Dinghy Disaster II: Trapped Down Under

VOICEOVER GUY: A family, cruising the world under sail. You first met them in Dinghy Disaster: The Panama Horror. Now they’re back in a new adventure in the land of giant crocodiles, poisonous toads, huge mouse-eating spiders, and drop bears. Fasten your seat-belts and prepare to be Trapped Down Under.

The day started out normally enough, for a day where we were picking up visitors at the airport. We’d arrived in Sydney in plenty of time to learn the harbor enough to figure out where and how to collect Will from his flight back from the UK for the holidays. (Ferry to the center of the city, train to the airport) We’d located a spot to park the dinghy while we were on shore at the Manly Yacht Club. They’re a delightful group of people, and several people I met invited us to park the dinghy at their float when we needed to come on shore.

Sunday we set an alarm and got up early to catch the 7:30 ferry. We tied the dinghy up, but not wanting to block the actual float dock used by club members, we tied it off to the side rails on the walkway down to the floating dock so it wouldn’t use any cleats or dock space in the working area of the float. We collected Will from the airport successfully, had a nice lunch, and all was well.

But…we forgot to account for the tide. The unusually high tide, as it happened.

When we got back to the club the dinghy was…gone. It’s one of a cruisers worst, non-fatal nightmares – the loss of the dinghy. They are expensive and hard to replace, but they are also are lifeline to the boat. So my first thought was that someone stole the dinghy, or maybe we’d broken a rule at the club and someone had impounded it.

Then I noticed the float from the towing bridle next to the walkway to the floating dock. And I noticed the floating dock walkway was sloping up from the fixed part of the dock. I walked up and saw to my horror our dinghy trapped under the dock and completely under water.

This was two ours after high tide, when it was almost free.

This picture doesn’t really do what happened justice, since I took it couple of hours after high tide. When we arrived at the dock, the tubes were entirely under water, and only an inch or two of engine cowling was sticking above the water. The engine was clearly under water.

Drowned engines are serious business. And the underside of a dock like this is a nasty place to stick an inflatable object made of cloth. With bolts, maybe nails, and oysters there are plenty of sharp objects to stick holes and slash Hypalon. This was clearly a disaster in the making.

First Response

Fortunately, I’d learned a few things about drowned engines in my courses at New England Tech before before we left. And I’ve read a lot about it. So I knew the clock was ticking.

When an engine gets dunked in salt water, the worst thing you can do is dry it out. The salt will crystallize inside the engine, coating all the smooth surfaces with abrasives. And oxidation and corrosion will kick in immediately when the metal is exposed to air; this takes a lot longer under water. The best thing to do is service the engine immediately. This was clearly not possible, since the dinghy was still trapped. The second best thing to do is keep the engine wet. This prevents the rest from kicking in.

With this in mind, Will and I headed off to a hardware store to find a trash can or giant bucket to stick the engine in when we got it back to the boat. We also looked for a sawhorse or similar support to put the engine on so I could work on it more easily on deck. The only engine mount we have is on the stern rail, and isn’t easy to work on; never mind the risk of dropping parts over board. And I knew his engine would need some work. We got a bucket, but couldn’t find something to hang the engine on for work.

The plot thickens

On our return to the yacht club, we decided to send Will, Kathy, and Danielle back to Evenstar to rig up the pudgy with the backup engine. They could then come back in and tow the RIB out to the boat once the tide dropped enough to free it from the dock. I grabbed a guy that was on the dinghy dock with his boat and he graciously agreed to run them out to the boat.

I then set about to free the boat. Which pretty much involved poking at it with an oar every now and then and watching the tide drop.

The crew on Evenstar called me to let me know they were having trouble starting the backup engine. It’s a month old, it’s not supposed to have troubles. I went back to poking at the dinghy.

It’s caught under the rigid supporting bar. Note the pokey and sharp things all around and inning it in place

Eventually, I got it free. One of the club members helped me walk it around to the float and tie it off. He told me that they’d seen it in the morning and tried to free it up, but it was already stuck. Though they’d been nice enough to pull our oars out so they didn’t float away, there was little else they could do.

Phone rings, more trouble with the backup engine. “Gas is pouring out of the engine and it won’t start!” I was told. “Figure it out,” I snapped back into the phone. By then I was in the middle of hauling the dinghy up onto the dock and tilting it go get water out. Another nice fellow had stopped back with a bucket and was bailing to get water out now that she was afloat again.  The bow and starboard tube were deflated and sagging, and the transom was still dangerously close to the water, but it had stopped coming in.

By now, it was close to 4:00 and most people were clearing out of the club for the day. With the dinghy afloat, I needed to get it back to Evenstar. I confirmed the pudgy rescue was not happening. But the fellow who helped me bail had talked to some racers who were still on the dock, and they agreed to give me a lift out to Evenstar and tow the dinghy behind us. With the continued kindness of strangers, we all found our way back to the boat with the deflated and forlorn dinghy in tow.

Then it was time for the work to begin.

Cleaning Up The Mess

It was after five o’clock by the time we got the dinghy to Evenstar. We took the engine off, completely emptied the boat, and hauled the surprisingly heavy hull on deck. Given it was softer than a Tom Brady football at halftime, we didn’t want to take a chance on shipping more water with any passing wakes until we’d determined damage and affected repairs.

The engine we dunked into the container Will and I picked up from Bunning’s and covered it with freshwater. It would sit there, upside down and in fresh water, until I was prepared to deal with it. My hope was that I could find a professional outboard person who had some experience with drowned engines. It was Sunday though, there was no chance of reaching anyone until the next day. And if that wouldn’t happen, then I at least had a theoretical familiarity with how to being the engine back, so I’d give it a go. But I still didn’t have any place to work.

So, status at the end of Sunday:

  • One drowned 15 HP Yamaha soaking in a tub
  • One nearly new 3.5 HP Tohatsu that wouldn’t start and was spewing out fuel
  • One AB RIB on deck with two deflated tubes and a lot of crushed oyster shells inside.

Carburetor Day (with patches)

Monday morning I had my work cut out for me. Since I was the only one on board with the skills to fix the engines and patch the dinghy, I set to quickly. First, I’d sort the backup engine so we had at least one motorized dinghy to get about in. Some quick internet research helped me diagnose a sticky float switch. A few phone calls got me ambiguous information about whether ripping the carburetor apart would void my warranty. I also figured out pretty quickly that there would be no help available with the drowned engine.

While I started ripping apart the Tohatsu, Kathy set-to on the RIB with a cup of soapy water to find holes. She found two new ones in the bow, and a lot of badly abraded Hypalon.  Fixable though.

