Monday was a lovely sunny day, and I pottered round taking my time packing the boat. With the various logistics of rigging the boat, launching, leaving car and trailer down at the yacht club accomplished, it was 11 by the time I had sails up and heading, ever so slowly, broadly in the direction of my first waypoint, the Dumb Joe cardinal mark that shows safe passage round the reefs off Point Cook.
The wind was flukey and light, and shfted more to the South. I had to tack, drift and ghost my way past the mark, then tack my way up the coast line towards the river mouth.
It was a pleasant if rather drawn out passage, and it was late in the day, and low tide to boot, when we sailed smoothly up the entrance channel towards the moored boats, waving regally to the groups of admiring families on the beach, only to encounter a boat heading out at the narrowest point. In avoiding him, the centreboard touched, the boat pivoted, which in turn led to some frantic manoeuvring to avoid the bank, the moored boats and various floating buoys. Thanks to the handiness of the cat rig we hit none of them, and we were soon in the river proper and could relax.
It was almost 7, after a pleasant but long and tiring day, before we were tied up on the bank of the island and dinner was ready. I was able to observe at close quaters the rush hour on the drying mud bank as a swarm of small well camouflaged crabs and snails emerged to feast on whatever the departing tide had deposited.
It was a lovely sunset, but with it came clouds of mosquitoes, and I realized that one thing I had neglected to bring was insect repellent.
Poor Ozzie was having a hard time with the mosquitoes, so plan A, me sleeping in my bivvy bag, was replaced by plan B, putting up the untried boat tent. Once tent was up we sat inside and spent the next half hour picking off mozzies who had come inside with us. It wasn't perfect but better than outside. I woke about 2 to find boat on an angle as we dried out. Getting out to chock a fender under brought a new intake of mozzies. But we slept ok, and woke round 8 to find we were swinging at anchor, under a very ominous sky.
I was getting breakfast, and not paying much attention when in rapid succession, there was a tremendous thunderclap, the wind kicked up, and it started to rain.
Once the rain eased, we packed up and motored back up river. The wind was on the nose, everything was wet, and I was keen to get home before the predicted strong winds of the late afternoon. I checked the wind forecast, but I should have checked the general weather.
Out in the Bay, there was a stiff wind shifting round between West and South so once we were set up and going, after the unfortunate incident with the escaped mizzen sheet, we were somewhere between a reach and a run, smoking along at up to 8 knots.
Once we were past the mark, we started the run for home. Being able to run wing and wing, with the sails set a few degrees by the lee, are yet more admirable qualities of the cat ketch, and I was beginning to relax when there was a mighty clap of thunder, from what seemed like a few metres above the boat. Ozz and I both jumped a metre, and poor Ozzie started trembling. Being by far the tallest object for miles around was not a good place to be, but there was not much to do but keep going as fast as possible for home.
I made some firm undertakings to be a better dog owner and human being if we made it back to land, and took a moment to have a good look around at the world in case I wouldnt be seeing it again. It looked wonderful, despite the icy rain that had begun to bucket down again.
But the immediate tasks of watching heading, sails, wind direction, and possible squall lines sneaking up displaced all such sombre thoughts, and we were soon rounding up to drop sails and motor into the safe harbour. Unsurprisingly, the ramp and the car park were deserted. Noone was silly enough to be out.
Ozzie was overjoyed to be back on a patch of land he knew. Or perhaps any land at all. He ran round in crazy circles, barking, while I squelched along behind, thoroughly soaked but equally pleased.
I learned a lot from this trip.
I won't take Oz on an overnight again. I have an innate right to scare myself silly or drown myself, but it is not fair to him. And the logistics of organizing shore leave so he can pump his bilges limits options.
I need a good shelter, something mosquito proof and waterproof.
I need a good waterproof cushion. Long hours sitting on the hard seat or the coaming took its toll.
I need to be more rigorous about checking both wind and weather forecasts, both before and during a trip. Any forecast with the word "thunderstorm" is now a stay on shore day, whatever the inconvenience.
19.8 Nautical Miles on the way there, tacking into the wind, Moving time 7 hours 42, the orange track in the map at the top of page. 13.5 Nautical Miles on the way home, the blue track on the map, moving time 3 hours 16. Goes to show why gentlemen only sail down wind.
