Cruise: West is Best

When I lived in California, we used to say “West is best”, and I think the same is true of the West Coast of Australia. After a two-week intermission, we were excited to be back in WA. Swapping a flight for the bus from Perth to Geraldton let us see the inland landscapes we missed while at sea. To us, sailing trips are always enhanced by land-based exploration—hence our frequent car rentals at various ports.

Last-minute shopping in Geraldton meant a leisurely departure time of 09:30, followed by a fast beam run of 44 nautical miles to Gregory. The next day we pushed on to False Entrance, but the fickle southerlies meant we averaged only 5.9 knots and didn’t reach the anchorage until 01:00.

We had been eagerly anticipating our return to Shark Bay. Awaiting us were elusive dugongs and Aperol Spritz, at the Dirk Hartog Island beach bar, not necessarily in that order. The following day we crossed South Passage for the third time and continued all the way to Homestead Bay. This time the resort and beach bar were open. After working up a thirst with a beach walk, we enjoyed two Aperol Spritz as the sun went down. It felt like the Mediterranean without the crowds.

Aperol Spritz on Dirk Hartog Island.

We asked the bartender about good spots to view dugongs and he recommended two bays further north. The following morning we set sail for the first of them, Herald Bay, ten nautical miles north. The bay was empty—no dugongs, and no other boats. Later we learned that most sailors wait until May to escape the heat and cyclone risk.

The next day offered a glimmer of dugong hope. En route to Louisa Bay I caught a fleeting sight of a dugong gliding between us and the shore, but the animal dived, never to appear again. Louisa Bay had people on the beach, but no dugongs!

We awoke to an ESE wind and lee shore, meaning it was time to move. Since none of the anchorages on the eastern side of Dirk Hartog Island would offer good wind protection in such conditions, we set sail for the Peron Peninsula on the other side of the bay.

Ninety minutes later disaster struck. It is a sickening feeling to have a steering wheel spinning freely, disconnected from the rudder. I instantly recognized the situation having experienced it eighteen months earlier in Victoria. That time the pinion shaft had snapped in half, but this time the whole housing had cracked. No doubt, the earlier failure had somehow contributed to the current failure—perhaps a micro fracture had grown to become a macro fracture. I was starting to hate rack and pinion steering.

I immediately implemented my emergency steering procedure: locking the rudders and then using engines to provide differential steering. Eight hours later we were anchored in Broadhurst Bay, on the western shore of the Peron Peninsula. I used the remaining daylight to jury-rig a rudder control system using two winches. One winch would pull the starboard rudder to starboard, the other to port, so we could steer without engines.

The next day, we set sail for the nearest port, Carnarvon, fifty nautical miles to the north. For most of the eight hours we sailed while I stood operating our “steering winches”. The following seas necessitated constant steering adjustments that were tiring, work usually performed by my trusty autopilot. I couldn't leave my post for more than a minute so Merri delivered sustenance.

Steering by winches.

I reverted to differential engine steering on the final, nerve-wracking approach to Carnarvon, which entailed navigating a narrow channel with seas on our beam. Eventually we pulled into the safety of Carnarvon Boat Harbour, which would be Arriba’s home for the next twelve days.

I made a quick call to Marine Control Systems to order a new part. Cyclone Alfred was lashing southeast Queensland, and large areas were without power. It would be a couple of days before the part could be fabricated and then up to five business days to be shipped from the other side of the country. There was no point hanging around, which meant it was time for another road trip!

The following day we rented a car for a week and set off to explore the hinterland. Before leaving town, we visited the Carnarvon Space and Technology Museum, which is a must-visit museum for anyone interested in the history of lunar exploration and Carnarvon's role. We particularly enjoyed the Apollo capsule simulator and taking off for the moon.

Gemini space capsule replica.

Our next stop was Mount Augustus National Park, which features a massive, ancient inselberg that is twice the size of Uluru and rises over 700m above the surrounding red sandplain. Unlike the latter, it is a monocline, not a monolith. We tent camped in the nearby campground, which was very pleasant and we had to ourselves, except for the cows mowing the lawns. The friendly hosts went out of their way to help and advise us, in particular, encouraging us to avoid a remote section of road.