A dinghy “Trolley”. I don’t think our American name is any better and it is less charming.

Within an hour or so I had the carburetor apart, cleaned out, and back together. We then dispatched Kathy and the kids to Whitworth’s (the Aussie version of West Marine) to pick up a dinghy “trolley” and a new gas tank. I was concerned that the fuel tank was compromised and the dirty tank and fuel would mess up whatever cleaning I did on the big engine.

Dinghy patches take a couple of days to really cure well, so I stayed behind to put the patches on the dinghy. Mixing glue, sanding, and waiting for the glue to dry took up most of my time while I waited for them to return with the engine stand.

Real men smell like a melange of WD-40, Carb Cleaner, Petrol, TC3W oil, MEKP, and Hypalon glue.

After their return I pulled the 15 HP from the soaking bin and set to work. I had to drain it thoroughly. Pulling out the spark plugs, I set it on its side and spun the engine to force anything out. Lots of WD-40 got sprayed into the spark plug openings, to displace water and coat the cylinders. Then I pulled the carburetor off and set to work, again.

The Yamaha log was under water earlier.

Cleaning the carb out is the most important part of this process, since water in the fuel will kill any chance of starting the engine. The carb came apart easily – I’d done this same operation in Brisbane less than a month previously to try to sort some issues we were having with the engine. Lots of carb cleaner spray later, and it went back together.

The patched but not yet filly re-inflated boat went back in the water. A fresh batch of fuel in the new tank with double engine oil was prepared – the extra oil is like a new “break in” for extra cleaning, lubrication, and smoke while running.

Then a LOT of pulling on the start rope.

And something was wrong with the new tank, because it wouldn’t draw fuel into the engine. I got enough in it to start the engine briefly, but it ran out of fuel. So we had to siphoned the old fuel from the old tank and filter it, then move the new fuel to the old tank and try again.

And…we got the engine to start. And it even ran long enough to drive a lap around the boat before stalling. Further pulling wasn’t getting any more life from the engine.

With my left shoulder about to fall off from cranking the engine, I was done for the day.  Close, but no cigar. But it had run enough to convince me it could work.

Carburetor Day Redux

The next morning, Will reported that the backup engine was stalling out regularly, though it would start right up again. Sounded like a float pin issue to me. I set Will to removing and re-cleaning that carburetor, taking special care to fully remove the float valve and clean it (we’d only sprayed it the day before). This solved the problem. Meanwhile, I jumped back into the dinghy and pulled the carburetor off again.

I had a theory about the problem with the erratic behavior. Earlier, Kathy had said to me “By the way, I found this screw in the bucket you were holding things in.”

Oops.  Immediately I knew it was the screw that held the pin in place that held the float in the carburetor. That would explain the odd behavior of running for a while then stalling. So I quickly took it apart, put the screw in, reinstalled the carburetor and tried to start the engine. It fired right up. Then ran for a bit, then stalled.

I discovered I could keep it running by racing the engine, but eventually it would stall. I could reliably restart it by pulling once with the choke closed then once with it halfway or open. But it would stall eventually and would not idle.

After about half an hour of sitting there like an idiot, restarting and racing the engine thinking there was just some moisture in there I had to burn out, it hit me what I’d done. Or more correctly, failed to do. A month ago in Brisbane I’d solved our idling problem (the engine would stall when idling, which was a nuisance shifting gears!) by turning the Idle Mixture Screw half a turn. Of course it was more complicated than that – the EPA mandates that this screw be set to a certain emission level, then capped with a cap permanently over it so a boat owner with bad intentions couldn’t tamper with the fuel mix. I had to drill this cap out, then I could turn the screw.

But the one part I had not pulled out and cleaned, and blown all the lines clear in was the idle mixture screw. One more removal and disassembly of the carburetor to clean this screw out and the engine started and purred like a kitten! I let it idle for some time to make sure while I cleaned up and showered, and we all went off to meet Ian (the guy that helped me bail) for a beer.

Resolution

By the end of day two both engines were running normally, and the patches on the bow seemed to hold air. We found one more problem the next day when we went to hoist the dinghy in the davits. It had listed to starboard (the deflated side). When we pulled it, it was REALLY heavy on that side. We’d taken some water inside the tube.

So that is our last job to be done in the next day or so – we have to remove the engine, empty the dinghy, and pull it up on a ramp. Then we can tilt it up so the valve on that tube is facing down and drain the water.

But in the end, I was pleasantly surprised to find that we solved all of this ourselves with minimal expense and less time than I’d feared without a dinghy.

 

UPDATE: We drained the water out of the starboard tube this morning. Easiest part of the whole process…

Posted in broken things, Dinghy, outboard | 2 Comments

From Brisbane to Sydney

If you follow the position tracker or the Sail Evenstar Facebook page, you know we’ve moved from Brisbane to Sydney. We moved last week, about as late as we could stay in Brisbane. Brisbane is a lovely city and altogether too comfortable, so we got pretty complacent there.

One thing I’ve noticed talking to other Americans is that many of my countryman have no idea how large Australia really is. On the US-centered Mercator projection maps we have on the walls in school Australia looks sizeable, but smaller than Greenland. But off by itself, you don’t really see the size of the place compared to North America.

It doesn’t look small, but it doesn’t really look like it should. The effect then, is that when we say something like “We’re sailing from Brisbane to Sydney next week” it doesn’t occur to some that this actually isn’t a short trip like heading out to Block Island, or even moving the boat from say, Rhode Island to Boston. It’s not a failing of the geography curriculum so much as a distortion created trying to map the surface of a globe on a flat piece of paper.

In fact, it’s about the same as sailing from Myrtle Beach to Miami; about 500 nautical miles.  And that really only covers a small part of the East coast of Australia.  Sailing from the Cape Howe in the Southeast corner of Australia to Cape York, the northernmost point of the main land mass, is almost 300 miles further than sailing from Maine to Key West as the crow flies over land (about 1,200 miles for that trip). Sailing around all the hard bits of land will put it closer to 2,000 miles.

Here is a more telling image:

Brisbane is up in Virginia, Sydney is down in Georgia on this map.

Australia has less that 1/10th the population of the U.S., which also contributes to the perception that it is smaller than it is. Population-wise, it’s not a large country but geographically, it’s huge. Unlike the U.S., the middle of Australia is nearly empty.

