This post was originally shared exclusively and directly with our subscribers during our passage across the Tasman.
We had brilliant sailing all afternoon today after a long night of motoring. I anticipate that we’ll motor tonight again. The decision to chase wind just hasn’t seemed to pay off, and I figure our best bet when there isn’t enough wind to sail is to motor the shortest course. We seem to be pushing a knot of current much of the time, which really impacts our headway in light winds (that are aft of the beam). Typically I avoid motoring, but I also know that it’s best to cross this hazardous stretch of ocean as quickly as possible.
We have to make a choice soon about whether we’ll head north and take the longer trip to Bundaberg, or if we will continue to head for Southport. It is an agonizing decision for me.
The main issue is a nasty low forecast off the Gold Coast area on Thursday. Half the models say it’s happening and it’s going to be baaaad for 14+ hours — the sort of conditions in which I would typically heave-to and drift. The other two models, which have been more accurate lately, say it’s not going to be very bad at all. Do we plan for the worst? Or trust the models that have been more accurate this past week?
Either way, on the back side of the low, a southerly is arriving on Friday/Saturday/Sunday. Almost all forecast models show this front will be significant and uncomfortable. So if we want to lessen the effects of Thursday’s low by arcing north, but still want to enter Southport, we’d then be fighting upwind in bad seas to get there (possibly with wind against East Australian Current conditions). So if I make the decision to avoid Thursday’s low by going north, we have to sail to Bundaberg.
If we make a turn now and head for Bundaberg, we will be in windless zones for much longer, spend two days more at sea, and risk hitting some weather blowing down from the tropics that some forecast models are predicting. Also, some models show that there’s no way we can go north far enough to be out of the range of Thursday’s low, regardless.
It doesn’t feel like there’s any one right choice, just a number of calculated gambles.
I don’t know what to do. Yesterday evening I felt quite down and discouraged by it.
Last night I had a better night of sleep, and woke feeling quite a bit more positive and mentally acute. We can’t control the weather, and we can’t predict the future, even with the forecasting tools available. I just have to make the best choices I can when it’s time and hope everything works out.
This morning I did boat chores — checking the deck and inspecting the rigging for any odd bits of hardware or slipping pins. I refueled and calculated what our average fuel consumption rate has been so far on this trip, as well as how many hours maximum we have remaining. I’m impressed by how efficient the engine has been; we have enough fuel to motor for 100 hours more if need be. (Thanks to the kind donation of a number of extra jerry cans!)
From midday on I focused on keeping the boat moving as fast as possible for the seven hours or so we were under sail. There were a few squalls that rolled through, each with its accompanying wild wind shifts, heavy rain, and glorious double rainbows. The clouds out here are just beyond compare… they are every shade, shape, and towering fluff that you see in cartoons, or impressionist paintings. I had forgotten how amazing they are, and that you never see anything like them except in the middle of the ocean.
Last night, I saw my first ever moonbow. I remember that when I first heard about them, I couldn’t even imagine one. In the wee hours last night, I went outside after a light rain squall and saw the moon off of our port side. When I shifted my gaze to starboard and saw a glowing white arc in the darkness, I instantly gasped, “Moonbow!!!” It was stunning, otherworldly, like the dark night sky was wearing the halo of an angel. You just know it when you see one. (And I do hope you see one.)
Zia is eating and drinking like usual. She brought me a toy for afternoon play time today for the first time since we’ve set sail; that’s a positive sign that she’s found her sea legs. She is weeing regularly but not doing any solid business yet, poor baby. She’s never been a gassy dog, but now she is, making her a less appealing bunkmate than usual. Hopefully she finally finds some relief in the next 12 hours. As my vet friend told me when I fretted about this on our first passage, “What goes in must come out.”
You may soon see our course change direction sharply, and you’ll know I’ve made a decision. Please wish us luck and ask for only good wind and mild weather to come our way.
Lots more to say but I really must start my night sleep cycle now. Thanks for all the loving and supportive messages; they really mean so much to me! xox
Much love,
E & Z & W
P.S. I’d love to write more, but the boat in light winds takes a lot more of my time than on a steady-wind passage, and I only just feel I’m coming back into a functioning brain. Hopefully, I’ll wake up with full mental acuity tomorrow and steadier wind conditions. Thanks again for all your support, we really couldn’t have made it here without you! <3