Posted July 31, 2022, about September 13, 2023
We had one final stop in the Northumberland region: an island group known as the Guardfish Cluster, specifically a place called Curlew Island. Aside from looking like a worthwhile stop, Curlew also happened to be en route to the mainland, our upcoming destination.
Below, a map of our approximate 30-mile route to Curlew and the following day’s route to Mackay.
As we motored out of our Middle Percy anchorage we spotted a large sea turtle, reminding me once again that we were in the tropics, surprisingly easy to forget amid all this Australian-bush terrain, not a tropical rainforest in sight. A recurring theme for me in Queensland was spotting a turtle or some coral and experiencing a brief feeling of confusion—what are those doing here? Oh that’s right, we’re in the tropics.
We settled into the day’s sail on a broad reach, riding the incoming current as we headed west. It was a beautiful day, warm with a breeze. It reminded me of certain days back home in Los Angeles, early in the summer when it felt particularly good to sit in the warmth of the morning sun. Today I was inspired to call this getting “sundorphins.” Rich and I aren’t generally sunbathers, but in this instance we both situated ourselves to soak it in.
Rich suddenly stood up after noticing something on our radar, something that had snuck up on us. It turned out to be a group of humpback whales! They were breaching, fin slapping, spy hopping and being very playful in general. We were enthralled and kept thinking they’d dive and disappear any minute; so we didn’t want to miss anything by going below to retrieve cameras. But the whales continued their antics the entire time we were passing by, eventually fading out of sight behind us. When the show was done, Rich’s face hurt from smiling so much. In the past 24 hours we’d enjoyed a beautiful anchorage, met nice people, and watched whales frolicking—a nice way to re-balance our E/A (agony/ecstasy) quotient after our previous difficulties.
Later that afternoon we arrived at the Guardfish cluster, passing a steep-sided island with a flat top and very little vegetation. We soon reached Curlew Island and as we motored up its east side, I counted 20 islands, all scattered about in the sparkling sea.
We turned west to go over the north side of Curlew, passing a broad headland before going down into a wide bay.
At first sight, the anchorage looked appealing with its long beach and a distinctive rock peak that towered over the scene. A sailing yacht was anchored by the headland on the far side of the bay. What was he doing way over there? We soon found out as we motored into the bay and realized wraparound swell was making its way in, the east headland not as protective as we’d hoped. Dismayed, I figured this might be one of those “lively” bays (as Alan Lucas would call it).
We decided to motor to the far end of the bay as the other boat appeared to be sitting calmly, unaffected by swell. As I’d hoped, the further along we got, the more the swell died down. Rich got Legacy in as close to the beach as he could, but these days because of the huge tidal range, we were anchoring at a minimum depth of 26 feet and couldn’t tuck in very well. In this case, the swell thankfully died off by the time we got anchored.
I lingered outside to take in the view of this unusual-looking place. My first impression was its attractiveness would definitely rest in the eye of the beholder. I could see why some would find this place worthwhile, and I wouldn’t argue that it is unique. The most striking feature was the volcanic peak, its top sheared off at an angle. Other than that, the hills on this land were low. A tan beach lined the shore, backed by a thick band of green bush. Overall the island had scrubby vegetation with areas that were quite dry, much like the the islands that surrounded it (Rich would later dub them “the death islands”).
Below, some photos of the bay as day progressed into evening, capped off by a beautiful sunset (click any photo to enlarge).
The feeling here was a lonely one, I think created by the width and openness of this bay and the dry vegetation. Rich didn’t like it at all, and maybe I was affected by his opinion because I started to get a weird and vaguely menaced feeling. Sometimes in a new place, I’ll sit out in the cockpit and try to get a feeling from the land. I did that here, and I picked up something strange, a feeling like the island demanded respect. I sent out thoughts that we would respect it, then I got this feeling I should stop trying to connect any further. I don’t think I’ve ever reacted this way to a place. It probably goes without saying that neither one of us wanted to go ashore.
Looking at the island again later that evening, I felt a darker energy, a sense of something almost demonic. Nervous, I headed below. The next morning I chided myself that I’d been silly, the feeling must have been a reflection of my mood at the time. Still, Rich and I both felt uneasy here. In spite of conditions looking better the following day, we decided it was best to leave this area and head for the city of Mackay. –Cyndi
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