No responsibility for keeping the show on the road … or water, so to speak … everything from ensuring the batteries are always charged, there’s enough diesel in the header tank and selecting which sails to set, to that most complex and challenging of tasks … dealing with the “authorities”, in order to fully comply with all the regulations … Border Force, Quarantine, VicHealth, being the main ones.

Having rounded Wilson’s Promontory after lunch yesterday, it was a dream run all the way to the Westernport harbour entrance. Over to our starboard side, the loom of the coastal lighthouses came and went … in particular Cape Liptrap, then finally the Nobbies on Phillip Island, indicating it was nearly time to hang a hard right up the Westernport Channel.

Matt kept a precise watch on our course, and with the Seal Rocks given the respect they deserve, the sails were trimmed, as our course went from north-west to something closer to north-east – the red, green and white channel markers being ticked off one at a time as we drew ever closer to our final resting place.   

Our arrival was timed to catch the incoming tide, which had us drifting up the bay at more than 8 knots for a time, the cold darkness illuminated here and there by developments on land, plus the glow of Melbourne and Dandenong in the distance.

By 5:00am, amid the darkness, we were entering the Hastings Channel – on final approach to the Westernport Marina.  Sam and Harm endured the cold at the bow, searchlight in hand, calling instructions back to the helm about lights, beacons and obstacles, all the while ensuring that Matt’s “instrument guidance” from the cockpit didn’t miss anything.

In the end, after making a hard left turn around the final red beacon, we were able to line up our marina berth – conveniently positioned at the end of A Row and well lit by the lights within. 

Final instructions were called back to me at the helm, as we came in close, a clear view of the wharf being obscured by the darkness and Chimere’s high sides – “more to starboard … back up … too fast … turn to port now, slooowww”   And in the final analysis, our perfect “landing” in the dark, can largely be attributed to Harm’s athletic manoeuvre in “stepping” onto the wharf, in order to attach the vital spring-line.  It was then a case of securing the bow and stern lines, before the immortal words … “Chimere has landed” … were uttered.    

“Lines secured … well done guys … engine off … time to celebrate!”  … pretty much summed my words in the end.  We had finally crossed the finishing line, all in one piece, with a huge sense of satisfaction all round.  It had been around 15 days since we’d stepped on land, and Sam was taking full advantage of the opportunity, walking up and down, jumping and generally soaking up the realisation of the moment.

The time was 6:00am, it was dark, and soon after the initial euphoria, we began the task of cleaning, sorting rubbish, tidying up and preparing for the arrival of Borderforce and “Biosecurity/Quarantine”  in around 2-3 hour’s time.

For some reason, this is where a certain amount of anxiety began to creep in … much like before sitting an exam.  At the very least I was extremely pleased that Quarantine agreed to do their inspection of us here at Westernport, in common with Borderforce.  And whilst we  felt we were squeaky clean and totally compliant … there’s always that element of doubt … that you’d overlooked something.

Harm’s wife Lisa kindly dropped by around 8:00am, (having driven down from Melbourne) – with a few essential supplies – and along with Harm’s son Nathan, also dropped off a car for us to use.  Soon after, Australian Borderforce turned up … we knew this because Lisa called Harm from the carpark, with Harm exclaiming to us … “Lisa called and said there are six Borderforce (ABF) officers in the carpark”  

About half an hour later they still hadn’t come to the end of A Row, choosing to instead remain in the carpark.  Finally, when they did make their acquaintance known, they were preceded by two “BioSecurity” Quarantine officers who apparently needed to do their bit, before the six ABF officers did theirs.  Fully kitted up with gloves, mask, blue plastic gown, and in the case of one chap … full goggles like you’d see on the ski field.  “Sorry, it’s just part of the protocol, that we wear this” said the lead guy, who then proceeded to take down all my details on a form attached to a clipboard. As he did this, the thought occurred to me … “I’m sure I’ve emailed this information to you already … several times”   But some thoughts are best left as that.

Checking the boat’s wood trim, (for borers) food items for signs of deterioration and rounding up anything that was fresh, kept the two guys busy for an hour of so, with what seemed like a further hour devoted to working out how to invoice me the $360 fee. 

The payment process could have been completed quicker, but I baulked at their paper form, which captured not only my credit card number by also its expiry date AND CVV number on the reverse side. “I thought I was supposed to keep that CVV number separate … and not to write it down … along with the card number??”  I inquired.

The two guys … kind of … agreed and said they could bill me in a different way, but they’d need to get their laptop from the car.  This dragged on, all the while the six ABF officers stood chatting with themselves, along with Matt and Sam ….  till eventually I suggested … “can’t you just email me an invoice, then I can do a transfer?”   

So that’s pretty much how it all ended up … But we can’t email you the invoice, it’ll have to be through the mail” explained the “boss” … “Ok, no problems”  I replied.   So much for modern, paperless systems and IT-led customer solutions…?

