Robodebt and the New Katherine Scarlette Ketch Delivery 'Cruise' - February 2023
As we know, by now, MJK acquired the ketch, Katherine Scarlette in March 2021, from the original owner. It was built to a specific Beuler design in 1987-88. Marshall, relatively quickly, attended in serial fashion to each needed improvement, refurbishiment, and maintenance task, over the 2 years following his purchase. At that time, the Australian Wooden Boats Festival (a biennial event) was coming up close on his heels, so he set that as the timing for relocating the KSK from Blairgowrie in Port Phillip Bay, to Hobart.
He chose a former commercial fisherman as his contracted captain for the voyage of some 1,100km (600 nautical miles - the preferred method describing sea voyage distance). David had many years fishing the Bass Strait. Indeed, his father ended his own life living on an island in Franklin Sound (between Cape Barren Island and Flinders Island.
For additional crew, Marshall conferred the privilege on his youngest brother, PAK, who readily accepted the invitation for two reasons: oversee the journey, and to enjoy participating.
On the 25th January 2023 I closed my luggage, and took the flight to Melbourne to join the party. Still in my mind was that my Triumph Bonneville 860cc motorcycle had been stolen, vandalised and wrecked the weekend prior, and I'd suffered some thousands of dollars of loss. My fault, one might say. This voyage would prove a distraction from the evil thoughts, and an opportunity to philosophise on such things.
On arrival in Melbourne, that hot day in January, MJK with host Bob Ironmonger (of the famous cricketing family) met me at the local train station, and we went shopping for added necessaries. Like water, beer, wine, bread...
What was evident was that the preparation was very much in the infantile stage. Over 25th and Australia Day much racing around occurred to load spare diesel, fresh food, and our luggage onto the KSK.
Come Friday, Captain David attended to inspect progress. Discussion ensued around likely departure. MJK had plans to await a group of sailing vessels from the Wooden Boat Shop departing in the next day or so. David and I felt we should get the lead on them, and depart as soon as we were ready. We would be no more ready later than then, so we started the 200hp Perkins and headed off immediately. Marshall came too.
The trip that day around the Port Phillip heads to Flinders (Vic), took us about 6 hours, arriving at sundown, and snavelling a mooring line for a comfortable evening in the little harbour, on Bass Strait, but sheltered.
It is clear now that preparing a vessel for a week long delivery journey is a difficult task, made more difficult by some uncertain matters, and physical dislocation from the vessel. Much better if possible to have the vessel in a paid up marina, within short walking or taxi distance to petrol station and supermarket. However....
On reflection it is also clear that the Blairgowrie fraternity with whom MJK had been associating for the last 2 years has significant goodwill, and desire to assist him get his vessel to Hobart - where MJK knows he will be able to attend at greater leisure to the numerous tasks to make KSK seaworthy and comfortable.
I logged on with Marine Radio Victoria - to be transferred to Marine Radio Tasmania in due course, however, that proved to be a contentious issue with Captain David. More later.
Marshall underestimated water by 50%, however, due to the inconvenience of decanting all water from 10 litre cartons, we didn't use as much as would otherwise be likely. Nevetherless, 100 litres initial and based on a possible 10 day journey, allowed 3 litres per person per day. Insufficient. 'You can sail if you run out of fuel, but you are buggered if you run out of water'.
Day 2: we snatched the mooring line and let it dangle early (0530hrs) and headed east toward Wilsons Promontory. You will remember the cinema film Castaway, with Wilson the Volleyball. So, engine at 1,500 rpm, 7 litres of fuel per hour, the 3 smaller sails up and running, and 'me belly full but me hungry', we aimed east. Intentions: Deal Island Group tonight. Estimated time of arrival, + 20 hrs, thus 0100-0200 the following day, Sunday 29 Jan.
Indeed, we did arrive approx 0400hrs but the journey was not as simple as 'planned'. The day's activities were fraught with risk of disaster. Whether the gear failures could have been avoided by more careful preparation remains open to debate...Reliance on good safe installation of equipment is not apparently sufficient. Checking, testing and repair would have been ideal. Lack of adequate useful knowledge about systems, switches etc also contributed to a sense of impending doom. Some antiquated equipment was never going to be acceptable in the long term - let alone the short term: in particular, the massive anchor chain coupled with a manual anchor winch.
Do you know that funny feeling one gets in the stomach, described in the novels as 'visceral' - a physical feeling resulting from mental anguish, created by lack of control, and reasonable apprehension, through risk, of disaster? A sense of quiet anticipation was the only method of facilitating a positive contribution to the situation.
Items which did not work: VHF radio, refrigeration, autohelm, toilet envicerator, night navigation lights (green/red and white). That which did, but which was not of much use: sails. That which did and was of use: phone charger, and Navionics phone navigation.
