Author: richwest3

April 27, 2023

When we left Los Angeles eleven years ago, we were told we’d need a boat stamp, but it fell through the too-many-things-to-do cracks. We never needed it and no one ever asked for it, until Indonesia where it’s getting quite a workout.

Every official, of whom there have been many, has asked for every piece of paperwork, which seems like thousands, to be stamped. I’m really glad we did this before we left Australia.

The design doesn’t seem to matter. Here’s ours…

I don’t really know what’s supposed to be on it, but this has worked without question.

-Rich

Posted April 25, 2023
about September 2, 2022 – September 10, 2022

Waiting for the next round of cruiseable weather, we ended up spending eight days at the Keppel Bay Marina and were perfectly happy to do so. Below, some of the things we most enjoyed about this marina . . .

1. Rosslyn Bay Fishermans Market

Were we ever happy to find this! The short walk took us right past one of the hills of Double Heads, interesting for the striking columnar fan-like patterns embedded in the rock cliffs.

Available inside the market were bags of cooked prawns, chilled and ready to peel and eat along with jars of sauce for dipping. There were also cold platters featuring prawns, Moreton Bay bugs and oysters, plus all sorts of fresh and frozen seafood. Since the only other market was in a petrol station that sold only a few food items, having a quality seafood market nearby was a godsend.

Below, some photos of the market and the walk there (click any photo to enlarge in the galleries that follow).

2. The Local Birds

Like Gladstone, this marina had plenty of birds, especially around the restaurant. In our opinion there can’t be too many birds, but the restaurant may not share this opinion.

Below, some photos of our favorites, including the blue-eyed honeyeater, seeker of coffee drinks; a friendly butcher bird who would join us at our table; more gulls than we were used to seeing; and welcome swallows, a good name for these highly appreciated birds who dart about catching unwelcome insects.

3. The Waterline Restaurant

During our time in the marina we enjoyed several meals here. The food, featuring Asian dishes, was terrific every day, but our favorite meals were during the five days a week they served sushi rolls. While all our meals were enjoyable, a few in particular stand out in my memory:

I’ve already mentioned the wonderful meal we had after arriving, but our second night here we went for dinner and tried the eye fillet steak. It was so good, Rich stood up and gave a standing ovation to the chefs as we could see right into the kitchen from our table. (This turned out to be fortuitous as they managed to squeeze us in for breakfast the next morning, fully-booked as it was Father’s day—maybe our display of appreciation was a factor in our favor.)

My favorite meal happened after we took a hike up one of the hills of Double Heads. It had been a good hike, with enough exertion to be considered exercise but not so much that we were wiped out. Our climbing efforts had been rewarded with beautiful views from the lookouts and the hilltop.

Now, heading back to our boat after lunchtime, we noticed the restaurant was still open. Just sitting down for a spontaneous late lunch was too much to resist. We ordered a tempura prawn roll, prawn dumplings with ponzu sauce and chili oil, spring rolls, and this corn ball fritter dish that we never would have tried had our friends not raved about it, and it was delicious. Then, in the spirit of decadence, we ordered a bottle of Shiraz to accompany our lunch.

Having our feast on this quiet afternoon, I don’t think I could have been any happier. Sometimes spontaneous splurges have that extra something because they have no expectations to live up to. I can’t say this was an inexpensive lunch, but I will say it was worth every cent. Afterward, inspired to extend our happy-day vibe, we headed back to the boat with another bottle of red wine and watched one of our favorite movies, La La Land. What a great day.

Our final memorable meal was meeting up with our friends Jim and Joan for a farewell dinner as we all planned to head north the next day. Rich and I split the salmon filet with miso glaze and the steak, both incredible, and a bottle of that wonderful Shiraz. Below, photos of that dinner including the corn fritter appetizer thingy. What a nice way to top off our stay.

4. Beautiful Sunsets.

Having an easterly view from the marina didn’t stop the evenings and sunsets from being incredibly lovely, often golden before the pastel pinks and oranges tinged the sky around us. Below, a few photos from that time of day . . .

