The story of the construction of “Fairweather Jack” and sailing log of her voyage

February 1972 to April 1976

Norman Taylor

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I was married to an American nurse who I had met whilst sailing as mate on the ‘Yankee Clipper’, a tourist schooner in the Caribbean. We moved from Sydney to Townsville in February 1971 and I resumed my university studies and Patty got a job as a theatre sister at Townsville General Hospital. We owned an Arrow class small catamaran and enjoyed sailing together from Townsville over to Magnetic Island and had sailed it from Rolleston to Havana Island in the Palm group. I had always wanted to sail around the world and it was at this time that I bought some study plans from Boden Boats for their advertised 40ft centre-cockpit South Seas type. I convinced myself that I would learn to weld and build it then sail with Patty off around the world. Fortunately, I neither did the welding nor sail around the world (as I was too inexperienced to attempt the latter) although I did get as far as Bass Strait. This is the story of that enterprise.

As I read the welding notes with the study plans I realised that one would have to be a good welder to handle so much curved and individually cut steel, and I could not even weld! Fortunately Fate intervened as I was riding past China Street in Townsville when I spotted a large steel yacht under construction in someone’s backyard. I knocked and asked if I could look around and thus met Henri and Andree Le Donne. He was a French self employed boilermaker and was happy to show me around his almost completed yacht. It was a round-bilged yacht of his own design and the steelwork was excellent, as, with an eye pushed against the hull and looking the length of her, there was not a single waver in the line. To cut a long story short, he agreed to modify my plans and give me a price for doing the steelwork on the yacht. Finally he drew the plans for a double chine 40 foot centre cockpit ketch and we agreed on an hourly rate. I would supply all steel and welding consumables when requested by Henri and also act as his labourer. He proved to be an excellent and honest tradesman who always worked for every hour for which I paid him.

Patty and I lived in a North Ward flat with no room for yacht construction even if we could get permission, so I advertised in the local rag for a rental house with a large lot big enough to build a forty-footer and was offered, and took a lease on, 63 Anne St Aitkenvale Townsville.

The yacht was to be called “Fairweather Jack” after the poet Byron’s grandfather who was a sea captain nicknamed “Foulweather Jack” by his crew because of the bad weather he always met at Cape Horn. I wanted to go around Cape Horn (the yachtsman’s Everest) but hoped for a fair weather passage, so there’s the connection! It was going to be built upside down on stakes.

These are the first two pictures of the construction, our rented house on the left of picture.

Unfortunately, in late February or early March 1972 our marriage foundered. Anyone interested in the details: read my autobiography part 2. As this is the story of “Fairweather Jack”, I will press on.

So for a couple of months I lived and worked alone on the yacht and Henri continued its construction. I was doing a full time Education degree and had a part time job repairing black and white televisions for Chandler’s TV store. Sometime in June I asked a university librarian to come and help me on the yacht and share a meal with me and a while later she came; a Canadian, Patricia Mary Beveridge (who preferred to be known as Paddy) moved in with me. She was with me during the rest of my association with the yacht (and indeed for about 10 year’s total) and as she bought many items and did a lot of work on construction and sailed on the yacht for most of its journeys, she will appear in the rest of this tale.

My sons (Steven and David), visiting me during their holidays, also helped

So at this stage Paddy and I commenced the fitting out. First, the yacht had to made waterproof so that work inside could continue. Henri had left only the steel deck bearers in position, so an early task was to complete the decking which was half inch construction ply screwed to the frames and later covered with fibreglass.

Steel yachts notoriously stream condensation down their insides, so to avoid this, all the sections between the frames were filled with insulating foam before being covered with decking or inside panelling. I should point out that I did not have a lot of money so most of the timber was industrial grade waterproof ply (not marine ply which was twice the price). This timber stood up very well.

The deck insulated and glassed with future mast wiring

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was fortunate in possessing electrical, plumbing and basic fibre glassing and woodworking skills. A yacht requires everything fitting within curves and angles. It would probably have looked better with a professional fit out, but I could not afford it and doing it myself meant that I knew where everything was and how it was meant to work. In the picture alongside one can see the forepeak which became the anchor chain and warp locker with the two fore bunk beds on the port side. I fitted the starboard side with a robust workbench and large vice, which helped a lot in doing repairs and alterations on board. From the following pictures you can see various stages in the fit out below decks. Once the insides were fitted out, attention could be paid to external fittings. I should point out that I had purchased a lot of second-hand items from advertisements in the yachting press and at the local yacht club and came by the main mast, engine, galley sink, propeller, mast, sails, anchors and chain and many warps and sheets in this way. This saved a lot of money but ultimately led to big problems (of my own making) in Bass Strait in 1975, but I get ahead of myself. It was late 1973 at this stage, the steelwork was done and a lot of the below decks fitting out was finished.

