Hutchison's Ferry (Lord Howe Island; Part 3)

Let me introduce our 3 metre Caribe dinghy (aka Tender To (T/T) Alchemy 1). It has featured in many previous photos because it allows us to do all those fun things like choosing bommies and gutters to dive on, walk on the beach, and visit the local Cafe. T/T really came into its own at Lord Howe Island due to its robust construction, 15 HP engine (beats a row-boat, which many people carry), and ability to carry 2 people on the plane, and 4 people more slowly yet safely.

A catamaran limped in from New Zealand late one afternoon with only one engine and no reverse. They had spent 5 days on a sea anchor en route due to high seas and powerful winds. They didn't have the power or maneuverability to match the strong Easterly that hadn't let up for 5 days, so George and T/T (right of photo) helped Marine Parks push her into the wind and pick up the mooring line.

The next day, Hutchison's Ferry took the crew to the beach for some very welcome shore leave. That night, we invited the crew from the catamaran, and crew from a Jarkan monohull on a very short visit from Sydney, aboard for drinks.

Happy Hour turned into dinner and the Alchemy Restaurant did a "loaves and fishes", including apple strudel and icecream which (along with plenty of wine after a "dry" trip from New Zealand), had everyone smiling.

The next morning, it was time to cast off from our mooring and head west. The trip to Sydney was expected to take 2 1/2 days, and we were hoping for a steady 15 knot sou-easter, with about 2 metre seas. We began by motoring south past the lagoon, 

The pink skirt lure kindly loaned to us by David Beer quickly rewarded us with a nice mackerel, that George filleted in the shadow of Mt Gower.

As the wind was expected to swing more to the west later in the trip, we kept heading south, which was convenient because it gave us a closer look at Ball's Pyramid.

I was able to admire it at least: by then the boys were clustered around the escape hatch, that had cracked free from its attachments after the heavy pounding we got on the way over and was threatening to fall out altogether. Ball's Pyramid slid past to the accompaniment of drilling and banging, and the odd, "Bugger!"

They tied it up securely enough to last until it could be repaired properly, and with a 15 knot sou-easter, we set our sails for home.

The wind held for a day, and the seas were calm enough to permit a fish fry on the first night, along with mashed potatoes, peas and a light beer. Things got a little rougher as we passed over the Taupo Seamounts, where the ocean depth suddenly changes from 15,000 feet to a shade over 600. This brings the seas up, just like waves building in the shallows before they break on a beach.

It was about an hour before dusk the second night, we'd just eaten dinner and were tidying up the galley, with 18 knots of wind on a shy reach and the screacher and mailsail up, when George and I heard a bang and our crew yelled, "The prodder's gone!"

    You might recall our prodigious prodder, our pride and joy and focus of much envy; "It's too big," the greatest compliment it has received.

George's prodder is so big he can stand on it.

We rushed to the helm station. How could the prodder be "gone"? A 6 foot long chunk of fiberglass doesn't just disappear. And what about the 90 square metre sail that was attached to it? And how about the cables holding it to the hull? Where were they?

Alchemy 1 in happier days with full main and the screacher, which is attached to a furler at the end of the prodder.

 All was revealed when George put on his lifejacket and harness and went for-ard. The cables (called whiskers) had torn out their fixing plate, allowing the prodder to peel off the cross beam and fly skyward, sail still attached. 

Catastrophic failure of the whisker attachment plate of the prodder.

Fortunately the prodder was not strongly attached to the cross-beam, allowing it to peel away rather than damaging this structurally vital part of the boat.

 Instead of crashing back onto the deck, or taking the mast down, the prodder had then run up its own topping lift and tangled in the spreaders.

George checking the spreaders on a much calmer day.

We were very grateful for our experienced crew members, Rod and Geoff, who helped George up the mast, secure the screacher, drop the prodder back onto the deck and haul the whole assembly back to the safety of the cockpit. While they worked up for-ard, I sailed the boat downwind, the mainsail stabilising the boat and providing shelter from the wind as George dangled in space.

Prodder (under the table) and screacher waiting for us to get back to port and properly assess the damage.

During this time, the sun set, and we sailed off-course, in total darkness, with a 3 metre swell. But everyone did their part, we were able to pull out the genoa, and within an hour of the prodder breaking we were back on course and settled in for the night watches. Around midnight the wind built significantly, forcing us to furl the genoa and reef the mainsail. But that wasn't a bad thing, because slowing the boat speed from 9 to 7 knots allowed us to get a much better night's sleep.

On the third day, we encountered our first container ship, and shortly after lunch we were able to see the cliffs of Sydney's northern beaches.

 The weather Gods weren't done with us, though, because as we approached a series of storms swept in from the west.

Our entrance through Sydney Heads was heralded by a spectacular thunderstorm, which narrowly missed us as we made phone calls and found a berth at Middle Harbour Yacht Club; old territory for both George and me, and a great place to start our Sydney Harbour Adventure.