Wednesday, May 27, 2020

Bait Reef (Outer Whitsundays)

[Kyle]After spending all morning and two dozen dropped calls downloading our weather files, I decided a good time for us to leave Scawfell Island would be at the tail end of the storm, before we would lose the wind. The bad news was that we would have to leave our condensation-soaked cabin, put on lots of foul-weather gear and go outside to sail in the rain. As our departure time approached, we kept stalling and looking at the other one, hoping someone would say, “Let's just stay another night.” In the end, no one flinched, so we left.


Miserable cold weather for an overnight passage - but after arriving and taking a short nap - we had sunshine again

Just as we had gone outside, a monohull appeared out of the mist and picked up the mooring ball nearest us. They were the first other boat we had seen since arriving three days earlier. By the time they were secured, Maryanne had cast off our line and we were drifting sideways out of the bay. We unfurled the jib, turned downwind and disappeared into the same mist from which they had come.

My first watch was an exercise in frustration. We had wind, but it was so variable in speed and direction that I was constantly having to get drenched reefing, unreefing, gybing, gybing back. Every time I sat down, I had to get up again. Ordinarily, I would take this as just the nature of wind powered boats, but Maryanne was off watch. Much as I tried, there was no way I could keep from stomping around on the deck above her head and making loud, winch-cranking noises as I tried to get control of sails that were constantly flapping and banging. I just knew there was no way she was sleeping through any of it.

She took it in stride, though, and emerged ready for her few hours in the cold rain. She did the whole thing without complaint and without giving up early and saying she just couldn't keep her eyes open any more. I had been kind of expecting that.

She had some pretty good speed while I had been sleeping fitfully down below. All I had to do when I got up was get us the last few miles before dawn. That was nice, because I could just leave everything over-reefed for the gusts and wait out the lulls. For the last hour, I dropped the sails altogether and we crawled along under bare poles. Gybing under bare poles is easy! (For non-sailors, a gybe is the maneuver performed when the apparent wind is behind the boat and has to be switched from one side to the other. It involves repositioning all of the sails to take the wind on the other side, which is a bit of a kerfuffle. With no sail, none of that is necessary. All you have to do is turn the wheel.)

When morning broke, I woke her up so she could help guide us through the bommies to one of the public moorings at Bait Reef. She was resistant at first, but was buoyed by the news that the rain appeared to be finished for good. We picked up the pendant, did our usual post-sail checklist and then went below for a short nap.

We awoke to a completely different world. The rain was gone. The clouds were gone! It was warm and sunny and the wind had died off to just the slightest breath. Plus, we were at a reef, which meant no land to harbor any bugs. We opened all of the hatches and left them that way, day and night, until we left.

We donned our snorkel gear, plunged into the water and were immediately confronted with a giant, black fish holding court over a school of smaller fusiliers (blue reef fish with bright yellow tails). Actually, it was a small to medium-sized tuna (a Blackfin, I think), but a medium-sized tuna is way bigger than most reef fish. Up close in the water, it looked fearsome with its scythe-shaped fins and its big mouth bristling with hypodermic needle teeth.

Tuna are way faster than most fishes. If this guy saw something interesting that he thought might be food, the departure and arrival points would suddenly be connected by a black blur. This is a bit disconcerting when he thought the food might be near us. When he did, the other fish jumped out of his way like he was a big truck entering a freeway.

To make matters more interesting, Maryanne threw in some stale oatmeal we have been meaning to get rid of. The place went nuts! The big, scary fish was first to the scene, but was unable to scoop up everything at once, leaving most of it to the fusiliers. They very lazily took care of the rest without going into a competitive frenzy. Seemingly out of nowhere came several serving platter-sized long-finned spadefish, a big angelfish look-alike with adorable little Nemo faces. They like oatmeal, too.

We headed for the reef edge. The reef here is definitely in trouble. We saw big areas of completely dead or mostly dead coral along with a few smaller regions that were still doing okay. There were plenty of different fishes, sponges and clams to see, though.

Partway through our swim, we realized we have been noticing a few big, silver Pompanos, which are usually found in deep water. After a little while, we figured out it was the same fish. He was following us. No matter where we went, he was always nearby. If we would stop to look at something, he'd mill around patiently until we were ready to move on. Then he would join up with us and swim only inches away as if we were all in the same school and this was what we did. If one of us fell behind, he would usually hang back with the straggler until they caught up. It reminded us of those times we have been out hiking and some friendly dog just decided he was going to be our companion for the day. When we were safely back at the boat, he just faded back to wherever he had come from and left us in the care of the school under Begonia.

