Day 54 , The Last Night and Arrival

We sailed into the night of the 28th in very good conditions, with a fair wind of about 15 kts, relatively calm sea, and good visibility.

Scaramouche leading Pachuca

Morning Tide and Odyssey of Fremantle

As I was approaching the South Passage south of Rottnest Island a ship appeared off my starboard quarter sailing a few degrees more to the east than me, so the gap of our tracks was opening up.  However, I soon noticed that the ship was changing course to port so I made radio contact.  The officer told me that he was aware of me and was just testing his steering. (Huh?)  He continued changing his course and was soon headed almost north no doubt to go around the western end of Rottnest Island.  I tried matching his change but I could not carry the sail so after 30 minutes or so on converging tracks I altered course to starboard to pass behind him but I had misjudged things and was forced to continue through the tack and backwind the fully rolled out headsail in order to quieten it, and used the engine  After the ship had passed to a safe distance I tacked back and continued on to South Pass.  The ship incident had cost me 30 minutes of progress but that was not serious because I had ample time to meet the plans of the coming day.  I was to rendezvous with Jim Putt aboard his boat Morning Tide at 10 AM and arrive at he Customs jetty at noon.

Fortunately the sailing conditions were so good and the wind so fair that I decided that it would be safer to sail through the pass than to motor through it.  I would have Rottnest Island as a lee shore but I didn't expect a serious change in the wind conditions, and if need be I could either sail my way out of trouble or proceed under engine power.  The 3/4 moon was starting to rise which made the passage seem less threatening.

It was by sheer luck that I happened to be working the port winch when I saw two cray pot floats pass by in the dark.  One of the floats was pulled under the water so I figured that I had snagged the line with my propeller.  With the spotlight I was able to clearly see the line and float being dragged behind the boat so I knew that it was now impossible to use the engine for propulsion.

I sailed into Gage Roads, proceeded a safe distance to the north of the "Windmills" leads, the lay the boat ahull.  We were now drifting at about 0.5 kts to the NW.  I spent the rest of the night up dodging ships.  It is amazing the amount of ship movements during the night and I was forced to use the sail several times to get clear of ships both at anchor and on the move.

Starting Turn to Customs Jetty

Almost Home

Home

Greeting Peter Moore.  Jim McBeth Looking on, the Brenda, Pat, and Bob Kucera

I figured that since I had to be up anyway I may as well do something useful so I spent 90 minutes on the deck putting up the courtesy flags of the countries that I had visited as a way of dressing up the boat.  Protocol dictates that the host country's flag should fly topmost on the starboard side and below that were the flags of countries that we had visited in correct order: New Zealand, French Polynesia, USA, Canada, Mexico, Argentina, and Brazil.  The large flag of the last country that we had visited, South Africa, was flown on the port side well below the Q flag.

After dawn I tried to snag the line and pull it up but it was too far down to reach.  Then I realized that I was probably dragging the entire cray pot, which explained why the float was below the water.  This was a more difficult situation and I realized that I would need some help.

I  had kept the VHF radio on all night tuned to channel 16 and not long after dawn I heard someone speaking who mentioned "Cockburn Rescue".  I immediately got on the radio and establish contact.  After explaining my plight he got my coordinates and told me that he would send out a rescue boat.  He asked if I was in immediate danger and I replied No because fortunately I was on the north side of the island drifting to the NW.  He told me that it would take some time for the volunteers to get started a I replied that there was no hurry and I was very grateful for their assistance.

The boat showed up about 90 minutes later with two men.  They could see the float, asked me the color of the line (white) and told me that I would have to go over the side and deal with it myself.  They set up a tow line to the stern of the boat in order to stop her drift.  I put the boarding ladder over the side, found my diving mask and a sharp knife, stripped down to my underclothes, and went over the side.  Fortunately the water was not too cold.  I found the that the rope had made a complete loop around the propeller, probably during the violent hobby horsing of the boat as she lay ahull, and there were two floats rather than one.  It took  3 dives but finally the propeller was free of the rope.  I had asked the men what I should do with the rope after I cut it and they said to simply let it go.  After I climbed back on board they asked me to test the steering and propeller so I started the engine and everything proved out OK.  They got some details from me and left with my expressions of gratitude.  This was a job that I would have done had I been forced to far out to sea, but I thought it risky to try the dive alone in particular because with the boat being pushed by the wind one way and the current heading the other way there was danger of not being able to reach the boat after a dive.  And in fact I did have trouble reaching the boarding ladder after one of the dives.

