Then I scrubbed Tilman's decks, stowed gear, checked trailer lights and headed off. The forecast was for a light seabreeze, ie: north-easter. On the way to my ultimate launch site I passed the local recycling centre and had the idea to check there for Hobie parts, principally a ramp' frame side piece. I had no luck with that, but found an old malibu with the nose snapped off and bought it (them?) for a knockdown price of $40. Another project!
The launch ramp had been busy, but as it was late morning it was presently quiet. So I unloaded Tilman and all her bits and parked up. As if the cool sea breeze, beautiful blue waters and prospect of going sailing were not enough, there was a woman wearing a bikini thing right nearby, holding a jet ski while her man fetched the trailer. Fortunately, he was the world's worst at backing a trailer and I enjoyed the view for was long as it took to rig up. Excuse me, butt I've never had a girlfriend or wife with assets like that, and she didn't seem to mind. Win win!
The day got better ... just as I realised the wind was more E than NE (ie: a beam reach instead of close haul), a mob of dolphins came up to leeward. But these guys were heads-down at work on a school of bait fish. It was still good to see them though, I find them to be a good omen on the water.
Actually, as I passed across the mouth I was beginning to doubt the dolphin-omen thing because the sailing got immediately risky. The ebb flow seemed to be overpowering the wind and the sea got quite bouncy and occasionally little breakers could be seen ahead. Viewed from the bilge of a dinghy any swell looks big though, and I chose to just focus on the sailing and trust that we wouldn't be stuck-shoved out into the Pacific Ocean a few hundred yards off down current.
But I was reminded of the Mirror dinghy's primary assets in the conditions; she is a modest racing dinghy, and has a limited below waterlevel profile. So in short, she benefited more from the light winds than she was penalised by the current. But Winda Woppa beach, to the N, seemed a long way off and although the sailing was fine and the views of the coastal cliffs of Yacaaba and Tomaree head were spectacular, I was feeling quite stressed. Lining up a remarkable tree behind the beach with a distant range of hills, gave me a sense of drift versus headway. We were winning, although it never looked very reassuring from onboard, the ranges said different. Phew! Just keep sailing and hope nothing breaks!
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| Approaching crossing of the mouth, towards Yacaaba head |
There was a brief tense moment nearer to shore as we enter the Yacaaba wind-shadow, but it was brief as a gentle breeze from the other side of the headland found out sails. I started getting smells from the new shore, and they weren't nice; overtones of sewerage with a hint of rotting seaweed. And yet the shore we were making was pristine sand backed by lightly vegetated dunes and the sea beyond. It wasn't completed devoid of humans though, I could begin to make out people walking on the beach and powerboats beached on the sand.
There were some shallow and banks with little breaking waves on them as we approached the shore, but the water was crystal clear. With the centreboard half up and the rudder lock-down released, we easily found a space ashore away from the others. Tilman was hauled a little up the beach and I grabbed some water and a muesli bar and walked across the peninsula to checkout the surf. The view from atop the dunes was magical, aqua blue, sapphire blue, golden white sands, and sienna brown rocks up towards the head. The surf was small as I looked across to the blue-grey offshore islands, the blue sea sparked under a light seabreeze. I kept wondering where all the people were, why we're so few enjoying this magnificence? Dingo tracks, plastic jetsam, high and low emotions. I collected some rubbish and promised to do more of that.
End of Part 1 of 2.
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