This is the engine instrumentation with the actual instruments being in the cockpit and readable from the steering position. Below is an “artistic” photo of the marine toilet which was eventually installed in the ships head which also included a cold shower and hand basin.

We had meant to fully fit out the yacht before moving it, but the owners of the house and land where we lived now wanted the house for a newly married son and gave us notice to quit. So we set to and had the yacht floatable but far from finished internally and without the tender started. We were to vacate by Sept 1^st and were one day late launching the yacht in the very early hours of Sept 2^nd 1974.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The yacht had a planned DWT of 14 tons so the large dockside crane had no problems picking the yacht up and placing it smoothly in the water after it was christened by Paddy, who said the time honoured words “I name this ship Fairweather Jack…”

So from the dock, we started the engine and motored up the harbour where we tied up at the trawler wharf. We completed the fitting out stage and took our first trip to Magnetic Island. Everything seemed OK so we planned to leave Townsville and head south for Hobart Tasmania in November. I was enrolled in a 4 year Education degree and still had another year to complete, but could get an Arts (3year) degree on the strength of units already completed so took that and left the University as soon as I had finished my last exams and Paddy resigned her position in the Uni library. After a couple more local sails (in light weather) as far as the Palm islands we were ready for our voyage. I decided that I would register the yacht as an Australian ship which gave me papers which would be necessary should we ever ‘go foreign’ with this yacht. We left with very little money and minimal navigation equipment, but high hopes ! This completes the construction phase of our tale and from now on the narrative will follow extracts from the sailing log.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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From the Sailing Log

So, at 0830 on the 7^th November 1974 we slipped our mooring from the old trawler wharf (where now stands the Great Barrier Reef Aquarium Centre) bound for South Molle island in the Whitsunday Group. The wind was so light we could barely sail and put on the motor to assist. So slowly were we travelling that we were not abeam Cape Cleveland until noon (a distance of 10 miles).

But, as we rounded the Cape the wind and sea got up a bit. It should have been a good sailing breeze for the vessel as it was mostly 15 kts NE but, alas, a major phenomenon presented itself. The vessel pitched and rolled only slightly, yet it was enough to make Paddy very seasick, and although she tried to overcome it, it was to become a problem which could not be ameliorated and led eventually to her stopping sailing entirely – about which more anon.

There was no autopilot and the yacht would only self-steer when close-hauled to windward, so it was down to me to steer non-stop. Progress was good and we were abeam Cape Bowling Green Light at 1625. The expected marks and Capes were passed and at 2310 I logged Holborne Island light in sight.

The wind dropped to 10 kts and became SE so we used the engine again to keep her moving. The facts were that the vessel was quite under-rigged for her weight and had sails that were so worn that they could not be efficiently set if the wind was forward of the beam. The mast and sails were off a 33 ft trimaran. The mizzen mast and mizzen sail were new but of small area. Paddy struggled with seasickness throughout the night but did what she could to relieve me occasionally. We proceeded through the first night without incident but at 0800 on the 8^th the bolt securing the forestay to the mast head dropped onto the deck. This occurred because I had secured the forestay simply with a stainless bolt and nut without either a split pin or a shake proof nut or even a spring washer. The mast would probably have come down if the yacht had been masthead rigged with the jib clipped to the forestay but fortunately the jib had a wire luff rope and went to a block ¾ up the mast so this stopped the crash-down. I could not do much as the 1 metre seas were moving things around a bit and Paddy did not know enough sailing to keep her head to wind whilst I made a repair. Instead, I used a spinnaker halyard and a spare main halyard and tightened these with a winch which gave the mast enough support until we could be at anchor. I felt pretty foolish about this incident and wondered what else I had neglected.