5. Hiking the Double Head Track (aka the Fan Rock Track or the Rosslyn Bay Track)

Going by several names and some conflicting information on Google Maps, it was a little hard to figure out if this was one track or two, and where it actually started. Once we found the entrance, I was glad to see this walk went to both lookouts I wanted to see. Rich asked me if it would be difficult, and I said we’d just have to find out for ourselves as online opinions varied. According to the information sign at the trail entrance, the walk actually wasn’t all that long.

The hike turned out to be a zig-zag trail going up through green bush vegetation. There were stair steps here and there, but overall this was not a steep trail. Our first stop exited through the trees to the top of a grassy headland where we had a view of the long and very wide Kemp Beach, its golden sand stretching down the coast to the south, with line after line of small waves which started very far out from shore.

We then walked to the Fan Rock Lookout, a platform overlooking a deep chasm going to the ocean below. Across the chasm were the fan-like rock columns created by the lava that once flowed through this volcanic plug, the core of an old volcano. It was a pretty amazing display of nature’s artistry.

Once back on the path we resumed our zig-zag course and managed to reach the top surprisingly quickly. Here, we were surrounded by tussock grasses in various shades of gold and what is called “stunted scrub”, but I’d prefer to call “attractive bushes” as they didn’t seem stunted at all. Some of these bushes had long stalks topped with flowers, really very striking. Above us, an osprey floated on the wind, hovering right over us. The scene actually felt quite magical.

Just a short walk away was the Rosslyn Bay Lookout, where we were treated to a view of the beach coastline stretching to the north and a birds-eye view of the marina below us. In the distance we could see some of the houses near the town of Yeppoon.

We were both feeling rather enchanted by this place and reluctantly headed back down the trail. I couldn’t believe we got to the bottom in probably less than 10 minutes. Below, a few photos from our hike . . .

6. Yeppoon

OK, this was not actually a favorite thing, but it was an interesting excursion. Yeppoon is a large town a few miles north of our marina. As it has a sizeable grocery store, this is where visiting yachties go to re-provision for their trips north or south. The marina supplies a complimentary car for 2 hours so people can do that easily. Our turn came to use the car and we headed to the town, not sure what to expect.

Driving up along the coast we started seeing the rather large and interesting assortment of homes across the street from the beach. The area was intriguing—many of the homes were sizeable, but the area lacked that well-tended look that neighborhoods with “associations” tend to have, even looking a bit scruffy. And I think this is exactly how the residents like it.

Across the street was an attractive parkway, strewn with palm trees, that ran along the bushy (not well-tended) area behind the beach. We stopped to look at an interesting sculpture featuring crabs being, well, crabs. Artwork like this is a sign that the area isn’t entirely under the radar, that it’s important to the community and the city.

Next we headed downtown to go grocery shopping and maybe find a place to grab lunch. This is where things went downhill–the town was not particularly nice, the grocery store had a small, busy parking lot and was inside a decidedly unattractive mall, and traffic did not flow smoothly here. By the time we finished our shopping trip, all we wanted to do was to get away from Yeppoon and back to the marina. So I guess I could say our favorite thing about Yeppoon was leaving it.

I will add here that our marina neighborhood had a few things I haven’t mentioned, such as the Rosslyn Bay Resort, Beaches restaurant, the Capricorn Cruising Yacht Club with a pub, and a ferry dock. Aside from looking inside the yacht club, we never checked out any of these places, happy with our little world in the marina. That said, when they day came to leave and head north, we were glad to get out again.

On a final note: One of the the distinctive bird songs of Australia is that of the Butcher bird. Below is a video of a serenade by one of the restaurant regulars. –Cyndi

April 20, 2023

Eclipse day. The day we’ve been anticipating since our friend Bob told us it was coming. We’ll tell you all about it, but spoiler alert… It didn’t go exactly as we’d hoped it would.

First hurdle: how do you look at an eclipse without solar filters or eclipse glasses? We could have made a pinhole projector out of a cereal box, but wait, we didn’t have one, and it’s kind of lame anyway. Instead, we took a bic lighter to a pair of scuba masks and coated the lenses with a thick film of carbon. That worked great.

It was also a two-for-one deal because one mask was pretty new, and although I’d washed it about a dozen times with various cleaners, I still couldn’t keep it from fogging up. The lighter trick is a time-honored method among scuba divers to finally get all the silicone residue off of the lens. It’s the silicone that causes the fogging.