Taking Care of Business

Before leaving Brisbane of course we had to undo the effects of nearly three months of not moving. A lot of little things, from changing oil to putting things away where they wouldn’t fly around if we hit rough conditions. And taking care of all the last-minute things we could do in Brisbane but didn’t know how to do in Sydney, like sending packages and picking up the new grill. We finally got our act together and cast off the pilings on Saturday, December 10th.

Our first stop was Rivergate Marina, about seven miles down river from the moorings. Three months of running the generator after the trip from New Caledonia meant we needed to refuel. We got to Rivergate quickly, then spent the next hour circling in the river waiting for the fuel dock. A power outage had slowed everything down, but we got in and picked up a little over 700 liters of diesel (185 Gallons).

Next stop, Sydney!

Watching the Weather & Route

Or, maybe not.

The weather prediction for the day read 10-15 knots from the Southeast. When we left the river, the wind was blowing more like twenty-five knots and gusting higher. Moreton Bay was riled up and choppy.

In some conditions, this discrepancy in the forecast wouldn’t have been much of a problem. But it was getting late in the day, and we knew we had a lumpy trip rounding Cape Moreton ahead of us in these conditions. And the wind was expected to stay Southeast for another day after this, which would be largely on the nose for our trip South to Sydney.

As you can see in the above chart, we had to go North first to escape Moreton Bay before we could begin the trek South. What you can’t see so well there is that the area around Cape Moreton is rife with currents and shallows, and has the potential for some lumpy seas. We had zero desire to pound through this in the dark, in windier conditions than the mild forecast we had. With discretion being the better part of valor, we sailed over to the spot where the blue route up there begins (conveniently labelled “1”) and dropped the anchor for the night.

After a restful night, our first at anchor for some time, we awoke to a calm, clear morning with light breezes. After a quick breakfast we set out as the breeze started to fill. With favorable currents and a breeze behind us we fairly flew out of Moreton Bay, and the rounding was pretty easy with the lighter wind.

The wind was dead on the nose and light, so we kept motor sailing with the main up as the day progressed. Approaching sunset, the wind had picked up to over ten knots but was still in our faces. If we wanted to sail, we would be sailing close hauled, in the dark.

Sailing close hauled (right up to the wind as close as we can go) makes the boat heel a lot. More important though, it’s a trickier way to sail.  The autopilot isn’t smart enough to do it, because it can not respond to the minor wind shifts, so it will end up sailing to high and stalling the sails much of the time. To sail that close to the wind, one had to hand steer. And that only worked really well if the driver could also see the “tell tales” on the sail – small bits of cloth that clue us in to how the wind is flowing over the sails.

An eight inch strip of cloth on the bow if the boat isn’t so easy to see in the dark. Given the light air and the wind direction we decided to motor sail over night, and wait for the wind to back and fill from the North the way it was predicted for the following day.

Riding the East Australian Current

 

The EAC is nothing like you saw it in Finding Nemo. First, it’s only a couple of knots at most. I suppose if you are a three-inch fish that might feel like a wild roller coaster ride, but you don’t actually see it on a fifty-three foot boat. You don’t feel it at all, either.

Second, we didn’t see a single turtle. Seriously, not one, okay?

But we did get a nice little speed bump from the current, which was very nice. One or two knots of extra speed makes a big difference on your trip lasting two or three days.  It helps you cover an extra 20-50 miles every day.

The Wind Fills In

On Monday in afternoon, the wind finally shifted North and we cut the engine and put up the sails. It started out light, so we put up the main, Genoa, and staysail.

By dusk, it was blowing harder and we’d reefed down the main and the Genoa. Kathy and I switched watches, and by the end of her watch at 2:00 a.m. the wind had moved further North, and was now blowing steadily over thirty knots with gusts to thirty-five.

We were FLYING, with the wind and the boost from the EAC. With the wind shift, we were also flying off in the wrong direction, out so see and away from land. We were over fifty miles off shore by then, and needed to jibe back.

Staysail jibing in the dark

Jibing Evenstar in the dark with the staysail up is a slow process. Our rig requires the use of “Runners” or “Checkstays” (there is a technical difference between the terms, but I’ve heard them used interchangeably) to support the mast with the staysail up. These are lines that connect to the mast around the height of the head of the staysail, that run down to the deck. The windward checkstay must be loaded up hard and cranked down, there is a 4:1 purchase system to do this. It makes the check stay stiff as bar, and supports the most from shock loads and bend caused by the staysail.

The downside to the checkstays is that are in the way when they are tensioned. So while the windward side checkstay must be kept loaded, if the leeward side checkstay isn’t eased it keeps the main sail from moving out when the main sheet is eased.  So the checkstay must be eased before the sail can be trimmed. If the checkstay is eased, it flaps and flops around, so it must also be secured somehow. We have small bits of rope attached to the lifelines for holding the checkstays back.

The other complicating factor in the jib is the “preventer”.  Jibing intentionally is a normal, safe and reasonable maneuver. Jibing accidentally – letting the wind switch from one side of the boat to the other while sailing down wind – is dangerous, violent, loud, and can break things and hurt people as the boom slams from one side of the boat to the other with incredible speed and force. We try to avoid it.

One tool we use to avoid it is the preventer. This is another line that is run forward to a block on the bow, and back to the boom. The end of the boom has a roughly 12′ strop line permanently installed on it for the preventer. This has an eye in it, and the line that was run forward through the block has a shackle that can hook to this eye. This is actually a simpler system, because the preventer needs to be able to be run on either side of the boat, and the line on the boom end means we need shorter lines to connect it to.  The preventer is tied off at the stern cleat, so it can be adjusted without sending someone forward to handle it.

When the main sail is eased WAY out to run off the wind it’s time in put a prevent on. The line run to the bow at a steep enough angle will keep the boom from bouncing and banging as the boat rolls, greatly lowers the chance of an accidental jibe by stopping the boom from gaining enough momentum to start a jibe, and can minimize the damage if we do jibe by keeping the book from flying out of control.

So…with the ground work laid, the rough steps to jib Evenstar with the staysail up running off the wind are as follows. We’ll go from Starboard to Port in this jib, so the wind will be coming over the starboard, aft quarter at the start.