Anyway, we passed Eshelby Island at 0845 and sailed and motored slowly down the Whitsunday passage to drop anchor in Shute Harbour at 1430. We were both dead tired and turned in at dusk. At the local chandler’s the next morning, I bought and fitted a 1/2 inch stainless steel cotter pin with a safety split pin and went round everything I could see to look for trouble. The only thing I found was to use stainless wire to make it impossible for any of the turnbuckles on the standing rigging to slacken.

After our good rest, we sailed the 5 miles to South Molle Island and it was here that we discovered another deficiency in our equipment. We dropped the pick in 20 feet and watched the yacht line up with the wind, but a mark on the shore was seen to be still moving which meant that we were dragging anchor. The anchor was a 30lb CQR with about 10 metres of ¼ inch chain. Good enough for the trimaran which it had come off but much too light for our 14 tonner in any tide or wind.

I knew this before we left on our voyage; that she should have had a 50lb plough and 50 metres of 3/8 inch chain, but I did not have the funds. I did also have a 25lb Danforth which I added in tandem to the ground tackle, but as you can imagine, this made it difficult to lower and raise and there was no windlass to help.

Anyway, this stopped her moving and we rowed ashore in our ugly almost boxlike homemade dinghy and had a pleasant few hours at South Molle Resort which in those days made yachting visitors welcome (not so today in 2008).

We left at 0545 on the 12^th and motored south in light winds and were abeam South Head on Long Island at 0700 and off Pentecost Island at 0800. The sailing was pleasant and I was well rested, Paddy tried Dramamine anti-seasick pills, which worked after a fashion but left her very drowsy and exacerbated her already present depressive phases. After rounding the N tip of Blacksmith Island we were soon at the next resort island of Brampton and dropping both picks at 1700 we settled down for a rest. The anchorage was rather exposed and although we did not drag we rolled all night even though I tried a small jib and the mizzen in various positions to steady her. The result was that I got up every hour but otherwise slept quite well but Paddy had a horrible night. Then, for the next few days it blew 25 kts from the SE (roughly the direction we wanted to go) and rained heavily. We were pretty miserable by the 17^th but eventually the wind dropped and the sun shone so we up-anchored at 1300 and set off again. But by this time, I found I did not want to sail on non-stop for 24 hours or more so we headed for the sugar terminal of Mackay and tied up to the small boat pier at 1830. We had a look around Mackay and bought a few stores, setting off at 1100 on the 19^th November and hoping to get to Middle Percy Island anchorage before dark. This proved too optimistic so it was another tired slog around Prudhoe, Double and Minister Islands before dropping anchor in West Bay, Middle Percy Island at 0515 on the 20th, and off to a welcome sleep.

I should mention that I had sailed the route from Sydney to Townsville some time previously and had been to most of the places we visited before.

On Middle Percy was a shed where visiting yachtsmen nailed up a shingle with their yacht’s name and the date. I had seen this shed before and wanted my shingle alongside famous yachtsmen like Alan Lucas etcetera, and this I duly did. On the 21^st with the first glimmers of dawn we up-anchored and set out from West Bay and were soon the few miles over to South Percy Island where I rested for the day before setting off again at 0600 the next day, the 22^nd . I managed to stay alert until the next day when we dropped anchor at 1430 at Tourist Bay on Great Keppel Island. I was very tired and realised that this voyage could not go on with Paddy in an almost perennial state of seasickness. I slept many hours and was ready for action again by 1300 on the 24^th and decided that we had to have a long rest at the major port of Gladstone. We sailed past the south tip of Facing Island and tied up to piles at 1430 on the 25th in the Gladstone river.

Paddy and I had a long serious talk about the voyage and how onerous it had become for me and unpleasant for Paddy. When I suggested that I needed consistent and reliable help to manage a vessel as hard to handle as Fairweather Jack, she became upset and decided to leave the yacht the next day. I asked her to give it a try with crew and telephoned two students who had just finished the academic year at James Cook University and with whom I had roomed during my first year at university. Dave Wadley and Brett—-? arrived a few days later and one of them had a snorkel look at the underwater condition of the yacht whilst she was on the piles. He reported that a lot of the antifouling and paint had come off even though we had only been under weigh for less than 3 weeks. Obviously I had stuffed up the paint job. So we moved to the public jetty at an unpopular position away from the steps, and due to the big tidal range could have a good look at her without benefit of a slipping fee.

