Saturday, 30 October
I got up at 0530, had breakfast and then began preparing the boat for sailing, transferring fuel from the containers on deck to the sump tank.
I slipped off the buoy mooring at 0800 and motored out from the port passing through the Semau Strait. Being close to the shore I was able to FaceTime Sue and Alexandra, and to speak to Rob and Bill about the weather. Light winds were forecast until Wednesday so I decided to head east on exiting the Strait, following the coast of Timor until 1500 when I altered course to head direct to Darwin. In this way I was as able to keep in telephone contact with Sue throughout the morning and early part of the afternoon.
There were a lot of electrical storms in the vicinity from 1500 onwards, and I experienced some rain in the early evening, during which an alarm sounded, indicating a problem with the AIS. I decided to look into this in the morning. The wind (which was light throughout) died away during the night, leaving a calm sea with little swell and at midnight I hove-to under bare poles to get some rest.
Sunday, 31 October
The weather and sea conditions were the same when I resumed passage at 0718, but there were rain clouds ahead; and I went through some heavy rain showers between 0830 and 0930, and again between 1200 and 1330. After these rain showers, the wind started to fill in from the east, but not enough to warrant hoisting the sails.
I checked all the AIS connections and re-booted the system after which it appeared to be working again (the red alarm light on the splitter unit had been replaced with a green light). No AIS targets were being displayed on the chart plotter screen however, although when I checked with Rob, Phil Denham confirmed he was still able to receive my AIS transmissions. I suspected there was a problem with the chart plotter unit therefore, which I would look at again when I arrived in Darwin.
When planning my passage to Darwin I had decided to follow a direct course from Kupang passing over the Sahul Banks. I had read the caution notice and sailing directions in the Admiralty Pilot but was convinced there would be no un-charted shallows of less than 2 metres (the draught of Shahna Bacal) and knew most yachts took this same direct route from Kupang to Darwin. For some reason however, I made myself anxious on re-reading the Admiralty Pilot and mindful that my echo sounder was not working I decided to stop for the night at 1900 so as to cross these banks in daylight. In this way I hoped to be fully rested and alert, so as to able to see any shallow reefs and breaking surf in time to avoid running aground.
With little wind, sea and swell, and the boat stopped, I was now able to properly concentrate on making dinner.
Monday, 1 November
I got up at 0400 feeling well rested and started preparing the boat for sailing, getting underway again at 0518 as the sun was rising. There was still little wind, sea and swell and I spent the entire day motoring.
I crossed the shallow charted section of the Sahul Banks between 0800 and 0900 and was back in deep water by 1000, feeling suitably relieved. Given my low height of eye, my E’ly course and the position of the sun, I doubt I would have seen any shallow reefs in time to avoid them, unless there were breaking waves over them.
I had an interesting encounter with another small boat around noon, the first small boat I had seen for some time. I was now some considerable distance off the coast of Timor and this boat did not look anything like the other Indonesian fishing vessels I had seen earlier during my voyage. It was originally shaping up to pass well clear but then altered course as if to intercept me. Whilst unlikely, given the reports of pirates operating in Indonesian waters, I made a precautionary call to Rob. Subsequently, the boat altered course again and passed clear to starboard, and did not try thereafter to follow me. Later that afternoon, I saw two other similar boats and marvelled at how far off-shore these boats were prepared to travel in order to catch fish.
As I was making good progress, averaging just over 5 knots in the benign wind and sea conditions, my intention was to motor through the night but come 2100 I was very tired. At this time however, I was passing south of the Bayu-Undan oil field and wanted to be well clear of the rigs before stopping. I continued motoring therefore, until midnight when I hove-to in order to get some rest.
Tuesday, 2 November
I got up at 0500 and was underway again at 0642. Today was another day like yesterday: clear sky, little wind and calm sea – perfect for motoring.
I saw a helicopter pass overhead around 0900, clearly on its way to the rigs in the oil field; then an aeroplane made a low fly past around 0940 and then called me on the vhf radio. The aeroplane was operated by the Australian Border Force (ABF) who I believe, were tracking me on AIS, and aware that I was heading for Darwin. I found this very re-assuring.
Having watched the wind freshen thereafter I decided to try and sail, and raised the main and jib at 1130. By the time I had done so, and tidied up the lines, I noticed a big black cloud ahead and realised I would soon be entering another rain squall. I just had time to batten down the hatches and change into my wet weather gear when the rain started. The wind was strong, gusting over 30 knots, and the rain heavy, with hail at times. The boat however, took it all in her stride.
The rain squall laster for an hour, leaving light airs and a very confused sea in its wake; and I lowered the jib and started motor sailing with the main trimmed accordingly. I knew from Rob and Bill that strong E’ly winds were forecast for Wednesday (15-20 knots) and Thursday (15 -25 knots), and my hope was that these winds would arrive early and I would not have to take the main down and heave-to. In readiness for these stronger winds however, I decided to be conservative and put two reefs in the main.
Sadly, by 1900 there was no sign of the wind freshening and as I was feeling tired, I decided now to lower the main and heave-to for the night to get some rest. When heaving-to and as before, I always switched on the anchor light, spreader light (to illuminate the fore deck), and cockpit light (to illuminate the after part of the boat). The spreader light however, did not come on so I rigged two torches on deck instead.
