When I was given a clean bill of health in November, we called the airlines and were in Australia less than a week later. December to April/May is Australia's cyclone season, so we sat out the summer while I worked on getting my strength back up and letting my body heal - the surgeons broke two ribs during the surgery and healing was slow. I was told that it was unreasonable for me to expect to be completely healed in less than 6 months! 

Cancer survivors are a superstitious bunch. I've said very little about this year out of our lives for fear of bringing on bad luck. As it turns out, the five-year survival rate for this type of cancer is 5% or less. It is now eight years since my surgery, and so I think it's time to stop avoiding any mention of it. The last two paragraphs of this log talks a bit about my physical condition, the reason for this little explanation. 

July 31, 1997 
East Coast Australia to Darwin.
Our second trip up the East coast of Australia was no better than our first - Peter’s thyroid surgery delayed us just about a month - and we were never able to make up the time - the weather just didn’t cooperate. We were holed up in Townsville, Cairns, Port Douglas, Lizard Island, Thursday Island, and Gove, waiting for high wind warnings to abate. Although Elsbeth and Jean-Paul are non-sailors, their presence only slowed us down by a few days - most of the weather we waited out was too stinky for us to sail in (we were willing to sail in 20 knots of wind, even 25 knots if we knew it would abate - but 30 knots and up was just not any fun at all - there’s no sea room in coastal sailing - you can’t pick a more comfortable point of sail and run off), so we waited . . .and waited . . .and waited. It’s surprising that we all remained relatively good-natured throughout, because some days we all had cabin fever and there was just no place to go. 

The worst was at Lizard Island - the weather was bad, the anchorage was rolly, and we were running out of fresh provisions with no place to get any until Thursday Island - more than a week away. Actually, I’m surprised that they stuck with us the entire three months - they got seasick or stayed in their bunk every time we weighed anchor. Day sails weren’t too bad on them, but overnights made Jean-Paul terribly sick, and Elsbeth was just full of Dramamine. They never got over their seasickness - that surprised me.

Some of the highlights of sailing the Australian East and North Coast. We knew that the East coast wasn’t much of a much, but we had hoped for better cruising once we got north of Cairns. To some extent it was better, but not a lot. What nobody tells us is that anchorages off the coral reefs aren’t risky or terribly uncomfortable, and the water is clearer and nicer than anchoring off the mainland. We were in such a hurry that we didn’t do much snorkeling. When the weather was good we were trying to make time, and when the weather wasn’t good, neither was the swimming. And once in tropical waters we had to watch out for salt water crocodiles, though the alarmists exaggerated the danger. 

The crocs are a problem in the “wet” - the summer months - which is when they are mating and brooding their nests. It’s also when they are most active and therefore hungriest. During the winter months they are much more sluggish, and so don’t really pose a threat. We have dived on plenty of reefs, most more accessible than anything on the Great Barrier Reef, and a lot of it as good or better than what we’ve seen here. It is huge and ecologically significant, and Australia would be a whole lot different, I think, if it wasn’t there. But the reefs are too far from the mainland to be very accessible - this is good for the reefs, but not so great for tourists, including we who visit in our own sailboat. It must be a magical place to visit in more benign weather, such as late Spring or very early Fall, though the risk of cyclones keeps most boats away, but in the winter, when most boats are going up the reef, sometimes you have to wait for a month to have three good days. 

We worked hard to get up to Lizard Island where the weather still stunk. Rain and high wind warnings, colder than it should have been, we just couldn’t leave there. Lizard Island is pretty nice - it’s a national park, and there’s no fishing, spear fishing, or even beachcombing, but there’s a research station there that provides facilities for scientists to perform research on tropical reef biology, and they provide a tour to the public once a week - very interesting. With better weather it would probably have been a more enjoyable stay, but with these accelerated trade winds the anchorage was rolly and uncomfortable and we were ready to leave after two or three days, but couldn’t because the weather stunk. After a week we finally got out and day sailed up the coast. A big disappointment was that we weren’t catching any fish! And once we had left Port Douglas there wasn’t any place for us to buy any fresh provisions until we reached Thursday Island more than a week away. We weren’t going to starve - we had plenty of canned and dried food, and I could make bread, but we had sacrificed variety because with an extra two people we didn’t have all the room we would usually devote to provisions.