As the tide dropped it became obvious that there was something seriously amiss with the paint job as the yacht had been in the water only a month or so and had travelled about 400 sea miles. Yet, on all the leading edges and areas in contact with the fastest moving water, where friction was the greatest, the anti-fouling had disappeared and the second layer of black tar-epoxy could be seen. From this it is obvious that I knew precious little about painting underwater surfaces. Mea culpa!

I should have asked more experienced heads. I had sprayed the inside and out of the yacht with a phosphoric acid compound when the plate was new and un-rusted which turned light rust into magnetite, a black oxide which was then covered with a recommended underwater undercoat. Then I sprayed/painted her with tar epoxy inside and out. This stood up well inside the yacht, but I then put the anti-fouling (in those days trawler grade copper paint) directly on the tar epoxy. As one can see, it came off easily! As we were in a tidal position I did not have the time (or the money) to do what should have been done and started afresh. Instead I put some of the correct undercoat on the tar epoxy and anti-fouling over that, but only in the areas which we already bare. The effect of this was that the underwater section was forever being patched and I did not do a professional paint job until July of 1975 in Sydney.

Paddy decided that she would not leave the yacht at that time and we set sail with a total of four on board at 0900 on the 30^th with the first of the ebb tide taking us out. Our next stop was to be Lady Musgrave Island at the most southerly part of the Great Barrier Reef. The sailing was much easier for me with the two crew on board and, although I had to keep an eye on things as the lads had not sailed before, we were soon on a 1hour on and 2 off routine which made things Anchored off Middle Percy Island

much easier. Paddy did other jobs when she could. The weather was good but with our small rig we could not get faster than 5 kts and were abeam of Bustard Head at 1400. Our progress was good but I would not try an approach to Lady Musgrave in the coming dark. Instead we sailed all night taking our bearings from the light on Lady Musgrave and keeping well into the deep water. The entrance to the lagoon was blasted through the coral many years ago, but it is very narrow and at most phases the tides flow very quickly. According to my tables it should be slack water high tide at 0918 on December 1st so we were in a good position near the entrance to watch the flood and as it slackened we went in without incident under motor and dropped the picks at 0820 in 20 feet of crystal clear water. We visited the island, swam, snorkelled and fished but caught nothing, nor did we see anything except colourful small coral fish.

The weather was beautiful and we were loath to leave but did so on the 2nd at 1100. I decided to take the inside route through Hervey Bay and avoid Breaksea Spit, as I had good charts and it is a well marked channel. It took us until 1300 on the 3^rd to get close to the Wide Bay Bar channel so we had a shortened birthday lunch (for me) as we wanted to go across the bar with the last of the ebb which occurred at 1400. The bar crossing was uneventful and we set sail in the Tasman Sea at last, (with no protective Barrier Reef), for Mooloolaba. We had good winds

and were off Point Cartwright at 2130 but I could not see the entrance to the Mooloolaba River as to see the leads you have to be uncomfortably close to the shore and I did not want to risk it. Remember, that as navigational aids, I carried only charts, a compass and a stopwatch plus a list of lights and tides. So we went offshore to deep water and cruised slowly around all night before tying up to piles in the river at 0800 and after a sleep, all adjourning for a big feed at the local yacht club.

 

Paddy again decided to leave us, but after a rest and some good meals which she had not enjoyed for many days due mal de mer she agreed to continue with the voyage.

At Mooloolaba, my sons, Steve, Dave, and Robert who lived in Brisbane, decided to join me for the trip to Moreton Bay and at 0600 we sailed towards the entrance to the bay. At 0800, were abeam of Caloundra and soon sighted NW5 buoy. I had good charts of Moreton Bay so decided on a stop-over at Tangalooma Resort on the W side of Moreton Island. I anchored close in near wrecks or scuttled ships in 50 ft and went ashore. The kids loved the place so we stayed a couple of days and went to the resort movies (outdoors) in the evenings. We also fished and slid down the sand hills on plastic dust pans.

Left Tangalooma at 1030 on the 10^th Dec and deciding that Raby Bay near Cleveland would be the nearest point for my ex-wife, Liz, to collect our sons we dropped both picks in 12 ft off the old Cleveland Point jetty at 1530.

