Banana Pancake Creek

"flat as a" Pancake Creek

Dylan's first night at anchor

After 48 hours at sea we landed here in this gorgeous and calm tidal river.  We chose this destination because of the promise of calm after two days at sea.  It did not disappoint, as we savored three lazy layover days getting some rest and patting ourselves on the back for finally getting back out there. For two days Jack Johnson lyrics rattled around in my head. Mark has promised me a feast when I consented to two nights at sea. And there was pancakes, banana to be exact and bacon, lots of bacon.  Will sail for bacon....

Baby steps my ass, She ran with it…

Miss Dylan on her maiden voyage

Not literally but in essence. We said good bye over the last few days at Scarborough Marina, our home these past few years. We left at first light on the high tide and followed our GPS track through the shallow waters that are Moreton bay. The winds and the seas gathered strength gradually as we gained deeper water. By noon we could feel the heave of the Ocean.  The winds were out of the south east and we were headed north to the Great Barrier Reef. We had places we could hide if things didn’t go well. We kept passing them one by one through the day. By night fall the winds were in full swing and the seas were boisterous. Moving about with the baby in your arms demanded special awareness and a sense of when the next roll of the ship was about to hit. Sometimes your timing would be off and the couch would come roaring up and sit you down or throw you armless from one wall to the next down the small hallways.  At sunset play time in the cockpit, throwing Dylan up in the air while still holding on to her had such a sense of immediacy, such utter fatality attached to it that the shocked face of dread on the Momma made it impossible for either one of us to have any fun. We managed to get her a sponge bath and bolster her into her bunk. Almost instinctively her legs shot out to brace against the lee cloth on one side and the pillow on the other and was soon fast off to sleep. (I heard once that children who grow up on boats get a really big big toe.  This no longer seems as outlandish as it did when I heard it. All I ask of you is that you try not to stare until she’s at least out of high school.) We ate what we could that was easy and alternately stood watches and slept on a makeshift bed on the floor in the middle of the boat. The aft cabin was rendered useless by the severe motion of the boat. We tracked several tankers on our AIS (one of those magic black boxes on boats that tell you all about every ship within 48 miles) and in one case we radioed one and asked for a port to port pass. We did this not because we were on a collision course for an uncomfortable amount of time.  We wanted to make sure he saw us. A mile and a half is not a long distance to pass next to a 700 foot tanker in the middle of the night. Needless to say we didn’t get a lot of sleep that night. Nor the next, as we barreled our way north in fully developed seas with some swells a majestic five meters in height. Dylan, ever the trooper, slept like a baby ten hours the first night and nine the next. By three in the morning on the third day we had gone way too fast and had to slow the boat down in order to be at the headland by daylight.  We double reefed the main, rolled up the jib and even streamed warps out the back to provide more drag. After all this I could barely get the boat speed under five knots. It proved just enough. By day break we could see the breakers on some well charted, off shore, rocks that guarded the entrance of Pancake Creek. Exhausted and encrusted in salt we dropped our anchor a mile up the flat water tidal creek.  We watched anxiously over the next six hours as the tide emptied the bay exposing dry land all around us and leaving us with only twelve feet of water smack dab in the middle of the channel. I’ll chalk it off to the luck of the Irish.  “Sleep, Sleep, that which knits the raveled sleeve of care”. Baby Steps, my ass….

The time has drawn nigh.

The weather is right.  The tide is high for leaving.

The car and the motorcycle have been sold. The storage unit has been emptied and all nonessential items purged.  All the other sails and equipment have been repatriated and stowed down tight aboard “Rogues Scholarship”, our 57 foot cutter rigged sloop. It has been over two years that she has quietly been tugging at her mooring lines here in Southeast Queensland, (OZ). The auxiliary rudder has been hung on the transom after very little debate. “We’re only going up the coast”, “We only need it on long passages”… “You won’t want to do it at sea if something does go wrong”… enough said!

