Our next weather window was due to begin on December 28th. Like when we left Bateman’s Bay, our first day was in light headwinds. We left the coast close-hauled and then began tacking southwards amidst a whole bunch of widely spaced AIS targets doing the same thing. We were now amidst the tail end of the last big group of Sydney-Hobart (S2H) racers.
For the last two days, they had all been bashing into horrific headwinds (30-40 knots) while we were hiding in Eden. By this point, more than a third of the fleet had dropped out due to equipment failures or injuries. The boats that were in our vicinity now must have been relieved at the calming conditions, even though it also meant slowing down.
By slow, I mean slow for them. Every single one of them was passing us. I actually had to give way to Luna Blue as they crossed us on starboard tack. They passed near, but ahead of us on their next tack, so no one had to alter course there. Maryanne helpfully observed that the whole on-watch crew was huddled in their foulies in the cockpit with no protection from the weather whatsoever. Dodgers and biminis slow boats down. Maryanne watched a video tour of the next boat that passed us in the night. (she still had a signal!). They had almost nothing in the way of internal furnishings and were living off of the same type of dehydrated meals we had eaten while hiking the High Sierra Trail (back in September 2016). I felt a little better about being slower with our cockpit greenhouse to maintain shorts weather at the helm seat, our soft beds and Maryanne’s lovely cooking.
Although I generally think sailboat racing is a tremendously silly way to pour buckets of money into the sea, I do have to give the racers their due credit for actually sailing the whole way. When the wind died off later that night, we deployed the spinnaker to keep our speed up. So did they. When it died further, we all slowed down and worked the little puffs until the real wind came back. We still lost, but at least it was a fair fight. There was none of this business where someone goes rocketing by us and only at their closest approach do we realize they’ve had an engine going the whole time because they are a bunch of impatient cheaters.
A nice passage leaving mainland Australia behind, and headed across the Bass Strait to Tasmania
As such, our crossing of the dreaded Bass Strait was a lovely one, being pushed along by mild winds. We pulled the spinnaker down and left the last remaining boat in the fleet as we angled away to our destination at Lady Barron’s Bay on Flinders Island.
I spent my night watch reefing and then reefing again in an attempt to slow down and kill time for a daylight entrance. At the first hint of nautical twilight we finally drifted into the center of the tri-color lead-in beam. I woke Maryanne by starting an engine and we headed in.
It’s notable that the charted center and the actual center were about 1/6th of a nautical mile offset from each other. The path from the bar all of the way into the harbor takes a couple of hours to traverse. When we dropped anchor in Opposum Boat Harbour, off the town of Lady Barron, the sun was just turning from yellow to bright white. {Maryanne: We've been to Flinders Island before, but never this particular anchorage. COVID rules limit the arrival locations currently, but having submitted all the correct emails and paperwork we were approved to go ashore before we even had set anchor}.
Approaching our anchorage on Flinders Island
I had a quick nap while Maryanne set off in the dingy to do some reconnaissance ashore. When I awoke, she had purchased fresh groceries, found the showers, and the pub, and was all keyed up and ready to get me ashore. It was a perfect cloudless day for once and it did seem like it would be a waste not to.
We arrived on a glorious day!
The coastal trail
She took me on the coastal path into the small town of Lady Barron. There, we saw a sign for a vineyard saying it was only 4 kilometers away. We started that direction and after a while decided to check the distance. We still had 4.8km left. Maryanne said they were closing soon – she wanted to be there by 3pm. If we really picked up the pace, we could make it by 2:55.
We left town with the promise of a wine cellar, but the 4km sign was a fib
Then she kept stopping to take pictures of pretty things. Tensions mounted until she finally revealed to me that the vineyard closes at 4pm, but she wanted to be there in time to actually enjoy a tasting. Oh, for… I had NOT been pacing myself. Now we could relax.
When we were about three-quarters of the way there, we were picked up by a local who lives across the road from where we were going. Now we were ahead of schedule again and could relax.
They didn’t mind. We were the only ones there just then. We had a tasting, which we both agreed only produced one variety that we really liked. We bought a bottle of it and then headed out to a picnic table in the vines to enjoy it. Life’s rough.
Unavale Winery is the only cellar door on Flinders Island, we enjoyed a tasting, followed by a bottle of our favourite wine sipped among the vines.
The woman at the vineyard was kind enough to save us the walk by giving us a ride back into town. We took that shower and decided we had enough time for a pub meal at one of their outdoor tables overlooking the harbor. It’s a good thing we did. The weather was changing again and a window was opening up tomorrow that would be too good to pass up.
The pub provided a welcome alternative to yet another home cooked meal
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