We had some more fun that night when making dinner. When it came time to throw our table scraps overboard, we decided to take it slowly and see what they like. The tuna really liked cucumbers, tomatoes and raw potatoes, but would spit out any potato peels. That was unexpected. Chunks of potato with the peel still on were okay sometimes, not okay others. The spadefish liked onion skins, but not the onions themselves and nobody went for bell peppers. The tuna doesn't like corn flakes or crackers, but everybody else loves them. I particularly like a glass of wine.


Our resident fish were always nearby and seemed grateful for a scratch or a snack of scraps.
Kyle is scratching a Humphead Wrass that keeps returning for more, and I'm being prompted for food by (what we think is) a Giant Trevally

Morning came again and we decided to have a long snorkel the other way, towards the middle of the lagoon. First, Maryanne had the idea that before we went, I should slice up a potato and bring it in with me to hand out to our big school. Everything was going great until I was descending the stairs to our swim ladder. I slipped on a wet patch and fell one step. I managed to land without hurting myself, but the very end slice of the potato slipped out of my hand and landed in front of Maryanne's face. She was already in the water. The tuna saw this and raced up at tuna speed, which is about thirty knots. All Maryanne saw was a huge, gaping mouth full of teeth charging straight at her. Whoops. Well, it was nice knowing her.

Tuna are also very maneuverable. The fish executed a ninety-degree turn in the three inches it had left before slamming into her. It left behind a froth of aerated water. Yikes.

The other fish were much more gentle, including a newly arrived big Humphead (Napoleon) Wrasse. He was even bigger than the tuna and swam around lazily like he knew at his size that he had nothing to fear from the others.

Just like last time, as we were about two Begonia lengths away, our Pompano minder joined us for the day's swim. I'm pretty sure it was the same fish. We have spent enough time swimming eye to eye that I recognize his markings, particularly a little notch bitten out of his tail.

We have been seeing lots of clams. They are beautiful, with their multi-colored mantles. Maryanne waved me over to see one in particular. It was a little guy, maybe three inches across with bright green iridescent flesh. Okay. Well, thanks for showing me.

“No, not that one”, she gestured, “That one!” She pointed to one that was three feet across.

Yay! We finally found one!

The first time we ever swam on the Great Barrier Reef was during our vacation in 2009. We had booked a day tour out of Cairns, which sped us out to the reef for a couple of hours of snorkeling. I remember it being nice, but the one thing that really stood out for me was the Giant Clams, which we hadn't seen anywhere else. Now that we've seen one, it feels like we have finally made it to the real barrier reef.

By the time we had finished swimming, we had found four more.



Snorkelling on the reef and bommies
We were enamoured by every Giant Clam we found

The crowd was still at the boat, no doubt wondering what's for dinner. As I was getting out. The humphead wrass swam up close enough to the swim ladder for me to reach out and stroke him on the side. I expected him to flinch when he felt my touch, but instead, he circled around three more times for another little scratch. Aww, what a big sweetie! Maryanne says we can't keep him.

Our third time in the next morning, we started by chucking a handful of corn flakes in the water. The adorable spadefish went crazy for that. I drifted into the middle of the melee and had a few times when my whole mask was filled with the black and yellow side of one fish. Emboldened by my wrasse encounter, I took to reaching out and gently steering them out of the way with a little push on their sides. They didn't seem to mind this at all. Oh what fun, swimming in an aquarium full of gentle, platter-sized tropical fish who bump into me like I'm one of their own!

And the tuna. You've got to keep your eye on that tuna.

Our Pompano chaperoned us on another tour of a different part of the reef, pausing with us to let us enjoy the Giant Clams. We found one that was a meter across! He dropped us off at Begonia and handed us back to the care of the Longfin Spadefish. Aw, what the hell. We can spare a few more cornflakes. They are so much fun.



Our constant neighbours

{Maryanne: Once we actually got back to land and could verify the fish species, it turned out that the 'tuna' and 'Pompano' that we befriended were actually Trevally (probably Giant Trevally, possibly Big-Eye Trevally). Apparently as they age their skin turns more black. We loved our few days out on the reef, with the friendly fish off our back steps, and the beautiful clear nights where we could enjoy the stars laid back on the trampoline, it felt like a perfect holiday for us. A few other boats came and went, but the place was never busy.}.

1 comment:

Geoffrey Frith said...

I love the stories about the fish and gorgeous pictures