This could be the last time

I got the Core Sound out this morning, motivated by a growing sense that it might well be the last time, for a while at least. Hopefully not permanently.

It was a calm warm morning, and I was on the water by about 10. I sailed round to anchor off AYC, to say good morning to Andrew and let Oz have a leg stretch. Bjorn and his wife were walking Poppy their dog down there, so Oz had a playmate, and we all had a nice ad hopefully adequately distant chat. We are social creatures to be sure.

I headed off again, andrew followed and soon passed me in the light airs but we moved along ok, out past Altona reef mark, where the wind dropped to dead calm. But we managed to ghost along, very relaxed sailing, till Andrew pointed to the dark patch on the water heading our way fast, and a sudden blast from the north hit us, making for some exciting sailing. Anne was on her way down, and I did not want to keep her waiting, or I would have put in a reef. By dumping the main we kept reasonably upright - Oz looks very alarmed when we get too much of a tilt - and with a couple of tacks we made a good landing near where Anne was waiting.

The wind had kicked right up, and Anne and Oz were a bit anxious as we beat across towards Williamstown. We tacked again, and came in near Kororiot Creek mouth, usually a totally deserted spot, but today there were people walking their dogs there, thanks to the warm weather, the low tide and the general shutdown of most other occupations. We had lunch, Oz barked at a few dogs, and then we set off home, wind behind us, under mizzen alone, creaming along at 4 to 5 knots.

Tonight, on my Facebook feed, there was a post from Maritime Victoria: To help slow the spread of coronavirus, we recommend you cancel planned boating activities this weekend. Recreational boating is a non-essential activity.
The advice to Victorians is clear: if you can stay home, you must stay home. Your exposure to others while refuelling, buying bait or being rescued in the event of an incident may contribute to the spread of coronavirus (COVID-19).
This is tough. But each of us are being asked to make sacrifices to save lives.
Take care everyone. Stay up to date with the latest health advice from DHHS: https://www.dhhs.vic.gov.au/coronavirus Better Boating Victoria Victorian Fisheries Authority
I expect Stage 3 restrictions , when they come, will prohibit recreational boating.  Today may well have been the last on the water for a while.

Knockdown

I got a sharp reminder that you never know what is round the next corner, or, in my case, is sitting in that car with tinted windows that you are about to cycle past. A simple bike ride up to the Hundred Steps Hill with my daughter Jess turned pear shaped in a flash when a guy opened his car door just as we were riding past. I caught my handle bar on the edge  and went down heavily, Jess ran into me and came down too. I was mostly furious with the guy in the car. I was too shocked and too busy wondering how bad it was to get his details. Lucky escape for him.

We limped off home and Jess patched up the large gouge out of my left arm.  I don't think any bones broken. My left shoulder is mighty sore. Apparently shoulder injuries are most common in car dooring incidents. I hope it won't affect my mast raising, that would be seriously unwelcome outcome. My left arm, shoulder, right elbow and right hip are all sore, and from experience will be worse tomorrow.

In a way we were lucky, as it could have been way worse. But in this anxious fretful time when there is a pervasive feeling that something bad could happen any moment, there is proof, see, something bad did happen!

So probably no sailing for me for a while. I had a long day yesterday, in the morning with some Sabre sailors and Andrew in his laser. We came in, and most people had had enough, but Sandra wanted to try to sail over closer to the cruise liner anchored off Williamstown. We set off, but the wind just about died, so we headed back after an hour or so. Near AYC there a group from the club were just about to start an informal race. They had a start boat and a course laid out, so we joined in. This prved to be a fairly demoralising experience, as I just can't get sufficient  boat speed to be competitive. I came last in all 3 races. By the top mark, no matter how good my start, I was at least 20 seconds behind, tho I could hold or maybe slightly reduce that on the rest of the course. This was my view for much of the afternoon ... the few other boats racing vanishing off into the distance...

It makes me wonder what to do in future. I think my sailing is not so bad, I  now know how to get the boat going to its optimum. It is depressing not to be able to match boat speed. Do I invest in some go faster things like new foils and a new sail? Do I get a new boat? Or do I accept that I am not a particularly competitive sailor and switch over to cruising? Serious decision point coming up.

There was a distinctly bad vibe down at the club yesterday.  I doubt I will  be back for future Saturdays informal racing.

Shutdown

I had a long day yesterday waiting on a chat line to cancel our Qantas flights that were booked through a third party travel agent.  I started early in the day, 2015th in queue.  By lunch time I was getting close to 500 when I opened some other window on the computer.  When I flicked back, the chat line window was closed.  I tried again, back to 2000 and something.  Around 15 hours later, at 3 in the morning, I finally got through, and then spent another hour and a half resisting the attempts of the person on the other end to get me to go away, and finally getting our flights cancelled and a travel credit. I think in future I will pay a premium and book direct with the airline, which I rather suspect was the point of their approach - given that we had booked flights with them I can't quite see why they could not give me the travel credit.

