Captain Jack's voyages on the Banyandah

SATURDAY: Going cruising again is not quite like riding a bike. Our sedentary winter took its toil and finding our cat-like balance and energy reserves are taking time. Nevertheless, on day three, with winds still forward of our beam we sailed past the Stanley Nut, its sheer basalt sides gleaming gold in the low morning light. Then when passing the last slip of land, naughty green seas slopped aboard. Fearing another wetting, a moan escaped our lips, and then sucking in a sharp breath, Jack shucked his dry jumper and quickly braved the foredeck to double reef the mainsail. We love it when Banyandah instantly rewards us by sailing upright, ploughing even faster through seas that shone Caribbean blue when the patchy clouds were whisked away. In fact the sunshine grew so bright; crow’s feet wrinkled our faces while the sun’s intensity burnt noses still tender from its last blast.

Searching the blue ahead for our destination we saw only seabirds marauding in clouds that formed then stretched thin, searching like us. Boredom set in. The ship’s log has not been working since we left the Tamar River although we’d cleaned it before leaving. Must be fouled by a bit of winter weed. Jude volunteers jumping in when we anchor, then a hand absently switches it on again, and we laugh when it’s found working again. Maybe our hard sailing is washing off the slime. But we’re hating our new, incorrectly set, headsail that’s shaking the whole boat. So again Jack throws off his dry gear and gingerly goes forward to barber-haul down the sail’s sheet to reduce its twist.

Aah! The shaking stops! And another knot is added to our speed. Banyandah’s bottom must have had all her winter weed washed away for she is ploughing through the seas like a workhorse heading for the stables.

An easy, cracker and cheese lunch saw the first of the Three Hummocks rise above the horizon. And along with it came wind of additional strength. But we’ve planned well. We have gained upwind ground and can layoff to run with sails more free. Faster and faster, closing the island and finding a safe haven after threading the gap between island and nasty submerged rock close off its NE cape. Back to Mermaid Bay, where we’d anchored only seven months previously with Lyn and John from King Island.

After anchoring, a wee bit of motion rocked us in the strong wind blowing off the beautiful green island laced with those amazing granite rocks dabbed with orange algae. Duty called straightaway. We’d lost a batten somewhere during our first two days under sail. And that pesky new headsail needed sheeting correctly before it destroyed more than our peace. After that, we looked forward to being early in bed.

MONDAY: What a change! Those cool south winds eased and the bright sun brought a holiday mood to the beautiful Three Hummocks Island. Launching Little Red, Jack rowed his darling along bold granite rocks into a miniature cove at dead low tide. Bull Kelp waved in easy sea surge as if Mermaids greeting us while the hills echoed with the sharp, peep-peep of Pied Oyster Catchers. An occasional glimpse of brilliant red beaks on black bodies hopped atop the boulders. Wildlife must abound on this island. All the previous night we’d heard the continuous yammering of fairy penguins, and wondered, don’t those little birds ever sleep.

Landing on a sand patch, we set off exploring the uninhabited coast, framing wonderful photos of Banyandah and Reliance, a Sydney yacht sharing our anchorage, between bold, buff stone dabbed with orange and yellow against a cobalt sea and baby blue sky.

Rowing Little Red felt good. Stretching and using muscles made energy flow and confidence build. Now this was cruising. To explore using our strength and skills, to witness glorious Nature, for us that makes the outside world retreat and appear even madder. Hearing Nature’s sounds, inhaling its invigorating freshness, seeing such vivid un-artificial colours brought sanity back, along with the hope that maybe humans won’t destroy everything before a solution can be found to our cancerous growth.

A local boat, Stormy Petrel, who’s been coming here for 20 years, showed us a north side anchorage at Rape Bay that’s out the annoying swell. Jack has updated our cruising guide with its location.

When the south wind abated, Banyandah rode her anchor in front of the homestead at Chimney Corner and we spent another very enjoyable day with the island’s caretakers John and Beverly. Jack got all his desires fulfilled when he traded with Bev his latest book, Where Wild Winds Blow, for a unique “Three Hummock’s cap.” You’ve got to go there to get one!

Tonight we challenge the seas once again. A mild northeasterly is blowing; the harbinger of a westerly change due the day after tomorrow. So tonight we sail down Tasmania’s wild west coast to Hell’s Gate. There awaits a big challenge. With strong winds up our backside we must negotiate that much-feared narrow entry. Wish us good luck.

- Jack and Jude