Raby Bay is now (2006) dredged and the site of a lot of up-market canal estates, but then it was a muddy mangrove filled bay. The mud was not good holding ground with my type of ground gear and once my sons and Dave and Brett had left; the latter to go boozing with university friends in downtown Brisbane, Paddy and I up anchored and sailed to Peel Island. What started as a pleasant night in Horseshoe Bay turned, in the small hours of the 11^th, to a struggle to stay in position as the light northerly became a 25 kt SE and I was up all night. The dinghy, which was floating astern filled with water in the rough sea, the painter snapped and it drifted ashore on Peel Island in the dark. By dawn I had had enough of Moreton Bay anchorages. We drew 6 ½ feet and the sand and mud bars everywhere made it not a good place for me with only chart and compass to help. So hoping to contact our crew and arrange to meet them in Brisbane we decided to sail for the Brisbane River. However we needed hydraulic oil for the diesel’s gearbox so Paddy caught the ferry and bought some on the mainland. I stayed aboard and snatched a much needed sleep.

We needed our crew and a new dinghy as the old ‘box’ was damaged beyond repair so we set off for the Brisbane River early on Friday 13^th. It was not my lucky day as passing close (too close!) to the SW marker on Peel Island I grounded. Fortunately it was a rising tide and light wind and we have a reinforced concrete section 12 inches thick (part of the ballast) on the bottom of the keel so we did more damage to the loose coral than it did to us. We were off in 30 minutes and sailed without incident into the Brisbane River. I had never been in the river before and feeling in need of a rest and seeing an empty jetty marked ‘quarantine berth’ shortly after entering the river I tied up there and we turned in. We were awakened by a quarantine officer after a few hours and politely asked to move and when I enquired about possible berths upriver the officer suggested that as a genuine traveller we might be allowed to stay at the police jetty. We chugged up the river and eventually located the water police jetty close to a large bridge in downtown Brisbane. The jetty was apparently scheduled for demolition soon but the police were happy for us so stay there for a few days. During the next days we re-stored the yacht, recovered our crew, bought an inflatable 3 man dinghy (there were 4 of us!) for $66 in a war surplus shop nearby, filled all tanks with water and diesel and were ready for the next leg.

I wanted to get out of Moreton Bay ASAP but would not risk the bar at the South Passage so first had to sail north. Leaving our berth at 1100 to catch the first of the ebb, we were quickly out of the river and into the big ship channel (plenty of water there) and were soon at the north end of Moreton Island and ready to turn south for what we hoped would be non-stop trip to Sydney where we would spend Christmas!

On Dec 19^th at 0900 we were abeam of the Solitary Islands with about 250 miles to Sydney. Thus far the weather had been kind with a following or a beam wind and small seas but at 1630 we spotted black weather ahead. It came up mighty fast. We had handed the mizzen and were about to reef the main whilst holding her head to wind when the wind direction suddenly went through 180 degrees and blew about 40 kts. The main boom gibed so quickly that the mainsail split in half at the seam about half way up. This happened in seconds and just as quickly the wind went back to moderate. We had no spare main (and this main was old, worn and out of shape) but we needed something so I removed the mizzen and bent it onto the main mast and put the second jib onto the mizzen attached at clew, tack and head. We continued south towards Sydney. But now the wind increased to a strong southerly and within a couple of hours a good sea had built up. With our poor rig and the engine on we could barely manage 3 kts towards Sydney. The chart showed the nearest port as Port Macquarie so I decided to put in there for sail repairs, but when we got in sight just before dark there was a big surf rolling near the bar and I chickened out of entering, deciding to get out to sea for the night and were soon flying at right angles to the coast until we were 10 miles off-shore.

Once out in the clear I experimented with ways to heave to and make the yacht’s motion easier but nothing was very effective and about midnight the crew were getting restive and things were messy below. So after a chat with the coastguard at Port Macquarie who advised against entering at that time and suggested we get in the lee of Smoky Cape. As soon as we made a bit of sail the motion became better and we moved quickly towards the Smoky Cape light which with its 25 mile range was soon visible and were soon in the calmer waters of Trial Bay. We anchored for the rest of the night in the vicinity of Arakoon. We were soon all asleep and did not wake until someone pounded on the hull. It was 0800 on the 21^st and the customs and police launch was alongside wanting to come aboard to inspect us: a large yacht that seemed to have arrived in the middle of the night.