Jim Putt called me on the radio at about that time and I explained the situation and told him that I would need about 15 minutes before getting on the way for the rendezvous but that estimate was much too optimistic.  I remembered that I still needed to prepare the boat for the jetty by putting out the ropes and fenders.  I had a good cockpit bath to wash away the salt water, dressed in fresh clothes, put out the fenders and ropes, made a cup of coffee, then got under way.

Saying Hello to Jim McBeth

A Chat with Neil and Jim

On the way I got my first welcome surprise when Stuart came by in his power boat with Victor and a friend on board. We exchanged greetings and traveled together for a short while then parted because Victor had another commitment.

Eventually I caught sight of 3 sail boats that appeared to be waiting side by side and headed for them.  It was Jim Putt aboard his "Morning Tide",  Joanna  Pearson aboard her S and S 39 "Odyssey of Fremantle",  and another boat which I later learned was Ian Parker's boat.  As we approached the harbour area we were joined by a fourth boat, Anna Oldfield's "Scaramouche" well decorated with flags and they used an air horn to welcome my arrival.  The four escort boats were hanging back and allowing me to take the lead but after 5 years I was having trouble figuring out the route and I asked Scaramouche to take the lead.

As we entered the Marina I was surprised to see Caroline, Dennis, and daughter Madelyn on the rocks at the right then Stephen at the rocks on the left.  I thanked the escort boats as best I could then made the turn to the Customs jetty and was pleased to see Brenda waiting to take a line and was surprised to see two men prepared to help.  One of the men was Merv from the South of Perth yacht club, who I was very glad to see again. The other was FSC Commodore Bob Kucera. Bob and I had met before but when I realized that he was visiting in his capacity as the Commodore of the club I told him how honored I felt that he had taken the trouble to be at my arrival.  Not many sailors have had the honour of having their line taken by the Commodore.  Edgar Vitte, who had rigged Pachuca shortly after I had purchased her came by, and we agreed to meet later to discuss my experiences with the rigging and sails.  Then colleagues from my Murdoch University days came by, Peter and Sue Sumner and Neil Huck.   Cynthia telephoned to welcome me back,   I met Joanna (Odyssey) and Peter Moore. Pat Fitzgerald was there. She had been following the blog with her husband Bill for years.  Jim McBeth, a fellow member of the club dropped by.   Jim Putt paid a visit to the jetty.  Later I learned that the Chadwicks had been among the rocks on the north side. I met Samantha "Sam", the Assistant Harbour Master, who was to be very thoughtful and helpful to me.  Accommodation for boats at the marina was becoming tight because scores of visiting boats were arriving for the Bali race, and beginning with Tristan Yuswak the club's harbour master while I was still far out to sea, the Fremantle Sailing Club had done a wonderful job of planning accommodation for Pachuca until my pen was free (on 8 May).

All of this happened after a night of no sleep and no food since lunch on the previous day, so I was in a bit of a daze and everything seemed a bit dreamy and unreal.  But it was real and I was getting the warmest of welcome and it was great to be back.

Customs and AQIS (Quarantine) arrived 30 minutes later and both pairs did a very thorough job of inspecting the boat and my paperwork.  It was all quite amicable and although I lost two large packs of top quality almonds I was allowed to keep the raisins, flour, spaghetti, and other items that I thought were in jeopardy.  At first I could not find my wallet in order to pay the $330 charge from AQIS for their service, but I eventually found it at the bottom of the clothes closet.  However, I was not able to find my passports and I started a deep search of the boat for them the following day (today) with no success.  I am not panicking about the passports because I have always been very careful with them and they must be on board, but they are not where they should have been.

With Fremantle Support Team, Chatting with Cindy

Afterwards Brenda and Stephen drove me to their house and I was treated to a wonderful roast chicken dinner accompanied by a great merlot.  After the privations of life on the boat I felt that I was being given 5 star accommodation worthy of a king.