  1. Furl the head sail. Because it’s just easier (cockpit)
  2. Ease the preventer (port side, aft)
  3. Bring the boom in closer to the boat. (cockpit)
  4. Detach the preventer line from the strop (port, midships)
  5. Clip off the preventer to the lifeline to secure it (port, midships)
  6. Center the boom (cockpit), bringing the main centerline on the boat
  7. Snug up the slack in the preventer (port, midships)
  8. Detach the leeward (port)  checkstay tie down (port, midships)
  9. Pull in slack from checkstay blocks (port aft) and run to winch
  10. Tighten checkstay  with the winch (cockpit) and get the line off the winch
  11. Pre-load the lazy (unused) staysail sheet onto the winch that was vacated in step 10. (cockpit)
  12. Break (remove from the self tailer) the staysail sheet and hold it. (cockpit)
  13. Steer the boat downwind, across the wind and actually do the jibe.
  14. When the boat jibs and the staysail fills grind it in and trim it on the new tack. Also ease the other (now lazy) sheet.
  15. Ease starboard checkstay (starboard, aft)
  16. Secure the starboard checkstay; this involves easing about 80′ of line through a 4:1 block setup and walking it forward to tie down. (starboard, midships)
  17. Move the preventer strop on the end of the boom around and to the other side
  18. Ease main part way out.
  19. Ease preventer (starboard, aft)
  20. Reconnect preventer to boom (starboard, midships)
  21. Ease boom out and trim main (cockpit)
  22. Snug preventer tight (starboard, aft)
  23. Put Genoa back out (cockpit)

Simple, right?  Of course, this is at night, in the dark, when it’s blowing thirty-five knots in six-foot seas.

For this jibe, we added a couple of steps, and eliminated #23. Since it was blowing the dog off the chain and we went no slower once we furled the Genoa in, we decided we didn’t need it since all it was doing was overpowering the boat. But to make it more fun, we added a couple of steps, including:

  • Because we forgot to pre-run and secure both checkstays when we set the staysail, before step nine you need to go midships, get the checkstay from it’s “out of use” stowage spot and “install” it in operating position. This is a pain in the neck, since you have to hand feed stiff line through a 4:1 block and tackle type setup.
  • After step 14, notice that the staysail is making a weird “fwump fwump fwump” sound and shaking the whole boat. With a flashlight, figure out that somehow we managed to “hourglass” the staysail and wrap it around its own forestay. Don’t ask me how.
  • Jibe the boat back quickly, and with a stroke of luck, clear the mess from the last step by fulling the sail while sailing “wing and wing” with an over-trimmed main and twisted staysail. High fives all around for dodging that bullet, even though we weren’t sure how we did it.
  • Jibe back, trim stysail, and proceed to step 15

Generally – and I do not agree with this logic – I lose the argument about who leaves the cockpit to do this stuff. I’m stronger than Kathy, faster at these tasks and have a bit more insight into them. Kathy is quite competent, but more deliberate and less strong.

Her argument for doing the work is simply that she firmly believes the odds of me recovering her if she goes overboard are much higher than of her being able to handle the boat well enough to get me back. At night, offshore in the dark, I’m not sure how much those odds are improved by my driving, but I am more skilled and comfortable at the helm so she has a point.

This sounds wildly dangerous, and to a point there are safety concerns. We take every step we can to avoid sending someone out on the deck at night. Our hope when we started the night was to stay on this tack all night and jib in the morning, but the wind shifted and blew us offshore.

We also are very, very careful about safety when working on deck. We run “jacklines” from the bow to the stern of the boat. These are very strong webbed lines with reflective tape. Everyone always wears a PFD with an integral harness, and we have tethers to clip the harness to either the jackline or a hand piece of boat. The tethers have two lines on them, so one can clip on to a new fixed point before unclipping from the old one. So everyone operating outside the cockpit is always tethered to the boat. This is an immutable rule we follow in all but the most benign daylight conditions, although we never leave the cockpit without a PFD no matter what.

Getting Into Sydney

When we left, we figured on a three day trip. Leave Sunday morning, get in Wednesday morning. Three nights of watches.

Flying along in the EAC with a reefed main and staysail only, we were putting up some huge speed numbers. Our ETA in Sydney at times showed as early as Tuesday afternoon, so we had optimism that we might get to skip the third night of watch.

The wind did hold, and we blasted into Sydney Harbour around midnight.

Ordinarily we have a “no strange harbors after dark” rule. The charts of Sydney showed that it was an easy, easy entry with no real hazards. If you turn right right after the entrance, there is a wide open anchorage that is also easy to find and free of hazards.

So with a full moon and an easy approach…we decided to bend the rule a bit and get some sleep!

Posted in Australia, passages | Leave a comment

Something Shiny and New

Several somethings, really. For several years we’ve had a couple of items that have been vexing us. We’ve finally addressed them.

Dinghy Engine

Our main dinghy engine is a work horse. A two stroke Yahama 15 HP, it’s the de facto engine for cruising boats outside the U.S. It’s reliable, low maintenance, tough, not heavy for it’s power, and it has served us well for years.

When you live on a boat, your dinghy is your car. Unless you are tied to the dock, it is your lifeline to food, services, supplies, parts, entertainment, and just stopping that “I haven’t been off the boat for three days and I need to go NOW” sensation.

Not having a dinghy is like not having a car when you live in the country and there’s no public transportation. You will literally be stuck on the boat (in your house). Unlike a car, you just can’t get a loaner when you go to the shop. Nobody will rent you one of these.

If your engine fails, you can row your dinghy. In theory at least. Rowing an inflatable RIB is an exercise in futility in anything but calm water. With a current, you’ll be doing well just to be rowing in place. The big, fluffy, squishy hull form just doesn’t lend itself to tracking well in the water while rowing with relatively flimsy, undersized oars in oarlocks that are flexible and don’t hold well. It’s not something you want to experience, or rely on much beyond getting you back to the boat if the engine stalls less than a couple of hundred yards away.

Which brings us to the Shiny New Thing.

We’ve cruised with two dinghies, the main RIB (an AB Lammina 3.1) and a Portland Pudgy for the kids. The Pudgy has a sailing rig, and it rows pretty well. But that’s not something you want to try and do into the 2-4 knot currents you get in place like Brisbane, or that we saw in Opua, NZ and other places.

For years we’ve discussed getting an engine for the Pudgy, as a backup, in case the main dinghy was stolen, damaged, or the engine failed. And we finally dif.

The requirements for the new engine were a few. As small and light as possible – the Pudgy is only rated for a 2HP engine. It needed a long shaft, to fit the Pudgy’s high transom. We wanted a two stroke so we could easily store it without draining the oil reservoir before putting it on it’s side. And of course…cheaper is always better.