I invited them aboard and they asked if there were drugs on board. I replied ‘certainly not’ believing that I spoke the truth, although I found out much later that that one of the crew had a marijuana stash. They poked about in drawers and under bunks but left satisfied that we were not running drugs. As the day advanced, we moved over to the little resort town of SW Rocks and once ashore for a very large meal we found that sail repair was costly and in any case not available until after Christmas. A forecast of stronger winds from the NE which would have given us a lee shore convinced me to spend Christmas up the local river and try to repair the sail ourselves. I talked to the police on the radio and they agreed to guide us into the Macleay River where we would anchor for a while. They met us as scheduled and guided us upstream to an isolated quiet anchorage and wished us well. They were most helpful.

Well, it was the festive season and our two young crewpersons wanted to see some action, not sit on a yacht with us ‘oldies’ . So they left for South West Rocks and Paddy and I luxuriated alone and in the calm safety of the river. Paddy decided that, with my sailor’s palm and plenty of needles and thread, she would repair the sail herself and did just that, even doing other seams where the stitching was suspect. We did not go ashore for 5 days. The crew returned broke and hung-over and we left the river at 0800 on the 27^th bound once again for Sydney, and were abeam Indian Head by 1700. We had an easterly of 15 kts and we made reasonable progress so that by 0900 on the 28^th we were abeam Port Stephens light. Some black squalls were sighted but we were well prepared this time before their arrival. We arrived in Sydney and dropped our picks in Rushcutters Bay at 0200 on the 29^th Dec.

The Cruising Yacht Club of Sydney was very friendly and assigned us a visitors berth. We had showers and beers and collected the necessary charts for Hobart, and faced with a near mutiny by the crew, I delayed our departure for Ulladulla until New Year’s Day of 1975. We left at 1200 all still slightly under the weather from attending the Clubhouse party. It was a pleasant sail down the coast as far as Point Perpendicular but around 0700 on the 2nd a thick fog or mist developed and I veered off shore, not having radar and nervous about my dead reckoning knowing that the East Coast current could run strongly hereabouts. Fortunately by 1000 the sun burnt away the fog and there was Ulladulla about 5 miles away. This had been my first experience of fog in Australian waters. We tied up at 1100 on the 2^nd January and Paddy left the yacht with me for a trip to friends in Canberra. The crew, being healthy young bucks decided to try their luck in Ulladulla at the hotel and sleep aboard or wherever they could find. Whilst in Canberra, Paddy decided that she could not continue with the sailing and would make her own way to Hobart and meet me there in about five days time.

I returned to Ulladulla where Dave and Brett had met up with three young women who decided to come with us as crew as far as Eden. We sailed at 1200 on the 8^th. The girl crew either had mal-de-mer or were too lazy to help sail so I saw very little of them, but we did not really need them. Our NE light wind pushed us slowly towards Eden and by 2110 we had Montague Island light in sight.

Another night of fog developed and we edged slowly down the coast and when it lifted we were off Tathra Head. Having confirmed our position we were soon in Eden and due to the crowded wharf, tied up- bow in with a stern anchor to keep us in position- at 1100 on the 9th. The female ‘crew’ debarked without a word. During the 9^th, many returning Sydney to Hobart racers and a JOG group arrived and tied up parallel to us in what was an already crowded place. When a strong southerly came in just before dawn our position was untenable and we crossed Twofold Bay to anchor in the lee of Boydtown. We returned to Eden for a crew rest and our preparation for the crossing of Bass Strait and arrival in Hobart. My crew enlisted two drinking mates from the Eden Hotel (Noel and Greg) and the five of us sailed on 11^th Jan. By 2200 that night we were abeam of Gabo Island and the wind which was a light NE shifted and strengthened. By the time a bright sunshiny day came, we were well offshore and for the first time the wind could be heard whistling in the mizzen and I handed the mizzen sail. We were streaking along at 7 kts (as fast as she ever sailed) on a lovely day, right on course when:

(Extract from log follows)

Wind increased to 30kts SW. 1315 main mast snapped 12 inches above tabernacle on deck took everything including mizzen mast overboard in a flash. In view of the seas and our location (80 miles S of Eden and 250 miles from Hobart) decided to return to Eden. Saved what we could from the floating wreckage and let the rest drift off to the West.