We’ve been to the Pediatrician, the GP, and the Travel Doctor for last minute tire- kicking and oil checks.  As I write this I’m in the middle of a four day course of oral immunization for Typhoid fever. Our darling, diminutive, daughter Dylan Claire (now over six months old) is not due now for any more shots for 6 months.

The new chart plotter has been installed next to the radar in the cockpit within easy view of the helm. It stands as a back up to our primary computer which is a backup to the paper charts we never look at. The water tanks have been filled and the lockers are bursting with canned this and that, bags of these and jars of those. It’s not like there won’t be a super market where we’re going.  It’s just that to get there you might have to put the dinghy into crocodile infested waters, lower the outboard and fuel tank onto it and drag it onto a beach, all the while keeping a weather eye out for “Salties” just to have the opportunity to look for a bus to take you to town. We realize just how lazy and scared we really are.

 Liz has been reading, voraciously, about all the anchorages up north through cruising guides and other peoples’ blogs who have done it before.  Apparently if you Google the name of an anchorage in the Whitsundays, for example, five people will have written everything about it on their travel blogs. These have been a great sort of information, both reassuring and disquieting at the same time. It appears that there are all manner of things out there that through stupidity or ignorance can conspire to dismember you and/or cause a very painful death. (We choose none of the above.) It is a great paradox that the seemingly calm, beautiful white sand beaches of the North Queensland coast are infested with the Australian Box jelly fish, Bull and Great white sharks, Crocodiles, Pythons and last but not least the second most dangerous jellyfish species in Australian waters , the Irukandji Jellyfish (Carukia barnesi).   We will be playing Scrabble, reading books or otherwise contemplating the beauty of Nature from the secure decks of our sailing fortress.

 Liz is understandably anxious and concerned about taking our baby daughter out into the sometimes not so friendly world.  She has had a few pep talks from other cruisers who have sailed with young ones, been there and done that, which has helped put her at ease.  It’s always a daunting process for us to leave the security of the known (marina) and venture out, off shore, into the unknown. She has diligently studied Plan A , Plan B and even mapped out a Plan C just in case. True to form, she knows everything about where we are going and has realistic expectations about what we will encounter there.   Any words of encouragement would certainly not go unnoticed.  Anything  else … You can keep yer yap shut..

The time has drawn nigh.  The weather is right.  The tide is high for leaving,

Would you please be quiet, Try not to cry, The Baby, she is sleeping…

Beachy Christmas

We celebrated this year by taking Dylan to her first Aussie surf beach.  Because Cyclone Grant was raging north of Australia, many of the Queensland beaches were closed for swimming but the surfers were out in full force.  We spent three days in a little penthouse apartment in Mooloolaba enjoying the view and strolling on the beach.  Dylan liked her toes in the sand, but not the cold water.  Our little mermaid will have to get used to the ocean because after 2.5 years in Australia we are taking off sailing again in April.  

Aussie life savers

Xmas day

Dylan Claire snoozes in the shade

Ozzie Christmas at the beach!

Gratuitous Baby Photos

On the Brisbane river for the work xmas party

jaunty Christmas bow

no reindeer or babies were hurt in the making of this photo

rocking her Santa suit

Before she was born we used to joke that we would be spending the next few years sitting around staring at the baby. How true it is.  Never have we met a more fascinating being.  

                 A Very Merry Christmas 2011 from Liz, Mark and Dylan Claire. xx

Our little American

Posing with the flag!

Watch out world, I have my passport!

Being born in a foreign country does not guarantee citizenship.  Australia has strict immigration policies (after all we are boat people) and citizenship could only be awarded to Dylan after she celebrated her tenth birthday in Australia. We are happy with her being a plain old American but because everything requires paperwork,  our little Dylan was without country for the first few months while we got her papers in order and waited for our appointment.  Last week we visited the US Consulate in Brisbane to sign documents and complete her application for citizenship, social security and her passport.  She wore her patriotic colors for the occasion. 

Dylan Claire

The swinging bassinet Mark made

Just arrived

Going home

Cuddle with Daddy

 

Almost home