Cairns to Cooktown

Cairns to Cooktown

 Tuesday 7th September 1993
    In the dark of the early hours before dawn we turn in towards Port Douglas.  It's a sleepy little place, which in later years is destined to flourish into a classy international tourism resort with outrageous land prices.

Entering Port Douglas

   For the moment it consists of a yacht marina, one street of shops and a few residential streets, but it provides a convenient spot to stop and carry out some repairs.  The genoa headsail has two rips in it needing the attention of a sailmaker, and the reverse gear on the motor will not engage.  We also need to look at the stuffing box, which has been allowing too much water into the bilges.  We figure it would be best to fix the latter in a marina rather than out at sea.  At least if there is an unforeseen problem, we can beach the boat.

Berted at Port Douglas

    There are few lights ashore as we get near, although we can make out the shape of the wharf and the estuary entrance in the gathering dawn light.  By the time we make our way up the channel, its light enough to see that the day is overcast but not threatening rain. 
    Since it's too early for the marina office to be open, we find a vacant berth and glide up carefully so as not to overshoot it.  Brian and I both jump onto the pontoon and quickly slip spring lines onto some bollards, bringing the boat to a graceful standstill.  Once Lowana is secured we indulge ourselves in a welcome brekkie of bacon, eggs and leftover stew, followed by a nice hot cup of coffee or tea.
    While waiting for the marina office to open, we set about doing some minor work.  I manage to get the face off the Sumlog instrument which had been damaged during sandblasting in Mackay, and straighten the pointer needle without breaking it.  Paul fixes the latch on the head door, which had broken during the big seas.  The occupant at the time had been flung out into the saloon much to his sudden dismay and disgust.  Meanwhile, Brian sets about topping up the main water tank and generally tidying up around the boat.
    By the time these tasks are finished the marina office is open.  We make our way up there and find the staff to be both friendly and helpful.  They assure us there's no problem with us using one of their berths for the day to carry out repairs, and are kind enough not to charge any fee. 
    We didn't have to look too far to find a sailmaker to fix our headsail.  While waiting for the sail to be repaired we take a walk around the small township to discover it's a quick trip (there isn't a lot to see.
    The reverse gear repair turns out to be relatively simple, although getting down in behind the motor and underneath the cockpit once again is not a lot of fun.  It's just a matter of re-connecting and adjusting linkages.  The stuffing box is also located down in that cramped little space, but Paul is able to tighten it up with a packing wrench we manage to find on board.
    After lunch we return to the sailmaker and collect the sail.  He only charged a modest fee for it, which we thought was good of him.  On return to the boat, the berthing lines are released and we move smoothly away from the pontoon, before turning around and heading back out the main channel towards the open sea. 
    The rain has cleared up and it's turned into one of those beautiful windless days, great for sitting on a beach but not for sailing.  Even so we put up all sails with the motor still running and head out of Port Douglas for our next stop at Cooktown.
    Once it turns dark the wind springs up.  We are running under sails only and the big seas come up once again.  The further north we go the closer the Great Barrier Reef edges towards to the coast, and the sea-lanes become narrower.  It's even more essential to pay attention to navigation so as not to wander too far off course, as there's not too much room for error.
    The night is pitch black out there and it's a little hairy scooting along at about seven knots, even though the sea-lanes are well marked with beacon lights.  Navigation is easy with the aid of a GPS but in addition to regular plotting of our position on the chart, I find myself drawing imaginary lines between the lights to the front and rear.  Offshore currents often sweep a boat too far to the left or right of track and one must be on guard against them.  At times like this one really has to admire the skills of olden-day sailors without GPS or lights, or even charts.
    Later in the evening the seas become quite heavy so all sails are dropped with the exception of the jib, and we motor-sail for the rest of the way to Cooktown where we will take a short break from our trip.

Wednesday 8th September 1993
    Once again it's in the early hours of the morning as we nose our way carefully into the small Endeavour River, but there are lights ashore to help us find our way.  We've completed the 70 miles from Port Douglas to Cooktown in 14 hours and Paul is happy with that.  After some scouting around checking depths and allowing for tidal runs, a spot is selected and the anchor finally dropped.  No time is wasted in getting to bed for some well earned sleep.
    There's not a lot of movement aboard Lowana until much later in the morning.  The day is fine with cloudless skies.  The heat and humidity is already starting to bear down on us, and now that we can relax at anchor there seems to be a little bit of lethargy among the crew.  The prevailing mood is one of contentment to just sit around, drink a hot brew of tea or coffee and relax for a while.
    Cooktown has a little bit of interesting history.  It's so named because Captain Cook beached his famous ship HMS Endeavour here, after it was holed on the reefs further out on 11 June 1770.  He'd been unaware of the extensive reef system closing in on him from the east.  He'd managed to get back afloat by throwing heavy gear like guns overboard, and wrapping canvas around the hull.  The ship was then brought over to the mainland with the crew madly pumping the bilges out.  The place where he went aground is now named Endeavour Reef.
    Captain Cook only stepped ashore at a few places on the Australian mainland.  This was one of them.  It took 48 days for him to repair his ship and from here he was able to see a possible escape channel through the reef out to the open sea.  When the repairs were completed, he was able to work his way through the enclosing net of coral reef, out into the open waters of the Coral Sea beyond.     

