Avoid Bay to Pearson Island   1/3/15 - 3/3/15

It is frustrating at times, but in journeying as we are at sea we are held captive by the wind. Unlike land travel, say by car, we cannot be precise about when we will travel, because predicted wind strength and direction have the final say. For us at Point Avoid the plan to make for Greenly, then Point Sir Isaac, was thwarted by the posting of a strong wind warning for Lower West Coast waters for the next day, that would see us being forced to delay our departure beyond Avoid. A bonus however was emerging, that in three day's time there was a "window" of lighter SW winds in the forming pattern. A front will lick the far SE of SA, and for a period this will bend the isobars in our region, away from the incessant SE's and to the South and South West. This might give us a chance to make it to Pearson Island, Greenly's remote and desolate cousin, and to use these predicted conditions to allow a landing in its eastern anchorage which apparently gave best access to this magnificent island. Hence seeing the unfolding weather patterns was crucial in our planning. This meant declaring a "lay day" to allow the strong winds to settle, then taking the following day to head for Point Sir Isaac some 26nm away, before the long haul of 58nm out to sea to Pearson Island. Reluctantly, Greenly would have to go on our "list" for the return journey to Port Lincoln.



Almonta Beach

 

This enforced delay allowed us to expand our explorations ashore, so the next morning, with a requisite packed lunch, we made our way to Almonta Beach, in the lee of Golden Island, on the exposed coast across the peninsula from Avoid Bay. This rugged beach, which extends for miles in the direction of Cape Carnot, is backed by an extensive area of rolling sand dunes, inshore from the roaring surf. Following a fine stroll along this Coorong like landscape, we paused just abeam of Golden Island for lunch where we happened upon a  Danish couple trying to photographically capture the scenery that lay before them. They were staggered by the rugged beauty and sense of wilderness about this part of the Coffin Bay Peninsula. Nothing like this is to be found on the Danish coast it would appear. Sometimes it takes visitors to remind us that there are great places to see and to enjoy, just on our doorstep. Our hearty stroll, enhanced by visitations to lookouts and vantage points along the cliff tops, was concluded by a bracing immersion in the Avoid Bay shallows, before a return to our ship, which all the while had been nid-nodding on anchor. Our enforced delay had proved to be a time well spent.

Seasick Bay, Pt Sir Isaac

 

Next morning we were primed to hoist sail, but the sunny conditions enjoyed on the previous day had been smothered by a leaden bank of cloud that had streamed in from the west. Making our way across Avoid Bay in the direction of Cape Whidbey the drab skies sapped colour from the coastline and this saw features ashore disappear in the murk. The breeze was also obtuse for a time until, beyond Whidbey, we were able to hoist effective canvas and roll on beyond Reef Head to Point Sir Isaac. With the point rounded we entered a splendid cove where in normal March sunshine, the waters would be an aquamarine delight. Now the road-metal grey above sapped the hues from the scene although the anchorage was pleasantly placid, at total odds with its nickname of "Seasick Bay". With a probing Sou-Easter sliding across the bay, we abandoned our more normal routine of a swim ashore, in favour of a walk to the nearby "light house", which turned out to be one of those steel, functional and industrial contraptions bearing none of the romance of those cylinders of stone from bygone days. Next morning in the pre-dawn as we busied ourselves aboard Calista, readying ship and crew for departure, its rhythmic wink guided us out of the bay, on the long haul beyond the horizon to Pearson Island.

Dawn departure from Seasick bay

 

Because we would be planning to be in the northerly anchorage on Pearson and this would require us setting our ground tackle in water deeper than we would normally contemplate, we wanted to arrive there with some height left in the sun to give us the best chance of locating a sandy patch below which makes the best holding for the anchor. This would also help reduce the chance of the anchor snagging the bottom in this very remote and desolate place. As a back-up plan in the event of a stuck anchor we intended to affix a strong spectra line and buoy to the head of the shaft, called a trip line. This is used if the anchor becomes stuck and cannot be retrieved via the chain to the winch. We might be able to pick up the trip-line and haul the anchor out backwards, in the opposite direction to how it was set. Heading as far as we were offshore, this key aspect of our security on Pearson helped drive us as quickly as we could to a place that lay somewhere far over the horizon to the North - West.

On approach to Pearson Island

 

The breeze was predicted to back from the SE to the South later in the day, but this was slow in happening and it remained fixed on our stern quarter, an awkward point of sail, with not the strength to hold our headsail with conviction, and too complex an angle for our autopilot to manage. With sail alone we lurched along like a late night reveller, and needed to engage our motor to maintain our schedule to arrive at Pearson. This left us hand steering to make the best of conditions even when, finally, the wind edged around and firmed from the South. Adding to the complexity of our passage was the size of the swells that bore down on us from the SW. Generated, probably, by the weather systems that had passed to the South, they were immense walls of violet and purple, that saw us alternately in valleys of blue before being lifted again and again to their azure heights. Our floating microcosm of life seemed to shrink to much less than its 36 foot of length in the face of this display of nature. We were both awe struck by these surrounds as time after time we were effortlessly hoisted and lowered on these phenomenon of the deeper sea. Happily Archimedes was right, and Calista bobbled her way happily on her passage where eventually the uppermost heights of Pearson appeared off our starboard bow like twin conning towers of some immense submersible arising from the depths. We had planned to call Garry at Tumby Bay VMR to report our progress, but found that unfortunately, we had fallen out of range, and that more than ever, we were alone at sea.

Dolphin escort to Pearson Island.

Nearing Perason Island, a fuller appreciation of this outpost of the Investigator Group became apparent.  Drawing closer and approaching from the SSE, it was clear that whilst Pearson (781ft) lorded over the area, the attendant islands of the Veterans and Dorotheea ( 460 ft) were nearly as spectacular, adding to the overall picture of awe and splendour that was forming off our bow. Then, around us the sea boiled, as a pod of Dolphins, too numerous to count, adopted the role of welcoming committee, edging out each other for a favoured spot on our bow, surfing our wake and squeaking in delight. From all around they came, taking time out of their day to cavort alongside us. One of these grey torpedoes, perhaps galvanised by our arrival, leapt several feet out of the water to our astonishment and total delight. Might this display be a taste of the wonders that lay ahead? What these beautiful mammals seemed to be saying to us was.... "crew of Calista, you are in for a treat".