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ANOTHER LEANNE FISHY STORY ...continued |
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Now Leanne is pretty cunning. She’s already tried to catch the Scad with Gympie Bill’s Plastic Grubs with no success (these items are designed only to hook customers in fishing shops). Her next move proves she is smarter than a Mackerel Scad – she puts a plastic Grub on the hook, then a Soldier Crab. Out goes the line, followed by the jostling pack of ravenous Scad. One eats the crab. “Oooo, look, he missed a bit,” thinks another Scad, and streaks forward to swallow the remains, which of course happens to be the Grub with embedded hook. Wriggle, wriggle, he’s on the deck. Soon followed by 14 of his mates!!
After cleaning the fish, we sat on the stern and dropped the chopped up carcasses overboard, piece by piece. The barely depleted school of Mackerel Scad went mad as they voraciously consumed their former colleagues. Reminded us of the corporate world. |
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MASALA AND THE BUNDABERG SAILING CLUB RACES |
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FRIDAY 2 OCTOBER. The forecast for another north-westerly blast had us leaving Rooney Point for the safety of the Burnett River on the mainland, on which Bundaberg is located. We flew across the intervening 45 miles of Hervey Bay at up to 7.5 knots, regularly reducing sail in the strengthening winds to keep things comfortable. We roared into the mouth of the river under mainsail and motor, through nasty steep seas and into 25 knots of wind. It was a relief to be inside the protection of the breakwater.
We anchored about 3 miles up the river, near the Bundaberg Sailing Club. This stretch of the river is in the middle of nowhere, with cows grazing along the muddy, salty banks (Bundaberg is another 7 miles up the river). Imagine our surprise on waking next morning to find ourselves anchored slap bang in the middle of Saturday’s race course. |
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We sat back and enjoyed the action. And crikey, what action it was. The 20 to 30 knot wind was howling up the river and gusting strongly. The tide was running out against it at about 3 knots. UGLY! First, out came the 5 to 8 year olds in their tiny Mirror dinghies. We nearly got hit by several of these as they flew past like cockle shells, totally out of control. Each one had a little child in it, struggling mightily against the elements. We couldn’t believe our eyes. Needless to say, they all needed rescuing. What a shambles. |
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Once the terrified little beings were all safely recovered, the big boys came out. The Lasers handled the conditions reasonably well, but the show was stolen by the Hobie Cats and especially the Nacra Cats. The latter, a mix of single handed and two-handed versions, screamed past going upwind on one hull at incredible speeds. Or at least we thought the speed was incredible, until they came back. It was a neck wrenching experience trying to keep the video camera trained on them as they screamed past, each one on the verge of burying the bows and pitch-poling the crew into oblivion. What a sight!! No still photos of this to put in the Epistle – couldn’t possible do it justice. All we could say is, “They must be crazy.” It bore about as much resemblance to the kind of sailing we do as flying to the moon. |
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PARADISE ON EARTH – YELLOW PATCH |
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MONDAY 5 OCTOBER. Three days passed in the Burnett River before the wind swung to the SE and eased enough for us to poke our nose back out into the ocean. We struggled to get out of the mouth of the river in the blustery conditions, with wind against tide again throwing up boat-stopping seas. Once onto course northwards we flew along with the wind and waves behind us – much more comfortable.
Earlier, there was drama in the river around us as we were trying to get our anchor up. An unmanned catamaran anchored upwind of us dragged its anchor in our general direction, collecting another yacht on its way. Together the two marched down on us at an inexorable speed. We were too involved with departing to be able to do anything about it. Fortunately another yachtie jumped in his dinghy, climbed aboard the cat, and began letting our chain until such time as both yachts stopped dragging. A lucky escape for us and for him, as he was closer.
Our goal was Yellow Patch, a giant sand blow in a shallow estuary 117 miles away – another overnight trip. Most of the way the sailing was good, but around tea time it got windier and quite rough, with 2 metre seas close together and Masala falling into the holes between them. |