The Endeavour replica berthed in Perth WA

Still, there's not much point in visiting a place if you're just going to sit on the boat, so the dinghy is lowered and we make the short trip ashore.  We land on the shore not far from the actual spot where Captain Cook had beached his ship.
    The discovery of gold at Palmer River swelled the township in 1873, but today it's a small place of under 2000 people.  Most of the stone buildings date back a century and the museum built in 1888 was originally a convent school run by Irish nuns.  It now contains original artefacts from James Cook's vessel, aboriginal history and reminders of the gold rush days. 
    We walk around the main street for a time checking the shops.  One of them sported a recent clipping from a newspaper in the front window, complete with photograph, of a large saltwater crocodile in the river right where Lowana is now anchored.  This interesting little bit of news is carefully filed away and extra care will need to be taken when getting into and out of the dinghy.  None of us want to contribute to the beast's already healthy growth rate.
    No doubt there are tours and touristy things to do, but the local hotels need to be checked out too.  In fact they are positively beckoning to us, hitting us with blasts of air-conditioning and the prospect of a long awaited cool drink.
    With a degree of self-restraint that our respective mothers would be proud of, we complete our tour of the main street, before selecting a suitable watering hole.  We then proceed to spend agreeable time in it, talking with some locals and among ourselves.  Any previous feelings of sluggishness has dissolved.

Thursday 9th September 1993
    In the morning we're still feeling a little bit bushed and perhaps a little woolly headed, so the decision to spend another day in Cooktown is quickly and unanimously made.  But before we have any more fun ashore there are a couple of housekeeping things to do.
    First is to check the fuel and water.  We put 20 litres of diesel-fuel into the main tank and then top up the main water tank.  The boat is opened up to air it out and all mattresses and cushions are brought on deck to dry in the sun.
    There had been plans of cooking some lunch on the barbecue plate hanging off the aft safety rails, but while we are fiddling about someone manages to accidentally drop the plate over the side.  Remembering the newspaper clipping from yesterday, no one is game enough to go down and retrieve it so we simply have to kiss it goodbye.  It's a wise decision in any event, since the water is muddy and it would mean groping about down there.  Alternative arrangements are made for lunch.
    With the chores on board done we can now go ashore, but not for play yet.  Some more groceries are required and we should top up the LPG gas bottle.  Our next port of call will be Thursday Island and it's over 700 miles of uninhabited coastline away.  I'm also concerned about the ship's 12-volt wet-cell batteries.  The specific gravity is too low and they are not accepting a charge from the alternator.  I think the power demand of the portable fridge/freezer has been too hard on them.  It would be best to get another couple of batteries to be on the safe side.
    After loading the gas bottle into the dinghy, we climb in and go ashore.  A petrol service station is soon found offering wet-cell batteries and two new units, one of 120 amp-hours and the other 90 amp-hours, are purchased.  The prospect of lumping these heavy batteries back to the dinghy is not appealing but the agent, after seeing we have no transport, kindly offers to deliver them for us.
    After topping up the gas bottle we found we'd only used about a quarter of the contents, but in any event it's best to ensure we don't run out should we be delayed along the coast somewhere.  This time the bottle has to be carried and on the way, we stop by a shop to get the groceries.  This doesn't take long and by the time we arrive at the dinghy, the batteries turn up.
    Our purchases are all soon taken out to Lowana where Paul checks the bilges and has a look around the boat, while Brian and I set about stowing things away.  With the work done for the day, we are now free to pursue other interests.  Wonder what that other pub is like?

Friday 10th September 1993
    Brian is the one who notices the barbecue plate in the morning after we all get up.  It can be seen right beside the boat shining on the bottom in clear water, and only about two metres down.  It looks so tantalisingly close.  Finally, I can stand it no longer and donning a facemask, dive down to get it back.  It is perhaps the fastest dive in human history and in hindsight, is probably not the smartest thing to do.  In later years I was to learn that crocodiles sometimes loiter out from the stern of anchored yachts.