Author: richwest3

Posted June, 2023
about September 12, 2022

Today’s destination was the well-known and much-loved Middle Percy Island. After our experience yesterday I had some trepidation about this next trip, but this time we were better prepared. We planned to do the passage during an incoming tide, which meant the current would be flowing in a beneficial direction for us and it would match the direction of the wind. For this area of the coast, avoiding wind vs swell conditions and making sure we didn’t waste time and fuel fighting a current would now become our biggest priorities.

Below, a map of our route to the Percy Island Group. While there are two other islands in this group (South Island and North East Island), Middle Island has the best anchorages. The one we were headed to was called West Bay, an easy choice in that looked attractive, was protected from prevailing winds, and was the location of a memento-filled cruisers’ shrine known as the Percy Island Yacht Club.

Arriving at Middle Percy would put us north of the strongest current. In fact our only issue might be, according to the Lucas guide, some swell rolling into the anchorage. It was hard to imagine how this could be as the wind would be coming from the southeast and our bay was well up the island’s west side. But then again the swell in this area is pretty relentless, adept at going around corners and finding every nook and cranny.

We took a look at the swell conditions out at sea and, of course, the wind strength. Both looked promisingly mild, but after the weather surprise yesterday, we didn’t have as much faith in the forecast.

I went outside to enjoy some morning coffee and laid a hard eyeball on the area of rough water outside the anchorage. At the moment it looked encouragingly calm, the breeze light and pleasant. But our anchorage was getting more rolly as the tide was starting to come up.

I went below and was getting ready when Rich said we needed to go, like, now. I ran out to get the anchor up and found the roll had steadily been escalating. It was time to get out of this place; so what a time for the anchor to get turned sideways and wedged in the chain guard, something that can happen if it’s brought up too quickly. Rich came up to the bow and got it unstuck, but now we were entering the area of disturbed water and I still needed to secure the anchor. It wasn’t choppy enough to be dangerous, but it did look potentially splashy. Thankfully, though, I stayed dry and once the anchor was secured I remained at the bow to watch as we motored through the swirling, choppy water.

When we got further north of Hexham Island, conditions became so calm! It seems the forecast was off once again, but this time the winds were lighter than advertised. After yesterday, I wasn’t going to complain. But one thing I was learning about this area was the weather forecasts can be a bit iffy.

We ended up having a lovely 5-hour motor trip to our anchorage at Middle Percy Island, our boat making a sparkling wake through the glassy sea. The air was warm and pleasant, and getting away from Hexham made this feel even better! Below a video:

The first thing I noticed as we approached the Percy Islands was how green they were. The anchorage on South Island looked particularly pretty with a long white beach and green hills, but the inevitably of wrap-around swell would make it intolerably rolly. We continued past and headed up the west side of Middle Island, noticing sand flows showing through otherwise heavy forest. Below, a photo gallery or our trip from Hexham to Middle Percy Island, ending with arriving at West Bay. (Click any photo in the following galleries to enlarge.)

When West Bay came into view I felt a sense of relief. We could see 3 boats in the bay, none of them rolling, and there was plenty of room. Plus it was lovely: blue water surrounded by high green hills with a wide beach stretching across the head of bay. A long line of palm trees ran behind the beach, and tucked in among them was the Robinson Crusoe-style “yacht club,” an A-frame cabin where cruisers could mark their visit by leaving a memento. My reaction: “Now this is what we’re talking about!”

We dropped our anchor in 27 feet of water to give us extra depth for the low tide. The current tidal range was 19 feet, but there was no sense of current affecting us. Just offshore was a small island called Pine Islet, which gave the bay a cozy, protected feeling. I loved this place already, but with all that it took to get here, my enthusiasm was muffled by a world-weary fatigue.

Below, some photos of the anchorage, starting with a panorama taken shortly after we arrived . . .

And a gallery with photos of the anchorage from the camera and the drone at various times of day.

Our first order of business was to have lunch, then we would head ashore. –Cyndi

June 18, 2023

Sorry for the slow-down on the posts lately, particularly since we know a few people are anxious to hear about Indonesia.

Aside from spending three weeks in a city called Tual (mostly due to the “fascinating” new adventure of contracting Covid), we’ve been moving at a pretty intense pace. This hasn’t left us much time for working on the blog.

We’re hoping to slow down a bit now that we’ve reached Raja Ampat, but as always our movements are dictated by weather, the need to re-provision, and the necessity of keeping current with our visa renewals. (And, oh yeah, the availability of internet.)

Rich and I both intend to start doing Indonesia posts, but I’ll also be writing about our time in Australia leading up to Indonesia (and then eventually picking up where I left off previously in the blog).

