Next time I’ll fly to Broome. It’s harsh but I don’t like the place at all, even though I have not really been there, despite stopping there for 18 hours. There is an exception. I do like the friendly people at the Broome Diesel & Hydraulic Services who made up not one, but two new high pressure lines for my water maker.

However, the next time I visit Broome I will be flying in, not sailing. Now I am sure Broome is a great place to visit and it has an interesting history. But as a yachtie, the moorings are rolly and getting fuel and provisions in Broome pose huge challenges, as we found out.

We had booked moorings for both yachts in advance and were sent the GPS coordinates by SMS. Arriving after midnight was not ideal as we came to discover. There were moorings and moored vessels everywhere and it was hard to see. There were floats and lines 2-3m long streaming from each mooring and if we ran over one in the dark, it would foul our prop and spell the end of our engine. These moorings were inside a reef with strong tidal currents so losing the engine would be a big problem. We were going slow because of limited visibility and using radar and a spotlight off the port side to weave our way through the obstacles.

Tension was high onboard as we regularly changed course to avoid collision. Salt Lines were ahead of us and tied to their mooring already, while ours was supposedly stationed on the edge of the reef in just 2m of water. It seemed odd to be that close to the reef edge, with the water so shallow, but who are we to question local expertise.

We forged forwards, into the darkness. Just 100m to go, then 50, then 20, then 0 and no mooring. We scanned left and right with the spotlight. No mooring. I did not want to go any closer to the reef, so we picked the next available mooring and finally tied up for the night after breaking a boat hook in the process. When you can hear the breaking waves on a reef and smell its pungent smell, but it’s too dark to see it, its very un-nerving at night.

The whole process had been a bit tense onboard given the proximity of the reef and difficulty getting tied up. A better briefing in advanced would have helped our crew and its so easy to underestimate how much harder some of these jobs are with a 32 ton yacht at night.

By 2am we filed off to bed with a plan to drop the crew ashore for sightseeing the next morning and a refuel booking at midday at the main port (9nm away) for both yachts. The port is designed for large ships only and the 13m high wharf is fairly intimidating at low tide as we were about to find out.

One of the key things about Broome are the big tides, with a 9-13 metre range between low and high tide. Thats a 3-4 story high building going out or coming in, every 6 hours and these tidal changes create rapid changes in depth and fast flowing, powerful currents.

We all awoke a little groggy a few hours later and had no idea of the difficult day ahead of us. By 9am We started dropping the crew ashore on Cable Beach. On the first RIB ride in, we did not go far enough towards the sheltered end of the beach and were swamped by a breaking wave, as we tried to unload the crew on the beach. One after another 3 PFD’s inflated with a hissing sound and the crew clambered onto the beach looking like drowned puppy dogs.

The next drop went well in calmer waters with Ken Thomas on the helm. I jumped out and headed ashore with the group, on my mission to find a taxi to take me to Broome Diesel and Hydraulics. A maxi-taxi turned up 10 minutes after we called them and we loaded up with crew from both yachts, asking the driver to drop us at multiple locations.

I spent my entire time ashore in Broome camped at Broome Diesel and Hydraulics. I was not leaving until I got my new water maker hoses as we could not depart without being able to use the water maker. The Broome Hydraulic people were friendly and the air conditioning was cool. An hour later, with my 2 new hoses in hand, a bag of glues, tapes and lubricants to restock both yachts and $1,100 lighter in the pocket, I headed to the street corner for the return taxi pick up, Jess was organising.

I waited and waited and waited. Jess had ordered a cab, but it took 25 minutes to show up. Our window for moving the yachts 9nm to the port was rapidly closing. We had a 1pm tide change deadline to achieve. With the taxi delay we were late back aboard, late to leave, and 45 minutes late for our 12pm refuel booking. The day went rapidly downhill from there.

Salt Lines was first on the fuel dock. The dock is horrible and it’s every sailors worst nightmare. It’s a commercial ship wharf with oyster laden posts and not easy to tie up to. Then once you get attached, you have the tide rising or dropping an average of 2.5cm per minute. Thats about 5cm per minute at peak flow or half a metre every 10 minutes.

You can’t tie your dock lines tight as you are constantly adjusting them. Then add 15-20 knots of breeze pinning you against the wharf and its hard to keep the fenders between the boat and the grotty old wharf as the boat does not sit still. If that’s not enough, you have 2-5 knots of current pushing or pulling you. With a 9m long keel trying to impede the water flow, its a recipe for disaster, if not managed well.

Salt Lines docked first for refuelling and within minutes had their fenders pushed aside. They spent the next 6 hours hard against the dock, scraping Matt’s new paint off the rub rails, that’s only 18 months old. Matt and I discussed the situation and agreed that the “best time for your yachts” - time slot we had been given by the port, was a disaster. We had come in at the top of the tide for refuelling, only to discover the outgoing tide was sucking Salt Lines up against the oyster shell encrusted wharf and no amount of motoring, springing or tow line’s was going to get her off.