 While all this was going on, Harm, Matt and Sam were completing “Arrival Cards” for the ABF guys … just like at the airport, declaring such things as whether they were carrying more than $10,000, or anything to declare.

About this time a police helicopter turned up, and as Matt said … “did 5 circuits of us”.  At the time I thought nothing of it, after all, you can see the police chopper anywhere … but later in the day when I was clarifying details with the marina manager about the VicHealth imposed COVID testing and movement restrictions, he described the goings-on at the end of A Row as a “circus” … having observed it all through the closed-circuit TV which places Chimere front and centre.  “You know they also had a helicopter?” declared the manager … “What! You mean the helicopter was connected with us turning up in a yacht?” … I inquired, with an element of disbelief.

“Yes, I was talking with a couple of the guys, and they said they get so few boats into Victoria, and rarely in winter.  Most go to Queensland at this time and so they wanted to check it out.  Also, it’s a bit of an exercise for training and the like”

In addition, ABF also had a sniffer dog, which did its thing in a very happy, tail wagging and efficient manner, moving from cabin to cabin, doing what it does, while one officer lifted floor panels for greater access.

For a while, it felt a bit like an episode of Get Smart, where Max is seized by a Kaos agent at the point of a gun and tries to stall for time by declaring …

“… would you believe, this entire precinct is currently surrounded, by six Border Force officers, one helicopter, two Border Security officers and a highly trained black Labrador”

… and the reply … “I find that very hard to believe Max”

On reflection, it still seems amazing that so many resources appear to have been directed our way.  It was also interesting when I sat down with one of the ABF guys, who seemed to be in control, to answer some more questions … he pulled out a map. 

Now, I wasn’t totally surprised by this, but the map showed our track across the Tasman – the clear zig zag line – I illustrating our disrupted course, as recorded on AIS  (Automatics Identification System)

My guess was that the officer was more used to straight-line aeroplane or cruise ship travel itineraries, because he asked – pointing to the biggest zig zag line … what were you doing here …?    I joking replied with something like … “we were going through hell”, only to then go n and explain the impact of the big seas on our progress on  our chosen course, and that once we’d battled south fr half a day, we tacked and then went back the other way.

“And here?” he asked, pointing to a similar pattern closer to the Australian coast … “Same thing”, I said … “The wind was coming from the south west and all we could do was sail at right angles to it, choosing a course that minimised the uncomfortable roll.

In further explanation, I observed that our chart plotter showed exactly the same pattern as his printout, and seeing the very close encounter with the coast at Refuge Cove yesterday, I volunteered …. “and this is where we did a drive-by yesterday at Refuge Cove, Wilsons Prom … two of the guys had never been there and since we were passing I thought it’d be nice for them to see the place …  “like, sightseeing?” he said … “yes, sightseeing” I replied

“Why did you come back to Melbourne, at this time of year?  Don’t most yachts go to Brisbane, or Coffs Harbour?” the Officer enquired …

I then proceeded to explain some of my background and what had led to me essentially being here – which all seemed to stack up from their perspective – at least I assume it did.

At one point it got a bit crowded with all six officers on board, (then the dog) each seemingly keen to learn a bit more about how the boat performed out at sea and something of our daily routine enroute.  Then after a couple of hours they all packed up their things and headed back to wherever they normally go … explaining that because the boat was now under “Customs Control”, we were not permitted to move it, without authority.  We now have 30 days to satisfy them that it is simply a returning Australian vessel on which NO duty should be payable. 

With all officialdom now out of the way, we headed to the Frankston hospital for a (drive-thru) OVID test – plus a much-craved (at least on the part of Sam) McDonald’s drive through meal.   

At the testing station, the process seemed very well organised, with the good-natured staff curious as to what four blokes in a smallish car might be doing that would require a COVID test … “You guys off to the ski-fields?” the first young woman asked   “Keep guessing” replied Harm with a smile in his voice, “… I think it’s going to take you a while to guess correctly…”  

Harm was right, they were never going to succeed … “we’ve just sailed from New Zealand” he said.  “When did you arrive, and how long did it take? She inquired.

Back at the marina, we climbed back onboard to start the process of awaiting the test results – which we guess will be with us tomorrow.  Meanwhile we are taking the time to share photos and de-brief on the events of the past couple of weeks.  We all agreed, it was a nice thing to be able to do … rather than all racing off in our respective directions, which often happens with an exercise like this.

It’s now late once more, I’m battling sleep – which I haven’t really done for 36 hours now.  Outside there’s a cold windy-rain which I’ll soon be able to set aside, as I embrace my pillow for the last time.

Again, thank you everyone for your interest, comments and concerns – I was hoping to get some photos up tonight, but I think it will have to wait

Smooth seas, fair breeze and mission accomplished

Rob Latimer