And the fishermen almost didn’t either! (I will explain)…

The final leg to Darwin was action packed, but not for any of the reasons we expected. We departed Black Point for the overnight sail through the Dundas Strait to Adam Bay. It was another easy night of downwind sailing and we had now clocked up 2,400nm since leaving Southport without doing a single tack.

Having only gone upwind momentarily a couple of times, both leg crews had gone completely soft and forgotten what upwind sailing was really like… and so the SE-E winds continued into another day! So predictable and so easy, as long as you keep heading west.

With shoals and reefs to dodge, Sharon and Lena did an excellent job of passage planning our leg to the river entrance, up a narrow channel into a basin, where we would anchor in 4m of water, and could sit and wait for crocodiles to swim by.

The leg plan went perfectly and other than swinging the wheel hard to port when the depth under the keel dropped to 0.7m, followed by a quick call to Salt Lines, who were 400m astern, to warn them, we found our spot and dropped the anchor.

On the charts, the river mouth did not look that wide, but in reality it was 1nm wide and the muddy, mangrove banks were a long way away. We waited and watched and no crocodiles came out to meet us. Through the binoculars we could just make out 2 or 3 on the waters edge, but they were too well fed to bother with us.

So we sat at anchor in the muddy water, played music, enjoyed just hanging out and going nowhere. Despite the lack of reptilian action, it was just good to relax and reflect on the previous few days and take in the surroundings of “The Territory”.

Despite the rising temperature and balmy heat, we slow cooked roast lamb in the oven for our final night at sea together. This was not just any leg of lamb, this baby had travelled 4,500nm to get you our plates. I purchased 6 lamb legs in Opua, New Zealand and this was the sole survivor, having sailed in our freezer from Opua, to Fiji, Vanuatu, Southport, Cairns and almost to Darwin. It was definitely in my Top 5 best roast lamb meals ever, but the temperature coming out of the galley was 40+ and Jo, Freya and Ken went above and beyond to create a great meal.

The “blue moon” was so big and so close, as it rose for the evening, that you could reach out and touch it. We were washing up after dinner, when Ken heard a vessel doing a radio check. “Wild Side, Wild Side calling any vessel in the area for a radio check.” Ken confirmed with Wild Side that their radio check was clear. We found out that Wild Side was a 5.5m fishing boat, anchored in the main channel 5nm from us, with an engine failure.

They had been unable to raise the coastguard on channel 16 and needed assistance. Thinking they could end up in trouble if their anchor dragged when the tide reached peak flows, we offered to assist them and lept into action. We tried to radio the Darwin Coastguard and got no response. After a Google search we found the same mobile number for the Darwin Coastguard on 3 different websites, only to call and reach the NSW Crimes Division. “If you have a crime to report, stay on the line or if its an emergency hang up and dial triple 0.” Confused, I dialled the Coastguard again and got the same response.

We decided to give up and assist ourselves. By now, Silver Fern’s anchor was coming up, we had communicated our plan to Salt Lines, who were anchored nearby, so we started the motor to head out of the river. Where we had carefully come into the channel at 2-4 knots, we were now retracing our track out in the dark and roaring out at 9 knots over ground, with outgoing tide to push us along.

Lena jumped back onto the VHF radio to confirm our plans with the Wild Side crew of 2. Their near new engine had stopped with a loud bang and they found themselves stranded at 8pm on a Thursday night, 45nm from Darwin and a long way from where they had launched their boat. Within 40 minutes we were alongside, with fenders set up on our port side, where we planned to lash the boats together. 45nm was a long tow, so we had to set it up well to avoid damage and chafe. Sharon and I took charge, getting lines organised and climbing aboard the fishing vessel to make sure we could find strong points to attach the tow lines too.

The Wild Side crew climbed onboard and were happy to see some friendly faces and receive help with their plight. We started off motoring at 4 knots, with the vessel riding nicely alongside Silver Fern. All was going well until the tidal flow increased to 3+ knots and with 10-15 knots of wind blowing the opposite way, we soon had a short chop, bouncing the fishing vessel violently and threatening to tear its tow fittings off.

It was now midnight, so we bought the vessels to a standstill once again, while we hatched a revised plan to set up a bridle and run a line from each corner of the stern of Silver Fern, to the bow of the fishing boat. Next we set up another bridle using a plastic milk crate, that we attached with a line to both corners of the stern of the fishing boat, so it could drag it behind as a sea anchor and help keep the tow rope tight.

