In the harbor, as we were getting ready to leave, the wind was mostly non-existent, with the occasional five-knot 'gust' from random directions. I was worried the wind would not be as strong as hoped, since forecasts for light winds are hard to predict. This is because the amount of energy being distributed is very small and can be perturbed one way or the other by small changes in surface temperature or topography. I was suddenly wishing we had left even earlier.
Another early start had one advantage!
Sunrise as we depart American River
Once we were through the channel markers and out of the river, we hoisted full sail and began a slow wind-down of the engines. What little wind there was probably wouldn't be enough to move us, but when added to the induced wind created by the propellers, we were able to gain half a knot or so.
Five minutes later we got enough of a breeze to make us go faster than the engines could. Let's hope that lasts! Five minutes after that, the engines were at idle. The wind was now above our limit for full sail and our boat speed was touching nine knots, even while dragging the windmilling propellers. Once they were feathered, both boat and apparent wind speed shot up.
I reefed the main and then the jib. As soon as I was done, the wind was almost touching thirty, so I put another reef in each. As soon as I was done with that, I returned to the helm to see the wind speed was now thirty-two, thirty-three. Crap! More reefing. Then it fell to fifteen. We slowed down. I waited five minutes. Just As I was about to leave to take one tentative reef out of the jib, it shot back up into the thirties. Oh, I've got a mouthful for the guy who busted that forecast!
We had two hours of hanging on and hoping nothing gave way. We now know why it is a bad idea to go sailing in South Australia with rigging more than three months old. We have pretty much doubled our total time doing upwind sailing in gale force winds since we have been here.
The odd solo dolphin joined us
As we approached the mainland at Cape Jervis, the wind stopped completely, leaving a confused sea of waves with nothing to hold them up. We waited half an hour and could see no sign of the wind's return. Time for an engine...
We were not surprised to see a wind farm at Cape Jervis
We were assigned a slip at Marina St. Vincent, about halfway between Kangaroo Island and Adelaide. We were surprised when we got inside the breakwater to find that it was only half full. We had plenty of choice, although the more remote, private spots were well populated by birds.
And arriving at Wirrina Cove
Marina St. Vincent is in a bit of flux right now. The government had recently taken over management after a lengthy court battle with the previous operator. As such, all of the shore facilities were shut down, apart from a couple of unappealing-looking port-a-loos. There was no office, no store, no clubhouse, no fuel, no nuttin. The power and water at the docks was still connected, though and they had trash collection and a security guard, so it wasn't completely rustic. The best part was that since the dispute between the former contractor and the government was still going through the courts, there was no charge for our stay. I guess the government didn't want to take the chance that the money would go to the former contractor. This has been going on for a year and is expected to take another before it's sorted. That made it seem really strange that the place was not full.
The marina and nearby coast
We soon found out why it wasn't so busy. The marina is tucked into the bottom of the Wirrina Valley. It is a beautiful place where the ridge tops are covered in expensive custom homes, each with views of either the valley or the sea, sometimes both. For us, it was a short but steep climb to get to these homes, which were clearly at the far edge of the development. Far on the other side, past a big golf course, there was a resort with a clubhouse, currently hosting what must have been just six guests. It took us maybe two hours to walk there (we did go the long way around). If we had had a car, it would have been quite a drive to get even that far from the nearest real village (about 14km). The drive from Adelaide is about an hour and a half. Marina St. Vincent is cheap, but it is a long way from anywhere except the few locals, so it's just not getting its full use. Still, for the same price as an anchorage, it's a convenient stop for us on the way, plus we got to give Begonia a good wash.
Plenty of Kangaroo (Western Gray?), even on the golf course
The other good thing about the marina was the people that we met up with. First was Colin. He had been making his way along the north coast of Kangaroo Island at the same time as us, only a lot closer in. Maryanne asked him what he was doing and it turned out he was taking a group of university divers out. It was Colin who gave us the tip on the free marina. {Maryanne: Another Facebook group connection}.
Next up was Lucy and her husband Mitch. Mitch has a family tree going back to the first European settlers in the area, and has a host of amazing family and personal stories. They are having a house built in one of the nearby villages and have been living on their boat for the eleven months that the process has taken (delayed due to COVID). Mitch engineers custom parts for vintage Formula One race cars (because you can't get them from the manufacturer anymore). Mitch offered to take Maryanne into the nearest village (only one spare seat in the car) to do laundry, while he went to check on the house. Then he gave her a ride back when she was finished. He also said he would take a look at the broken steel plate connecting our autopilot to the rudders.
Colin showed up at Begonia about the same time Maryanne did. He lent her his car to do a shopping run, giving her a chance to stock up on some things we were about to run out of (extra paint!). He's been in the area a long time (originally from NZ), and we got lots of good local knowledge from him.
While Maryanne was gone, I stayed on the boat and loafed.
HA! I wouldn't dare! My main goal of the day was to give Begonia the aforementioned wash down. Before I did that, though, I had a thought I instantly wished I could un-have: Our jib needed changing.
There was NO wind forecast for the day, so I knew it would be the best time to do it. I also knew it would be best to do it before getting the boat all wet. Ugh! I really wished I hadn't thought of it.
All of the recent rough weather had taken its toll on our jib. At the clew (the bottom back corner), there are four heavy webbing straps that connect a stainless steel ring to the fabric of the sail. One of them had chafed through on our crossing of the Bight. Since then, a second one went. I figured just one more sail with too much wind would eat through the other two, so we needed to do something about it sooner rather than later. Luckily, our old jib was in pretty good condition when we replaced it five and a half years ago, so we kept it as a spare.
Maryanne took a kayak out along the coast for some exercise while Kyle swore at the sails
The problem was, of course, that spares that are infrequently needed are not kept in the most accessible places. Ours was way up on the starboard sail locker behind some extra fenders. That locker is behind a little door that is barricaded in by our tools, the dinghy motor, the dinghy mast and sail, the dinghy cover, the cockpit enclosure, our stationery tub, spare bottom paint, spare rope, our big camping backpacks, the inflatable kayak, two bicycles and half of our food. I could either remove all of that stuff (and put it where?) or just remove half, barricading myself in as I moved the remaining things from in front of me to behind me. By the time I emerged from the hatch at the other end, which can only be opened from the inside, I was feeling like I had survived a second birth. Now all I had to do was figure out how to get the heavy and bulky jib out through that hatch.
Well, not really. I also had to get the old new one down and flake it so that it is small enough to fit through the hatch and into the space where the new old one was, then I had to hoist and stow the replacement.
Our older sail actually looked pretty good. I realized as I was rolling it up that it almost certainly had fewer miles on it when we replaced it than the newer one does now. The one I just removed had been in use for 48,000 miles.
Once that extra job was done, it was time to start on the exterior wash I should have been doing all along. We both slept really well that night.
The broken (and fixed and installed) plate
The next morning after trying to limber ourselves back up with a walk in the hills, Mitch returned with our newly repaired autopilot plate. He welded the two broken pieces together, and then welded on some reinforcement. He didn't like that, so he welded on even more. Now it's really beefy. I'm sure it will make it at least another twenty years now. Afterward, he still wasn't satisfied, so he drew up a diagram with all sorts of struts and braces for the next welder. If we ever get that done, we'll be able to lift the boat with it.
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