Across Arnhem Land

Cruising Helmsman March 2009 

By Sharon Smallwood

Sharon Smallwood and her husband Julian explore one of Australia's most remote regions.

Perhaps it was the lure of places closed to casual visitors. This certainly aroused my interest. Perhaps because Brilliant II was travelling the "wrong way," shorter passages and sanctuary between them seemed the best solution for a voyage to windward. Perhaps the appeal lay in weaving our own songline into the realm of the Dreaming. Probably a combination of these things saw us plotting a course from west to east across Arnhem Land.My husband Julian hates the word "unsurveyed". Information on this remote part of our continent is hard to come by and even our charts paint an unfinished picture. The popular westbound milk-run route typically stays offshore, thereby avoiding scores of undocumented hazards. Assisted by a healthy dose of caution, we headed into the relatively unknown. 

First stop

Croker Island was our first stop in Arnhem Land and an unplanned one at that. Departing the Cobourg Peninsula we intended to sail down the Bowen Strait, taking anchorage at either Valentia Island or Malay Bay. Gusts of more than 30 knots on the nose caused us to re-evaluate. Suddenly the protection offered by Point David on Croker's southwestern shore seemed a more attractive proposition. With the Aboriginal population supposedly concentrated at Minjilang on the east coast, it surprised me to see buildings and a jetty as we closed the land. Through the binoculars we now also spied rows of small buoys where we had hoped to drop the pick. Could this be an oyster lease? Veering sharply away we sounded out a new spot. Julian, ever the hunter-gatherer, got straight to work with his rods. Thoroughly absorbed with reeling in a sweetlip emperor, it took the sound of an engine to remind us we were not alone. My heart sank as the speedboat approached. I guessed our visitor would ask us to move, a daunting prospect given the near gale and failing light outside. Happily my fears were unfounded, the call merely out of concern for our ground tackle. "We're a pearl farm," the man replied to our enquiries. Such establishments are common throughout northern Australia and Arnhem Land is no exception. Not content with just the one catch, Julian persevered until we had a flowery cod to add to the collection. A seafood dinner sustained all aboard, the ship's cats Pepe and Carlos enjoying sashimi, while we feasted on fillets barbecued in Cajun spices, served with a garden salad. 

Off at dawn

We resumed our journey at dawn, reefed sails and broad tacks increasing the crew's contentment. Islands in this vicinity include New Year, Oxley, Lawson, Grant and McCluer, the latter providing the pick of the anchorages. It's tempting to swim in the turquoise waters off pristine white sand beaches, but growing numbers of protected crocodiles discourage this activity. Game-fishing, a slightly safer sport, can be pursued at New Year Island, reputedly a "hot spot". Going ashore in any of these locations requires a permit because they all fall within the Arnhem Land Aboriginal Reserve, a 97,000 sqkm section of the Territory, returned to its original inhabitants. Back on the mainland the scenery at Malay Bay typifies this stretch of coast. Low-lying dunes supporting little in the way of vegetation beyond patches of scrub, meet an aquamarine sea beneath the intense blue sky. The bay owes its name to the Maccassan traders of Sulawesi who frequented it from about the 18th century onwards. In search of trepang, otherwise known as sea slugs or beche-de-mer, they arrived around November on the first winds of the northhwest monsoon. Harvesting this delicacy took them across to the Gulf of Carpentaria until the southeast trades resumed to blow them home. Relics of these bygone days have been excavated throughout the Northern Territory. Tamarind trees remain a legacy of our Asian neighbours - Maccassan words and songs still pertinent to our indigenous peoples. Here in the lonely parts of our country we remember how far beyond European discovery Australia's history extends. 

North Goulburn Island

A 50nm run saw us punching through short steep seas to reach North Goulburn Island. Little depth and wind-waves without much space between them, combined with the fetch of the Arafura Sea beyond, had us dipping our bows and hanging on. The ship's bell chimed as Brilliant II fell off one crest only to be picked up by another. Having four feet appeared to be no greater aid to stability for our feline passengers. Pepe and Carlos wobbled around below decks searching for somewhere to wedge themselves in. They, like us, found the pilot berth pretty secure. Banging, crashing and dropping into troughs in what Julian renamed the "Arafurious" Sea, made these passages some of the most challenging in our cruising lives so far. Easing sheets for slower progress afforded as much comfort as possible, but even so attempting a visit to the head was comparable to tackling an assault course. We remained in remarkably good spirits throughout, nonetheless happy when Mullet Bay came into view, and virtually ecstatic when the water smoothed out in her lee. 

Cultural significance

Once again it intrigued me to spy a couple of buildings ashore. The traditional owners reside at Warrawi on South Goulburn Island, only frequenting their northern neighbour when ceremonies or rituals dictate. The particular significance this island holds for the Aborigines associated with it caused me to question my own presence here. Although in possession of documents allowing us to go ashore, when it came down to it I was unexpectedly embarrassed by my ignorance. That we could traipse along the idyllic beach completely unaware of what makes this a sacred site did not seem appropriate. Were we through lack of knowledge capable of accidental desecration? Though I imagined not, since consent to our application to visit was freely given, I felt that I would rather be invited than invite myself. Even without authorisation the passing yachtsman can, out of necessity, call into the townships of Arnhem Land to replenish supplies. The extreme isolation of these coastal settlements sees them serviced primarily by aircraft and barge. Rather than stretch what must already be limited resources, I preferred to stock up in advance. More than anything I wished for the ability to speak the Yolngu dialect and thus communicate my concerns and curiosities. We remained on board, content for now just to look on this vast and wonderfully wild land, without impacting it at all.