We’d planned to sail about a hundred miles to get directly in the path of the total eclipse. We abandoned that plan when all the weather models called for heavy cloud cover during the eclipse. Forecasts called for only partial cloud cover at a nearby island, where we’d still be able to see almost the total eclipse.

While it was only partially cloudy, as soon as the eclipse began, they thickened and moved directly between us and the sun.

We did manage to get a few shots when the clouds thinned enough to give us a peak.

We never saw the sun when it was at its point of greatest eclipse. Oh well.

Now, while we had been sitting at anchor watching this event, the wind came up a bit and it got pretty rolly. We pulled up the anchor and headed to a nearby town called Debut.  It was not an idyllic ride.

We had squalls hanging out in the distance, all day long. Once the moon blocked the sun, they seemed to really spring to life. We ended up in a major squall with rain so intense that we couldn’t keep our eyes open—or see anything even if we did.

We had two scuba masks sitting within arm’s reach that could have stopped the pelting rain from stinging our eyes, but they were rendered useless due to the earlier addition of carbon to the lenses.

To make matters worse, we found there were about a thousand buoys on our route to town. Above is what a few of them look like on a much nicer day. Now imagine poor visibility and hundreds of these strings. They are probably for some kind of aquaculture, perhaps seaweed farming.

Cyndi had to head up to the bow to try to guide us through the maze of floats. She found a path through them and we made it to town without any disasters. (She’s my hero!)

Now I’ll explain the title of this post. We have a friend named Frank on a boat called Another Adventure. We were sitting in his cockpit while in New Caledonia, talking about future plans. Frank was leaning towards hanging up his cruising hat as he’d been at it for quite a while.

We suggested that perhaps he should go on to Australia. Thinking I was being clever and playing on the name of his boat, I said  “It’ll be another adventure!” His response, sounding like a tired and hungry six year old was “I don’t want another adventure!” Cyndi and I have been using this phrase with each other ever since.

Today, when Cyndi came back to the cockpit from the bow, soaking wet, we both looked at each other and said in our whiniest six year-old voices: “I don’t want another adventure!”

-Rich

 

April 18, 2023

As I write this, we’re anchored off Yamdena Island in Maluku, Indonesia, preparing to head out this evening for an overnight trip north to the Kei Islands.

It’s been a busy time since we arrived. Checking into Saumlaki was made difficult by the strong westerly winds that accompanied the birth of Cyclone Ilsa. I won’t go into the whole saga now, but even in the best of conditions Saumlaki wouldn’t be the easiest place to check in (although I’m not sure other places are any easier). The windy, rainy conditions of our first few days took this to a new level of “not easy.” But after a nearly a week, we finally finished the process.

What’s interesting is that in spite of the difficulties in Saumlaki, we found ourselves falling in love with the tropics again. Being anchored out in the trade-wind breezes, the heat of the sun offset by clouds and rain showers, has re-balanced the misery-to-reward ratio of cruising in this climate.

And even though we’re not yet in any of the “big gun” destinations in Indonesia (yachties come to Yamdena to clear into the country, not really to see this island or the town of Saumlaki), we’ve already had some very nice rewards, including riding across the island on the back of motorbikes to a wonderful restaurant, being brave and trying a new food at another eatery and having it be one of the best things we’ve ever tasted, and then on our way out of Saumlaki, managing to figure out how to anchor off of, and make our way to, an incredibly beautiful hidden beach. Here in this dream world we had our first real swim in months.

After our Hidden Beach outing, we found a good anchorage on the south side of Yamdena. The sunset was spectacular, the air had that gorgeous feeling of a tropical evening, the night sky was full of stars and constellations I haven’t seen in a long time, while the Milky Way stretched overhead. The only sounds were an occasional splash of water and the cooing of a night bird from the thick vegetation on the shore. Yep, this is what we came for.

Now, we’re making our way up the west side of Yamdena Island, figuring out more anchorages because, as I soon discovered, our guidebook only covers mainstream anchorages, not ones needed while en route to those places. During our second week in Indonesia we’ve stayed in five uncharted anchorages! And more of these lay ahead before we get to the city of Tual, our next mainstream destination on the island of Kai Kecil.