I slept like a log for 9 hours and woke up feeling a lot better.

I have Stephen to thank for the photos in this blog.

They're Here !

Pachuca came in very well to an enthusiastic gathering of supporters.

Thanks to those that turned out to welcome in Bob and Pachuca.

This is a very quick post for those that couldn't make the arrival.

Robert will need plenty of rest, after 2 nights without sleep.

There will be more photos of the arrival to follow :) thanks Stephen Fryc


Photos are:
Bob Kucera, FSC Commodore with Bob.

And Pachuca's mast.

  

Arrival is today ! !

Robert and Pachuca are due to complete their circumnavigation today, Monday 29 April. They are coming via the South Passage. Pachuca has picked up a cray-pot line which Robert will deal with when it is light.

The intention is to enter Success Harbour (Fremantle Sailing Club) just before midday. There is some info on how to see Pachuca come in to her home port that was posted (on this blog) a few days ago on 25 April. It includes a map and some phone numbers. Robert does not have a phone on board.

We all hope for a safe landing..... 

Day 53, April 28 -

At 11 AM local (WST) time I dressed up with sea boots and wet weather trousers to transfer the anchor chain from the V berth area below into the chain locker at the bow and then put out the anchor. Conditions were not too bad, though not ideal. There was enough wind to cause white capping and once in a while a wave would slap the bow sending spray over the foredeck. One problem was that I would have to have the forward hatch open for short periods of time and I did not want any more moisture going into the V berth section. Nevertheless the job had to be done because I did not want to be in the close waters of Cockburn Sound and Gage Roads without an anchor ready for deployment.

The first task was to get the chain into the locker. I opened the hatch and dead lifted half of the chain hand over hand so as not to scour the edge of the hatch base. I then began to feed it into the hawse pipe. Once I had 2 meters of chain dangling into the locker I took the rope at the end of the chain and lashed it to a bracket that I had installed for the purpose. The idea of the rope was that I would be able to knife through the rope it if forced to cut away the anchor rode during some emergency. I then lifted out the second half of the chain and shut the hatch, thankful that no sea water had passed through it.

Then it was time for the 45 lb plow anchor, which was stowed at the base of the clothes locker on top of the disassembled Swarbrick 50 lb anchor. I cleared out the clothes, lifted out the anchor, and placed it on the port (leeward) bunk of the V berth. Then from topside there was no other way of avoiding a one armed dead lift of the anchor up to the deck. The wet deck is wonderfully non-skid for footwear, but is like glass for metal objects, so I had to be careful about putting it into a stable position for the shackle work. In the bag for once I had brought everything that I needed: large adjustable wrench, long screw driver for holding the shackle while worked it with the wrench, stainless steel mousing wire, and side cutter pliers. Soon the chain was attached to the anchor and I worked it forward thankful that I had not put the chain on the wrong side of a sheet or the lifeline. At the bow there was no way around it: a one armed dead lift of the anchor leaning forward, shoulder against the forestay, deck pitching, trying to place the anchor stock on the roller. That went OK and other than a grumbling back the entire job had gone well. I remember surveying the scene while I was on the foredeck working on my knees, of the bright sunshine, blue water, bow cutting smartly through the water, and thinking to myself 'Savour these moments, mate, because your blue water sailing days are about to be over for a while.'

After tidying up I rescued the last 10 beers from their soggy cardboard case up forward, put them in the refrigerator, and started it up. I was getting bright sunshine to help charge the batteries, expected to run the engine during the night, and shucks, why not treat myself and visiting guests to cold beers.

I was pleased with the state of the boat. Other than a bit of last minute tidying up my remaining tasks were to have a bath and change of clothes, which I might well do during the night in the moonlight, and after daybreak putting up the Q (quarantine) and Aussie flags, putting the boat fenders in position, and set up dock lines fore and aft. From photos of the Customs jetty that Brenda and Stephen had sent me while I was in Cape Town I expected to go nose in with the jetty to my starboard, so most fenders would be set up on the starboard side but I would probably set up 2 on the port side, just in case.

At 1PM WST we were 39 miles directly west of Halls Head, 50 miles from Fremantle, and making 4.5 kts. The dream run continued.

