Pearson Island to Streaky Bay      5/3/15 - 10/3/15

After our Pearson experience we admit to finding it a little difficult to focus on what we tackled next, although concentrating on helming Calista as we approached Flinders Island soon gained our attention. With a strong Sou-Easter predicted overnight, and a swell visibly building, we selected Flinders Bay on the Northern shore of the island, around from the lighthouse at Point Malcolm as the place to head. We could have chosen to pass to the NW or South of the Island but ringing in our ears was the advice from an Avoid Bay fisherman who recommended great care in piloting around Flinders. "You'll see a fishing boat up on the rocks on the western side" was his warning. Given that passing to the west of Flinders, near Ward Island, was a slalom course of spray, rock and reef, we opted for the southern route. Besides this, heading via the South Coast we might see Groper Bay on the Southern coast and Homestead Bay to the East, that we should be able to at least “glass” from on board as we slid by. It was soon clear from the fountains of spray erupting from the coast on the southern side that standing well clear, even if that meant forgoing the anchorage inspection that we sought, was prudent ship management.

Seal Point and Bobs Nose on approach to Flinders Island.

Flinders Island is, at 1518 hectares, is an isle of substantial size, which saw earlier settlers target it for agriculture. Sadly, this landed past led to the clearing of its vegetation for grazing and cropping, and in the process, the decimation of its wildlife. Some species simply disappeared. Today it has a tourist focus with a farmhouse, island wilderness experience on offer. For us as we rounded the reefs off Seal Point to the SE, there were compelling coastal vistas to enjoy, including the lifelike Bob's Nose, and the Topgallant Islands further to the SE, named thus by Flinders, because as they appeared on the horizon they put him in mind of the uppermost sails of a four-master looming into view.

Pt Malcolm from Flinders Bay anchorage

Rounding Point Malcolm, and in theory sheltered from the swell, we noted that the scale of the chart of the area gave an obscure impression in relation to a nearby reef. According to our chart plotter, we had passed clearly over a reef, when a triple visual assessment put if safely away on our port side. Selecting a location to anchor, comfortably out from shore in the middle of Flinders Bay, we found ourselves again in deep water (nearly 30 feet) although, happily, apparently over a bottom dominated by sand over weed. Our reluctance to go in a little closer resulted from our observing, and then feeling the twin influences of the large swell, sneaking around from the SW side of the island, and a secondary swell rounding Point Malcolm produced by the Sou-Easter. Not far away a point break broke on a reef and out to sea a "bombie" occasionally broke on a deeper reef that apparently only reared its horrid head in heavier swells. Two things resulted from these circumstances. One, was that we rode uneasily at anchor, and were likely to do so well into the night. The second was that our plan of heading ashore to undertake a walk to the lighthouse was in serious doubt owing to the heavy shore break now impacting on the beach. We concluded that to harshly judge Flinders Bay on this one experience was probably unfair, and, that in a smaller swell on our return, the delights of the island may be more apparent. We were nonetheless pleased to drop our pick safely in any anchorage, as picking and choosing was not an option. Resigned to an afternoon on board, we put on the kettle, and topped it up a little more for an inventorial hot wash in the cockpit.

 

Moonrise over Flinders Bay

 

Later in the night there was a more positive profile to our stay. A bulging full moon cast a delightful light over the bay and Point Malcolm, and, in its silvery beams we noted that the swell had perhaps backed off a little. Thus, cleansed and rested, we were up and away early on the longish 51nm passage to Sceale Bay. Heading for Cape Radstock, and leaving Baird Bay and Venus Bay out of sight to starboard it was clear that the swell was still formidable, and it made for a spectacular if a little disconcerting display ashore as we closed on Point Labatt. Apparently there is a seal colony at the point, but with the dimension of the swell running, they were welcome to it. This part of our journey reveals classic West Coast country with jagged limestone cliffs, rock platforms, reefs and gin-clear water. Later, having crossed Searcy Bay and making for Cape Blanche we were held in more than a little awe as the foul ground guarding the entrance to Sceale Bay extended  for two miles out to sea, with crashing seas and acres of white water confirming the conflict thus raging between the ocean and the reef. With great respect, and with the gentle SE now giving us a favourable point of sail, we made for the bight of the bay, leaving yet another sunken nasty well to starboard on the way.

