The great escape – Strahan to Pyramid Island

by Jack and Jude on 28 Feb 2016 There we were in Strahan. We’d completed our mission of finding and tagging the lost historical Goulds Track through wet forests to the open plain below the King Billy Range. We’d made a whistle stop tour of our favourite Macquarie Harbour highlights, had dinner parties and enjoyed great times with our dear friends, and been loaned their vehicles to tour the hinterland to see the shockingly low water level in the lakes that supply the power plants. Then thought how amazing that a string of events can unravel man’s best laid plans, putting Nature in a horrible corner to survive or die.

In a word, it was time to get on with our other plans for the summer.

South of Strahan at Port Davey lived one of the world’s least known people who, in our opinion, epitomize harmony with Earth and quality of life. The Needwonnee clan peacefully enjoyed a close family life amongst startling beauty for an unbelievable thirty thousand years. That’s an amazing achievement when we remember that Christ walked the earth just two thousand years ago and that these people lived in harmony long before history began to be recorded.

They knew oh so well the cycle of Earth, the plants, the creatures, they knew their history verbally passed generation to generation. Even if they could not write they had respect for the creator of life. Little is known except that they did not war with their neighbours and took only what Earth could sustain, sharing a simple love for Earth believing all life came and returned to the creator of life. Their record run of harmony disastrously ended when white man invaded their island.

Jude and I wanted very much to witness and record what remains of their culture that was wiped out in a few short years just two hundred fifty years ago. Also in mind was to find a boatyard that once existed near the Davey River next to stands of Huon Pine that were logged in the latter half of the 1800s.

Thick rainforest now covers the area where a small colony once worked in difficult, dangerous, remote conditions. Using our bush skills and modern gadgetry we hoped to map out the shipyard and quarters, and maybe even turn up a few remnants left behind from that bygone moment in time. And we had other goals too, for we like to have a purpose to travel. We get our kicks using our skills and craft for worthwhile projects. Helps keep our minds active and team spirit strong.

Ever since we helped Garry Kerr bring the Jane Kerr around to Strahan from Hobart after last year’s Wooden Boat Festival we’ve a had strong hankering to explore the west coast around Point Hibbs. He’d taken us into an open roadstead used by professional fishermen, where we saw not only a beautiful area rich in history but also an anchorage behind the aptly named Pyramid Island; tolerable in moderate S/SW weather. This anchorage could break up the usual long overnight passage Strahan / Port Davey.

On Tasmania’s West Coast the weather dictates our every movement. Even in summer when the pressure systems are less intense and move more slowly, it’s still essential a weather eye be kept sharply focused. To do otherwise would be courting discomfort and disaster. Therefore when the weatherman forecast an ideal situation for heading south to Point Hibbs, a light nor’westerly followed by several days of calm, we announced to all that the good ship Banyandah would be leaving Strahan after a full year in her calm, nearly landlocked waters.

This signalled a fury of activity. Dinner with friends Trevor and Megs lead to another on board Banyandah with their deckhand Rob, our neighbour from Songlines. Of course there was plenty to do. Engine work proceeded in between the disassembly of Sir Aries to find and fix a hard to find gremlin that had him stick and steer erratically, both frustrating and dangerous in following winds.

Wind vanes must be loosy-goosy to have light wind forces operate the steering rudder and Sir Aries wasn’t. This magical device, invented in the 70s by Nick Franklin on the Isle of Wright, suffers over time from the alloy in the leg expanding, tightening the plastic bushes holding the rudder shaft.

Trevor and Rob took off up The Gordon in Stormbreaker for a rafter pick up trip, leaving dockside for our use a 4WD. We chucked in our gas bottles for refill, then filled her up with a trolley of fresh food, a couple of blocks of beer and boxes of Jude’s favourite wine, before stopping to say so long to a few more of our very fine west coast friends. This got us back to Ronnie’s dock as the sun cast a golden hue across Mill Bay where Banyandah looked like a Chinese laundry, Jude having earlier made good use of the shore water. By the time all that was folded and put away along with our supplies for several weeks, we had only time for a quick bite before pumpkin time sent us to bed.

Next morning, Wednesday the 10th of February, I awoke like a bull released out a gate. The forecast light nor’westerly was nowhere about in the light mist. But with Point Hibbs forty-two miles away, including nearly fifteen miles inside the harbour to the narrow channel passing through Hell’s gate to Cape Sorrell, we didn’t dally. We’re purist when it comes to sailing, and because Banyandah isn’t one of those sleek thoroughbreds that race across the ocean means for us a head start is best or we gamble on a late arrival or having to use our engine which is noisy, stinky and spoils the mood.

In cool light misty rain Jude scurried along the jetty releasing our lines while I’m nudging our lady out backwards. Once I make her a morning cuppa, Jude’s a little demon and worked energetically to clear away fenders and mooring ropes before demanding to take over the helm.

Getting back late to the jetty meant we were sorry not to have seen our mate Ronnie for farewell hugs. Owner of the jetty and the Wilson Pride, a very fine Huon Pine work boat, he’s a genuine nice guy possessing a wealth of knowledge on a great many things including the logging of Huon Pine. As we motored along past Regatta Point with the small town behind it still mostly quiet, we chatted with him about this and that and made the promise that we’d be back. The West Coast folks are tops. Friendly, unpresumptuous, helpful, trustworthy, and in an everyday way, smart. We’re very fortunate to have become involved in their small community.

