Day 197: Vanuatu to Mackay, Australia – 22/07/10

Getting up at midnight, I have only had about two hours sleep – and that was broken.

I look out over the sea which is lit up by the moon and a tanker field.  Literally, loads of huge tankers lit up like Christmas trees on mooring balls.  Such a strange sight, and indicative of impending ‘civilisation’.

A trawler passes us by, all his lights on.  He calls us on the radio and wants to know our intention as far as route.  Most of the commercial vessels here have AIS, an information system that sends out details like the name of the vessel, the size, heading and speed.  We don’t have that system so can neither transmit or receive the information.  We tell him we are heading to Mackay and he’s happy that we won’t cross his path.

Ocean Jasper, Crazy Horse and A Lady have all passed us now, and we are Billy-no-mates sailing away on our own, if you can call sharing the sea with all these commercial vessels being alone.

I spend some of my watch going through my food supplies and putting aside things that I think the quarantine officer will want to destroy.

Mike wakes up just before 4 am and takes over.  Although I go to bed, I don’t sleep, just nod off every few minutes only to be woken with a start by a particularly loud slap of a wave on the side or underneath of the boat.  I can’t believe it when Mike comes to get me at 6 am and says we are just about the enter the harbour and I need to get dressed and get the fenders and lines ready.

Even just outside the harbour wall, the sea is still rough but once within the wall’s protection it is flat calm.  The wind is strong and the sky is clear, the sun just rising.

 Photo:  Sunrise over a very cold Mackay Marina

We are directed to tie up at the fuel dock until we have been visited by customs, immigration and quarantine.  There’s no one to take our lines so I climb over the side and leap when we get close.  It’s a long way down and my landing isn’t exactly gentle, but I am unharmed, and tie the boat onto the pontoon.

Photo:  Mike puts the Australian courtesy flag up

It is freezing.  We put the temperature gauge outside and it registers 17 degrees but the cold wind makes it feel much lower.  We have only come south about 200 miles – I can’t work out why it is so much colder here.  I’m going to have to go shopping!

The officials take quite a while arriving as they have three boats before us to deal with.  Eventually though, it is our turn.  Four of them turn up together and stand on the pontoon next to us asking us if any of us have been ill during the last passage.  Apparently sea sickness doesn’t count so they board, the women having a little difficulty and I have to help haul them over the side.

The two customs officials deal with Mike and the paperwork.  I get the quarantine guy.  We go through the fridge, freezer, food cupboards and my plastic boxes.  I have already got rid of (or eaten) everything that I am sure I couldn’t bring in, but they relieve me of some other stuff too.  All my painstakingly peeled frozen cloves of garlic and pieces of ginger are removed along with unopened jars of mayonnaise and some butter.  My tapa, which I bought in Tonga, is taken away when I reveal that it is made from the mulberry bark . I should have kept my mouth shut about this as he had no idea what it was made from and I find out subsequently that no one else lost theirs as they described them differently.  Ah well.

They have a good look around, opening cupboards and boxes occasionally then he happens to tap one of my woven baskets bought in Tonga, on the worktop and a tiny ant drops out and trundles across the worktop.  I had previously kept all the fresh garlic in in and know that the ants were around there – nothing to do with the basket at all – but he puts all my basketware and woven things into a big plastic bag, sprays it with insecticide and seals it.  He will be back tomorrow to see if anything has dropped out and died!

Photo:  Our ‘contaminated’ basketware

Once we are given the seal of approval, we leave the fuel dock and head for our berth in the marina.  It’s a bit of a bugger getting in because the we are mooring stern to and as Mike backs in the wind tries to blow us onto A Lady.  As we only have four fenders now and need those against the dock, John has to race out and put a couple on A Lady just in case we get pushed onto them, but we don’t and we are soon tied up.

There’s nothing in the fridge to eat, and neither Mike for I feel like cooking anything anyway, so we go for a wander around, mainly to touch base with the mechanics who are booked to come and look at the generator tomorrow.  When we have finished we walk along the marina and look at the choice of restaurants, ending up in a burger joint and sharing one of the largest burger and chips I have ever seen.  Thank god we didn’t order one each.

When we get back to the boat Mike attaches the shore power and decides to put the air conditioning on in order to dry it out.  He is most surprised when hot air starts coming out, and for a moment he almost panics before he realises what has happened – the sensor has found the boat to be so cold that it has switched the heating on instead of the air conditioning to warm the boat up to the temperature that we usually cool it down to.  This has never happened before but at least now we know the heating works!

We have an early night as we are both so tired, having had virtually no sleep last night.  We are so cold that for only the second time since we bought the boat, we put a blanket on the bed.

As I lie in bed, I mentally congratulate myself on crossing my first ocean – the whole of the Pacific.  For someone who is such a fair weather sailor and is as nautically inept as myself, this is no mean feat.  I am very proud – and knackered!  Just the Indian Ocean and the Atlantic to do now.

 

Our position is:  21 deg 06 min S, 149 deg 13 min E

Distance so far:  10457 nautical miles