Sceale Bay to Hill Bay        27/3/15 - 28/3/15

On board Calista we are careful "passage makers". When planning a move to another anchorage, we take great heed of likely weather on route, the winds that are predicted, the "nautical challenges" such as reefs, shoals, foul ground and the like that might be encountered on the way, together with the features of our destination and the advisable time to arrive there to be securely on anchor before nightfall. This naturally involves a calculation of distance to go and likely speed that we will make along the way. Then, like a billiards or chess player, an idea of our "next move" helps make passage making a key feature of coastal cruising. At the end of this blog we will index the sources of information that we have found valuable in undertaking this voyage.

Back in Sceale Bay, with the weather "on the mend", we were keen to move on, hopefully about 50nm plus, to a destination in the investigator Group, off Elliston. Another consideration, not listed above but significant in these waters is swell. Large swells had been generated by the weather systems passing to the south in the previous week, and as our previous visit to Flinders Bay on Flinders Island in the Investigator group had been made uncomfortable by the prevailing swell, we opted to head for East Waldegrave Island, off Cape Finniss, near Elliston. Here we hoped that in the North East corner, in an anchorage protected from SW to East, and with an excellent sandy bottom for holding, we would find a fine stopover, on the eastern-most isle of the Investigator Group. Besides, Waldegrave came well recommended and we were enthused about the prospect of somewhere new to see. On our "road reconnaissance" trip up the West Coast, we had stood on Cape Finniss and "glassed" Waldegrave Island, feeling a measure of frustration that we could not see around the NE tip of the island and into the anchorage. Now if the winds were fair we could rectify that.

 An examination of predicted weather showed that in the middle of the pre-dawn morning, winds were to swing to a favourable NE direction and remain light all day until a firm sea-breeze from the SSE filled in later in the afternoon. Such a wind would be directly on our bow and would be an annoyance if we were still out at sea. So, given that the passage out of Sceale Bay to Waldegrave was about 55nm in length, this made it essential that we raised anchor in Sceale Bay at the unfriendly hour of 3am.

Sunrise over Cape Radstock

Apart from a handful of feeble street lights eminating from the hamlet of Sceale Bay, the night was tiger-snake black when our motor barked into action with our navigation lights casting a crème de menthe glow to starboard and a sunburned face to port. In the darkness, it was essential for us to pay considerable respect to the charted reefs off Cape Blanche which would be unforgiving if we strayed too close. We gave this area a wide berth, and then some! Once clear of Cape Blanche a course for Cape Radstock to the South was set and we went into a night passage routine of one on watch and another below, in the passage making bunk Cookie calls "the nest". Now, past the equinox, days are shorter and it was 7am before flimsy hues of gold in the east allowed the gnarled visage of Cape Radstock, which in a dream might be confused with the brow of a Sioux Chieftan, to manifest itself against the eastern skyline. The coastline between Cape Bauer, through Cape Labatt to Cape Radstock is classic West Coast coastal scenery with majestic cliffs and spectacular coastal vistas. These are hard to photograph at night.

 

Waldegrave  Island

  

In daylight hours to noon, with our schedule being maintained under motor and mainsail the entrances to both Baird Bay and Venus Bay passed unseen but noted across the broad expanse of Anxious Bay, which formed a 35mile crescent like  indentation in the coastline to Port. Eventually the outline of Flinders Island and the Topgallant Isles rose to starboard, whilst Waldegrave Island, like a failed sponge cake, failed to rise to any degree ahead. The value of close crew attention on approach to a new anchorage paid off as we neared Waldegrave, because although we believed that the commercial fishing farm charted in the area was no longer operational, the distinctive yellow markers, on our course and off the anchorage confirmed that it was.

Waldegrave Anchorage

As our anchor descended to a field of silicon below, a glance at the nearby beach, the impressive cliffs fringing it, and the pair of sea-eagles wheeling above, made the early rise and the long day worth the effort. Besides we had beaten the sea breeze to the punch and now we could contemplate launching the duck and going ashore. Then, Calista rolled, and rolled, and rolled again. So, Waldegrave did not entirely blunt the swell. and, what was more, the waves were pulsing their way ashore to cause a significant shore-break in the Cove. Going ashore there risked us pitch-poling our duck in the surf, or risking a dunking on our way out if we managed to get ashore.

The shorebreak!

We were a little deflated at the prospect of being confined to our ship, but noting that beyond the granitic reef at the end of the island the swells might be blunted, we sought the input of technology to provide more on this possibility. A quick look on Google Earth, confirmed the presence of a secondary sandy beach on the eastern side of Waldegrave, and, with this reassurance, we were promptly launched and on our way. The little beach to the east proved to be both placid and viable and we were soon ashore to join a small group of Australian Sealions who use the area to haul-out and slumber.

