The Whitsunday Islands - Bareboating Adventure

It is an exceedingly rare opportunity to rent a 33’ sailing vessel and spend four days piloting yourself around an archipelago of islands within the Great Barrier Reef with precisely zero sailing experience, much less a boating license. That is exactly what Nicole and I did in 2000 with our travel buddies Dave and Nina. Those four days were some of the best of our collective lives and we thought it a once in a lifetime experience. We were wrong. We just finished a six night trip motoring around The Whitsunday Islands, this time with our children in tow (Dave and Nina are not our children, and we did not tow the children in the dinghy).

The criteria for renting a vessel in The Whitsundays lies somewhere between ‘can you breath?’ and ‘do you know which direction is north?’. They truly had no business renting to us 17 years ago, but this time I could confidently state that we were Whitsunday veterans (with precisely zero minutes on a boat ever since - I don't consider that narrowboat a boat). We were APPROVED with flying colors!

We were light some hands this go around, so we opted for a power catamaran - her name was Serenity - isn’t she a beauty? Frankly, she was a bit worn and weatherbeaten, but was perfectly seaworthy and more importantly, fit our budget.

The Whitsunday Islands are located about halfway along the Eastern Australian coast towards the lower end of the Great Barrier Reef. (https://goo.gl/maps/Ac9Y7NiyXsK2) The islands are within visual contact with the mainland and the outer reef provides protection from the real ocean swells. The conditions are perfect for letting novice like us to try our hands at piloting our own vessel. However, the prevailing winds and large tidal changes can create some rough water (more on that later).

This is our pathway through the islands. The anchor symbols are where we spent the night. We stopped midday every day at a different spot to either snorkel or hang out on a beach, or both.

Most folks on a bareboat holiday opt for a fully provisioned boat with all the food and drink you would need for a week on the sea. You see, if you run out of milk or forget the basil, you can't just run down to the corner store and pick it up. But when you have Finicky 1 and Finicky 2, and seafood allergies, we took one look at the pre-built plan and made the local grocery store our first stop. It's actually a bit stressful shopping for a week when you know it's an ultimatum not a convenience.

Day One (Nov 22)
We spent our first night in the main port of Airlie Beach (Abell Point Marina) so that we could acclimate to the ships quarters and wake bright and early for our boating orientation, which included a test. Fortunately we had three minds at attention and we aced the exam. Our reward was to take the boat for a spin with the guide and show off our anchoring skills. Again, aced! Not terribly difficult when the guide did all the anchoring for us...

Before our guide hopped in his dinghy to leave us to the high seas, he casually says in his soft Aussie accent, "Jast gat ward from somewan at thay thayt it's a beet swilly acrass tha payssage. Ya betta heed sath, cut thra the Molle's an take stock befar ya cayry an." (That's my best attempt at writing an Aussie accent). Based upon our previous experience in the Whitsundays of incredibly smooth and listless waters, we didn't take much heed. Ooph, were we ill-prepared for what transpired. Visions of Gilligan's Islands screamed through my mind as the Serenity was tossed around like a dirty old sock in a frothy mess. Making matters worse, having exactly zero hours piloting a motor yacht in any body of water, I had no clue if what we were experiencing was normal, or complete insanity. I had nobody to turn to for confirmation that our best bet was to motor on, or turn tail and run. So I just kept going. Some three harrowing hours later we finally found sanctuary in the Nara Inlet, and took stock of the mayhem.  Our carefully organized bounty of food and provisions were scattered about the cabin as if the Tasmanian Devil passed through. The children were seriously questioning our intentions and seasickness was aplenty. Needless to say, our blissful week of cruising got off to a rocky start.

Goodbye Mainland. This is Dinghy McDingface. He gets tugged behind to provide a means to reach shore when we're anchored offshore.

View up Nara Inlet. Couldn't take any pics during the previous 3 hours of flirting with disaster. 

It's really amazing how calm the water can be when you surround yourself with land on three sides.

Calm enough to assemble the Opera House after the nerves settled down.

Our first night was reasonably sleepless as we acclimated to the constant lolling about of the boat in the gentle night breezes. It's also somewhat unnerving to trust our nascent anchoring skills and expecting to wake up playing bumper boats with our neighbors or the rocky coastline. But we woke up precisely where we dropped anchor, so all was well. Speaking of sleep... without wifi or TV, or any other modern entertainment convenience, we found ourselves nodding off shortly after the Sun decided to nod off (8pm-ish). We arose when the Sun awoke, which was about 5:30am. Sleeping in was a near impossibility.

5:30am view from the portal above our berth.

Day Two (Nov 23 - Happy Thanksgiving!)
Although a bit groggy, we had a fresh outlook on day two, and plotted a course for Butterfly Bay, with a short stop at sandy spit that comes and goes with the ebb and flow of the tide. It really was fun to sit with the family, look at the 100 Magic Miles Book (The definitive Bible for sailing the Whitsundays), and survey the map before we got our day going. We had to take in to consideration the tidal changes, and wind conditions to ensure safe passage. We also had to participate in the morning short wave radio call in to inform home base of our plans for the day. "Whitsunday Escape, Whitsunday Escape, Whitsunday Escape, this is Serenity, this is Serenity on 8-2." A dozen or so boats would take turns talking about their plans and it all felt very communal.

