The weather intensified the second night after we departed Exmouth and built in the evening to a solid 30 knots. In the early hours of the morning it built to 32-35 knots, with Silver Fern trucking upwind at a fairly comfortable 60 degree true wind angle, with the bow launching off some of the bigger waves and landing heavily in the trough below. You could feel the load on the sails, rig and rudder as we pounded our way up wind, one wave at a time.

Up, down, up, down, up, bang (as we fall off the back of a hollow wave). In the dark you can never tell when the bows about to drop into a hole. Sometimes the bow launches up over a wave and then lands on a soft cushion. You brace for the crunch, but it does not come. The next wave, on the exact same upward motion has you airborne for two seconds before landing with a 32-ton belly flop. Even though our hull is steel and the mast step and mast are all new, it never feels good and you never feel at ease, when the bow falls off the back of a wave. Occasionally the crew in the forward bunks get airborne, as their bunk falls away below them. The same thing happens in the aft cabin and its hard to sleep. But tonight is okay, its not too rough and it fills the “offshore sailing” void, the crew have been waiting for, after days of motoring in light winds. Be careful what you wish for!

After a long night, the sun rose and wind eased into the high 20’s. The seas around us were a solid 3m, with larger 4m waves rolling through regularly, often launching spray into the cockpit. By 11am the wind was nearing 25 knots when we heard a clunk and the staysail suddenly slid down the inner forestay and started flogging in the wind. We quickly beared away 50 degrees to reduce the wind over the sail. One of the crew went forward and announced after looking up the mast through binoculars, that the staysail halyard had detached itself from the sail and was still near the top of the mast. The conditions were too rough to contemplate sending someone up the mast to investigate and unless it is critical to vessel safety, I would never send someone up the mast at sea. It’s just too dangerous.

We started the motor and lashed the staysail to the foredeck. We had no spare halyard we could re-hoist the staysail and I made a note to add a back up staysail halyard to the mast, when we get back to the Gold Coast in November. With the mainsail and motor we pushed forwards in the swell, waiting for the wind to ease below 19 knots for a consistent period of time, so we should shake out reef 2 in the main and unfurl the jib. We had continued to push out 120nm to the SW, on a track towards South Africa and could finally tack back to the SE towards the coast, once the promised right hand wind shift started to occur.

We still had blue fin tuna in the fridge so Ken served up an amazing fish curry for dinner that night. The big fresh, chunky cubes of tuna were delicious. The next 2 days were fairly routine as the wind veered further to the west, enabling us to straight line our path down the final stretch of the West Australian Coast. Roast pork, roast veggies and gravy made the crew very happy, followed by self-saucing pudding and custard, as we set a course for Geraldton Marina. We had a crew member who had to catch a flight from Perth to Sydney and onto Europe for a pre-planned holiday. As we were running a day behind the original schedule, getting into Fremantle before the flight departed was unlikely. We made contact with the Geraldton Yacht Club (200nm north of Fremantle) about a suitable drop off point, planned for midnight on the 27th, so the crew member could catch a flight to Perth the next day.

Edrick from The Geraldton Yacht Club was extremely helpful, not only in providing directions to a pontoon in the marina for the drop off, but also offering our crew member a bed for the night, if no accomodation was available in town. As luck had it, we found the last remaining bed in the only place left in town at the Waterfront Backpackers. I followed up a late Wotif booking with a phone call to confirm the cut off for check in. The lovely lady on the other end explained it was 8pm and in exceptional cases 10pm. It was now time for desperate measures, so I said “I have an elderly man on board that I need to drop off (sorry to over-state your age: Ken Thomas) and we just can’t have him sleeping in a bus shelter or on park bench can we?”.

Silence… the “what time are you arriving?” she asked. I replied “We’ll definitely be in by 11:30pm, so Ken can be there by 11:45pm”. “Okay” replied the lady again, “I’m at home and will need to drive 20 minutes to check him in. Please message me when you are 15 minutes from the marina.” Relieved I replied “yes I will and thank you sooooo much!” I am always amazed and grateful for the hospitality and help you get in regional areas and small towns. Just great people and such genuine warmth.

We gunned the engine with 16nm to go and entered the Geraldton Marina right on 11:20pm. It was narrow and required a 180 degree turn around the break water wall on entry. Less than 20m wide, it was trickier than most in the dark and we were down to 3 knots boat speed, to ensure I could make the full turn in Silver Fern, without getting too close to the rocks. We found the pontoon at the end of the marina and offloaded Ken. At the same time we hoisted Freya up the mast to find out why our staysail halyard had detached from the staysail.

Freya brought the staysail halyard, down 20m to deck level with her and I was shocked, but relieved to find out that our shackle with a 3-ton breaking strain had snapped in half, but the halyard was not damaged. It just reinforces the big loads that occur on these big boats, from the constant shock loading, especially punching our way up wind. It eventually takes its toll on any bullet proof fitting. Still it was easier to replace the fitting than the halyard and next time we would need a different solution.

With 200nm to go, we were in for two more nights at sea, including what was left of this one. We exited the marina and headed to sea once again, with the extra stop shortening everyones sleeping time that night. As the day broke we started to see pairs of buoys, tied together less than one metre apart and marking the location of lobster pots. We literally saw hundreds that day, scattered down the 30-40m contour lines and creating a massive hazard for the keels, rudders and propellors of passing yachts. The crew vigilantly watched and dodged these floating bombs all day long. We initially decided to head further offshore to miss them and when that didn’t work, we sailed close to the coastline instead.

