Balls Head Bay to Bantry Bay and back.
Friday-Monday 11th-14th January, 2008.
Friday
I set up the sails, motored off the mooring and picked up Luke from Northwood Wharf at 6:30pm. We put up the sails in Humbug. Luke took the helm as he is learning to sail.
We sailed down the harbour and around Goat Island. Coming back up the harbour we sailed between Birchgrove and Cockatoo Islands on a run, with the number 2 poled out. Then we turned west at Snapper Island and sailed down past Drummoyne and turned north around Spectacle Island. We worked our way up to Woolwich and back into the Lane Cover River. We dropped the sails and I dropped Luke off back at Northwood Wharf at 8:30pm. It was a very pleasant twilight sail practising all points of sailing.
I motored around to Balls Head Bay where I anchored for the evening. There are a few boats anchored in Balls Head Bay, near Berry Island. Some are obviously visiting Sydney from further away.
I was sitting on deck ruminating well into the evening. At around midnight I could make out a kayak slowly paddling around the bay hugging the shore. I kept losing it in the darkness. Suddenly, it paddled right past Vogelsang. I offered the kayak and its paddler a “Howdy” but received no reply. Was this a ghost kayak being paddled by a ghost I wondered. Not long after I saw the kayak pull up next to a Diamond anchored near-by and the ghost paddler hopped onto the deck and pulled up the ghost kayak.
Saturday
I have decided to sail up to Bantry Bay, Middle Harbour. I have not been on the other side of the Spit Bridge for at least ten years. Supplies onboard are low. So I head back to the mooring and up to the shops - the bottle shop! A case of beer and a bag of ice later I am back onboard.
While I was at the bottle shop I looked up the RTA enquiries number in the phone book. The guy serving in the shop thought I wanted to purchase the business and government white pages - which lead to a bit of an odd moment between us “No, I don’t want to buy it, just borrow it”, said I. “Oh, that’s alright then because I thought you said you wanted to buy it and I was going to explain that we don’t sell phone books because we are a bottle shop.” said he. “Yeah, alright, that’s good to know, now just give me the phone book” I thought to myself; “I’m on a mission from God!”.
Back on the boat I rang the RTA to get the Spit Bridge opening times. I should be able to make 2:30pm. Up with the sails and I am under-way.
The sail up towards the Spit Bridge is quite fun. The wind really funnels along around Clontarf and the Spit - or it seems to anyway as the channel narrows. A lovely reach all the way up towards the Spit Bridge. Another yacht which was packing up its sails while motoring along almost crashed into me but on such a fantastic day it was hard to get too exited over such a thing.
The Bridge eventually opened up. The line up of yachts all ready to race through the opening was reminiscent of the start of a Wacky Races cartoon. I went under last and once on the other side put the sails back up.
It was flukey sailing up the narrow cavernous Middle Harbour. I sailed into Bantry Bay. Wow was it crowded. Chock-a-block full of boats. We are talking boats that have more internal floor area than the average suburban house. Well, if that is an exageration, they probably have more floor area than my flat in Oatley. Big, shiny tupperware stink boats with their gensets running non-stop. Interestingly, several of them have Greek flags flying aft.
I sailed right up into the bay past all the moored and anchored boats on a reconnaissance sweep. Did I mention that the bay was crowded with boats? I decide to anchor aft of a big tupperware stink boat and upwind of another yacht. It is crowded anchorage but it is calm in here so I don’t think there will be any dramas.
I veg out for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Swimming, listening to the radio, cooking and eating, reading and a few beers. Quite a few people are fishing off the back of their boats. A fisheries boat comes into the bay and they go around checking the fishing licenses of all those fishing.
Sunday
I really don’t know what happened to this day. I had intended to sail off early. There is talk on the radio of a southerly change later on. The sun conspired against me though. I seemed to laze around on deck all morning. I grilled an eggplant on the griddle for goodness sake. It wasn’t until around 4pm that I eventually got pulled up anchor. You know how it is on a boat - endless washing up, putting things away, finding things, putting them away again; and endless putting on the kettle for a nice cuppa-tea.
I can’t remember what time I got under the bridge. I do remember the bridge operator gesturing to me to get a move on. I was the only downstream bound boat on this opening. It would be great if the bridge actually opened at the advertised time. It is not easy to just loll around waiting for the bridge to arbitrarily open while there is an ebb tide and stiff cross-wind to contend with when all you have is a 5hp outboard.
It is starting to rain now and get a little miserable. There is a big swell coming in between the heads pushed up by the ebb tide. I motor over to near Cobblers Beach and pick up a public mooring. I go below and get into some more wet weather gear.
Back on deck I hoist the sails and sail off the mooring. Alas, with just a drizzle of rain now, the wind has dropped completely. I advance further into the ferry and shipping lanes with every zephyr of wind but make no steady progress. It is the calm before the storm. I turn on the engine and motor over towards Camp Cove to get out of the shipping lanes and drop the sails. I start to motor up the harbour when the storm hits. Being on my boat during a storm is like being King Lear on the heath during the tempest. I am in my element. Full of sound an fury, signifying nothing. (Yes I know that was McBeth - I can’t remember what Lear actually said on the heath. I think it was “Hargh, argh, hargh, argh, argh, arrrrr”. As you will remember, the fool was not around at that point to interpret. He (she) was busy getting changed back into the Cordelia garb.
Eventually I make it back to Balls Head Bay. My journey ends where it began. I leave the sails on the rigging as it continues to rain. I make myself snug below deck.
Monday
I sail back to the mooring at Woodford Bay which allows the sails to dry off. Pack up and back to dry land.