Now! Not having been outside in a year struck us the moment we entered the channel and were confronted by the beacons marking the shoals vaguely visible in the mist. But our girl almost knew where to find the gate, and soon we were out back in the rollie stuff with a two to three metre swell running up from Southern Ocean storms.

Jude still at the helm made me head photographer, and I clicked lots of happy snaps and while still in contact sent a few to family and friends around the world via Instagram. Outside we rolled about, but our fully raised mainsail helped slow our back and forth rock. With so much new stuff on board, bottles clinking, things falling over, Jude needed to rush below to sort out. I shaped a course wide of the coast to minimise the backwash, into deeper water which would smooth out the swell, and was rewarded by finding a light breeze off the land, enough to shut down the donk and immediately feel the bliss of silence. Our early start allowed us to doddle along, relax, and reflect on our achievements and happy times in Macquarie Harbour. Our phone still had a link to a tower via our broomstick antenna and Jude chatted with her boys while Sir Aries was feeling good, miraculously steering a sweet course down the coast in the light conditions. In a single word it was Heaven.

In addition to being sail crazy, we’re also hunter gathers, believing if managed correctly, this good Earth can provide ample to sustainably supply all its creatures’ needs. Jack and Jude take only what we can eat. We don’t run big freezers that need to be filled. We only have a very efficient small fridge and Jude bottles the excess when we land something too big for a few meals. The moment we hit blue ocean our fishing lines were laid out. Near the shore after Hells Gate we tried our squid jig on the advice of Robert and Carol who have snagged a couple of tasty squid from their tinny along that craggy run. But having no luck, out in the deeper waters, our trusty jig that had laid dormant the last year was let out.

Sailing miles is often a non-event of letting Nature do its thing while we humans get ourselves as comfortable as we can and occupy our time. Jude dove straight into bringing her logbooks up to date while I lay down to conserve energy and be more ready for what lay ahead. The day warmed and the north wind strengthened till we were romping along at a respectable five knots that had me concerned that our Point Hibbs open anchorage would become untenable. Guess I’m a worrywart of sorts. Nature will prevail, and we’ve learned over the years that we’ll cope. But my active mind likes to play out all the possible scenarios and be as well prepared for any eventuality.

Excitement arrived just after noon when our trolling line snapped bowstring tight. “Hope it’s not a stinky barracuda” was my first thought. But this one ran deep signalling it was a big tuna. I used to battle these brutes straightway when I was young with good shoulders that didn’t snap tendons. But now I let anything big tire before I start hauling in. This one I let run after us for maybe half an hour before taking up the handline from my steady spot leaning back against our liferaft. It’s odd this battle between man and beast – primeval emotions are aroused as if we’ve been hardwired as hunter gathers and providers of sustenance for our families. Sure, some of you will think it cruel. But much of life especially that associated with mankind is far more cruel without reason. We maim and kill great numbers in vendettas and religious disputes; so providing food for our table isn’t so bad. Besides it’s cave man stuff that directly links us to mother earth, and if Earth had a big sustainable supply, much of the stigma associated with killing a wild beast would evaporate.

In the contest involving Jack and Jude, a well honed team, against Mr. Yellowfin Tuna weighing in at around fifteen kilos, as we continued sailing along we won in an exhilarating climax that saw the brute hefted over our side railing into our cockpit where I swiftly dispatched it to tuna heaven.

After I bled the creature and cut away most of its edible meat, its carcass went overboard where it would nourish many thousands of other animals. That’s one thing for sure. The oceans are spotless – except for man-made waste. After we’d scrubbed up the mess and gotten rid of the fishy smell, Jude bagged the meat and then found room in our fridge to chill it.

So far it had been a magic day. But the forecast light winds were now becoming a bit worrisome as Point Hibbs quickly approached. Visions of being forced to carry on down the coast overnight danced round in my head and I could imagine the wind dying out later at night leaving us bobbing about like a toy boat in a bathtub with miles to motor. With three hours of light still remaining we decided to chance it, and in we went, shortening our headsail while rounding Pyramid Island to the east.

With the headsail away and our engine ticking over we were delighted to find a patch, which although active with some small white wavelets rushing through, was worth a closer look and we furled the mainsail in rather rollie conditions. Deep water ran right up close to the amazing rock island jutting out the sea. Kelp beds swished back and forth in the surge along its shore, but a hundred metres off, through fairly clear water the bottom appeared to be sand, so the anchor was sent down to test the bottom.

The Manson Boss dug in sweetly, pulling us around abruptly as it did until we faced the wind and approaching swell, and we thought this will do nicely – so long as the wind doesn’t pick up. The big south-west Southern Ocean swell now hit the island and swept past its northern end, some of it wrapped round, sending us up and down. But we reckoned the wind would ease as the sun set, so we settled back to observe the awesome new scenery with a cold one to celebrate our success.

Next installment shortly

This article has been provided courtesy of Jack and Jude.

http://jackandjude.com/log/