A number of options were explored, from Chinese knockoffs of Yamaha standards setters, air cooled Honda four strokes (expensive, loud, and four stroke), things that looked like weed whackers with propellers on them (loud, dirty, but very, very cheap) and other possibilities. The major problem is the Long Shaft. Most outbaords have a 15″ shaft, and this works for most boats. The Pudgy…not so much, since it has a higher transom. This severely limited the engine choices, since almost no outboard manufacturers offer their smallest engines in a 20″ Long Shaft option. The smallest Yamaha with a 20″ shaft is a 5HP which is too big, too powerful, and too expensive. The annoying thing is that a Long Shaft engine is the same engine, except it has a a five inch spacer stuck between above the lower unit, and a 5″ longer shaft inside it.

We ended up with a Tohatsu 3.5HP long shaft to stroke. It is an identical engine to their 2HP model, with different carburetor jets and exhaust. But the 2HP is not available in a Long Shaft; even though they could offer it in a 20″ (same engine, same parts as the 3.5HP), they don’t choose to. The Pudgy scoots along well with it, and it will happily drive the big RIB at hull speed (not fast!) around half throttle.

Ours looks just like this. Except it’s got a five inch spacer above the propeller. You can’t even find a picture of the Long Shaft version!

Grilling!

For four and a half years we’ve carried a grill around on the back of the boat, a Magma Catalina. We used to bring it in and stow it for passages to protect it. But it stopped working. The inside guts rusted out years ago and it stopped working. So we left it on the rail, and when we got an opportunity, got some parts for it.

One of these, installed just like there. We even had the optional tool tray. You can not cook that much food on this grill, BTW. Not even close.

Then I tried to fix it. The second I touched some of the internals that looked in place, they crumbled into rust dust. So now I had spare parts with no way to attach them, and no working grill.

I must confess, I never liked this grill. It didn’t heat evenly, temperature was tough to control, it did’t actually get very hot, and it was tough to clean. We have been through three grills since we’ve owned Evenstar. The best was a West Marine 180SS, now discontinued. The rail mounts on that gave way and it flipped over while I was cooking once, dropping several steaks, and more importantly, several key grill components, into Block Island’s Great Salt Pond. Since the grill was discontinued, I couldn’t replace the parts.

The next was a Dickinson Spitfire. People raved about Dickenson grills, so I tried one. Hated it. Tried it again. Hated it more. A grill must actually produce enough head to sear things. Gently warmed raw meat isn’t what I’m aiming for. That grill ended up in a marine consignment shop.

Enter the Magma Catalina. It worked OK for a while. Frustrating, but functional. Over time it deteriorated. It was also a single burner grill. Yeah, I know – it’s a boat grill. Before we moved on board I had an outrageous grilling rig with gas, charcoal, and a smoker, and did some pretty serious work for a Yankee. Even with indirect heat on the gas side of it. While nothing on a boat will compare to slow BBQ done over indirect heat with hickory wood chunks, at least with two burners you can turn one off and try some indirect heat cooking!

I dreamed of new grills. I looked at them in New Zealand, but prices were mad, and the one grill we liked the look of didn’t have any mounting hardware for boats. Why sell it in a marine store, then?

In Australia, there is a serious marine/RV grill maker, who makes the Galleymate marine grill. I found them online and was impressed by the web site and their claims. Not blowing out in up to forty (40!) knots of wind, easy to clean. High quality construction. And TWO BURNERS. But boy were they expensive. Then we saw one in a store.

What a contrast between the Magma, which is made with very thin steel, to this grill. It is SOLID as a rock, a heavy, strong design. Nothing flimsy and light, the steel has to be at least double that of the Magma.Well thought out, with nice features for cleaning and operation, and more cooking area. The mounting system also looks well engineered and stable, with a quick release for easy stowing.

We also checked the prices on the Magmas, which are imports here from the U.S. because the Galleymates seemed too expensive. And wouldn’t you know, they were almost double the cost of buying the grill stateside.

Suddenly, the Galleymate didn’t seem so expensive. Not when they were a couple of hundred bucks more for a grill that is several times the quality.

Note the split grate/solid cooking surface. Grilling on flat surfaces is an Aussie thing we’ve not figured yet.

So we labored over which one to get. Two models beckoned, the 1100 and it’s larger cousin, the 1500. The latter cost about $350AUD more, and had more cooking area. But of course it was larger, and harder to store. Eventually common sense and reason won out. 99.8% of the time we were grilling it would be for three of us; in to years it will be for two of us. So we went with smaller, less expensive, and easier to stow.

We’re still waiting for all the mounting hardware we need, but we can use it on the deck. Except I’m not allowed to play with it until we get to Sydney!

Oh yeah, this grill can take a rotisserie.

In the following video, the grill on the left (the big one…) is the one we ended up with. He talks specifically about our model about 7:00 into the video.

Did I mention we got a rotisserie with it?

Posted in Cool Gear, Cool Stuff, Coooking & Food, Dinghy, outboard | 1 Comment

Living Large in Brisbane

First, of course I must make the obligatory apology for the lack of posts of any sort since arriving in Australia. After an initial flurry of touristy activity, we settled into a comfortably mundane routine, which you most assuredly so not want me blogging about in detail.

The trip here was pretty uneventful and easy, and the clearing in process with Customs and Immigration was remarkably easy. We’d feared a long bureaucratic process, but the officials were waiting for us on the dock and it was a breeze. We expected a hassle based on accounts we’d read, but the Border Security people were polite, professional and prepared and it was an easy process.

Parked

The view from the Companionway. We are IN the city.

Yeah, we’ve been parked in Brisbane for close to three months. It’s easy to do.

The City Council has a number of pile moorings available in the Central Business District, near the City Botanic Gardens. They are available on a first come, first serve basis, and they are quite reasonable at $70 AUD weekly. With the mooring comes access to showers, heads and a laundry facility. And most important, a waterfront spot to enjoy a thriving metropolitan experience.

Simply put…it’s too darn comfortable here. There are grocery stores in an easy walk, dozens of restaurants, a broad arrange of every sort of store you might need, parks, walking paths, public transportation. Domino’s delivers to the dinghy dock for Pete’s sack. You can not get more seductive than that after traipsing across the remote areas.

But than needs to come to an end. Will is coming back to the boat in just over a week, and we’ve got more family coming to visit during the holidays and they’re all flying into Sydney. So today is our last day in Brisbane; tomorrow we get up early in the morning and leave on the ebbing tide.

Playing Tourist

We arrived in Brisbane all in a flutter because it was our last bit of time with Will before he returned to Southampton, England for school. With him heading half a world a way (literally…it’s like twelve time zones) we wanted to make the most of our time with him here in “Brisvegas” as it is often referred to by the Australians.

