Much Ado About Nothing
Before I begin my Sailing Report for today I wish to pay my respects to the Worimi People, the traditional inhabitants of the land. Port Stephens was sighted by Captain James Cook in May, 1770 who named it after Philip Stephens, secretary of the Admiralty. He observed smoke from Worimi campfires. The Tea Gardens and more so neighbouring Hawks Nest townships on the north side of the port have been colonised only relatively recently. In colonial times the picturesque Little Jimmy's Camp east of HN was one of the best known corroboree camps on the east coast of Australia. And through the early 1900's a group of 400 Aboriginal people camped near a timber mill, also near HN. Since then European settlers have transformed (exploited) the landscape by logging, sand mining and fishing. In recent times those industries have been exhausted and less destructive activities has prevailed. The principle attractions being the easy-paced lifestyle around the Myall river and beaches, dolphin and whale watching, and preserving the habitat for remnant populations of dingo and koala in nearby parks and reserves.
Today I chose to sail on my largest sailboat, a Hunter 19' trailer sailer. What with all the attention was lavished on the purchase, refit and cruising of my little Mirror dinghy "tilman", "Misty" was becoming somewhat neglected. That needed to be remedied.
However behind this neglect there was a dark secret: "Misty" had been badly behaved. On the road she ranted and raved like a child having a tantrum; the grating and gyrating on the trailer was something to behold. Over time she left a legacy of cracked roller frames, a tortured winch mount, cracked gun'l timber, scratches on her bow and a heap of stress on her skipper. On the ramp you never knew if she was going to float off effortlessly or need the Special Treatment*. Coming out of the water she almost always played up. At her first retrieval I had to rely on the help of a Good Samaritan with a Toyota Landcruiser! I seriously considering buying an army dukh. On the ramp, she demanded a well-sunken trailer, fought the winch to breaking point and I swear she tried to drown the tow vehicle. On the trailer she required tie--downs fit for an oil-drilling platfor on a North Sea
barge. (* Special Treatment meant deploying a 5 metre draw bar between the tow vehicle and trailer.) No surprise that I lost trust in her and, to avoid the stress and expense, she sat unloved for many months.
But needs must; as I craved a larger, drier and more comfortable boat than my Mirror dinghy, and having no money I had no option but to bring "Misty" back into the fray. She got a makeover, including modifying the draw bar for easy use, a fresh tank of fuel for her ever-reliable outboard, and a pressure wash.
One improvement that worked wonders was a new ratchet tie-down I bought the previous week. As it was extremely long (truck driver issue), I decided to double it over the hull and back, and the second purchase really held her snug on the trailer. The metal on metal rasping screeches became more muted and allowed the crew to arrive at the water's edge in a more relaxed state. So it was on the day that she launched with little fuss and despite it being low tide. I suspect this was more to do with the steep drop off at the bottom of the ramp.
Her forte is when she's on the water under sail, and today she did not disappoint. We ran off down the lower reaches of the Myall River with a light rail wind. Due to the light conditions and need to run the engine a while, we (my 15 yo son Joe, dog Zipper and I), motorsailed against the soft flooding tide. Being mid-winter the air was crisp but clear, and there were few people on the water. We pleased ourselves where wewent as we chatted quietly and nibbled on the treats I'd bought Joe to coax him to come sailing.
Agreat a half hour or so we came across dolphins at work, a lone Osprey and two hawks that were flushing resident fish from under boats on moorings. Due to the light conditions I never bothered to lower the keel which made navigation even easier. If"Misty" kept this up she'd become my new number one sailboat!
As the sun showed signs of lowering we turned back upstream, with help from a building tide flow and the idling engine to drift us along towards Tea Gardens. Around the bend and under the "Singing Bridge", we neared the public wharf. After mooring up, we dotted across the roadbought a burger (Joe) and coffee (me) and watched the water as the wind dropped out and the sun burned off turning the river an oily orange hue.
Life indeed slowed to a primal rhythm, the streetscape went quiet, even the bar flies at the pub seemed to glaze over with far-away looks. The tourists had gone for the day and the country seemed to be readying itself for a restful sleep.
How did the recovery go I hear you ask. Well she gave us a bit of gyp to go on with, but there in the dark, even walking uncomfortably with cold feet on an inhospitable gravel car park, nothing could touch me. I was floating on air.
Today I chose to sail on my largest sailboat, a Hunter 19' trailer sailer. What with all the attention was lavished on the purchase, refit and cruising of my little Mirror dinghy "tilman", "Misty" was becoming somewhat neglected. That needed to be remedied.
However behind this neglect there was a dark secret: "Misty" had been badly behaved. On the road she ranted and raved like a child having a tantrum; the grating and gyrating on the trailer was something to behold. Over time she left a legacy of cracked roller frames, a tortured winch mount, cracked gun'l timber, scratches on her bow and a heap of stress on her skipper. On the ramp you never knew if she was going to float off effortlessly or need the Special Treatment*. Coming out of the water she almost always played up. At her first retrieval I had to rely on the help of a Good Samaritan with a Toyota Landcruiser! I seriously considering buying an army dukh. On the ramp, she demanded a well-sunken trailer, fought the winch to breaking point and I swear she tried to drown the tow vehicle. On the trailer she required tie--downs fit for an oil-drilling platfor on a North Sea
barge. (* Special Treatment meant deploying a 5 metre draw bar between the tow vehicle and trailer.) No surprise that I lost trust in her and, to avoid the stress and expense, she sat unloved for many months.
But needs must; as I craved a larger, drier and more comfortable boat than my Mirror dinghy, and having no money I had no option but to bring "Misty" back into the fray. She got a makeover, including modifying the draw bar for easy use, a fresh tank of fuel for her ever-reliable outboard, and a pressure wash.
One improvement that worked wonders was a new ratchet tie-down I bought the previous week. As it was extremely long (truck driver issue), I decided to double it over the hull and back, and the second purchase really held her snug on the trailer. The metal on metal rasping screeches became more muted and allowed the crew to arrive at the water's edge in a more relaxed state. So it was on the day that she launched with little fuss and despite it being low tide. I suspect this was more to do with the steep drop off at the bottom of the ramp.
Her forte is when she's on the water under sail, and today she did not disappoint. We ran off down the lower reaches of the Myall River with a light rail wind. Due to the light conditions and need to run the engine a while, we (my 15 yo son Joe, dog Zipper and I), motorsailed against the soft flooding tide. Being mid-winter the air was crisp but clear, and there were few people on the water. We pleased ourselves where wewent as we chatted quietly and nibbled on the treats I'd bought Joe to coax him to come sailing.
Agreat a half hour or so we came across dolphins at work, a lone Osprey and two hawks that were flushing resident fish from under boats on moorings. Due to the light conditions I never bothered to lower the keel which made navigation even easier. If"Misty" kept this up she'd become my new number one sailboat!
As the sun showed signs of lowering we turned back upstream, with help from a building tide flow and the idling engine to drift us along towards Tea Gardens. Around the bend and under the "Singing Bridge", we neared the public wharf. After mooring up, we dotted across the roadbought a burger (Joe) and coffee (me) and watched the water as the wind dropped out and the sun burned off turning the river an oily orange hue.
Life indeed slowed to a primal rhythm, the streetscape went quiet, even the bar flies at the pub seemed to glaze over with far-away looks. The tourists had gone for the day and the country seemed to be readying itself for a restful sleep.
How did the recovery go I hear you ask. Well she gave us a bit of gyp to go on with, but there in the dark, even walking uncomfortably with cold feet on an inhospitable gravel car park, nothing could touch me. I was floating on air.
Comments
Post a Comment