In the meantime, here’s our thoughts about Indonesia so far. It’s exotic, mysterious, and has so much natural beauty, but it’s also a third world country and some aspects can be frustrating, exasperating, or unpleasantly challenging. We’ve visited three cities so far (Saumlaki, Tual, and Sorong), and each of them has been an endurance trial in their own way.

On the other hand, when we get out cruising in Indonesia’s natural world, we’ve experienced beauty that is nothing short of astonishing. We’ve barely scratched the surface of seeing this country, yet already we’ve been to a few spots that will definitely go in the “most beautiful places we’ve ever seen” list, and perhaps even on the top of that list.

We haven’t been here all that long, but already we have so many experiences to share (and as anyone who reads this blog knows, we share the good, the bad, and the ugly). Rich has already done a couple of posts, but I’d like to get a bit more of Australia done before I start posting about Indonesia. I promise it won’t be long. –Cyndi

June 13, 2023

The Cruising Guide to Indonesia says this about where we’re anchored:

“The (bay we’re in) is much too shallow to enter.”

Basically, impossible.

And when you look at a satellite image, I’d agree…

But this is one of the very few cases we’ve found where the charts (Navionics and Cmaps) are more accurate than the satellite images…

Above is a screenshot of the Navionics chart. C-maps is much the same. Note that if you follow the line into the bay, you’d hit one or two bommies. We had to weave around them a bit. There’s also an overhead wire that, fortunately, was tall enough for us to get under (we didn’t see it until we were passed it). It was a little nerve-racking getting in but so worth it.

It’s impossibly beautiful here! Here’s a 30 second clip from the air.

–Rich

June 7, 2023 about our arrival in April

We spent six days trying to get checked in at Saumlaki and once we did, our first stop was a little gem called Hidden Beach. Here’s a video that shows where it is and what it’s like. It was very special.

Our anchor position was 08° 03.344′ S, 131° 16.197′ E. It wasn’t a great place to anchor but for a few hours, in calm conditions, it was fine, and well worth the effort.

The snorkeling there wasn’t special, but it’s a sweet little beach and the swimming was great, especially after coming from Oz – the land of crocks, sharks and stingers! It felt wonderful to get in the water.

From this spot, we headed about 6 miles WNW and found a great place to spend the night at 07° 59.9667′ S, 131° 11.3029′ E. We couldn’t find a name for the bay.

We’ll write about Saumaki and our check-in experience soon. -Rich

 

Posted June 1, 2023
about September 11, 2022

The morning was calm; then the wind suddenly picked up out of nowhere. It seemed odd, but since we were expecting 15-knot winds for our 35-mile trip from Pearl Bay to Hexham Island, we weren’t concerned. We headed out into the breezy day while friends on another boat opted to stay put. Had we known then what we know now, we would have stayed put with them. Below, a photo looking back at Pearl Bay as we left:

Once we were heading up the coast, the landscape became noticeably dryer, more typical for this part of Queensland. I’d hoped Pearl Bay signaled the beginning of more greenery, but apparently it simply gets more rain than is usual for this area.

Some time later, as we sailed by Townshend Island, the wind strengthened to 19 knots. The good news was we were on a broad reach, the wind comfortably aft of the beam. And with a 2-knot current going with us, we were making great speed. Still, I was wondering what was up with this wind—could Townshend Island be creating some sort of funnel effect? Whatever was going on, I hoped it would die down once we passed the island.

Meanwhile, Rich noticed something alarmingly close on the radar. He looked out and saw a big plume of water. After wondering if it could be an uncharted rock, we were relieved to see it was a breaching whale. As we got closer, the whale turned upside down, stuck its tail up out of the water and started slapping it down repeatedly. This went on for quite a while–every time we thought the whale was done, he’d start up again. I say “he” because this is apparently typical behavior for male whales. Maybe he thought Legacy was a pretty lady whale and wanted to show off. Here’s a link to a post Rich did about the whale’s tail. 

After we passed Townshend Island, I was dismayed when the wind not only didn’t die down; it continued to pick up. It was soon blowing in the low 20s, gusting up to 27 knots. The sea became covered with whitecaps and the wind waves increased to at least a meter, big enough that we started to surf along them as they came up from behind us.

Our saving grace was that we were going downwind, and as long as we didn’t maneuver, the situation would remain stable and controlled. But unless we were willing to just keep going and skip Hexham Island (not a bad idea in retrospect) we would eventually have to turn and jibe the sail as we did so (which means bringing it from one side of the boat to the other while going downwind). Jibing can be a harrowing maneuver in conditions like these, and I didn’t look forward to that ordeal.

Meanwhile, the thought going through my head: This is not safe. Things may have been under control, but I didn’t feel safe being out here in these conditions. We’ve been in many varieties of sea states, some with much bigger waves than these; but while we typically experience discomfort, it’s rare I feel endangered.