In the week or so he had to see it, we scrambled to take in the Maritime Museum, the Botanical Gardens, the Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary, rides on the high-speed ferries, and repeated multiple visits to Will’s newest favorite burger joint.

How can you not love these things?

Lone Pine

The Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary was one of several firsts for us. It was our first exposure to a lot of Australian wildlife up close, and our first experience on the Brisbane buses.

We headed to Lone Pine for Kathy’s birthday, where we spent the day looking at Kangaroos, Wallabies, Koalas, Wombats, Platypuses, Tasmanian Devils, Goanas, Emus, Echidnas, Flying Foxes, and a host of other Australian snakes, birds and fauna. They literally have hundreds of Koalas at this lovely park, and has in unusual scent from all the eucalyptus the small bears hang about in while eating and sleeping most of the day away.

We all thought that the overbearing cuteness of the Koala was something that was done to death, and they really couldn’t be so huggable in real life. We were wrong. The zoo keepers are the sanctuary handle them constantly, and they pick them up and move them around from tree to tree. The Koalas sit there, grabbing whatever you stick them on just like those goofy little Koala clips we all had. They really do that, you can just pull one of one tree and stick it on another. We sent the birthday girl in for a picture holding one, so Kathy and Danielle got to pet one up close.

We were surprised by a few things we saw. For example, all of us had always envisioned a duck-billed platypus as a fairly large creature, maybe the size of a beaver. They aren’t though, they are quite small. Closer in size to a ferret than a beaver. They are also wildly impractical creatures than swim with a charming wobble and a ridiculous side to side sweeping motion of their heads as they look for food on the bottom.

Tasmanian devils on the other hand were larger than expected, and considerably more charming. In a zoo setting they were pretty laid back. Apparently in the wild their calls and noises belie their relatively benign and somewhat huggable appearance.

Queensland Maritime Museum

With a Naval Architect in training in the family, and us a bunch of sailors that live on a boat, we rarely miss a Maritime Museum. Though the information in some of the displays is often repeated between them (yes, we know what a Fresnal lens by now and how to pronounce it since they all seem to talk about lighthouses!), they still have a lot of interesting information, and of course boats.

The interest in boats in our family runs from Will, who can easily arrive at a maritime museum at opening and will need to be forcibly removed and fed to avoid collapse or being locked in, to Danielle (“Another Maritime Museum? Seriously guys?”). Somewhere in between like Kathy and I. But these museums have tons of information not only about boats and shipping, but generally the growth and development of the local area as it relates to shipping, maritime commerce, shipbuilding, piracy, and so on.

But a lot of it is the boats, and there were some cool ones at this museum. Will could have stayed longer if we all weren’t so hungry!

Public Transportation

Coming up the Brisbane  River on Evenstar, one is almost immediately struck by the ferries. With luck, this is a figurative strike and not a literal once, since dozens of ferries ply the river. Since the city is split in half by the river than snakes through town, the ferries are an extension of Translink, the public transit systems, and not a system of boats on their own. They range from the somewhat portly “Cityhopper” free ferries, to the sleek and fast “City Cats” that move in excess of twenty-five knots.

On first seeing a City Cat, Will immediately wanted to ride one. Because, well, Yacht Designer. As it turned out, riding one is no more challenging and expensive than taking a bus!

Meeting Friends

For years I’ve been a participant in an online sailing community. In that time I’ve made many friends around the world. One of the highlights of coming to Australia is finally meeting some of them! It’s really nice to finally get to shake hands with a guy you’ve known through correspondence for almost fifteen years, or be invited to the home of someone you’ve had many pleasant conversations with out there on the internet.

While keeping privacy, I’ll say that meeting some of these folks has been the brightest of visiting Brisbane. One thing I’m looking forward to in Sydney is meeting even more of my Oz compadres.

Taking Care of Business

Brisbane is the largest city we’ve been to on the boat since Panama City in 2013/2014. Auckland is a good-sized city, but it’s smaller than Brisbane, and we never parked the boat there.

Being in the city gives us a chance to get some stuff done. There are chandleries one can take a bus to. Haircuts and shopping, shipping packages, getting things fixed. We’ve been away for a long time from someplace where things were relatively easy to come by and we’ve been trying to catch up. So it’s been new cell phones, new clothes, a grill for the boat, and some repairs when we’ve found parts. There’s always a lot more to do, but we’ve spent a lot of time playing catch up.

Mundane Life

Probably the largest intrusion in to my ongoing blogging is the mundane. We’re parked in a place with great internet, Will’s off to college, and we’re just…living day to day life. Kathy and Danielle are doing school every day. I’m been writing and pitching a book, trying to find an agent. We get water, we shop, we cook, we clean. We Skype with Will and other family. We do repairs, like patching a leaky dinghy or fixing an outboard that keeps stalling.

This is not the stuff of fantastic blogs. It’s not the stuff of interesting blogs.

Except maybe the water. That is an aspect of liveaboard life most people don’t appreciate.

Tied to a dock, one usually has a tap right there in the slip. Topping up the tanks is a no-brainer. We don’t stay at a lot of docks, and we’re on a mooring now. So there’s no water tap. Nor is there a water/fuel dock within miles of this location where we could slip the mooring, motor over, and take on 250ish gallons of water; enough to hold us for a couple of weeks. When we’re not at anchor we usually run the water maker. But the Brisbane river is to…chunky. I tried, the filter clogged in about five minutes.

So we get water the time-honored way boats have gotten water since the first time a boat sailed out of sight of its home port. We schlep it, manually.

At least we’re not moving it in wooden barrels from an unexplored stream on islands with hostile natives.

Instead, there is a spigot on the other side of the river that can be reached at high tide. Most of the boats here fill up from this tap, though the longer term residents are more efficient than we are and have more tanks and cans. We grab our two water Jerry jugs (5 Gallons/20 Liters) and our two collapsible camping tanks (~15L each). As the tide rises, we zoom across the river in the dinghy and duck under the section of the river walk were the tap is, about a quarter-mile from the boat.  There is a hose on it (which we repaired once) and we quickly fill out tanks. We take our roughly seventeen gallons of water and head back to the boat, where we dump it into the main tanks. Lather, rinse, repeat three or four times every couple of days. Shower on land, and don’t waste too much water washing the dishes!

Exciting, eh?

Posted in Australia, Brisbane | Leave a comment

Australian Arrival!

All’s well that ends well. An easy an uneventful trip to Brisbane, and we’re cleared into the country without a hitch. We arrived at the Customs dock at 0830 this morning, local time, with the trip lasting about 4 and three quarter days. Though we did slow down last night to time our customs arrival so perfectly.