Downtown Sceale Bay

 

Three things were immediately apparent about Sceale Bay. One was that anchoring in excellent weed and sand holding in a user-friendly depth, provided billiard table smoothness. The swell had been completely blunted by the efforts of the entrance reef. We could walk about on board, no longer wishing that we had feet like a tree frog. The second was that, with a glorious sandy beach stretching away to Yanerbie in the North, we could, if necessary, use the dual anchorages at Sceale Bay and Yanerbie Beach to sit out a Northerly to Sou-west change. Thirdly, ashore at Sceale Bay were things that we had not seen for a few days. Houses.

Comfortable smooth night at Sceale Bay

Anchoring at Sceale Bay, with its tape weed over sand bottom on flat water was a profound contrast to what we had managed in the previous few days. Even though shadows were lengthening we took the opportunity to hastily launch the duck and embark on the longish steam to shore, if only to stretch our legs and to reacquaint our balance receptors with a surface that does not move. Sceale Bay is a coastal hamlet that really might be called Scale Bay, because those who reside here - the minority - and those who holiday here - the majority - live for fishing. There is no retail precinct in Sceale Bay, but it does boast of an award winning dunny, whimsically dubbed "Camelot", boasting a limestone portico, grand walled entrance and a plaque commemorating in its finer points, that you could read whilst seated. If a force twenty hurricane swept through the town it would be safe to seek shelter in this singular public facility.

"Camelot"

 

A quick saunter along the esplanade and a stroll on the beach unearthed only one group of locals, pleasantly committed to their patio drinks, as we passed by and shared pleasantries. As we puttered back to our ship a gentle Sou-Easter nestled us perfectly into the crook of the bay and we concluded that one could ride out a formidable wind from that quadrant in this anchorage. For the record, a fine stir fry was soon burbling away below, and with a glass of relaxant to accompany it, it was not long before the combination of a stable residence and the prospect of an early getaway in the morning had us in fathomless slumber.

Sunset Sceale Bay

 

The lights of Sceale Bay were fading astern, and our navigation lights cast red and green splashes at our bow, before the eastern sky lightened and we were able to see the craggy cliffs of Point Westall emerge in the morning light. Not far from here is the popular Granites surf spot, but our attention was more on a course to the NW, that saw the sweeping crescent of Corvisant Bay steal the coastline off our starboard quarter. Eventually land and an island became apparent ahead, with the land, Cape Bauer, and the island, Olive Island, forming a guard of honour to the entrance to Streaky Bay. With surf crashing ominously on the reef system extending to the NE from Olive Island, we picked our path with care before entering the broad approaches to Streaky Bay. To be honest, total responsibility for pilotage on this day, was taken by Cookie, whist her companion on board, spent slabs of time below on this chronicle. It is a good test for one's internals to concentrate and type in a swelly seaway.

 

 Streaky Bay is a bay of considerable dimension. Rounding Cape Bauer, the southern point of approach, sees the northern entrance, Point Brown, but a smudge on the horizon, for it is 15miles away. For us, there was still a further twelve miles to traverse in the South Channel (Streaky Bay has three channels), before a  sharp starboard turn at Point Gibson had us entering Blanche Harbour, and four miles away the grain silos at the township of Streaky Bay became apparent, white and proud to the south. Curiously, having worked our way to the north at sea in the morning, now, past noon, our final approach to Streaky took us in the opposite direction. It was not only the direction that was different, our surrounds were too.

South Channel Marker with Streaky Bay township & silos in the distance.

Gone were the towering cliffs, and terrible seas plunging on rocks, replaced now by a flattish and featureless shoreline more like that of Lake Alexandrina at the end of the Murray. Gone too was the swell, for in Blanche Harbour, beyond the shield of Point Gibson, tranquillity reigns. It would be easy for seafaring souls, having escaped from Neptune and Boreas outside, to succumb to the delights of Streaky Bay, and find it hard to lift their anchor to flee the cosy nook in the lee of the town jetty.



Anchoring in Streaky Bay

Our seeming haste in leaving the very acceptable Sceale Bay is explained in a way that will shatter any notion that we are hardened souls, preferring the rigours of a saline life to the softness of town. We confess that we had timed our arrival to treat ourselves....wait for this…to abandon our floating home in favour of a Saturday Night out at the Streaky Bay Hotel. There is something to be said for country pubs. We have lots of favourites and each seems to represent the character of the locale from which they draw patronage. Think the Blinman Hotel, the Black Stump at Mintaro, Bompas at Beachport, etc etc. Streaky's pub with its fabulous nautical themes and decor is a winner in our view. Besides, it is a Community hotel, which like the caravan park is owned by the good people of Streaky Bay. In short, the SBH did not disappoint, and we left sated and satisfied, before an obligatory stroll along the jetty and a short ride in our minor ship had us back on board and happy. Slumberosly happy.