Wednesday, 3 November
I got underway again at 0500. The sun was now rising and it was a clear day without a breath of wind. In anticipation however, of the forecast E’ly winds, I raised the main keeping in the two reefs, and started motor sailing.
The wind finally started to fill in from the east around 0630; and I now raised the head sails and mizzen, and stopped the engine. The E’ly wind was not as strong or constant as forecast and I was minded to shake out the two reefs, but settled in the end for just shaking out the second reef.
I managed to keep the boat moving without resorting to using the engine, but it was slow going. It was however, a welcome break for me to be sailing again as I could now leave the tiller and did not have to keep checking the heading every few minutes to see if we were still on course. My hope was that the wind would hold all day and through the night, and freshen as forecast but shortly before midnight the wind died completely and I had to start the engine.
Having slept well my intention was to keep going through the night, and I was able to keep all the sails up by sheeting them in tight and keeping the engine at 1500 rpm, with what little wind there was on the starboard bow.
Thursday, 4 November
By 0130 the wind had freshened again and I stopped the engine and resumed sailing. I sailed through a rain squall at 0312 which lasted an hour, with wind gusts of 30 knots – and I was glad I had kept one reef in the main.
After the squall had passed the wind died away leaving a confused sea, and I resumed motor sailing setting courses which best suited the boat in the prevailing conditions. Then at 0600 I encountered further rain storms with yet more heavy rain and strong winds.
I was finally clear of the rain storms by 0730 and at 0900 the E’ly wind filled in again, and I resumed sailing on the starboard tack, making good a course of about 040˚. By noon however, no distance was to be gained by continuing on so I tacked onto the port tack, shaking out the reef in the main. Although I was now only making good a course of about 180˚ on this tack, it was shortening the distance I had to sail to Darwin.
The wind fell away in the afternoon, and I resorted again to motor sailing, putting the reef back in the main at 1600 as another rain squall approached. This squall passed quickly, after which the wind backed to the NE, enabling me to motor sail directly towards Darwin. Unfortunately, the wind died at 1700 and at 1900 I lowered the main and head sails.
I was feeling very tired and at 2100 I stopped the engine and hove-to under the mizzen sail. I now had just under 100 miles to go to Darwin.
Friday, 5 November
At 0200 I stood by in the cockpit as another rain squall passed, and observed that in strong winds (20 knots) the mizzen sail does keep the boat steady, lying with the apparent wind between 30˚ and 60˚ on the bow.
I resumed passage at 0618. As usual after rain squalls there was little wind and a confused sea, which made motoring slow and heavy going. Fortunately, the sea settled down and it turned into a beautiful day for motoring; and later the wind started to fill in from the south, and was sufficiently strong enough to encourage me to raise the jib as well. With jib, mizzen, and motor, and a favourable current in the Beagle Gulf, I was making 8 knots at times!
Around 1600 a bird landed on the main boom and settled there. At 1800 after the sun had set I saw the loom of the lights of Darwin on the starboard bow. The bird was now on the pulpit, and as it remained there as I lowered the jib, I think it had to be exhausted.
I was expecting the current to become adverse as the tide changed but it remained favourable as I made my way through the Beagle Gulf. I wanted to enter Darwin in daylight, so at 2100 I reduced engine speed. Shortly thereafter, at 2120, Charles Point light became visible bearing 125˚, and at 2300 I altered course to 090˚ to pass along the coast to the entrance to Darwin Harbour. I was contemplating now, where to best to heave-to…
Saturday, 6 November
At 0100 I arrived off the entrance to Darwin Harbour. There was some traffic and a build up of clouds with flashes of lightening in the vicinity. I lowered the mizzen sail and then motored in a NE’ly direction, over onto the eastern side of the harbour entrance, and clear of the designated anchorages on the eastern side of the channel, where I hove to.
I was now surrounded by electrical storms and heavy black rain clouds; and it rained heavily from 0200 to 0300, reducing the visibility to near zero, with strong gusts of wind. As the AIS was not working, I remained in the cockpit with the engine idling throughout, and thinking how ironic it would be if I was run down with so little distance left to go. I was wet and cold despite wearing my heavy weather gear, but probably not as cold as the bird which had since moved onto the cockpit awning, and then onto the main deck.
I started to motor in towards the harbour at 0430 as the sun was rising (my clocks were still on GMT+8 hours), and so as to catch the last of the flood tide. The tidal range in Darwin is large (7 metres plus) and the tidal streams are strong (4 knots plus). It was still raining over parts of the Australian coast, and as the land around Darwin in low lying, I struggled to make out any obvious land marks. I decided therefore, to follow the direction of the main shipping channel into the harbour, but keeping outside and to the east of it, using the red, port side channel buoys for guidance.
I made contact with Darwin Harbour Radio on the vhf, and as I had been advised by email earlier in Singapore, I was directed to the quarantine anchorage in Fannie Bay. The tide started ebbing as I approached the No.6 channel buoy and I was struggling to steer a straight course into the strong, adverse tidal stream; and I had to ‘crab’ my over into Fannie Bay. As I was making my way to the anchorage the bird flew away. I watched as it disappeared in the distance, and hoped it made it safely to wherever it was going.
I anchored at 0836 in position 12˚12.5S; 130˚48.8E in a charted depth of 6 metres. As the height of the tide at the next high water was 7.9 metres I put 30 metres of chain in the water, then set about tidying up the boat.
I had made it safely to where I was going.