At 3.30 PM WST I tried the car radio and received FM stations with crystal clarity. We level with Singleton, 32 miles to the east and coming up on Secret Harbour. Fremantle was 40 miles ahead. I set the ship's clock to WA time.

At 0800 UTC our numbers for the sailing day were:

POS 32S23, 115E07
NND 98 nm (in last 24 hours)
DMG 4880 nm (from Cape Town)
DTG 37 nm (to Fremantle)

We were 29 miles W of Secret Harbour.

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Day 53, April 28 - Early Morning Edition

I put my head down at 1300, 9 PM local time, and the sail immediately began to flog frequently enough to get me out of bed. The wind had died so I put the pole up in the hopes of keeping the boat moving, but by the time I had the new arrangement set up the wind had died to nothing, so I brought in the sail and let the boat drift in the moonlight. I was not worried because good winds were predicted for the coming day.

I was up at 1750 to the hum of the Rutland wind charger and it was time to set sail. I dressed up and went topside and one glance forward revealed the beautiful sight of a ship crossing my bow close, but not dangerously so. This was my first sight of humanity in more than 6 weeks. I looked up and saw that my tricolor was shining brightly and then went down below and saw that the ship was showing up as a target on the chart plotter: the Lucy Oldendorff, a cargo ship bound for New Plymouth, NZ. She was crossing 2.3 miles ahead of me, just outside of the 2 mile safety perimeter that would have triggered an alarm on the chart plotter. Thirteen miles ahead the Zosco Huzhou bound for China had already crossed my bow going the other way and must have passed close to the Lucy Oldendorff. I was in a shipping lane and my AIS system was working fine. I had been broadcasting an AIS signal continuously since Cape Town.

The wind was a good one: moderate but steady. The boat was pointing the right way so all I had to do was to roll out some headsail and alter the airvane just a few degrees, and just like that we were now making 5.5 kts across a calm sea. Down below I saw that we were now well north of Bunbury and 99 miles from our destination. I felt safe from ships because of the clear visibility as well as the AIS, so went back to bed.

I was up at dawn, 2230 UTC, to find the boat still sailing directly toward Fremantle 75 miles away.
There were scores of sea birds of at least 3 different speciens zooming all around the boat. We were 50 miles of the coast, making a good speed of 4.5 kts, and the moderate SE winds would continue until after my arrival at Rottnest Island. This was turning out to be a dream run up the coast.

I was now within the coverage of the set of Navionics charts of Australia on the chart plotter so now I was working with very detailed, recent, and well presented charts. The C-Map charts had done a great job of getting me from Mexico to this point, and in fact they were good enough to get me into Fremantle, but they could not match the Navionics charts. Undoubtedly the modern C-Map charts are to the same standard, but I was using C-Map 93, a much older version. The other great tool at my disposal was of course Marine Plotter running on the laptop because using it I would see the progress of the boat against very detailed Google satellite images. Imagining the ocean bottom from contour lines and spot depth is one thing. Being able to actually see the ocean bottom is another.

I expected to arrive at the holding position between Rottnest Island and Fremantle at about midnight local time. I planned to enter Cockburn Sound through the South Passage and station myself 5 or 6 miles E of Rottnest Island to await the dawn. I did not want to wait too close to Fremantle in order to avoid shipping movements. Once I established the direction and rate of drift I would see about getting a few hours of sleep with anchor alarms and timer set.

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Day 52, April 27 - ETA 29 April

At 1830 UTC still on the 26th (0230 on the 27th Western Australia time) we crossed the 200 mile mark and were now north of Cape Leeuwin.

I had been getting up frequently to deal with a wind shift that I knew was coming, and now I was up to attend to the sail, which had begun to occasionally flog with a sharp snap in the moderating wind. The full sail had been out for about 12 hours so I rolled in half of it in hoping to quiet it, but that didn't work and it was time to put up the whisker pole in the middle of the night. That led to 2 hours of hard work running between the cockpit and foredeck.

