New Caledonia to Australia: A Tough Passage

As mentioned in our previous blog, we were in an quandary about our weather window from New Caledonia to Australia. Normally a six-day, 906 mile passage, our routing was complicated by an low gathering strength south of Sydney and predicted to head north up the Australian coast just about when we were schedule to arrive in Southport. All the other days looked fine, from light wind to 14 knots, but the the last two days were questionable. All three weather (computer) models disagreed, but one said winds could be southeasterly in the 25 gusting to 35 knot range. We agreed with our weather forecaster that if it looked like heavy winds were developing, we would take a more southerly course to try and “get below” the 9- to 12-foot waves and sail a more downwind course back up to Southport.

Ironically, as we departed Nge Island just west of Noumea, the wind was very light — in the 7 to 8 knot range — causing us to alternate between sailing and motor sailing. We had a full tank of fuel, but obviously wanted to minimize the amount of motor sailing we did.

While the weather was OK, Meryl had a sore throat that was getting worse as time progressed. By Day 3, I was also feeling a scratchy throat and a cold that was quickly going straight to my lungs.  While Meryl’s cold slowly progressed, mine took off like wildfire and I was coughing, fighting an excruciating headache, and having flu-like symptoms. Our routine quickly became me sleeping all the time I wasn’t needed on watch. I had no appetite and generally felt miserable. 

But the weather Gods didn’t care and over the days the wind increased. We decided to start sailing a lower, more southerly course to get below Southport so we could ride the heavier wind/waves more downwind and back to Southport during the last two days. That also meant sailing closer to the wind on a close hauled course, normally not a lot of fun during an ocean passage.

Out for the count.

In preparation for the stronger winds, I had to go up on deck and help Meryl jibe the boat. This meant bringing the preventer around to the other side, rolling up the genoa (ours won’t jibe or tack since the roller furling staysail is in the gap), and other adjustments. While normally a simple job, I had to rerun the preventer line three times since I was so sick I couldn’t think straight, and just keeping my balance on the rolling deck was a challenge. I almost fell overboard at least three times. Very scary stuff. After that I immediately went to bed and slept three straight hours until Meryl’s shift was up. I don’t think I’ve ever gone five days with no food, but I had absolutely no appetite. And of course, since we were selling the boat, we just wanted to get us and the boat to Australia in one piece. We’d suffered damage to the rig and sails in other storms and  we didn’t have the energy to deal with damage control in our current condition. I had to depend on Meryl for just about everything and she did a great job of filling in with the stuff I’d normally do.

A secondary concern was that almost all of the ports on the east coast of Australia are river bars, which meant that large southeasterly or easterly waves could easily shut down the entrance to the port. Luckily our friends Kathi and Wolfgang on Plastik Plankton had just cleared the entrance to Southport in similar conditions, and while it wasn’t fun, they did say it was doable. That gave me a huge sigh of relief since the idea of heaving to outside the bar in heavy waves was not something I looked forward to.

The storm trysail worked perfectly in the heavier winds and seas. Like we were out for a Sunday sail.

When we originally bought the boat six years ago I had a storm trysail made by Neil Pryde Lofts in Thailand. The sales guy said you’ll probably never use this sail, but if you need to, you’ll be very glad you have it. By Day 4, with the winds predicted to increase to a steady 22 knots plus, we decided to lower the main sail (which has only two reef points) and hoist the storm trysail. It sits in a bag at the base of the mast and has it’s own sail track. Since we’d only hoisted it once at the dock, we weren’t totally sure how to rig it. Turns out it was very simple to attach snatch blocks to the aft mooring cleats with Dyneema loops and run the sheets through the blocks and back to the big sheet winches in the cabin. The sail is bright orange and made of 9 oz. sailcloth, the equivalent of a sheet of plywood. It set beautifully and even with the winds hitting 25 to 30 knots, the boat was totally under control. I so wish we would have used this sail when we got caught in the storm off Tonga. We also flew our staysail so we had total control of the boat in the heavier winds, with a boat speed of about six knots. What a relief to not have to worry about the main sail getting trashed in the heavier winds.

We were now sailing close hauled trying to get far enough south to ensure a downwind  entrance into Southport. In retrospect we probably could have just maintained our rhumb line and gotten in a day earlier, but we had little experience with the storm trysail and didn’t know what to expect.

By Day 6 we were predicted to get in to Southport at around 9:00 pm. I didn’t want to enter a narrow pass at night in an unfamiliar area, so we decided to see how the boat would heave to (a method of slowing the boat down with little forward movement). We had tried it before with our mainsail, but it was too big to balance with either the genoa or staysail, so we tried it again with the smaller storm trysail and it balanced perfectly, even though we were more forereaching than heaving to. In forereaching the boat makes very slow progress to windward, although it is still sailing, where in heaving- to you are more stalling out the boat while pointed just off the wind. All of a sudden the boat became calmer and life was more livable down below without the constant banging of the waves against the forward hull.

Our new vinyl side curtains kept the breaking waves from dousing the cockpit. This was especially disconcerting when you were on night watch and had just put on your last pair of warm clothes and a big wave crashes over the side.

We both relaxed and slept, checking for boat traffic and AIS targets about every 20 minutes. Another huge change on this passage was we had our new vinyl side panels installed, meaning waves could no longer roll up the sides of the boat and be blown into the cockpit soaking us with salt water. The temperatures at night were definitely cooler now that we were further south, so it was a huge advantage for us on this passage.

Land Ho! The towering condos of Australia's Gold Coast.

I don't know if you can tell by our expressions, but it was sheer relief to have just sailed 17,000 miles, across two oceans and numerous seas over a six-year period, and having made it alive.

We were also now running downwind which added to the comfort level. By daybreak we could see the towering condominiums of Australia’s famous Gold Coast and eventually picked out the narrow pass leading into a vast inland waterway/canal system typical of this part of Australia. As we approached Southport we could see waves breaking against the south side of the breakwater, but they didn’t look like they would be a big issue. We contacted Marine Rescue Southport and they advised us to stay mid channel since a shoal was developing on the normally deeper north side of the channel. We got a little ride surfing in as we rounded the breakwater but nothing that Flying Cloud couldn’t easily handle.

We have never  been so happy to be tied up to a dock with the realization that we were finally safe and back in civilization.

We were so relieved  when we finally round the corner of the pass and sailed into the relatively calm (although still very windy) waters of the inside passage. Now the only thing we had to deal with was tying up at the dock and of course Australian Customs and Immigration.  More on that in the next blog post.