I encouraged Matt to wait it out and renegotiate with the port to refuel Silver Fern at 1800 hours instead, so we were at the bottom of the tide, when the current had slowed enough to get Salt Lines off the fuel dock. It would mean that by the time Silver Fern was refuelled, the 1900 hours turning tide would push us gently off. What compounded the problem for both of us was the huge tug boat in front of us and passenger ferry behind us. It meant we had to go in and out of the dock at 45 degrees, making the problem even more difficult.

We had planned to refuel at midday and return to our moorings at Cable Beach to pick up the crew at the end of the day, so we had left the RIB’s tied to the moorings, 9nm away. There was no hope of this now, so Silver Fern volunteered to motor the 9nm back to the moorings, collect both RIB’s and tow them back to the fuel dock. Suddenly a 3-hour job was now an 8-hour job and the day was turning to custard.

The 2 Ken’s and Chris selflessly agreed to stay onboard for the refuel, so this now wrote off their chance of any time ashore in Broome. What’s not to love about this place! By 5pm we had completed the 18nm round trip and were back in the vicinity of the port wharf in Roebuck Bay. Salt Lines was getting ready to move off the wharf and with the help of a tender from a large passenger cat docked behind them, their bow came out and they were free at last after 5-hours pinned against the dock.

We had rearranged with both crews to meet us at the boat ramp at 5:30pm in Roebuck Bay instead, without realising it is largely a mud flat at low tide, making dinghy access impossible. By 5:15pm we had docked Silver Fern against the commercial wharf from hell, some 10 metres below road level. With fenders in place and the crew adjusting the dock lines constantly and moving fenders as required. All we needed now was the fuel guy to show up at 6pm to start the process.

In the meantime both crews had returned in taxis from their day tripping around Broome, with Freya, Ange and Jo having picked $800 of fresh fruit and vegetables from the local supermarket for Silver Fern. The taxi driver advised that getting into the RIB at low tide was impossible, but that he had a port security pass, so could drop them at the fuel wharf above Silver Fern, where they could use the oyster shell laden stairwell, to descend to the yacht below. Jo called and shared the plan and it made sense to me. By the time they were carrying 15+ bags of shopping down the stairwell, Silver Fern was already 2 metres below the bottom landing and still dropping with the tide.

Then the refuelling guy turned up and it was all on with crew everywhere; managing lines and fenders, passing bags of groceries, filling diesel tanks and jerry cans, stowing fruit and vegetables in the fridges and filling the water tanks. By 7:15pm we were finished and sorted with 1,200 litres fuel and 560 litres of water taken onboard. The wind was still 15-17 knots and the tide had turned, but was now trying to push us forwards towards the back of the big-ass tug in front of us.

In the meantime a large ferry cat had arrived and was having trouble berthing behind us. They were within 5m of our stern at times and had dropped a mooring line in the water, which was immediately swept under our stern. If I started the engine now, it would go round the prop. With rising dred in my stomach about what was unfolding, I just wanted to get out of there, before the tide developed and current started to flow faster. The walls were closing in!

We had to thrust the bow out, but could only do half what was needed to clear the tug, without forcing the stern against the dock as we pivoted on the keel. The ferry crew picked up the stray dock line with a boat hook, but appeared out of control as they pivoted 90 degrees to the dock and were struggling to tie up the vessel just metres behind us. We were boxed in, but we could not afford to stay a minute longer.

“Let’s go” I yelled so everyone could hear. We gingerly thrusted the bow out further and applied power to get speed and steerage. Miraculously we avoided the aft starboard corner of the stern scraping the dock by less than by 2 cm and managed to pull the bow out enough to clear the rear of the tug by a small margin as well. It was dark and difficult to see, but Ken Thomas and Freya called the distance off both ends perfectly. At the last moment I swung the wheel back hard to starboard and pivoted on the keel and bent ourselves nicely round the rear corner of the tug, before heading for open water at last.

The silhouette of tug towered above Silver Fern in the darkness as we slid past, making us feel like a tiny toy in a bath tub. No injuries and no damage to the yacht - a bloody miracle in the circumstances and huge credit to our increasingly capable crew who take each new challenge in their stride, despite being knocked off balance occasionally.

We found out earlier that day, that several fishing boats and a naval vessel have been forced under the wharf previously, in the strong currents and destroyed. Avoid refuelling in Broome, it’s not worth the risk. Taking jerry cans ashore by dinghy is a safer option.

What was meant to be a one hour job to refuel Silver Fern and Salt Lines turned into 7 hours. Leave your boat at home - fly to Broome. Your trip will be far more relaxing and pleasurable and a great deal less terrifying. You may even get to see some of it!

David