A homecoming for Claire, who is excited to show Joe the West (best) coast of SA.
10 very relaxing days spent on a mooring in Coffin Bay included : coast walks, razorfishing, some boat repair works (and prepping a friend’s house demolition), baking, mucking out (and about) in dinghies, sewing, catching Tommy Ruffs (Herring for Westralians) and catching family and friends. Glimpses of warm sun boosted the overcast mood for some during this time. Generosity of our special people, and new local acquaintances, allowed for hot showers, use of a car to provision and visit Lincoln, and learn how to fillet gummy shark.
A break in the weather came so we cast off from the perfect shelter of Coffins. Thus ensued a long day with mixed-bag of weather/seas to round the peninsula to Avoid Bay. It seemed as if each change in heading around Pt Sir Isaac brought with it a sail and outfit change: from drizzle on the foulies, to becalmed suntanning and cool drinks, then beating into short seas and watching the thunder clouds. My stomach dropped as Joe dropped metres with the bow off the waves. Made it to Avoid on dusk, Greenpeace’s Rainbow Warrior spotted around the islands in the distance. Ever grateful to theeee crayfishing community for another loan of a mooring during a short night of blinding electrical storms.
Sunshine became a more consistent feature after a queasy start in this gorgeous part of the Coffin Bay National Park, and set sail towards the Lincoln National Park. Headland weaving, island spotting, trailing seas and wind abaft the beam – we were all beaming with the excitement of visiting new places, being underway, and shaking off shoddy weather. Two nights in dreamy Memory Cove – resident seal and pup, beachcombing, rocky headland walk, sweet-smelling bush, SUP-ing, and a chance to dry out the contents of prematurely-deemed “dry lockers”. The unAvoidable spanking spared noone – passport, all clothes bar one ugg boot, rehydrated dehydrated veg, and some electronics.
Nature-soaked heart topped up, off we toddled for a textbook, mostly-downwind passage into Port Lincoln – close to many peoples’ hearts. Entering fabled fishing waters I was hopeful, but we have arrived all the way in to the town foreshore and I still haven’t caught anything of note since leaving Perth!
Storm Petrel hardened up around Cape Donington and enjoyed a fresh beat dodging fish farms and into Boston Bay.
Anchored before the yacht club, drink in hand, I look ashore at fond memories from a new seaward perspective.