Cheers.. we sailed to the Streaky Bay Hotel !

Dear oh dear! The unthinkable had occurred! We must be in either an early onset of a cerebral dysfunction, or we have truly removed ourselves from a previous life where we were not at sea. In our former life long weekends were identified, underlined in diaries and eagerly anticipated, months in advance. Often they presented, it might be guessed, an opportunity to put to sea and to leave the desk, the phone and the world of meetings, sirens and recalcitrant teens astern for a time. Now, having come ashore at Streaky, we were dumbfounded to discover that owing to a holiday for an obscure horse race, our plan of taking some r&r on the Sunday, and reprovisioning on Monday would have to be put back by a day. There are worse places to be marooned, and it took us no time to declare that with a Sunday Roast night in the offing we could be pressed do "back-to-back" visitations to the Streaky Bay Hotel.

We need to make a second confession. With the focus of our youth and adult years being on the opposite side of the state we are almost ashamed to admit that our knowledge of the alluring country beyond Port Lincoln and surrounding waters was scanty. When we were in the planning stage of this trip, we realised that apart from scouring the internet for relevant information, and heading for Google Earth to peer down on potential ports and anchorages, there really was no substitute for “seeing it for ourselves”. Hence, not long after Port Lincoln’s Tunarama Festival, we hired a small touring vehicle to embark on a familiarisation and information collecting land excursion to Ceduna and return. This was of immense value to us and is highly recommended to anyone planning to head West by sea. Naturally we could not gain access to the offshore islands, but by visiting every accessible coastal vantage point and shore anchorage, we gained a priceless appreciation for and respect for what lay ahead.

Checking out the coastline south east of Cape Bauer by road.

 

 

The charming coastal port of Elliston for example, which sits on the coast not far from Flinders Island, was dismissed by us as not desirable to enter in anything more than millpond conditions. The narrow entrance to Waterloo Bay has a reef surf break on either side, and within the bay the anchoring options seemed problematical. Steer clear we felt. On the other hand we warmed to Sceale Bay as a great refuge from weather with SW to SE content, and what is more, because we found our way to Yanerbie across the bay via some less travelled local roads, we appreciated that despite its shallower aspect, this spot complimented Sceale perfectly as a place to manage a N-NW, to SW-S weather change, as we noted earlier. Not perfect, but distinctly viable. Now, at Streaky Bay, we had already pencilled in this spot as a fine victualling location, with easy access to water, fuel and of course to that most commendable of watering holes the Streaky Bay Hotel.

Washing drying on the clothesline.

 

For any readers of nautical literature, and even of this modest contribution to it, do not be entirely seduced by an imagery of idyllic days at sea, because for starters it can be often a life of rolly, and not riley. You may also have to forego some things that you consider essential to life in this millennium. Take washing, for example. We carry only 500 litres of water on board for all purposes short of flushing our “head” (the ship’s toilet). No lounging in the bath or luxuriating in a 20minute hot shower, on board Calista. In any case, we do not have piped hot water on board. If you want hot water you boil the kettle. As for “showering”, whilst we have a cold deck shower, we prefer to use bottled water to wash down post swimming because it is a non-wasteful process, and as for our persons, you can achieve wonders with a warm bowl of water and a soapy flannel. Every now and then we reward ourselves with a fuller laundering in the ship’s cockpit where we can treat ourselves to shampooing our hair. Even then the residual water left in the bowl might be given a final duty of washing some “smalls”.

 

Loaded up with essential reprovisions.

 

 

With this in mind, our layover at Streaky Bay saw us dedicated to a raft of menial but essential tasks. With collapsible trolley in tow and fuel drums attached, I made for the local servo, whilst herself was seen by a host of tourists drawing attention by doing a load of ship’s washing by the jetty standpipe. “Poor dear” we are sure some of muttered to themselves, “must be down on her luck doing her washing in public like that”. I suggested to her later as we hung out our things to dry on the ship’s safety lines that next time she needed to put out a tin cup for alms, next time we air our dirty laundry in public.

Dawn light over Streaky Bay

 

It would not be hard to leave an anchor down for a long time in Streaky Bay, although for us our curiosity to see one of SA’s fabled set of islands, which could be found less than a day’s sail away to the North-West would see us heading there. Our duck, laden with fresh supplies and provisions had helped us to, again, be fully stocked for the next phase of our journey. We were headed for the land of Lilliput, the Nuyts Archipeligo, a place with a name alone to make one want to go there.