(Interestingly as I write this post, we just made a very similar passage and I never felt nervous—merely annoyed when things fell over below during particularly big swells. There was something about the sea state during that Hexham Island passage that felt menacing.)

Hexham came into view, a smallish island with a tall peak. I was hoping the conditions would improve when we got behind the leeward side of the island. They didn’t; they got worse! The wind was still up, the sea rough, and now we encountered a strong current pushing us towards the rocky shore. We had to turn up the throttle in order to fight the current.

At this point I knew the jibe was coming up and was pretty nervous about it, but Rich went over the plan of how we’d work together to get it done. When the time came, it worked out with minimal drama. We were now close to the anchorage and hopeful we’d soon be out of these conditions! As they say in infomercials, though: “But wait, there’s more!”

I could see ahead of us was a big patch of very disturbed water, reminding me of what happens in narrow channels between land masses, but there was no channel here. I asked Rich, “What is That!?” Well, it seemed it was a particularly bad spot of current meeting wind, and we’d have to go through it to get to the anchorage. Rich was preparing to drop the mainsail when the current suddenly picked up and had us barreling along at over 9 ½ knots! Dropping the main now became an urgent matter as we scrambled to get the sail centered and bring it down while going through this crazy current and churning waves.

Once the sail was down and the rough water was behind us, we could turn and head into the anchorage. Unfortunately there was a fishing boat taking refuge very close to our chosen anchoring spot. There was still enough room for us, albeit not as close to shore as we would have liked. Thankfully, while it was still windy, the water in the anchorage was pretty calm.

Below, a photo gallery of our trip and the approach to Hexham Island, including the rough area of water and our instruments showing our SOG (speed over ground) at 9.5 knots in the current. The final photo shows our entry into the anchorage after we got through all that and the fishing boat that we’d be sharing the anchorage with. (Click any photo to enlarge.)

After we got anchored, I took a look at the island. It was attractive with its peaked hill with bushy greenery above the reddish rock cliffs along the shore. The hill sloped down into a low saddle behind the beach then up again into a smaller rounded hill. This hill boasted a trail with a lookout point, one of the reasons I wanted to come here.

Our anchorage was protected on the west side by a low arm with two distinct rock spires, and behind another arm ending in a small headland hill. To the east was a long low point and a view of other islands nearby. Below, a few photos of Hexham Island . .

The overall look of Hexham was interesting, the jagged spire rocks giving it a hostile edge that contrasted with the inviting beach and green hills. Rich hated it on sight, but I think some of that had to do with the rough conditions coming up here.

This is the point in the post where I’d usually have photos of our beach excursion and the hike up to the lookout point, but you won’t be seeing that because we never went ashore. Instead, here’s a photo of that sums up our activities after getting in: hide head under a pillow, lick wounds, and open bottle of wine not caring what time it was.

While the lookout walk would have been nice for taking photos, I have to say being here felt unnerving enough that I didn’t want to go ashore. I think our arrival ordeal left me with an uneasiness that I couldn’t shake–I felt traumatized in a way I haven’t been in a while. And usually when I do experience trauma, it’s because of extended discomfort. This trauma resulted from fear, especially during the final hour of the trip. I don’t think I’ve been so unnerved since we were swept out through a rough pass at the Fakarava atoll in French Polynesia.

I did do a forensic analysis of what happened today. The wind was obviously quite a bit stronger than forecast, not just here but where we’d been in Pearl Bay (we heard later that it had been really windy there all day). But I also remembered Alan Lucas writing something about current against wind making nasty sea conditions. I dug through the book to find it and yep, there it was: the huge tidal changes in this area create very strong currents. We’d now have to take that into account when making our next moves through these islands.

After a suitable amount of wine and TV to soothe our weary souls, we fell asleep early. The bay did become rolly at one point during the night but it wasn’t terrible. Yet it was another thing not to like about this place.

I woke up in the middle of the night and went to take a look outside. The moon was full and bright, beautiful but also the reason for the especially dramatic tidal current. The stars were only visible well away from the moon’s bright glow except for one very bright star. It seemed odd; then I realized the star must be Venus. Sometimes that planet is so bright that Rich and I joke it’s creeping closer to the Earth and all the scientists are keeping our eminent collision a secret.

Tomorrow, we planned to head on to the most popular destination in the Northumberland Island Group: Middle Percy Island in the Percy Isles. The weather was forecast to be much better than today, and the current would be with us if we left in the morning. I was a bit worried about going through that rough patch of water outside the anchorage again, but Rich didn’t think it would be an issue. I hoped he was right, and that tomorrow would be a better day. –Cyndi