In retrospect, and knowing what I now know about masts and rigging, the dismasting was a problem waiting to happen. The mast was wooden and off a 30ft trimaran, so would not have normally been fitted on a 14 ton monohull, but the main error I made was in not shifting the single spreaders to a better position or better still adding another set as the rigging was designed to extend sideways to the beam of a trimaran not a monohull and all the stress calculations would have been different. Properly rigged the mast would probably have been OK although it was always shorter than it should have been. As it was, we turned about and motored very uncomfortably in the swell towards Cape Howe. I was very pleased to see its light as dusk fell and the weather although about 20kts at this time, did not deteriorate or give us bad visibility. It was a crestfallen crew who limped back into Eden. Our would-be sailors streaked ashore without a word and I never saw Noel or Greg again although I was in Eden for two months or more. (I probably inoculated them against sailing for life!)

I think I moped devastated for a couple of days, rather stunned by the dismasting – no money and no mast or sails. Brett decided to go back to Townsville then and Dave got a well-paid shift job at a local wood chip mill. It was difficult contacting Paddy already in Hobart (in the days before mobile phones), but eventually I got a card to her and she returned to Eden where I was very glad to see her. I got a cushy job fixing TVs in the Eden-Merimbula area, which gave me a van I could use after work and at weekends. We had little money, needed $2000 plus for a mast and sail, so settled down to work. Dave Wadley soon left for Christchurch University NZ (from where he was soon expelled, he was clever but could not resist drugs and women) and Paddy and I settled down to enjoy life as it was. We lived quietly, going to the RSL for a meal and cinema in Pambula most Saturday nights.

One noteworthy thing happened in Eden about a month after our arrival. A yacht arrived and tied up to us (it was a crowded public quay) and we invited the sailor aboard to tea. He had just brought a small yacht he was delivering across from Hobart and was on his way to deliver it to Sydney. He noted that my yacht, forlornly mastless,” needed a bit spending on it”.

After a few days he got me alone and made the following proposition: my yacht would be re-masted and new sails purchased; it would be equipped with the latest electronic equipment. I would place myself 50 miles off the coast at a lat/long to be advised by radio. I would use my DF equipment to identify a floating one cubic metre 25 kilogram package. I would locate and secure it aboard. I would receive instructions on where on the NSW coast to deliver it. After delivery I would owe my benefactors nothing and could sail on as I wished. I would like to say that I was morally outraged and wouldn’t do it, but actually I asked for a day or two to think it over. Paddy and I were both working and would have enough for the mast by late March, but we had no electronic gear at all, even the old radio was only working on 2182 MHz. The proposition was sorely tempting. I asked who I would be working for and was told I had to go to Sydney to see if the providers of money thought I was suitable. I went by bus and met three people in a hotel bar in Kings Cross, who gave me the same information I had already. I think they just wanted to look at me before investing $5000. I was a bit frightened after meeting these guys but still dithering over whether to or not.

What sealed it for me was the sight of a handgun in my sailing friend’s case when I saw him off after my return to Eden. Whether it was an accidental sight or whether it was intended to assure me that they were a group that meant business, I will never know. Anyway, it pushed me into deciding “no”. I told him that Paddy was half owner of the yacht and was terrified at the prospect and had threatened to leave me if I did. I had in fact not told her, so it was a lie, but it served to get me off the hook. I shook hands with the sailor. He warned me to say nothing to anyone and sailed off for Sydney. I followed his advice and I now thank my lucky stars that I did!

So we worked and saved and soon had enough for the mast, but not the sail. I located a suitable mast in Sydney but being 50 feet long, (I was going to re-rig the yacht from ketch to sloop) I could not get an insurer for its delivery. We decided to motor to Sydney and do the job there; so quit our employment and motored off on March 23^rd 1975. It was a cold and rainy trip but with a generally following wind we arrived tired (Paddy seasick most of the time) and stayed in Ulladulla overnight. We set off for Sydney again (maximum speed in a following sea 4 kts – motor only) but by midnight on the 24^th I was too tired to continue and we went into Kiama’s tiny harbour and rested. Got under weigh at 0630 and after a scare off Port Hacking when the motor unaccountably stopped, leaving us wallowing, I purged the diesel line and injectors and she ran without a murmur until we got to Sydney where I found a mooring at Sailor’s Bay, Castlecrag, at $32 a month.