Everyone here is delightful and helpful, and they say “G’day” over the VHF radio when they help you. We’ve yet to clear into a country that was more organized or streamlined. They were literally waiting for us at the customs dock (or the “Q” dock as it is often called, since arriving yachts fly a plain yellow flag – the letter “Q” – for “Quarantine”). Five minutes after Border Patrol left, Biosecurity showed up. They were all helpful, friendly, and gave us tips on places to stay and things to do in Brisbane.

No regular internet yet, so no posts or pictures. We’re moored at the “Botanical Gardens” in downtown Brisbane. We’ve gone from mountains from the cockpit to skyscrapers.

We’re off to go explore and find out what’s nearby.

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

To Australia, the Second to Last Day

The weather model has been pretty close. Except for a dozen hours or so of wind we got last night which ended in a rainstorm, it’s been spot on. Which means we’re making good time, thanks to that breeze last night, and we’re motoring.

It’s not flat, calm, glassy yet. The sea is still too riled up from a few days of wind for that to just happen right away. But with a massive four knots of wind, it will be with a day or to of this. That’s not supposed to hold too long, but long enough to matter. We’re burning dinosaurs now.

And we’re not fishing any more. With an arrival time looking more like tomorrow morning, we don’t want any more food on the boat than we have. And we have a pretty clear idea how many meals we have to get rid of it. In fact, much of today will be spent trying to eat as much of the frozen stuff we have that we’re pretty certain that Australian Biosecurity will take.

They have a reputation for being very aggressive about the what they let you bring into the country. Going beyond meats and fresh fruit and vegetables, they may also dispose of frozen vegetables. Most countries make it impossible to tell what they will or won’t take, and put a broad array of foods on a list that must be “declared” so they can “inspect” them. In our history with some countries, “inspect” usually means “frown at before tossing into a trash bag.” But New Zealand didn’t take our French cheeses when we arrived there, so there’s hope for some things.

I’m not taking a chance on the frozen escargot, however. We forgot about them before we left New Caledonia or we would have had them then!

P.S. Do you remember that huge fish from yesterday? It wasn’t the only one. When I pulled in the hand line last night something had actually hit it hard enough to bend the hook! Yikes. Thar be monsters, indeed!

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

The One That Got Away (Thank Goodness!)

We’ve been towing fishing lines behind us for thousands of miles since we took off cruising. We’ve hauled in some nice Mahi Mahi, Spanish Mackerel, and a few other things we weren’t as sure about. With the exception of one little tunny we tried, it’s worked out well. Enthusiasm on board for Mahi Mahi is now very high, and efforts to fish meet less resistance. But no one wanted a tuna.

Recently in Noumea I finally got everyone on the boat with the fresh tuna program. We were buying it at the fish market, fresh and locally caught, and it was to die for. The kids even ordered it in restaurants and asked for it for dinner.

So finally, with a receptive and excited audience I’ve upped my fishing efforts. Prior to this we used a stand up rig; a stout boat rod with a big Penn reel on it. The reel is a pretty high end ocean fishing reel, suitable for taking big game. I loaded it with several hundred yards of Spectra line, then a couple of hundred more of 80# test mono filament on top of that. The reason for this is the Spectra braid line, while expensive, also is much more compact than the mono filament, and stronger. So you can pack a lot more line on the reel with the braid, but it is very visible. So you fish with the clear mono end of the line.

I grew up in the midwest, fishing in lakes farm ponds for bass and sunfish, or streams and rivers. In fresh water, you get pretty excited for a five pound fish. From there, I moved to the East Coast and did a lot more surf casting for Bluefish and Striped Bass. Much bigger than the freshwater fish, to be sure. Five pounds is a small fish, not a keeper. Much larger fish are the norm.

What I am not used to is the freaking monstrous fish that you can run into off shore. A medium size yellowfin tuna, if we could get it in the boat, would provide more tuna than we could eat in a month. That also means I’ve got very little experience “playing” a really large fish. Except for a couple of charter fishing expeditions I have every little experience hauling in fish that weigh in excess of twenty pounds. A big yellowfin can weigh up to a couple of hundred pounds.

There is NO WAY I want a fish that big.

To date, the largest fish we’ve brought to the boat was a six foot sailfish that hit on the way from Aruba to Panama. We brought that to the boat after a few spectacular leaps, and worked the hook loose and let it go. They aren’t supposed to be great eating, and that’s a lot of pointy fish parts to wrassle on boat.

But a key point here – that six foot sailfish, which is not a small fish, did not peel enough line off the reel to get to the spectra braid.

In fact, nothing we’ve hooked into has pulled out enough line to reach the braid. They’ve all tired and been brought to the boat before running that far off. I literally have not seen the spectra braid on this reel since I had it loaded on there. Until today.

An hour or so ago, something hit the braid. It hit a red and white cedar plug about 275 miles of the coast of Australia, where the water is a mile or two deep. We were sailing along at a little over seven knots , and it started peeling line of the reel. I increased the drag to slow it. It didn’t slow. We slowed the boat to two knots, and the line kept peeling off. Then the spectra came out. I increased the drag. More line stripped.

At this point I was starting to get a little nervous. This thing had stripped about 75% or more of my line off in minutes; it seemed like seconds. I’d maxed out the drag, and it just kept going like nothing was wrong. Finally, as the core of line on my rod was dwindling to a small and scary amount, it stopped pulling out line.

Then the work began. Prior to that, I hadn’t taken the rod out of the holder, because I was afraid the fish would yank it right out of my hands while I tried to move it to my fighting belt. I have to reach out and around the wind generator to do this, and I don’t have great leverage. When the screaming of the reel stopped, I carefully too the rod out of the holder and placed it in my belt and tried to move the fish.

Nothing.

I pulled up, it pulled back hard. Eventually I was able to start cranking some line in, slowly. Painfully, a couple of feet at a time I started moving this monstrous thing closer to the boat.

We had no idea what it was. A Mahi Mahi would have to be gigantic to pull that much line, and was unlikely. Marlin, Sailfish, and other bill fish tended to jump, and probably would have shown themselves by now. A Wahoo or a shark would have cut right through the nylon leader. So we figure it was a tuna, and a good sized on.

I made made mistake “playing” it. There was no play involved, my arms and back were burning and I was breathing hard, fighting for every inch of line. At this point I knew it was too big to keep, too big for us even to get up in the boat, most likely. But I didn’t want to lose my line or if possible, my favorite cedar plug. And I wanted to see it and get a picture. So I fought it.

