Ribbon Reef #3

[Kyle]

"No, I don't want to wear the ribbon."

We picked the better of two pretty horrible looking days to head across to the outer, eastern edge of the Great Barrier Reef at the Ribbon Reefs. The wind was occasionally touching thirty knots and the seas in the ocean on the outside of the reefs were reported to be about four meters. That wouldn't have been too bad, except that our first six miles had to be into the wind in order to get around intervening Cairns Reef. That helped to settle Begonia's contents and gave us a good coating of salt from the spray.

After that, we tucked into a wide gap between the landward and seaward edges of the Great Barrier Reef system. That kept the seas down and left us with only the wind. As we neared our destination at Ribbon Reef 3, we had to pass over the unprotected gap between it and Ribbon Reef 2 (There are ten in a row, numbered from south to north). That gave us about ten minutes of what the ocean is supposed to look like in winds like this. The waves were high enough that we couldn't see past the next one when we were in the troughs. Begonia's motion changed from flat and jittery to a slow roll up and over and then down each wave.

Another beautiful sunset at anchor

We did that a hundred times or so and then we sailed behind the southern end of Ribbon Reef 3 and everything quickly calmed down again. Our destination was still fairly well set back from the breakers on the outer side of the reef, but our motion was just enough to remind us we were on a boat.

At low tide, when things had calmed down even further, we dove in to explore our new surroundings. The first thing we noticed going in was the amazing clarity of the water. The visibility is the best we have seen in ages.

There was plenty to see. Reefs closer to the equator are the ones most highly stressed by climate change, so we weren't sure what we would find. We were half expecting to see the skeletons of a once great ecosystem. Instead, although there were patches that were in trouble, overall, the health of the coral here looked pretty good, with good coverage and plenty of variety. The terrain was also varied and interesting. There were shallow valleys, wide plains, steep mesas, deep canyons and high cliffs with overhangs that would crumble under their own weight if they were out of water. Snorkeling above it was like being a bird flying over a scale 3D model of a mountain range.

There were plenty of big schools of fish around. They were a bit funny because they would almost always flee as soon as they saw us and then subsequently follow us around as their form of entertainment. Sharks and turtles did the same thing. If we swam toward them, they would swim away. If we swam away, they would follow us.

Snorkelling on the reef

We also saw lots and lots of giant clams with their iridescent mantles. They have light sensing organs. When a shadow passes over them, they pull in slightly. If you touch them, though, you get to see something the size of an ottoman flinch, complete with the inevitable jet of water from the inside.

Also with us were plenty of sea birds. There were gannets, storm petrels and adorable little terns. I like birds, but they all seemed to be making a point about severely testing my affections. About an hour before sunset, we would notice the roving flocks edging closer and closer to us. They were casing the joint.

Rather than fly back to land for the night, which would take all of about ten minutes in the big tailwind (although getting back in the morning would take a couple of hours), they had clearly decided to cheat and stay the night with us. All of these bird types can sleep while sitting on the sea, but if it is rough, they get doused a lot and they are constantly drifting downwind, so they have to occasionally interrupt their rest to fly upwind to make up the lost ground. Plus, there is the danger of getting taken from below. Thus, they are really motivated to find a safe spot out of the water.

First to arrive were usually the terns. The first night, we had a pair. They both looked miserable as they had to struggle constantly to keep from being blown off of the deck by the high winds. Usually, the only thing keeping them from sliding backward was the claw of one toe hooked into a crevice. One returned the second night for what was surely going to be another sleepless buffeting. During one of my evening deck patrol circuits, I spooked him. He jumped into the air and the wind immediately took him. After a tremendous two steps back, three steps forward effort where he was only able to make forward progress in our wind shadow, he finally managed to touch down panting on our third port stern step. There, he was protected from the wind by the step above. He hunkered down and almost immediately went to sleep. Aww! Well, I can hardly bring myself to shoo him off now. It's too dark for him to go anywhere else. That's fine. Terns don't make much mess and the steps are easy enough to rinse in the morning.

Next up are the storm petrels. They are also pretty small and not too messy. For some reason, they like to camp out right at the pointy end of each bow in the full blast of wind, rain and spray.

After that, the gannets arrive. They usually show up when there's barely enough light left to even see the deck. They are very cautious about their approach and will often make ten or more unsuccessful attempts before finally landing. One unfortunate individual whanged into an unseen shroud on one try. There are few one meter wide spaces with undisturbed air that go all of the way to deck level.

Gannets are not birds that you want on your boat. There is something seriously wrong with their digestive process and they all need to get to a veterinarian immediately. The problem is that they show up so late that they have already exhausted any potential distant island backups for the night and they will do virtually anything to avoid spending a night either aloft or on the sea, which makes them very persistent.

So, every night after sunset, we get into this battle where they try to land while I try to shoo them off. The problem is that they will land anywhere they can get a grip and they don't give up. I quickly learned that running around on deck flailing my arms like a crazy man only sends them higher, out of my reach. That puts their feathered butts over our rain catchment area. Also, being higher up means any droppings will be spread over a wider area by the wind. Thus, we made a truce. I would let them stay on the forward crossbeam if they would avoid the rest of the boat. That only leaves me one section to clean the next day, which also gets the most thorough rinsing while we are underway.

I realize that hurting one or even killing one might effectively scare the others away. That's what has to be done at some airports, but I could never bring myself to do that, mostly because no one was in danger of crashing a plane because of them so the 'sacrifice one for the good of many' argument falls flat. Also, they aren't 100% horrible birds

Gannets are annoyingly persistent, but they also have such sweet, docile dispositions. I walked right up to a few of them and tapped them on the back to get them to shift to one side or another. Mostly, I got innocent “Please don't hurt me” looks in return. I found one guy sleeping with his head under his wing on one of our bimini solar panels. Oh, hell no! I slowly grabbed him with a hand on each wing to keep him from spreading them. He seemed to enjoy the hug at first and then woke up to find some strange, big creature with a light coming out of its head (my headlamp) picking him up. At that point, I was expecting to be jabbed at with a stabby, screaming beak and scratched with claws, but instead he stayed perfectly calm as I carried him to his new spot in the 'permitted' zone, where he fluffed up his feathers contentedly and promptly went back to sleep.

Some of the visiting Birds

The weather improved over time to where we could actually see the mountains on the mainland. That seemed to reduce their numbers each night as they could see an alternative to staying with us, but we always had one or two that insisted on staying.