But we are all cancelled, our holiday to Western Australia shelved for the forseeable, though we hope to get across there in the teardrop later this year, if we live that long and civilization does not implode. Things are being cancelled all around, and there is an edgy, suspicious air to the relatively few people that seem to be about.  The Yacht club has cancelled the rest of the season and all social events.  I am not sure how this will impact on our social sailing, given that we seldom come within a metre and half of one another.

But maybe, without knowing it, our sail last Monday was the last of what has been a great sailing experience.  A group of up to 5 Sabres, plus Steve and Vince in their 125 and Andrew in his Laser, have been getting out to basically go where the wind dictates.  We usually tack into it, usually round the Altona Reef mark, then maybe over to Altona Pier, then back.  If it is North Easterly, we head over along the coast, as far as the yellow T28 "No Anchoring" buoy near the shipping channel off Point Gellibrand.  It is nice to just hoon along, without worrying too much about the rest of the fleet vanishing while you languish in the rear. Sandra in her boat is faster, and points higher, than the rest of us, so there is no real competition, but it gives us someone to chase. Here are some of the usual suspects rigging up.

The Sabre is a great little boat, and really scoots along when the wind gets up a bit.  It is relatively easy to retrieve and reboard after a capsize, as I discovered a week or so back when my foot slipped during a failed tack in 20 plus knot winds.

Speaking of T28, we drove down by the Timeball tower this afternoon, and I was surprised to see just how close in the T28 buoy lies to the shore.  No wonder the seals have moved on.  They must get sick of being gawked at.  There was a Brigantine motoring up the channel, probably the Young Endeavour I suspect. You can see the yellow buoy just about midships.  I suspect the Young Endeavour program is yet another great thing that is going to be put on hold for a while.

The mortal coil

The Paynesville Classic Boat Rally was on this past weekend, and from the footage from previous years, it looked like fun, so we booked in Kirsty Ann, hired the house round in Eagle Bay for four nights, and set off down the highway on Thursday.  We arrived tired but happy and settled in on the deck to watch the sunset, while Kirsty Ann waited patiently in the driveway.

Next morning was windier than I would have liked, but South Westerly, so our bit of coast was fairly sheltered.  After breakfast we headed down to the local ramp, launched, and I motored back to the little jetty at the end of the garden of our rental house.  It was nice to be able to take my time rigging and launching, a luxury I doubt I would have enjoyed had I been launching in town.  After lunch, and with the first reef in each sail, we scooted off for a quick reach across the bay, into McMillan Strait, where we dropped and furled the sails, then motored along to find the mooring which we had been allocated for the next two nights.   I had driven down and checked it out visually in the morning, and checked with one of the rally organizers that it was ok for us to go straight in.  Anne and I had spent some time with pencil and paper, talking through our strategy for a snappy seaman like arrival, and we had lines and fenders all ready.   We arrived, and got into the berth as planned, and a chap even congratulated us on the smooth berthing, great, but followed up by saying we were in his berth, not so great.

It transpired that there was a later version of the berthing diagram, which had been released late that morning, the berth we were in was allocated to someone else, and, worse, we had somehow been dropped off the diagram altogether. There was a lot of tooth sucking and head shaking, and blokes consulting tablets in full sunlight clearly not able to see anything, till we were allocated a spot on the end of another mooring.  This was a distinctly suboptimal location, difficult to get into and out of, and we were blocking the boat already in the mooring spot, but that was all there was so we made the best of it.  Our second mooring procedure was a lot less elegant than the first, Anne got a little stressed trying to prevent us from hitting the rocks beside and the boat in front, but we got there in the end.

Anne took a nice photo of me, and I look pleased, so it must have been ok at the time.

I spent a pleasant hour or so in the afternoon sun working out a way to dress the boat, and the flags did look festive, but looking at this photo I see the beautiful neat coiling of the decking lines on the boat we were blocking, and the tangle of various lines on Kirsty Ann in the previous photo, and I realise that perhaps I am not a Classic Boat sort of person. I had my folding bike, which fits very neatly under the coaming of Kirsty Ann, and after the registration, which was over in about two minutes thanks to the excellent organization, I rode back to the house along the Paynesville Eagle Bay walking path.

My daughter Jess and partner Chris came down to stay with us, and we enjoyed a pleasant dinner on the terrace of the house back in Eagle Bay, watching an officious Pacific Gull methodically chasing every other bird off the nearby jetty. I think I know where he is coming from.  Next morning I rode my bike down early for the briefing, Anne drove down shortly after, and by 9.40 we had backed our way out and pottered off down to sail peacefully up and down at the assembly point for the rally.

The Grand Parade kicked off at 11, and we motor sailed along in the pack.  I tended to keep to the middle of the Strait, as it offered more opportunities for manoeuvres and avoiding other boats.  The right hand side of course was where everyone wanted to be so they could be photographed and wave to the multitudes lining the wharves along the water front.  Oz thought the whole thing was fairly underwhelming, and to be honest, part of me agreed with him.