I’m not good at handling drag, not with big fish. And I must have left the drag on too hard as the fish slowed down. Because when it rallied and ran, the shock snapped the mono line out near the fish, a few feet above the nylon leader.

Probably for the best. The temptation to boat it would have been huge, and if I was to let it go I didn’t want to hurt it. It cost me a cedar plug lure, a few bits of fishing hardware and some line. And some pretty sore arms.

I wish we’d gotten a look at it, though.

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Day 3 to Australia

Skipped a day. My bad. Or blame the Stugeron; this trip it seemed to affect me like it never had and I spent the bulk of the first two days either sleeping, feeling sleepy, or blinking stupidly.

It’s been a delightfully uneventful trip. We love uneventful. The best passage is a dull passage. Good breeze, mild seas, clear weather. About as exciting to read about as a visit to your dentist for a routine cleaning. We’re good with that.

We’ve been on port tack since leaving and have been sailing the whole way, which is nice. This morning at sunrise we jibed over to starboard. The winds had shifted from Southeasterly at the start of the trip, through East and are now from the Northeast. Our weather model has them continuing to shift to the left (counterclockwise on the compass) until the move North. They they are supposed to fade, which is a bummer.

As of now we expect to arrive during daylight on Tuesday the 13th, after motoring for the last 24 hours or so of the trip. Too bad at the motoring, but it beats getting your butt kicked in big breeze.

So Kathy’s making bread, the sun is up and the handline is set for the day in hopes of some fresh fish. Another day on the water…and I’m back to bed after catching my communications window.

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Day One to Australia

This will be a brief update, as it’s been an uneventful trip, so far. That is always a good thing.

We finally got clear of Noumea and on our way at 1:40pm on Thursday. Our first 24-hour distance check came in at 197.4 miles. Will was right, we should have put the stay sail up earlier.

Conditions have been good. Breezy, with 20-25 knots from the Southeast. But that was anticipated. Sailing to Australia that puts us on a beam to broad reach, which is right in Evenstar’s sweet spot. So we’ve been pretty fast.

Back at Isle des Pins we too a morning to tune the rig, and a day or so to clean the bottom. It has paid off.

There’s not much more to add. Ou estimated arrival in Brisbane is later Monday or early Tuesday. Again the “no strange harbors at night” rule applies, so if we get in too late Monday we’ll stand off shore and come in when it’s light.

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

St. Vincent’s Bay – New Caledonia

North of Nouméa lies Baie St. Vincent, a collection of islands and coves within a day’s sail. As we were to find out, most of the islands inside the bay are rocky and rough – more reminiscent of Maine than the South Pacific. But one of the islands outside the bay is one of the nicest places we’ve visited, here or anywhere else. Of course, we took two days to get there anyway, since we started late.

Baie Maa

Our first stop was a one night only layover. A pretty place, like everywhere here seems to be, just out of sight of Noumea. The glow from the small city was still slightly visible in the sky.

There was little there but a few boats, like us on a one night stop on the way to someplace else. It’s still a beautiful spot, and Kathy and the kids decided to take a quick trip ashore before sunset while I waited out the anchor watch on board (it is our standard practice to wait at least one hour after anchoring before leaving the boat completely, to ensure all is well and set properly).

Baie de Moustiques

If you speak French, you know what is coming. A ‘moustique’ is a mosquito. Our first stop in St. Vincent’s Bay. The cruising guide we have says it’s a misnomer, but Danielle did complain of seeing one. “Baie de Moustiques” does sound much more romantic and pleasant than “Mosquito Bay”.

It’s another place which is very quiet with little human presence. On shore there were dozens of horses and goat, but no sign of people moving around in spite of two visible encampments/housing sites. We didn’t go ashore since we weren’t sure of the property situation and didn’t want to trespass or alarm the horses.

Kathy and Will took a sail in the Pudgy to visit a nearby island, but had a disappointing visit. The beach, which looked sandy from a distance, was rocky and the approach was tough and they made a rough landing on the beach. The grasses and vines on the island were so high and thick they could not climb to the summit of the small hill for pictures. It was a short, wet trip, and we decided to move on from Mosquito Bay the next day.

Baie de Pritzbuer

DSCF6916

Balbuzard.

Don’t ask me where they get the names. Our next destination was only about two miles from Baie de Moustiques as the Balbuzard flies (a New Caledonian subspecies of what we call an Osprey) it was a longer trip for us as we had to sail around several islands and avoid a narrow pass. The pass would have been shorter, and we could do it in the dinghy. But with a ten foot charted depth we tend to avoid places like that if we can. The trip around was about eight miles, and took us past the tantalizing Il Ténia (literally “Tapeworm Island”) on the way.

Pritzbuer Bay lies between the main island of New Caledonia, and two smaller islands – Ile Puen and Ile Leprédour. Ile Puen is privately owned and you must seek permission to land. It looks like a lovely spot, but we didn’t approach. Ile Leprédour is a nature preserve, and landing is strictly prohibited.

DSCF6962

The approach behind Ile Puen

It’s a gorgeous spot, but left us puzzled about how to get off the boat and explore. A boat ramp on the mainland looked promising, and there was a dock further off but it appeared private. But all there appeared to be on the mainland side was a road, with a rumor of a village nearby. A village…may or may not be useful. But we found other diversions anyway.

One of our first excursions on arriving was to head to the ramp to beach the dinghy, flip it over, and clean the bottom.  We’d accumulated way too much marine growth, and the dinghy had become slow and unwieldy, while consuming much more fuel. Cleaning it was a must if we wanted to do any exploring.

IMG_8897

Apply at least three times a day as needed for stress relief.

Several times per day while anchored here we were visited by small pods of dolphins. They’d cruise by the boat, sometimes close enough so the first thing you’d know of them was the sound of their breathing. They were a constant delight to watch, as always.

Ile Leprédour is home to a population of deer and a small flock of Peacocks, of all things. As dusk the deer come out, and watching for them provided lots of amusement and frustration. The deer are tough to spot, but beautiful if you can catch them.

DSCF6965This was a calm, protected and beautiful spot, which made an excellent base of operations for visiting nearby Ile Tenia.

Ile Tenia…is so special it gets it’s own post. So all I can do here is post a teaser or two.

DSCF6960

Ile Ténia from a distance as we sail by the first time. Pictures don’t do the color of the water and sand justice.

IMG_0659IMG_0661

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...
Posted in New Caledonia | Leave a comment