We finally got over the top to Thursday Island on July 8, passing a big black, mysterious-looking submarine - no identification marks on it - on our way up. Peter stood on deck yelling at it to get out of his ocean. One can plan the tides and current right and go through the Albany Passage over the top and into T.I., or one can go around all the little islands. The current can rip through the Passage at over 7 knots, so you get the times right or you don’t get through. We figured that we would rather be careful and go through the passage, and it was the right decision - the Albany Passage was a really pretty trip. Anywhere else in the world and there would be two or three fancy resorts along this passage but up here, there is nothing. Our charts were a bit out of date and we had a bit of confusion getting into the anchorage at Thursday Island, but once settled we were finally able to relax a bit. Again, the weather was pretty stinky - high wind warnings, rain (which is very unusual at this time of year - the “dry”). Thursday Island was quite interesting and we enjoyed our visit, although it’s such a small place that we had exhausted its potential within a day or two. However, with unlimited water and a coin-operated washing machine ($4.00 a load, which is twice the usual rate) we were able to get our laundry done, which was very important - we were all beginning to smell, and the boat had taken on the odor of the Patriot’s locker room. 

We were really anxious to be on our way but there was nothing we could do to rush the weather, so we sat. It became obvious to us that we were not going to be able to leave Australia before our visas expired, and so we applied for another extension while in Thursday Island. Because we had “used up” our tourist visa extensions, we had to apply for an extension for medical reasons. They didn’t make it very difficult - I think they would have okayed us for something as small as a hangnail - but they have to follow the regulations. Another day the fellows from Customs came to the ‘Melon to pay a social call - that was great, we got to hear lots of news and gossip. They showed us pictures of the small coastal freighter that they intercepted trying to smuggle 139 Chinese into the country. The ship was probably run by opportunists who managed to buy a derelict ship but didn’t have a lot of experience running a ship - the pictures of the bridge showed it to be shockingly jury-rigged and inadequate for an ocean voyage. And so the ship ran aground on a reef on its approach to Australia. The customs officers said that they could smell the unwashed bodies long before they reached the ship - a powerful tip-off that things weren’t as they appeared. These Chinese were living, for more than two months, under the most abominable conditions - just packed into the hold. Amazing what people will do to get out of a communist country.

The weather finally eased up and so on Saturday, July 12 off we went, headed for the Gove Peninsula on the other side of the Gulf of Carpenteria. At 325 miles, we had to sail non-stop. My birthday fell on the second day out, but when I prepared a cheese omelet for my birthday breakfast, Jean-Paul turned green and headed for his bunk. He didn’t eat or get out except to go to the head until we reached Gove late in the day on Monday, the 14th. The Gulf of Carpentaria is a big, shallow gulf with little to recommend it - it’s murky and choppy and with nothing to see along its shores and no way we can go swimming because it’s full of salt water crocodiles and sea snakes. So one just sails across it as fast as possible. 

A bit of background here. The top end of Australia is mostly aboriginal reserves -there are huge chunks of land where white men cannot go without a permit from the aboriginal council. All the land around the Gove peninsula is like that. It’s a bit like West Berlin - a city completely surrounded by a foreign country. To drive to Gove from Queensland requires obtaining permits, and you can’t camp on land getting up there. The Gove Peninsula is leased from the aboriginals by NABALCO, a mining consortium, to mine bauxite and refine it into alumina, which then goes to smelters in Australia and other countries to make aluminum. It’s a huge operation - the mine has been going on for 25 years, and they figure they have another 35 to 40 years of bauxite here. Part of the lease agreement with the aborigines requires that they return the land to its original condition, so although it is a strip mine, only the section that is currently being exploited looks raw. Because there is a lot of iron mixed in with the bauxite, the land is red. Everything has a fine coating of red dust over it. Because there is absolutely nothing around for hundreds of miles, the mine built a company town, Nhulunbuy, which must be many things to many people. The Gove Yacht Club is very nice and extremely friendly. They welcome visiting yachts, and no wonder - it’s “fresh meat” as far as outside stimulation is concerned. Good thing, because we were weathered in here for over a week.

The Hole in the Wall is a narrow pass between two of the Wessell Islands - a pass that’s about 100 yards wide through which the tide rips at up to 12 knots. One wants to go through at slack tide - to try to go through against the current is impossible, and to go through with a full running tide seems a bit suicidal to me. Anyway, we caught it just about right - the tide had just turned, was running with us, but not much faster than about 2 knots. Again, a really pretty pass, so it was worth the extra effort of getting there at the right time. And it cut about 100 miles off the trip. Once through the Hole in the Wall, the weather was so great that we decided to keep going until we found a really good place to anchor. We sailed for two days, anchoring Saturday evening, the 26th, in Trepang Bay on the Cobourg Peninsula - nobody got sick, it was the best passage we had the whole three months.

