Trip Report
Wild weather sailing in Tasmania, January 2010
I'd never sailed before, but an invitation from my mate Dave to spend January sailing from Launceston to Hobart via the West Coast of Tasmania was an offer I could not refuse.
Dave had built Emily - a 45 foot steel cutter - himself. He'd spent 12 years building it, and it is remarkable to spend time on such a large vessel, lying in my bunk, examining all those tiny welds, and realise that it is all the work of one man.
After a few days on the Tamar River with some tuition, and a false start, we made it through the narrow heads and into Bass Strait, and hung a left. With the wind coming from the North West, it was slow going. We tacked our way into the afternoon and we sailed into Burnie harbour on dusk. Day one done - a long day in slow conditions.
Better luck fared on day two as the wind swung into the north east, and we skipped across to Wynyard in a couple of hours on a flat sea, the wind coming over our shoulder and a beer in our hand.
A recharge and stock up in Wynyard and we sailed out on the afternoon tide for Three Hummocks Island - one of the islands off the north west tip of Tassie. Dave had sailed here before, and had a good knowledge of moorings for all weather. This was our first night sail, and after a few hours sleep after dinner, I was on the tiller under a clear starry sky, every so often catching a glimpse of a the lights of a car or house back on land, with Dave comfortably sleeping in his double bed. We swapped a couple of shifts overnight. Each time I'd retire to my little bunk that afforded little headroom, and we sailed into Three Hummocks Island in the morning light.
A good sleep and a day spent walking to the top of one of the Hummocks recharged our batteries, and with one eye on the sky and the other on the barometer we sailed at dawn for our first big push south to Macquarie Harbour and the small town of Strahan.
Bass Strait is relatively shallow, with choppy aqua coloured water. As we rounded to north tip of Hunter Island the sea changed to black, the swell grew, the wind picked up. We were in the ocean now, and I got the feeling that we were tucking in for a big slog. With good winds we were travelling well across 4-5 metre seas - big long rollers that forced the yacht to sail up hill, get a sail full of wind, and rocket down the other side into the trough.
We encountered our first rough weather that night. As Dave slept the wind picked up, and I struggled to keep Emily on course. Dave woke and as the weather continued to get worse, we lowered the big jib, but missed the deck and sent huge amounts of fabric into the water. Some heavy lifting as we bounced around on the bow got the sail in, we trimmed the main, raised the small jib, and with a more satisfactory rig, sailed south. It took us about 20 minutes to get the sails sorted, but it was 20 minutes of intense concentration and effort that left us both sitting in the cockpit, zoned out, chewing on chocolate.
We hit Hells Gate - the entrance to Macquarie Harbour in the morning, with the tide running against us, but thanks to an outboard motor, a bit of sail and Dave's steel nerves, we negotiated this narrow dangerous channel and motored across Macquarie Harbour. Time to recharge in Strahan.
Leaving Strahan a few days later, our next big push was into the south - Port Davey and the South West Tasmania Wilderness. Fickle winds were to plague us on this leg. Two nights in a row we dropped the sails in the windless conditions and got six hours sleep. It was hard, frustrating work, but we made it into Port Davey on our third day at sea. After traversing most of the West Coast with only fishing vessels for company, it was a surprise to get into Port Davey and meet other yachts. We spent a couple of days exploring Port Davey and Bathurst Harbour - an area once considered by early settlers as a location for a major town. We spent a day wandering up in the hills, using muscles that hadn't been firing in the confines of the yacht.
In Port Davey we were without radio contact, and couldn't get weather reports. We religiously monitored the barometer, and watched the sky, and although we knew a southerly was brewing, we (slightly nervously) sailed out of Port Davey intending to get clear around to Recherche Bay on the East Coast, near the southern tip of Bruny Island. Fortunately the weather gods were on our side and we sailed close to shore in full sunshine, admiring the mountains shrouded in clouds on land. As we turned to a more northerly bearing, the predicted southerly built up, and with full sails and another big swell, we surfed our way up the coast, joined by a huge pod of dolphins frolicking in our bow wave.
The following day presented more southerly weather, and we glided up the d'Entrecasteaux Channel, with appearing pockets of civilisation on both sides. Upon seeing Mt Wellington, we made calls to family that we hadn't been in contact with for nearly two weeks, and realising it was 'last night in camp' enjoyed an 11 o'clock beer as we passed the Bruny Island ferry.
As if to remind us that we were not done yet, the weather picked up as we headed into Storm Bay towards the Tasman Peninsula, and with the weather firmly hitting us on the starboard, big winds picking up and waves breaking into the cockpit, we had our final bumpy crossing at sea.
We arrived in the little cove at Nubeena on the Tasman Peninsula in the afternoon, to be met by Dave's sister, a hot shower, and a beautiful vegetarian dinner from ingredients all grown in her garden. It was an incredible journey, and I look forward to my next adventure aboard Emily with my good friend Dave.