So, we’ve barely begun, and we’re still facing the great unknown; but we’ve started down the road. Rich is already working on the next post, planning to share our experience at Hidden Beach. We’ll both organize a detailed post about Saumlaki (and the extreme difficulties of checking in there). Then, I am going to pick up where I left off in Australia (Rosslyn Bay Marina) and write about the journey, sometimes a bumpy road, that brought us from there to here. –Cyndi

Below, photos of Saumlaki, the Harapan Indah Hotel (headquarters for meeting up with some of the officials when checking in), the fabulous dish we tried–ayam woku (chicken woku), Rich riding on the motorbike with Mr. Bobby, Koki (the wonderful restaurant we rode to), and Hidden Beach. (Click any photo to enlarge.)

April 16, 2023

Today, almost two weeks after setting sail from Darwin for Indonesia, I feel like I’m waking up from some kind of strange, ambulatory coma. It’s just now that I see the state I’ve been in for the past several months. I felt like it was possible I was dying: having reached 65 years old, my body had enough and was ready to shut down.

For me, our entire time in Australia was difficult, with a very low reward to misery ratio. Back in October while still in Queensland, I had a severe attack of vertigo that might only now be subsiding. This made every movement difficult for me. Then there was the heat, made worse by the fatal nature of swimming anywhere in Oz, with deadly jellyfish, sharks and salt water crocs constantly looking for the other white meat. Then we got to Darwin.

Darwin was a different level of heat. We spent almost all day, every day, huddled inside Legacy with the air conditioner running full blast. I didn’t mind not getting out so much as there really wasn’t much I liked about the town or the marina. Yeah, there was some good food here and there, but it was hit and miss. It was too hot to get any exercise. Walking was out so rental cars and Uber were in. I think I can see now that this extreme inactivity brought on by both the heat and my lack of enthusiasm for the town really took a toll on me.

Just today, I recalled the difficulty I had when I was a kid on the occasions when I’d laze around in bed very late on a Saturday morning – until Johnny Quest came on TV. I’d feel depleted for the entire weekend as a result. My body just doesn’t seem to do well with inactivity. (It doesn’t really like exercise either, at least not for exercise’s sake alone, but moderate, entertaining activity is what keeps my gears turning.) Life in Darwin was extreme inactivity.

I think what added to my poor relationship with Darwin was not all its fault. We arrived around Christmas during their wet season. Shops and restaurants close for up to two months. The marina was totally dead. There’d be no cruising community here. It reminded us of Covid-19 lock-downs. There was nobody on the docks and none of the restaurants or shops around the marina were open for business. More cause for inactivity.

But now there are signs that I’m waking up from my own personal zombie apocalypse. Today, as we got ready for  a 50-mile sail, I found myself happily attacking chores that I’d been ignoring. I cleaned up the chart table. I dug out the bin with the spare plumbing fittings to get a new hose nozzle out. I tended to some pending tasks on the computer, and now I am feeling inspired enough to write these words. Noticing this activity helped me see the declining daze I’ve been in for the past months.

 

There are other signs I’m coming back to life. Sitting in the cockpit a few minutes ago I noticed the amazing neon green color in the waves made by the reflecting sun through my polarized glasses. It’s silly but I kind of fell in love with that color and it pleased me so much it almost tickled.

Before, I forced myself do only what was absolutely essential. Now I’m taking on tasks without giving it much thought. I even filed our taxes yesterday—surely a sign of recovery!

We’ve always known that in cruising, as in “normal” life, there are up periods and down periods. We’ve had some moderately low lows but they have always been short-lived. This time, my low stretched on so long that I often asked myself if perhaps I was done with cruising. Nope. I can tell you that for sure after today. I’m glad I stuck it out.

I asked Cyndi to read this and she said she would in about twenty minutes as we were about to sail into a big squall. Sure enough, it rained buckets and the wind gusted to 27 knots. Even with the stinging-hard rain, Cyndi and I played in the cockpit like children frolicking in sprinklers on a warm summer day. I think I’m back.

-Rich