*The port of Fremantle appears on the horizon*

About 3pm a loud alarm sounded and I rushed to the nav station to see the engine temperature alarm going off, with the temperature at 110 degrees instead of the normal 73. I rushed to the engine room and opened the door to find a steam filled room and clear liquid spraying out of my near new engine. Dismayed, I call for the watch leader to shut it down immediately to avoid further damage. My next job was the taste test. I dipped my finger into the hot liquid and then tasted it. I quickly realised it was engine coolant and not salt water or diesel. That was not a good sign.

Ken Dobler noticed it leaking out of a valve in the back of the engine, so I took a photo and texted it to my engineering company (Whangarei Marine Services) in New Zealand. It was already after 8pm in New Zealand on a Friday night, but Geoff didn’t hesitate to call me back to help diagnose the problem. By now Ken had found a small metal plug in the engine bilge, with a thread on one end. I sent the picture to Geoff who quickly explained that it should be screwed into the end of the valve and must have fallen out.

I screwed it back in using some Locktite 577, to make sure it stayed in this time. I left the engine to cool down for half an hour, before refilling the seven litres of coolant we had lost. It was time to start the engine and it fired instantly. The only problem was the sparks and flames shooting sideways out of my auxiliary alternator. The coolant had sprayed all over the alternator and now it was shorting it. I called for the engine to be turned off again. This time I got the heat gun out and blew hot air over the end of the alternator, in the hope of drying the moisture out. I restarted the engine again and the sparks and flames continued.

We needed the engine, so I adjusted the alternator bracket and removed the belt off the alternator pulley to stop it spinning, I figured that the alternator just needed more time to dry out properly, so we’d have to live without it for now. With my generator out of acton, while I waited for the overdue salt water pump to arrive from Auckland (thanks to Australia Post delays), we now had no means of using either engine to charge house batteries. We’d be on shore power in Fremantle within 18 hours, so it was just a matter of getting to the marina.

As darkness fell for the final time on this 2,400nm leg, we hadn’t seen any lobster pot buoys for a few hours, so I felt we were close enough to the coast to stay out of trouble. The west coast has a lot of shipping activity and we had several pass within a few miles of us, going in both directions. We had to call up a couple of cargo ships, who were tacking within 1nm of us, to make sure they were going to give us the room required, as the right of way vessel.

By 3am we were in the main shipping channel and heading the final 10nm into the Port of Fremantle, when a vessel named ‘Australian Submarine’ popped up on the AIS, a few miles away and on a collision course with Silver Fern. I watched it, fascinated for a while and it kept tracking towards our path on a 30 degree angle. It meant we were going to be within 200m of each other within 20 minutes. We were both heading into port and taking different paths. I grabbed the VHF radio and called them up on channel 16. “Australian Submarine, Australian Submarine, this is the sailing vessel Silver Fern, Silver Fern, do you copy over?”

No response. I called them 3 more times. No response. “Australian Submarine, Australian Submarine, this is the sailing vessel Silver Fern, Silver Fern, we are on a potential collision course, do you copy over?” Finally after 5 attempts, we get a reply. “This is Australian Submarine, go ahead Silver Fern.” I explain that according to the AIS, we are going to pass within 200m of them in 23 minutes time and ask what their intentions are. Not planning on budging an inch, they respond with “we intend to maintain a course of 114 degrees.” I reply with, “we will alter course to pass astern of you and keep clear” and finish with “You have a good night Sir.” Military people seem to like being called “Sir”.

In the pre-dawn light we can saw the nav-lights and eerie silhouette of the top section of the submarine, as it glides across the harbour. We alter course 20 degrees to starboard and it crosses our bow 200m ahead. We continue to work our way up the channel and eventually change course to enter the Royal Perth Yacht Club Fremantle Annex Marina at 5am, where we located our allocated wharf and tie up. After 2,369nm, it’s a relief to get to Fremantle at last. As the sun rises over the marina, we have a quick crew chat, before heading to a local cafe for breakfast and coffee.

After a quick 2-day dash home to the Gold Coast, I return and spend the next few days in Fremantle managing repairs, cleaning and upgrades. The guys from Rigging WA did a great job with some anti-chafe work, new soft shackles and a mast check. We had a visit from Aidan McMahon from the Australian Bureau of Meteorology, to help fine tune our weather reporting system set-up. Our yachts are part of the worldwide program, where ships report actual weather (wind, temp, swell, clouds barometric pressure etc.) back to the Bureau throughout each day. This helps provide real data to feed back into their forecasting models to help check assumptions. My former Queensland neighbour and now Perth resident: Mike Stone, spent a day onboard helping with repairs.

With only one evening free before the next leg, crew member Marko and I wandered 2km through the streets on the way to dinner on the Friday night and discovered some stunning buildings. Fremantle is a gorgeous seaside city, thats done a great job of preserving history. With stone buildings designed to last centuries and not just decades, its links to the past are on display everywhere.

After my alternator had a couple of days to dry out, I put the belt back on and got it working happily again. It was great to see it charging the house batteries, without the sparks, smoke and flames shooting out the side of it. Pure joy!

David

Join the crew for a sailing adventure

Submarines, Flames and Lobsters

Rounding a Great Cape

Pizza and Diesel