Light was not a problem because I had a nearly full moon almost directly overhead, and between that at my head torch I did not even need to turn on the deck light. But the rolling was a problem as always and I had to move carefully. The first big problem with hooking the pole at the bowline knot at the clew is that I've got to pull the flogging sail in with one hand and hook the pole in with the other while standing up. I do this by working with an arm on each side of the inner forestay. That leads to the second problem. I must then go back to the cockpit and loosen the sheets enough so that I can push the pole out far enough to hook it on the mast ring. As soon as I do that the sail starts flogging harder and there is great danger that if the sail spits the pole out it will go over the side. To prevent this I lashed the pole with an independent line which I made off at a bollard so that if the pole went over I would be able to pull it back on board. But now in addition to the flaying sheets there was that third line attached to a pole that could jump anywhere and I saw a risk of getting caught up in a rope so I started carrying a rigging knife in the pocket of the wet weather trousers, something that I should have been doing all along. In fact the pole almost did go over the side. After loosening the sheets I made my way forward and just as my hand reached out to the pole the end came off the sheet and it was headed for the water. I grabbed the pole just in time and saved it by, well, a whisker. I clipped the pole back onto the sail then it was a matter of manhandling the other end of the pole onto the mast ring. This was not so easy because the pole was pumping back and forth violently and I had to control it with one hand. Finally I got the pole onto the mast ring then went back to the cockpit and set the sail.

I've tried to describe what the pole work is like in order to give an idea of how I felt when I looked at our heading and saw that the wind shift had come while I was wrestling with the pole. That meant a gybe which meant that I had to bring the pole down and do it all over again.

I was well rewarded for the effort because the result was that we were moving well again with a quiet sail heading directly for Cape Naturaliste 114 miles away. The forecast was for the wind to steadily back toward the S and eventually the SE, so I knew that the boat would clock around nicely with it and eventually I would be on a beam reach making for Fremantle.

I sat at the steering station to cool off and get some rest and it was such a lovely experience with the cool breeze, calm sea, bright moonlight, that I didn't want to get up again. But I have always been partial to moonlight sailing.

I woke up after dawn and found the boat headed NNE. The wind had backed to the SSE much faster than I had expected. The wind would now be on the beam so once again I dropped the pole. While I was at it I removed the staysail from the foredeck and stowed it below for drying later. I needed clear the foredeck in preparation for the task of moving the chain and anchor from the clothes closet below to the bow of the boat.

----- ETA -----
The morning's spot report looked amazingly good, with moderate SE and SSE winds for the next 2 days. I should be able to reach the vicinity of Rottnest Island at about midnight on 28 April. (Yikes! That's tomorrow night !!!!) I will stand off until dawn on Monday the 29th and try to be at the Customs dock before noon.
----- ETA -----

I soon sent a notification of my ETA to Customs, Quarantine, and others.

I spent two hours doing a bit of cleaning in the cabin. The principal objective was to clean out the refrigerator and ice box compartments, throwing out all fresh vegetables and whatever perishables might remain. Overboard went a half dozen very good onions and potatoes that had passed their prime but were still good for cooking. Garlic went overboard too. At the end both compartments were clean and in good order for the Customs official. I also moved the laptop from the main table back to the navigation table. Moving the laptop to the main table had been a great move and probably saved the computer.

The morning's SAMMNet session was not good, at least at my end. After a 90 second wait called out my numbers, saying everything twice. I was confident that Graham had copied me OK. I told him that I would try again at the "lunch" session which would me setting an alarm to wake up.

My nocturnal pole dancing on the foredeck must have paid off because the 24 hour sailing day numbers at 0800 UTC were surprisingly good:

POS 38S32, 113E45
NND 124 nm
DMG 4778 nm
DTG 134 nm

We were on the exact same latitude as Cape Naturaliste 60 miles to the east. Soon we would be passing Bunbury, and perhaps I would detect my first ship on AIS since South Africa.

I ran the engine for 90 minutes because I was now running the chart plotter 24 hours a day. Had I done a 1-hour run I would have been able to boast of a complete engine run with no oil pressure alarm. Alas, in the 75th minute the alarm went off.

Because of the fantastic throughput I've been getting from Sailmail I downloaded my first grib file in many weeks, for 2 days, every 3 hours, and the rectangle between the position of the boat and Fremantle. The wind predictions were very good, and if the wind remained strong enough to allow me to keep sailing throughout the coming night, even at a minimal 2.5 kts, we would be a shoo-in for making the ETA.