But we made it through without hitting or being hit, attendant lords to swell the progress, managed to dodge getting run down by Coral Trecker,  then tacked round the back of Raymond Island and enjoyed a lovely peaceful run quite close in to the coast.  I had forgotten to bring both my chart and either of the relevant pilot books, and the gps was out of batteries, but from memory I seemed to recall there was plenty of water till quite close in, and I figured I could get us off easily enough if we touched.

It took a few hours to go the long way round, but it was a lovely sail, and we got back about 2.30.  Jess was waiting for us, and took a photo as we approached.

After lunch Jess and Chris came out for a quick sail.  The wind had filled in, and we blasted along parallel to the Mitchell River silt arms and back.  Jess hasn't been sailing with me since I capsized the Mirror with her in it at Inverloch last year, so I was very glad she came out and even more glad to show off the stability and sure footedness of the Core Sound. It was a grand sail.  We went for a swim off the little beach nearby, and I took the opportunity to run a couple of lines to the nearby poles, so the boat was held securely off the jetty.  The local swans came over to check us out while Oz and I were sitting there.  I don't think they were very impressed.

Sitting on the deck afterwards with a glass of wine, enjoying the view and the sight of Kirsty Ann bobbing tied up safely, I felt about as good as I have felt for a very long time.

So I looked into my heart and wondered whether I really wanted to a) get up early to go to the briefing for the Parade of Sail the next morning, then go down the strait yet again, or b) if I would actually prefer sailing somewhere quiet.  I am afraid I went for option b.

After a very leisurely breakfast we sailed off very slowly over to the Mitchell River mouth beacon, then turned and sailed up the channel into the silt arms.

We stopped at the jetty on Point Patterson for Oz to have some shore leave, and for us to eat our picnic in the shade, then sailed back.  It was a very peaceful enjoyable sail, a bit hot, so it was lovely to be able to dangle feet in the cool water as we coasted along.

We tried sailing into the jetty under Mizzen, a complete cock up as I could not let the mizzen out to reduce forward momentum.  But we caught hold ok, got some lines round the jetty cleats, and notched up another inelegant docking.   After a cup of tea and a sit, I drove the car down to the ramp, rode the bike back, motored the boat to the ramp, managed to get it onto the trailer with only moderate cursing, took the boat out, de-rigged and took down the masts, and drove back to the house.  I was stuffed by then, but it was another good and memorable day, and the glass of wine on the back terrace was fantastic.  I slept like a log.  In the morning we packed up, and drove back to Melbourne.  Today I took everything out of the boat, gave it a good wash, and we are ready for our next adventure.

Once again, I learned a few things this trip.  I think what I enjoy most is sailing without a lot of other people around, to nice and ideally new places, with perhaps people I know and like for company. Sadly I don't think I am cut out for regatta type stuff, perhaps a failure of socialisation somewhere along the line.  But you have to work with what you have got, and it is good to be aware of these things when planning future outings.  I think, for example, I will give Geelong Wooden Boat festival next week end a miss.

Rye

It was the WBA sailing day down at Rye.  When Oz and I walked down past the local ramp it was chockers, boats bristling with fishing rods queuing up to get out there and kill fish on a beautiful Sunday morning.    When I got down to Rye ramp, about 10, it was much the same, and I was glad that I had agreed with Campbell to bring Mirrors, as we could launch them off the beach rather than do battle with the boatey crowds and struggle with the four lane ramp.

Jim and Penny with their Ness Boat were there, and managed to get a lane on the edge of the ramp to launch.  I was very impressed with Jim's many roller trailer - his boat slides off effortlessly.  Something to explore for the Core Sound.

They were sailing over towards Mt Martha when I managed to get into the water. They turned round as I came up, and we sailed along together for a bit.

Penny's friend Charla took a nice photo of me as I was taking a photo of them.

The Mirror with one person can just about keep up with the Ness boat with four. We had a nice sail over towards Blairgowerie, then luckily turned back for Rye for lunch as the wind eased and then totally died away.  Lucky we had both oars, or it would have been a late lunch.

Back near the beach I caught up with Campbell in Minty the Mirror, being helmed by his daughter Helen.  I lost track of them, until two kids floating  in the water cried out "You're going to crash!" and sure enough there was was Minty about a metre away on my Starboard side.  A minor but shameful crunch but no damage done except to my self esteem.

We had lunch on the beach, under an awning Campbell had thoughtfully brought, while the Mirrors made an attractive sight on the beach.

We helped one another drag our mirrors back off the beach, loaded up and a long slow crawl back to Melbourne along the highway, as a huge number of people seemed to have decided to visit the Peninsula, and most of them seemed to have decided to head home at the same time.  It was good to sail in some different water, and it is lovely coast down there.  A good day.