While there were plenty of firsts and successes throughout this adventure, this will forever be the place that Bryce and Zane learned how to snorkel. Our sandy spit, along with a follow up stop at Manta Ray Bay began to give them confidence in the unnatural action of breathing with your face underwater.

The variety of sailing vessels out there is really cool.

Much calmer waters allows for proper boat handling techniques

And letting the co-pilot to take over...

Thanksgiving family photo

No Thanksgiving Day football. But listening to books on tape (James and the Giant Peach), while lolling about is a pretty decent substitute

How do you celebrate an all American holiday on a boat in a foreign ocean? Firstly, buy a precooked turkey breast (which is exceedingly hard to find in a foreign country) and powdered stuffing. Then compromise on the niceties of cranberry sauce, fat-dripping based gravy, and pie a la mode. Plop the turkey hunk on the barbee and grill your potato wedges (called chips everywhere else besides the States) until crispy brown. Unfold the portable table and dress your cooler with life jacket seat cushions. Pour yourself a glass of warm wine and be forever thankful that you are dining on a boat with your amazing family in the Great Barrier Reef. Happy Thanksgiving!

So much to be thankful for

Day Three and Four (Nov 24/25): Hill Inlet and Whitehaven
There are two ways of ensuring your vessel doesn't wander off during a night of slumber; anchoring, or tying up to a mooring. The moorings are quick and easy and provide the peace of mind that seafaring professionals have deemed them appropriate. Our orientation guide told us to avoid them. We thought he was wacky and elected to moor up for the previous night. At midnight we understood why he doesn't like them... When the winds are calm and the mooring line grows limp, the buoy and the boat engage in a boxing match with each bump amplified on the hull as though your sleeping inside a base drum. That was our last night taking the short cut.

This is a buoy. It looks so friendly, huh? Like one of those random droids that flitters about in the periphery of a Star Wars movie.

Another 5:30am pic. After a night of buoy boxing... Serenity Now!

We woke up a bit groggy and unsure if we actually achieved R.E.M.  We asked the kids if the buoy bothered them. "Huh? What buoy, what noise?" Oh to be young and dead to the world when sleeping. Unfortunately Autumn woke up with a bit of a head cold and body ache, so she wasn't up for much activity that day.

We released ourselves from our mooring combatant and headed off to Tongue Bay and a date with one of the real natural wonders if the world (my personal listing). On the way we took a pit stop at Border Island for another shot at snorkeling. It really is a lot of fun to survey a map and decide on your own fruition where to jump off your vessel to visit with the fish.

The highlight of any trip to the Whitsundays is a trip to Whitehaven Beach and Hill Inlet. Tongue Bay makes a perfect place to drop anchor, hop in your dinghy and take a short hike to a view like no other. The first time we saw it 17 years ago, I was totally blown away. This second time I was equally amazed. Hill Inlet is a super shallow estuary that is in constant change from the ebb and flow of the large tide. The bottom of the inlet is all sand. Every six hours it goes from completely full, to nearly empty, thus creating a massive horizontal version of those multi colored sand swirly things.

Given that we were there for a couple days, we had the opportunity to take in the full spectrum:

Midday high tide

Sunset ebb tide

Midday Low Tide

Sunrise high tide (5:45am)

Truly a mystery why and how the "You are here" marker has been completely rubbed off. It is probably one of the shortest trails you could possibly walk, and the sign is at a halfway point of the most obvious trail intersection created by man. 

That evening we had an impromptu dance party and hand fishing off the back of the boat. Serenity was outfitted with a "transom" light, which when on, turned the water behind the boat an iridescent blue. It's like having a pimped out cruiser. The light drew the fish like moths. We weren't having any luck with conventional fishing techniques, but we did have a net...

We awoke the next day and charted a course around the southern face of Whitsunday Island after a brief stop at Whitehaven Beach. Our suggested route drew some grief from home base during our call in due to the stiff south-easterly wind. They told us to take stock at noon and only proceed if we were prepared (visions of day one still fresh in our minds). Noon passed and we were still taking in the awesomeness of Whitehaven Beach, and the winds were growing increasingly ominous.

A bit about Whitehaven Beach. It's totally incredible - like no other beach in the world. Besides the fact that it is three un-populated miles long; backed up by forest; the water is warm and beautifully green, orange, and blue; you can only get there by boat or helicopter; and it's immaculately clean; It is the sand itself that makes this beach so special. It is the result of millions of years of degradation of granite rock that has deposited tiny granules of pure off-white silica (not the parrot fish coral poop, or broken shells common to other tropical beaches). It is like moon sand - or if you carefully removed the paper off the back of 120 grit sandpaper. It creaks like a rusty door when you walk on it, and vibrates when you submerge your foot and try to lift it out quickly. It is curiously sticky and can be thrown like a snow ball, yet will ooze right through your fingers if you let it rest in your hand. (a non-Newtonian fluid as Autumn says). Generally speaking I could take or leave the entire existence of sand and it's persistent desire to lodge itself in to every crack in your body, but this was mesmerizing.