We benefited, or were saved from/by relatively benign seas that night.
As we rounded the base of Wilsons Volleyball Promontory, we resolved to pursue the 6 hour journey to Deal Group, rather than the 2 hour journey north to Safety Cove. The waters were oily and pulsing. Later at night the wind cropped up and provided some waves to contend with, but nothing serious.
Captain David knew the 'lie of the land' rounding into the water valley between the islands, and we found where we were to anchor - albeit in the complete darkness.
Only my first attempt at laying the anchor, I found instructions inadequate, and the need to act promptly made the huge chain weight and manual (it is not automatic nor electric or hydraulic) deployment, ancient device and my lack of experience with such a thing, a combination of further risky aspects. It would have been a very simple thing to cut a few fingers off, or get a whole hand caught in the device. As it happened, the anchor chain weight gradually and significantly increased as more chain we deployed, and the clutch method of curtailing further chain dropping was impractical/impossible. Somehow we managed to stop all the chain deploying, but with manual retrieval, that task also was going to be somewhat mammoth.
A 0300hrs beer, defragment of each of our hard drives, and some discussion as to the fact we had achieved getting to our preferred destination without actual mishap, meant that the sleep we each then had was glorious.
As to that, the servant's quarters are quite compact. Space apparently for 4 people, but basically laid one on top of the other, with less than 30cm between each. The need also for making the area watertight meant sleeping bags needed to be protected from water, but could not be if it rained or we were travelling at night in strong seas. Add that to the job list.
"Are you glad you came?" was the question the next day. The simple answer was "yes".
Day 3: a maintenance day in the Deal Group. We requested electrical assistance from some with apparent talent on other wooden boats in the harbour, and some partial reinstatement of electricals gave us hope we would have nav lights and radio comms in the future.
That raised to the surface the use of the VHF radio: apparently fishermen don't always wish to engage with radio networks. David warned me off using the radio (when it did work), yet the maritime service chased me down via message to other yachts, so I had to engage, if only to disengage. The Captain is the captain.
Day 4: Deal Group east cove - Franklin Sound - Lady Barron Township. Early departure (0500hrs enabled safe landing at Lady Barron in daylight the same day. Comfortable seas, but intermittent radio and power failure left residual concerns.
The engine performed perfectly, yet the autohelm was making an uncomfortable metallic grinding sound - the result of no fluid in the hydraulic system. Once replenished, air pockets maintained the sad sound. But like cheating on your taxes and writing letters to the papers, it was 'the best that we could do'.
The last couple of hours in sunshine down the west coast of Flinders Island were glorious. The mountains are beautiful. The coastline unique (to pluck a likely word, although, I doubt they were actually 'unique'). We kept in approximate company with other boats/yachts from the Blairgowrie mob - approx by a matter of 2-3 hours distanced (6-15 nautical miles).
The trail up into Lady Barron is very shallow, but kind conditions meant it was simple navigation to obtain the best result. Local knowledge was crucial; that held by Captain David.
As we entered the harbour, the mistake was made [note the 3rd person objective narration - no admission as to who made the mistake] to permit the mizzen sail to remain out. Once in the harbour, it caught the wind and tried to force the KSK 90 degrees to the wharf. All attempts by on-lookers, and crew, to rope in the ketch were hugely difficult, with not enough young hands on board to hold the lines and tie them down AND pull down the mizzen. Lesson learnt.
Day 5: exit Lady Barron on Flinders Island: head for Wineglass Bay. The charts said "don't anchor in the southern end of the bay, it is reserved for cruise ships". Bugger that. We and 10 other yachts straggled into Wineglass near midnight after a long cruise down from Flinders. Anchor down, glass of wine, and defrag the harddrive, and late to bed, late to rise.
Day 6: rest day in Wineglass. A bit of wind about, so we stayed on board and cooked and rested.
Day 7: Wineglass to Fortescue: early start 0530hrs, to get to Fortescue/Canoe Bay at dusk, and shelter in the limited anchorage behind the wreck. Only limited sand, but it was v calm, so no need to catch the anchor in the ground. It didn't catch, as was evident the next day when we pulled it onboard, covered in weed. Not cannabis, just green underwater weed.
Day 8: Around the base of eastern Tasmania, a lovely firm and constant wind from Cape Raoul through Storm Bay, led to prompt passage to the Royal Yacht Club of Tasmania. Rosie's endeavours to find us a birth were well orchestrated, and a group of well wishers did so (wished us well) as we landed roughly against the fuel jetty at the Royals. Champagne flowed, and the onlookers expressed their amazement at the crew's great fortitude.
Are you glad you came? Yes.
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