Passage across the Great Australian Bight

[Kyle]Since our rigging failure and subsequent repairs had delayed us by a few weeks, the usual tailwinds across the Bight had been replaced by headwinds for the season. Getting across from Arid Bay would require careful timing. We needed to latch onto an eastbound front without getting caught in the worst of it. After spending a couple hours a day on the problem, I finally decided we would leave the afternoon just before the arrival of the next system. The normal easterly afternoon sea breeze (sea gale!) would be bent around to the north, allowing us to get away from the coast in a hurry.

The only downside was that we would be spending our first six hours in thirty knots of wind, with gusts into the high forties. I figured it wouldn't be as bad as all of that because the swell would be starting at the shore behind us and because we had no intention of sailing into it or even across it.

Apart from half an hour of tacking to get around the eastern side of Middle Island, just to the south of Arid Bay, it pretty much worked out as planned. Maryanne got the first watch. She woke me at midnight reporting that the winds had not been as bad for her as forecast. Her wind had mostly been in the high teens. We were already more than forty miles from shore.

Apart from changing course to the southeast to sail on a broad reach, I had the same experience. It was even warm enough on that first night for me to get through my whole watch in shorts.

We continued in that general direction for the next two days, eventually getting to almost 38ºS, two hundred miles from shore. As we did, the wind gradually backed until we were close-hauled in cold winds from the south. The shorts gave way to as many layers as we could fit under our foul weather gear. We each looked like puffy five-pointed stars, but we were warm in there.

The wind slowly backed some more until we were heading northeast. Going north again meant it was starting to get just slightly warmer. When the wind backed through east at the end of Day Four, it was tough to tack and turn back south again, but south was where we would be in a better position for the next wind shift, so south we went.

This time, we went fifty miles further south than last time. It was cold down there. By then, the waves had been building long enough to become what oceanographers call 'fully developed seas'. These are waves that are no longer limited by either the room or the time they have had to build. They are as big as a given wind can make them.

Since we were sailing into them, conditions aboard became quite uncomfortable, particularly when combined with the cold and damp. Neither of us was sleeping very well on our off-watches and our 'fun' time together at meals was mostly spent hanging on and wishing the weather would break soon.

We spend a LOT of time on passage watching the skies

After three more watches each, the wind finally started to veer (veer=clockwise, back=counter-clockwise). We had to follow it for another watch each before we could finally keep Begonia pointed in the direction we wanted to go and start easing the sails out. The waves gradually aligned with the new winds, making the motion aboard morph from choppy to practically soothing. We each slept like logs through our next two off-watches.

I did manage to catch one fish
. . . but when it escaped off the hook, I let it get away

On day seven, the skies were clearing, we were well rested, and Begonia was chugging along in light winds under full sail. I would have easily signed up for a few more days of sailing like this, but I knew it would never last in the Bight.

Sunsets on a passage can be especially beautiful

At sunrise on Day Eight, we finally sailed into the lee of Kangaroo Island on its north side. Then we had glorious sailing past pretty scenery on flat seas. Oh, I almost hated to let it end. Almost.

Just before noon, we pulled into the tiny cove at the mouth of the Western River and anchored on a sandy patch just a hundred meters or so from the beach. Each side was protected by craggy headlands pockmarked with caves, one of which we could clearly see was home to a flock of Welcome Swallows, darting in and out between feedings. Someone put a comment in one of our cruising apps that said the cove could fit up to three boats. We couldn't see how that could be true, unless they were talking about for lunch only on a settled day. We were pretty much taking up the whole place. We couldn't imagine squeezing another boat in and not feeling like we would have to spend all of our time on deck keeping an eye on things. As it turned out, we didn't have to and we were able to go below for a restful night.