Next we drove to Karijini National Park, located in the heart of the Pilbara region, famous for its massive red-rock plateaus and steep gorges. The deep, shaded gorges and cool waters were a highlight—especially Fern Pool—providing a vital escape from the relentless heat. In stark contrast, our campground offered baking heat, red dust, and pitiful shade. Mount Augustus had been hot too, but at least there was shade and green grass. Karijini National Park is undeniably beautiful though. We were just there at the wrong time of year.

Fern Pool, Karijini National Park.

Knox Gorge, Karijini National Park.

We’d prepaid for three nights, but after two days of enduring the furnace, we forfeited the final night and fled to the coast. We found refuge in a Coral Bay motel, where the air conditioning provided the relief we’d been craving. Merri was happy to spend the next 24 hours in the room staying cool, but I had other plans.

Coral Bay is a jumping-off point for Ningaloo Reef, a spectacular fringing coral system and UNESCO World Heritage site that hugs the coast for nearly 300km. In many places the reef is just a short swim from the beach, but I decided to sign up for a boat tour to cover more ground. Ningaloo is world famous for whale sharks, which were just starting to make their appearance for the season. I was fortunate enough to swim with whale sharks, manta rays (top photo), and even a tiger shark. It was one of the highlights of my diving and snorkeling career. I made a note for our next visit that there are some official DBCA moorings near the town wharf and boat ramp.

The whale shark I swam with (photo by Ningaloo Marine Interactions).

From Coral Bay we drove south on Highway One, leaving the tropics behind when we crossed the Tropic of Capricorn. Back in Carnarvon, we went straight to the post office to pick up the new steering housing and I got to work installing it.

A post office is always a good place to accept deliveries on sailing trips, but ask ahead of time to ensure you're using the correct address.

On March 22nd, we bid a reluctant farewell to Carnarvon. We didn't get to explore further north this time, but that just gave us a reason to come back for another trip. Watch this space! We sailed for the Peron Peninsula and anchored at Skip Jack Point, where we enjoyed a walk along a beautiful beach, shared with thousands of Pied Cormorants.

The following day we returned to Homestead Bay, where we enjoyed another Aperol Spritz (or two) while enjoying the sunset. We awoke to very light winds and motored to Cape Ransonnet, the southernmost tip of Dirk Hartog Island, where we swam and went ashore, enjoying the crystal-clear turquoise waters. Reluctantly, we reboarded Arriba, crossed the South Passage one last time, and headed to False Entrance for the evening.

Our last swim on Dirk Hartog Island.

From there we could have retraced our tracks to Geraldton via Gregory; however offshore southeasterly winds presented an alternative for the first time. Ever since visiting Kalbarri by land, we’d been intrigued about the possibility of sailing there, not least because it breaks up a long leg between Gregory and Shark Bay. The entrance to Kalbarri, which is the Murchison River estuary, is narrow and features a dog-leg turn, but it is well defined by channel markers. On previous passages, we’d always had westerly seas, which rendered the approach quite dangerous.

Sailing through the night, I timed our arrival at the entrance with the first light. After waiting for a fishing boat to exit, I made my move and raced in with both engines firing. Power is your friend when navigating tight channels with seas on the beam. By 06:40, we were anchored in the river with good holding in 2m~3m of water.

Arriba entering Kalbarri's entrance (images taken 2 minutes apart).

DoT operate a camera at Kalbarri aimed at the entrance, which is an excellent way to assess conditions and captured Arriba's approach.

It was a stinking hot day in Kalbarri, but we managed to get to the local supermarket without heat stroke. After lunch, we moved Arriba to the western side of the river and cooled down with a swim.

At 06:06 the following morning we weighed anchor and re-entered the Indian Ocean. Eleven hours and 75 nautical miles later, having averaged 6.8 knots under sail, we were back at Town Beach, Geraldton. The following evening we enjoyed our final dinner in Geraldton, at the GYC, where we could admire Arriba from our table.

Dinner at GYC, with Arriba in the background.

The next day we would sail for Perth.

OVER.