Pancake Creek to Pittwater

Had a couple of excellent days at Pancake Creek, meeting some of the boats we had run into at Mackay – notably Gordon and Jan (“Pacific Haven”). They are based at the northern end of Moreton Bay and, as retired school teachers, spend their time sailing or house swapping with people from around the globe. 

 

This was their third trip north and Jan was keen to do a run into Jenny Lynne Creek. You can only get there in the tinny at high tide with the route taking a winding course through the mangroves (not unlike the journey taken by the African Queen) across flat terrain that separates Bustard Head from the mainland. 

 

Not having had a challenge for a couple of days, The Crew was keen to give it a go…so we packed up the zodiac with petrol, flares, EPIRB and emergency rations and followed them into the wilderness. It took about 45 minutes to wind our way through, pulling the boat across shallow patches and getting directions from a crabber that was zooming around. It was well worth the effort – big sand blows and not a sole in sight.

After the tiring run from Mackay, it was good to do not much and await the wind to die down, which it duly did, giving a window for the continuation of our southward trip. We decided against heading out to Musgrave Island and so set off for Burnett Heads and then Urangan, at the bottom of Hervey Bay. We spent a couple of days off Fraser Island and bounced our way across it in a big 4 wheel drive bus (rougher than anything we’d experienced on the water). We flew over it to get a better view and looked at taking on more crew for the trip – it’s a magnificent place and despite having 4 name changes in its short European existence has managed to maintain its heritage to the extent that it made the world listing in ’92.

Too much nature can get to you, so we went back into Urangan, filled up and waited for our neighbor Mark to join us for the trip down to Mooloolabah. We had a good couple of days running through the waterways, which seemed easier to do than on our trip north. We managed to catch our first edible fish of the whole trip...in fact the Captain caught 2, a fantastic effort. We passed Sue and Q, on “Iknowya” (it’s actually spelt differently but that’s how you pronounce it) who we met  at…you guessed it…Mackay, and spent a pleasant afternoon with them at a place called Gary’s Anchorage on the south western part of Fraser Island. 

We anchored the next night with about 12 other boats at Inskip Point after visiting the Tin Can Bay Yacht Club for lunch. The Captains were waiting for the morning and a rising tide to cross the Wide Bay bar. This involves a run along a narrow path for about a mile across the swell, before you have to turn and run into the swell for about half a mile to clear the bar….so mild weather and little swell is a desirable (though not essential) criteria. The wind was OK but the swell, while less than when we crossed traveling north in June, was short, steep and very uncomfortable. By the time we turned after crossing the initial section, the Captain was feeling crook for the first time in a long while. Thanks again to Mr Diesel, we powered through, and although dropping off a few swells that shook the boat, we were clear after about 40 minutes and on our way to Mooloolabah.

We swapped Mark for Mal and set forth for Tangalooma on the western shore of Morton Island (which should have had an “e” in the name, but in transcribing Cook’s journal someone left it off).  Tangalooma was ideal for us…about 6 meters of crystal, warm water on a sandy bottom, 20 meters from the shore. We had a great afternoon and evening there, continuing to fish with no luck, smoking Mal’s rollies and congratulating ourselves on selecting such a great place to spend the night.

The next morning we were off down the bay in a good following wind - Mal sailing the boat, The Crew was navigating and the Captain doing other stuff. We managed to find our way into the waters that lead down to Southport - it’s easy to see when you fly over the river system, but another thing when you’re at ground level. Having come up this way in June, and with a slightly lower tide, The Captain figured that it should be OK going back that way. We over-nighted on the river just north of Jacob’s Well after some minor confusion at an intersection (they don’t have signs), and set off just before high tide to get across the shallowest bit….which, after much pointing and reversing, we managed to do, but not without help from the cavalry (Jacobs Well Volunteer Coast Guard) who read out the depths ahead of us. We crossed the worst bit, touching the mud as we did so. 

 

We thought that the worst was over…until we got to another confusing intersection where we were confronted with about 6 red markers, 5 green markers and a north cardinal mark. When in doubt…stop, so we did and waited for the next boat to come along and show us the way. A big Riviera came past and was hailed down, agreeing to go ahead and call out the depths, which they did, but travelling at the speed of light, they were soon gone leaving us to weave through the markers…something like a slalom run in slow motion.

Seeing as we hadn’t skied in a while this proved to be very tricky, as we managed to get stuck in the mud while avoiding the place that saw us being towed off on the way up. So we called the cavalry again and they got us out of trouble…and with a hidey-ho, they were off in a cloud of spray and a roar of their engines while we tentatively made our way down to SeaWorld, where we settled the nerves with a swim, a rollie and a beer. Mal left us at Southport and after a week’s interlude in New Zealand we set off south again.

The trip to Yamba was without doubt, the worst leg we’ve done...not the longest, nor the windiest, but the rollingest, with both of us crook within an hour or so of departure. With 8 hours still to go, the caravan idea was starting to look real good. We made Yamba late afternoon with an easy crossing of the bar and anchored in a mill pond at Iluka. With no rest for the wicked (or the good apparently) we sailed with the tide coming in the next morning and set course for Coffs to pick up JC.

The lack of any wildlife or other boats made the run down the NSW less than memorable. We stopped off at Port Macquarie, surfing into the channel on 4 foot waves, bounced into the channel at Forster and cruised into Newcastle where we had dinner with Maurice and Jane before bobbing and weaving between the freighters waiting down the coast heading for home.

We arrived at Pittwater 214 days after we left. The boat was still in one piece, though in need of a clean hull and some minor glassing repair to the rudder.  The Crew was still talking to The Captain and we learnt a bit. The super took a bit of a hit…but at least the bucket is starting to fill. We are off to experience Melbourne for a while and The Crew is about to learn why it is the sporting capital of Australia. 

 The End