5:30am view through our side portal

Doing nothing all day is tiring work. 

A recent Cyclone in March 2017 tore through the islands and shredded the trees that back up the beach. In due time, it will be lush green again. Except for the first 500yds of beach, it is mostly deserted for 3 miles. 

If zoomed in, the letters are made from these tiny discs with holes in them. We think it's strata from coral. Would make for cool necklace building.

Like father, like daugther

It's been a long time since I have sat for 30 minutes just digging a hole to play with the sand. (Not sticky sand, by the way. Wait 2 minutes and just brush it off)

About 8 inches down was sea water. Pull up a clump and let it drip.

Occasionally we had to share the beach.

How often can you drive up to a beach, drop an anchor wherever it suits your fancy, hop in a dinghy and find a spot all to yourself?

The other mode of transportation to this beach. 

It was time to go and we decided to take the road more traveled. We turned tail and headed right back where we started to the wind sheltered harbor in Tongue Bay. This also gave Autumn a chance to play around with the sharks (oh yeah, there are these cool small sharks that swim in the shallow water) in Hill Inlet and to catch a sunrise.

It's a wee shark swimming in the lagoon.

Autumn spent some serious time and effort to excavate a hole to create her drippy castle.

Autumn and I braved the early morning trek to start our day like this...

Day Five (Nov 26): Sawmill Bay

For the most part, up until this point, there was some manner of discomfort by everyone: sleeplessness, motion sickness, head colds, rough waters, etc, etc. Ironically, this being our last full day, we were all in great spirits and feeling like we should just now get our adventure going. Yet, at the same time, cabin fever was definitely setting in and skooching around each other was growing tiresome.

The last day saw us stopping for some snorkeling (really decent considering the Whitsundays are not necessarily known for snorkeling), and then anchoring in a calm bay called Sawmill Bay. We happened to be anchored near the trail head to the highest point of the islands, so while I stair stepped my way to the top thru the creepiest sounding forest of cicadas (reminded me of the sound the smoke monster made in that show "Lost"), Nicole and the kids tiptoed around the small rays along the shore and hunted for shells.

Pretty decent coral. A little light on the fish though. Plenty of good stuff coming up though (foreshadowing the next post)

Either the saddest coral on the planet, or the happiest (depending on whether you are holding your device upside down)

Nicole did most of the skippering on the last full day of cruising...

....and ran over this pod of dolphins

The boys spent hours on the bow.

Throughout our days, we were frequented by a pair of seagulls. But not the annoying kind. They seemed to be standing sentry wherever we went. Never begged or made a sound. 

Sting rays of Sawmill Beach. They burrowed in to the sand. Nicole nearly stepped on one.

View from atop Whitsunday Peak. A 1,350ft climb in 1.5 miles. I was sweaty and jiggly legged when I summit-ed that peak. 

Stunning view of the islands.

That little white speck in the middle is Serenity. That smaller speck near the beach is Nicole shuttling Autumn and Bryce back to the boat. 

We were blessed with a wonderful sunset as we parted ways with arguably the worst smelling mess of squid bait you could possibly imagine. On day one, it was a pleasant odorless frozen block of plastic wrapped fish bait. By day five, it was a bloody bag of fermenting goo with a scent that permeated thru an insulated and locked container. I get the sense it's a cruel joke by the bait shop as our boys never had even a nibble on the wretchedness.

Nicole jumped on the grenade to chum the waters while I stood by with our industrial strength disinfectant / deodorizer. 

Day Six (Nov 27): The Wrap Up
We woke up knowing our final voyage was the reverse of day one across the main passage. We were far too experienced now to let it get the better of us. Fortunately we had the wind at our backs and the tide going our way, so it was a reasonably smooth ride. Smooth enough for Autumn to take the helm.

We stared at this little screen most of our journey making sure we were steering clear of sites unseen. Who needs the stars or a compass when you have technology at your side.

Just as it was all those years ago, The Whitsundays are a magical place. The freedom to explore and chart your own course is so liberating. But in the end, we're still a land-faring people and it was good to be back on dry land.

And then we promptly hopped a flight further north to visit the oldest rainforest in the world and snorkel the real Great Barrier Reef. This is a really cool shot of Brisbane that Autumn took as we approached a landing. 

Random Thoughts:

1. I never once felt sick on the boat, but the rest of the clan went thru bouts of queasiness. However, for a full day after the boat, I was the one that felt dizzy. Hmmmmmm.

2. We had expected to get all kinds of school and reading and other things done during the trip, but the transit was entirely too rocky and rolly, and by the time we settled down after dinner, we were all exhausted. Doing nothing is hard work.

Signing off. Next Stop... The world heritage sites of the Daintree Rainforest and Great Barrier Reef!