If we didn’t do that, it would likely snake from left to right and let the tow rope go loose, only to shock load as it tightened each time and likely chafe or break. Sharon and Lena engineered the tow gear into place with the help of our crew and then fitted rubber chafe guards to the tow lines, where the rubbed against Silver Fern.

Off we went again at 3-4 knots, but doing 7 over ground with the incoming tide pushing us along. It was now 1am and time to get some sleep. The crew woke me again at 5am as were approaching the outer limits of Darwin Harbour. The next challenge was to tow Wild Side into the narrow entrance to Cullen Bay Marina, across 3 knots of cross tide, in the dark, while missing the sand bar on the port side and rock wall on the starboard side.

This is where you have to trust your instruments. As I pointed at the entrance to the marina, the course over ground arrow showed us heading sideways towards the rocks in the strong cross current. We have a keel 2.2m deep, but 9m long and when current hits this, it really can shove Silver Fern sideways.

“Can you see the port marker?” the crew asked, knowing full well that I was pointing well above it and at the sand bar. As best I could, in the dark, while concentrating really hard on lining up the gap, I had to explain that we needed to point 30 degrees above the entrance, as we were in fact crabbing sideways into. Just like a cross wind landing in an aircraft, you have to counteract the current, by pointing the bow towards it.

We nailed the gap, still pointing 30 degrees off our where our heading should have been and once inside the current immediately dropped to under 1 knot. The next job was to pull in the tow line on Wild Side and then get them alongside the fuel dock, so their crew could jump off, secure their boat on the other side of the wharf, to make room for Silver Fern on the dock too.

It all went well and the Wild Side crew could not thank us enough and we tied up alongside the dock at 5:40am, ready for our entry into the marina lock at 6am. It was great to help someone else in trouble. It can be a lonely place when things go wrong at sea and no one comes to assist. I have been helped by the Coastguard 5 times over the past 39 years. It’s always good to help your fellow boaties and you always learn things from the experience.

The first time was as a 14 year old, when my rudder pin snapped on my 13 foot dinghy, in 15 knots of breeze, 3nm off Takapuna Beach in Auckland. After an hour spent drifting towards the rocky shores of Rangitoto Island and no communication equipment onboard (mobiles had not been invented), I hoisted my yellow rain coat up my mast, in place of my sail and a Coastguard Volunteer came to my rescue, towing me and my 2 mates all the way back to Browns Bay where I lived.

We entered the lock at Cullen Bay Marina at 6am, the gates closed and the water level dropped 3 metres. The gate at the opposite end opened and we entered one of the sweetest marinas I have seen. The basin is stacked with apartments, restaurants, bars and cafes and its such a great setting for the visiting sailor. Salt Lines entered the marina later that day after being held outside for biosecurity checks.

The Silver Fern crew were amazing and all pitched in to strip beds, clean the galley, get the laundry done and reduce my clean up time from days to hours. That meant being able to have a great mini-break in Darwin with my wife Danielle, when she flew in the following day. We spent an hour as a crew sharing highs and lows from the expedition and then joined the Salt Lines crew ashore for a fantastic farewell dinner at the local Greek Restaurant, overlooking the bay.

“Santa never made it into Darwin, the big wind came and blew the town away.” Those lyrics are from a song I learned as a kid in New Zealand, that described Cyclone Tracey hitting Darwin in the early hours of Christmas Day in 1974, destroying 70% of houses and requiring the bulk of the 40,000 population to be airlifted out in the following days, due to mass homelessness.

As a first time visitor to Darwin, I was totally impressed by this clean, vibrant, young, friendly city with a great cafe culture. I spent a few days with Danielle exploring the city, museum, markets, gallery, waterfront and two days visiting Katherine (330km away) and multiple natural springs and waterfalls for swimming along the route. The crocodile signage everywhere is a bit intimidating to start with, but you quickly get used to keeping a good look out and feeling safe in the water in numbers. Just don’t be furthest out or the slowest, if you go swimming.

90% of the traffic on the highways are 3-5 trailer road trains or cars with caravans and the 130km/h speed limit takes a bit to get your head around. The landscape of the Northern Territory is stunning in its own wild way and I’m glad I have seen it from the road and from the ocean.