We were now just two days from Darwin, so Sunday morning we set sail again - we still had one more nasty current cut to get through, so we went to Cape Hotham, anchoring about 10:00 that night - there was no wind, but the currents made the anchorage infernally rolly, so we got very little rest until it was time to leave at 4 am Monday morning. Off we went, expecting to be in Darwin by noon - well, virtually no wind again, and it seemed like an adverse current the whole way, though we knew we had a favorable current for the first three hours, at least. Most frustrating, and we got into Darwin just in time to make the 5 pm cycle through the lock into Cullen Bay Marina. But we’re here!

So - less than great weather; either holing up somewhere to wait out bad weather, or rushing to make up lost time; a constant battle to provision; and three months with four people on a boat that has comfortably sustained just the two of us for 11 years. This trip was a disappointment. We missed the Darwin-Ambon race, and although with 102 boats in the race I’m not so sorry to be left out, the delays mean that we had not met any boats with which we might cruise when we get to Southeast Asia. I had hoped to get at least one other boat to sail with us to Kalimantan to hire a canoe and guide to see the national park and the orangutans, with buddy boats to guard our left boats. We might still be lucky, although “bonding” time was this trip up the Australian coast and the several weeks of getting ready in Darwin.

On the good side. We weren’t sure just how fit I would be - the tumor, surgery, and radiation treatments damaged and/or destroyed some nerves, so I’ve permanently lost some muscle. The question was just how extensive was the nerve loss and associated muscle atrophy. The good news is that I can sail, do almost everything that I could before this whole thing happened, though sometimes not as well. The scarring from the radiation therapy has pulled my esophagus into an S-curve, so during strenuous exercise or when I’m stressed I wheeze terribly - I think that perhaps muscles are spasming and pulling the windpipe even more out of shape. It sounds alarming, though it really doesn’t bother me - just people around me. 

All things considered, though, I feel better now that we have gotten back into the tropics. The last month we were in Brisbane was cold and rainy, and I hurt terribly. But warmth, judicious use of a hot water bottle, and escape from the deep low pressure systems in the middle latitudes brought the pain level down to annoying, which is ‘way better than debilitating. I could feel the improvement with each degree North Latitude that we achieved.

There are still some residual problems - my sleep patterns are all screwed up, but with a little discipline we are coping with that. I think I discontinued taking anti-depressants too soon, and so fatigue and tension were an unnecessary problem the first month we were out. It doesn’t look as if the sympathetic nerve damage is going to improve, so I only perspire on the left side of my body from the waist up - this means that I have to be extremely vigilant against heat prostration - but my body usually makes it eminently clear when I need to shed heat - the left side of my face gets red and sweat just pours down, while the right side stays cool and dry. I just soak my whole head (“go soak your head” takes on a whole new meaning for me), and the water evaporating from my hair cools me down very effectively. I look a bit strange, but I really don’t care about appearances. So this trip up the coast has reassured me that I am ready to do some real cruising again. Now that we’re here in Darwin Peter and I have to see doctors for routine check-ups before heading out. We don’t expect any problems, but want to cover all bases before heading for Asia.

As usual, there are repairs to be made in Darwin before we leave. Our Wind Bugger snapped its shaft. I’ve convinced Peter that it doesn’t owe us anything and we should invest in a better wind generator - it’s eleven years since we bought the Wind Bugger and there are better devices on the market, so we’ve ordered one, which will have to be installed before we leave Australia. There seems to be a leak in the engine’s transmission, which will have to be addressed. 

And then a few other minor little things. The forward hatch is leaking - the caulking seems to have deteriorated - not a big deal, but a messy deal - we have to take the headliner down, drill out the rivets holding the frame, unscrew the hatch, clean it and then rebed it. We were unable to get double-braided nylon anchor rode to finish making the Jordan series drogue anywhere in Australia, so we had to order line from the States. We discovered lots of salt water in our bilge a few times, and it turned out to be our salt water foot pump - a cheap Taiwanese imitation of a Whale pump. But this type of leak was easily fixed with a genuine Whale pump, and not a drama. This happened as we were going up the coast past any civilization, so we had to conserve water. And there we were with no way of doing dishes with salt water for a few days - it wasn’t dreadful, but with four people it was a bit tiresome.

It will be good to have a few weeks to sort ourselves out before leaving for Southeast Asia, but quite frankly, I am anxious to leave Australia. The people have been very good to us, but we’re anxious to get going again.

Even though we’ve missed the bulk of boats heading for Indonesia, we’ve met up with two or three who will be leaving about the same time we will, one of which we really like and hope we can travel in company with them. It’s a power boat called NED KELLY, but not like anything you or I have ever seen as a cruising boat. Looks like a prawn trawler (the owner used to be a fisherman running a trawler) that he built specifically to cross the Indian Ocean. It’s a trip.
 

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