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Day 51, April 26

I woke up 4 hours before dawn and things were so quiet that I was afraid that we were close to being becalmed. However, outside under the full moon things looked different. The sea was calm and apparent wind was strong and steady enough to keep us moving well. The occasional flapping of the sail was caused by momentary lulls in the wind when the boat was catching up to its speed. Nevertheless the wind was light and I marvelled how the Monitor could steer the boat so well. As far as the sail and our boat speed goes, the key was that whisker pole that kept the headsail flat and steady. Without that pole we probably would have been drifting all night.

A check of the track showed that we had been averaging 4 kts over the 10 hours since the "noon" report. The wind had shifted 30 degrees in our favor and now we were making for south of Cape Leeuwin. I tweaked the airvane to alter our heading more to the north. Conditions were mild and I went to the airvane barefoot and in my light clothes.

I was looking forward to listening to the radio in the coming day. I was now in a "news rich" environment with a choice between Radio Australia and the BBC. Yesterday I heard a good account of the Aussie ANZAC Day services and from the BBC learned of a fire at the Austal shipyard in Mobile, Alabama.

The wind picked up as dawn approached and I was able to make directly for Fremantle at 5.5 kts. The whisker pole had worked well all night and I decided to keep it up in the rising wind because I knew that I could reduce the sail area by half with the pole up.

At 0100 UTC, about 2 hours after dawn, I downloaded a fresh spot forecast and according to it I could look forward to two glorious days of good winds. However, I could expect the wind at 19 kts in only 6 hours. The whisker pole had done a brilliant job but now it was time to take it down. In these stronger winds I no longer needed the pole and I wanted the flexibility of sailing with the bare headsail. It was tricky enough taking the pole down in this lighter wind. Fortunately while I was standing next to the inner forestay frantically trying to pull in the jerking sheet so that I could free the pole the gyrations of the sail and sheet caused the pole to free itself. The safest method would be to roll the entire headsail in but that places the clew of the sail too high and beyond my reach.

After the pole operation we were still headed at 060T, between Cape Naturaliste and Fremantle and we were now under 300 miles (297) from the finish. Things were looking up.

I decided to treat myself with fresh baked bread and I produced three small loaves that rival a professional effort in lightness and crust. I started off by dissolving plenty of butter and sugar in a bowl of warm water. When solution had cooled down to blood heat I added 2 hefty tea spoons of yeast the mixed in almost an entire 1 kg bag of flour. I had just finished running the engine for one hour so I put the bowl with the dough on the engine cover and under a coat and a wool sweater. The residual heat from the engine did wonders for the rising process. This time I tried making 3 small loaves instead of 2 large ones and got much better results from the aged and somewhat flawed oven.

The engine run went well. The oil pressure alarm came on after 24 minutes and from there on it was a cycle of on and off with the alarm.

I had a great morning session with Graham. I got poor copy from him at first but then reception improved and he was able to pass on some valuable information about the winds that I can expect during the run up the coast to Fremantle. Tomorrow morning the wind will be S-SW 10-15 kts all of the way to Fremantle. On Sunday at 0600 the wind will be S-SE 10-15 kts. He will email a more detailed forecast to me. I suggested that since we had a good exchange in this session we skip the lunchtime one because by then it is well after dark on Pachuca. We agreed to skip the session and if we failed to connect tomorrow morning we would try again at the lunchtime session. This will be the first time that I can recall that I miss one of the twice daily sessions. At this point, by the way, Graham and I are over 4500 nautical miles apart.

The starboard water tank that supplies the galley finally ran dry, after 51 days. I switched on the pressure pump so that I could get tap water from the port tank. Normally pressure water is a big no-no during a passage, but we were so close to the finish that I could see no point in carting water in jugs from the hand pump in the head.

At 0800 UTC the numbers for the 24 hour sailing day were:

POS 34S55, 111E44
NND 114 nm
DMG 4644 nm
DTG 258 nm

We were entering the shallower waters of the Naturaliste Plateau and were now north of the latitude of the city of Albany.

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