On the 27^th of March I started a job at Rank Electronics fixing mostly small recorders as used by the media in interviews. This, surprisingly, paid very well and was easy to get to in E. Roseville by bus. Paddy rowed me ashore each morning and looked out for my return of an evening. It can be very inexpensive living aboard so I saved lots of money and with Paddy in perfect health (no more seasickness) we were very happy. I took delivery of the new mast and fittings and measured and ordered the rigging (made in galvanized wire from an industrial firm – not a chandler as I was still careful with money) and eventually raised it. I stayed on the slip until I had done a good job on the paint and anti-fouling (Paddy worked on this tirelessly). I bought a new mainsail and No.1 jib and re-rigged the yacht as a sloop and by 24^th July the yacht was ready to sail again. This prospect led to Paddy deciding she had had enough sailing for life and was going to return to Townsville and her job at the uni library.

So I had to decide, the woman or the yacht! She is a beautiful human being, talented, kind, well educated and we get on famously. It was hard to give up the idea of sailing on, but love and affection won out. I told her we would stay together, I would sail the yacht back to Townsville without her and she said she would fly up and wait for me. We were together until 1982 and I am still in email contact with her. After our experiences in Bass Strait I was unsure if Dave and Brett would want to sail with me again but when I phoned they both did and would come during the uni semester break. They brought friends Larry and Peter. We left at 1500 on July 25^th 1975.with a flotilla of accompanying yachts passing drinks to and fro and they sailed with us until Sydney Heads when we turned north. With so many crew and the prevailing wind all the way to Townsville expected to be South Easterly it was a very easy trip. There was a bit of seasickness but after the third day nobody felt queasy for the rest of the trip. We stopped frequently, mainly to replenish alcohol and ice for the Esky and buy fresh meat.

Sailing North. Now a sloop. Me, getting skin cancer (discovered 10 years later) and drinking too much and our efficient crew, Larry, Peter and Dave.

I will not note the Capes and Lights which I logged as we passed as nothing of interest happened. We sailed in mostly excellent weather with a happy crew and a soldier’s wind. The crew wanted to snorkel on the reef once we got past Breaksea Spit, so we stopped many times so that they could do this. We had a couple of good spearfishermen in the crew so were well supplied with fish. We could have sailed the distance in seven days easily as the yacht liked her new rig and the winds were perfect, but with all the stops it was a slow voyage. We tied up alongside Kwik-Fisher, a fishing charter boat, in Townsville at 1600 on August 7th 1975.

I went to work as an instrument technician at a local nickel refinery having bought a Kawasaki 400Z motor bike, Paddy had her job at the uni and we lived very inexpensively in those days before rules and marinas, in Townsville Harbour, anchored by our own picks. The year wore on but I became keen to settle down for a while and become a house owner. We tried, but could not sell the yacht, so about December of 75 I applied for and got the job of teacher at the Mine Training College of Bougainville Copper Ltd on Bougainville Island. Bougainville was attached to Papua-New Guinea politically but was a completely different ethnic group (Bougainvilleans who were very black, called the Papuans who were mostly paler ‘redskins’). It was little wonder that violent trouble broke out as the mine’s wealth was not shared equally between the two groups. However, there was peace whilst I was there and I enjoyed my job and started sailing as crew every weekend out of the Kieta Yacht Club. I also amassed quite a lot of money and had no intention of quitting my job, but Paddy telegraphed me in late April that she had a buyer in Townsville at $25,000 for the yacht and what should she do. I was thinking of moving the yacht to Kieta and continuing my work until I had enough to sail the Pacific Islands, so I was again at a crossroads.

I decided that being with Paddy was the best option and told her to sell. She did so. I quit my job and returned to Townsville in May 1976. During that year the political temperature continued to rise in Bougainville and explosions and violence around the mine from then on, made me glad that I was in Townsville.

The money was quite enough to build a house in those days. We built a 3 bedroom house, I went to finish my Bachelor of Education and enjoy the gardening and sailing a small catamaran. Fairweather Jack was sailed away and I thought ‘that is the end of the story’: but it wasn’t quite.

In 2006 I had a visit from an English friend and showing him the sights of North Queensland we happened to be having a marina-side beer In Port Douglas, about 350 miles north of Townsville. I was looking at the yachts, as I always do, when I thought “I know that yacht”. She had a new wheelhouse but I would know her silhouette anywhere. Let my remarks under the photograph write ‘FINIS to this story!