Welcoming locals

A cautious clamber across the granite boulders, being ever mindful of the domestic peace of the locals, saw us on the Waldegrave Beach, which on our subjective "cove rating" scale scored highly indeed. If we were of a mind we could have no doubt found a way up the cliffs to the flat summit of the island, but noting in Offshore Islands et al that the ground above was riddled with Shearwater burrows from the estimated 88,000 birds that call Waldegrave their home, we confined our exploration to the inter-tidal zone. The beach at Waldegrave would make a fine spot to come ashore with a beach shelter, a good book and a cut lunch, not to omit the obvious desideratum of fine wine and good company. For us our good company was also mammalian, with some representatives of the Sealion colony, joining us happily for a swim in the eastern cove, with them demonstrating their aquatic prowess, whilst we refreshed ourselves after a long day at sea.

Another stunning beach to explore.

 

 

 

Back on board, the swell had subsided with the tide and over our traditional treat of "sundowners" in the cockpit, we reflected on what had been another stellar day, as the limestone cliffs in the bay faded from lime to clay and then to gold as the day retreated. On sunset, a cray boat, Talisman 3 made its way into the bay, and drew abeam for a cheery word. We have not sighted another yacht making passage in these waters at this "prime time", and to share a few words with some experienced locals, before they set their anchor was a welcome interlude. The guys on Talisman were nearing the end of their summer activities and planned to be out of the anchorage, well before sunrise, bound for Flinders and the Topgallant Isles. We slept well that night in the lee of Waldegrave Island.



"Talisman 3"

At Waldegrave, when not "Googling" beaches for potential landing, we took the opportunity of fair Internet signal to investigate the pattern of weather emerging in the next week leading up to Easter. It seemed that another change, of uncertain intensity, was due on the eve of Easter and following the change the pattern was likely to revert to renewed Sou-Easters in its wake. To us this meant that we would need to seek shelter of some sorts to see out the change, and in the interim, use each "non-SE" opportunity to retrace our steps to Avoid Bay, before with great reluctance, undertaking the final leg of our journey back to Port Lincoln. This might mean that some intended destinations might have to wait for another time. This did not mean, however, us having reached the end of new places to see. Indeed the pre-dawn new day saw us up, primed and ready to move.

Amazing colours at sunset

Talisman 3 was nowhere to be seen as light rose on Waldegrave Island, but we were reluctant to go, as our passage out of Waldegrave would take us between the smaller "West Waldegrave Island" and the clump of adjacent rocks, delightfully dubbed "The Watchers". From the chart this passage seemed quite clear, but being new to it, we preferred to pass through in the light of the new day. From there our track bent to the SE, abeam of Cape Finniss, and Elliston, on to Cap Island, on the 47nm passage to the remarkable Hill Bay anchorage

Dawn depature

As we cleared the passage out of West Waldegrave, it was apparent that we were in luck. Finally, finally, a Nor - Easter of kindly magnitude filled in, giving us the opportunity to loosen our canvas, unfurl the headsail, and let Calista romp under sail as she was designed to do. What a treat. Soon the cliffs beyond Elliston were flying by to port, as beyond their outlines could be seen the contradictory uplands of Mount Misery and Mount Hope. At sea, misery was far from our mind and we hoped that the Nor-Easter might hold until Cap Island and beyond. In our wake, the Investigators, had sunken as though deflated, below the horizon. Then, on forecast, the NE air softened, faltered, and with the fabulously patterned cliffs leading to Hill Bay coming into view, the sea assumed an oily smoothness, providing excellent conditions for approaching an anchorage like few others we had ever seen.



Wonderful sailing at last !

Again, the value of obtaining excellent notes from previous voyagers and us having visited Hill Bay on our "Road Trip", became invaluable assets. By vehicle we had taken the dusty track off the Eyre Highway at Mount Hope, and made our way to the cliffs overlooking the Hill Bay anchorage. From above, a long cove, bounded by limestone cliffs on one side, and protected from the sea by a projection of reefs rocks and an islet, made a haven that only nature could design. The scale of the marine chart of the area gave no assistance, and frankly without having seen Hill Bay for ourselves, and even better, watching a cray boat pilot its way in to one of the moorings, we might not have been game to contemplate Hill Bay as a place to visit.

Our road trip view of Hill Bay

 Now, edging past the towering cliff to port and keeping safe distance from the rocks and reef to starboard, we turned up into this nook of all nooks and dropped our anchor in a sandy patch with blotches of weed apparent below.

Cliffs on approach to Hill Bay

Having viewed Hill Bay from above, it was hard to imagine that yes, we were really here. Soon we were ashore, had scaled the cliffs, and had walked to points of advantage, rueing only that a bank of clouds that had crept above us from over the peninsula was now blanketing the sun. This may have sapped colour from our vista but, considering the grandeur of the scene this did not prevent us from listing Hill Bay as pre-eminent amongst the remote and desolate places we have seen on the West Coast.

Amazing anchorage at Hill Bay in fading light.

 

 

With light and temperature fading, and following a brief immersion in the crackling waters of the cove, we were back on board, with "sundowners" under construction as our new-found anchorage friends on Talisman 3 rounded up into the bay. On their way to a mooring they paused, asked about our passage and wished us a good night. We did not mind having their company as night fell on the cliffs and the waters of Hill Bay. As a half moon rose, its soothing glow and the plash of waves on the reef to seaward, served to underline Hill Bay as a very special place to visit.

Sundowners