weekly sail - moon lakes
A lot of boat work in the week leading up; the boat is secure on its trailer, the trailer lights are working & the light bar quick to remove, the furler is improved & finally the rowing blocks & cleats are secure & sealed. S c ome the weekend we are really keen to get wet.
Photo: Little white moths in the reeds. Feel the Tranquility?
As usual, the decision of where to sail was made on the hop, & with the heart. I have been very keen to ensure that once the Lurgurina is up to scratch, & we trust one another, that we would return to Moon Lakes. Her builder George who died in 2019 aged 97, had lived right by the river at Tea Growers & had been an active member, indeed office bearer, of the Moon Boat Club. I wanted to honor him & his lifestyle buy returning Lurgy here under sail .
The boating facilities at Kooks Larding had changed since I was here last. Free range access to the shore had been corralled into one ramp. It's natural I suppose to prevent the place being loved to death by us boaties. While eyeing the ramp access & planning for our launch, I let a few boaties go through ahead. It paid dividends; one fellow thought he recognised Lurgy from his skiing trips here over many years, another described the Top Lake as a bit of a windy place.
Naturally, i was drawn to the Top Lake but first we needed to get on the water. But, as usual The Jesters had placed some melaleuecas over the launching area so sailors could not raise or lower masts. Pretty ingenious stuff on the Jesters behalf, very funny too .
But long accustomed to such trickery, for there is nothing more comical than trying to relax on a sailing dinghy, I like mamy small boat sailors have become ingenious & self reliant. I simply set to the oars ti fetch se searoom. Yes into a stiff onshore wind, then we set the anchor & did my bit. Of course the anchor only gave the impression it was holding, & while in the thick of the sail hoisting we nudged the shore twice threatening a lee shore stranding. We finished hauling away & as the sails billowed out we clawed off the shore. Don't get me wrong, this place is beautiful & wild, but I am left wondering why the Sydney Raid sailors make Kooks Larding boat ramp a regular destination. They must be real jokers.
Once into clear water the biggest hurdle of the day quickly became evident. This would be no balmy Sunday afternoon cruise, but on a Saturday, the wind was very playful indeed. And we had some issues. The immediate ones were; the furling drum was tangled up, & there's too much wind for a full main. With a tangled furler we couldn't heave-to to reef the main. It immediately brought me to my feet, I have found that standing while sailing gives me a better feel the boat & allows me to better work the sails in response to the gusts. It was fun sailing but manageable with only two let-everything-go-&-lean-like-buggery moments. After a mile or so tacking northwards, allowing the sails to spill wind & so on, the wind increased & we needed to seel shelter & there just happened to be a conveniently located uhhadjacent the launch place. I think it's called Kooks Larding Island which I thought was very imaginative of the Worimi people I believe, but almost Biripi lands.
Now, ingenious dinghy sailors who voluntarily take on The Jesters' tyomfollery have developed a few ace strategies up their sleeves. Namely heaving-to & running off before the wind. Both of these tactics can bring instant relief to the ship under stress & to those aboard. Today I discovered another, a variation of running her up the beach. It's what Jimmy Cook did in north Queerland when he holed Endurance on the Grand Booming Reef. Brilliant in itself, but what made this technique even more enjoyable on the Moon Lakes we as the reed banks lining the shores. Hers the go; you spill wind to slow down, turn perpendicular to the shore, whip the board up & feel her nudge into a cradle of soft mushy reeds. These reeds hold the boat rad gently as a nursing mother her first born.
At this point, despite the heat , we drank coffee & cracked on with some Gingernut Snaps. Right about then my happiness just hit 10 on the Richter Scale. So I put it on hold & drank in the Tranquility of it all.
After the main was reefed, the furler reset & all the coffee drunk, we hoisted sail & assumed a northwards course towards that Bastard Lake the old fellow warned me not to approach.
Going north, into the sea breeze made for lively sailing, still we had fun, it was just a little tricky. We used up most of the river's width when tacking, but with a greater margin of error in case The Jesters tangled one of the sheets as we tacked. Two small inlets emerged along the western shores, but were too hard to navigate in this wind. Something to do on a winter's day perhaps.
Being a National Park & now free of logging & sand mining, the shores were heavily timbered, and just as the river's width narrowed, the hills became more prominent. That's sailor speak for hold your hat shit just got real ie: the wind will be unpredictable in strength & direction & if you wreck, you're f***ed.
Strangely though the place engendered a remarkable sense of peace & natural beauty. I imagine it's like laying next to someone you love, you don't have to exploit their sexuality for minutes on end, just being close by is deeply soothing. I remember that feeling from before I getting married. Unfortunately it usually made me horny & I blew the moment. Ah well it's a nice recollection for the grandkids.
So here I am sheet in hand day dreaming about Lurgy's early experiences on these waters & how bloody contented I was feeling, when The Jesters decided to have a big f'ing laugh at my expense. I was just dreamily watching the water ruffling to windward and plating out the shifting pressure on the sails & then woofter. A gust hit us square on & set everything firmly on its ear. Lurgy went to maximum tilt (without capsizing that is), although the mainsheet was off & the sail, lugging, or was still drawing pressure, the headsail was runnng like a pig with a shot arse. Meanwhile, I'm clinging on, leaning outboard while waiting to get a hand to the jib sheet. At this particular moment Lurgy's board & rudders must have cleared the water. This made her slide bodily downwind & eased the pressure off things. Just as I was marveling at the magic of marine architecture my hat got jolted off my head. It hadn't been tethered by a chin strap (the dog had chewed it off). I did note, during those milliseconds of sheer fun, that the hat fell almost vertically into the water below.
I used the moment of relative ease to let fly the jib sheet & win instant relief. The rudders resumed contact with the water, & we rounded up a little & the world began to look more normal.
But the relief was only momentary, there was definitely no time for relaxation. After a few more hilariously funny puffs, which saw the sheets let go again, I felt relieved that I had learned to route the headsail sheets to cleats at the windward rail, it had saved us from a certain dunking.
A few more gusts hit us, but with the headsail released early they were not so menacing. In hindsight, the headsail should have been furled.
Approaching a portside marker at the entrance to the Bull and Cow passage towards the Top Lake, I noticed high hills to the east & heavily ruffled water. At this point, we enacted the sailor's sailor'escape tactic of bearing off downwind.
The return leg home was rapid & enjoyable. The need for cat like responses had eased. When we got off the ramp, with the sun dipping low, we handed sail & prepared to row ashore. Well, we nearly made shore, but literally 2 metres away from the hard, or motion stalled as the mast snagged in those overhead trees.
The last of the direct sunlight left just as I secured her lashings, checked her lights & stowed lose gear & headed off.
Again, Lurgy showed herself to be capable & durable, I am re-falling in love with sailing. Ironing out the bugs with launching & retrieving, enjoying a lively sail & being comfortable onboard, seem to be the keys to happy dinghy cruising. A fire ashore & waking to the sounds & sights after a night of camping would be icing on the cake experiences.
