Cruising Log—19...Shaw Island to Cid Harbour

In the end we sailed to Cid Harbour, on the western side of Whitsunday Island. It was an interesting sail, sometimes doing 7 kts hard on the wind, then falling in a hole and coming to a halt as the wind swirled around the massive bulk of Whitsunday Island. We motored through Fitzalan Passage between Hamilton Island and Whitsunday Island with a howling north-westerly funnelling between the two islands and the tide whipping up a nasty 1.5m chop.

We picked up a slight breeze off the south-west side of Shaw Island so tried motor sailing with the genoa, but had to furl it away again when a large Humpback Whale and her calf appeared on a collision course, forcing us higher and higher into the wind until we couldn’t use the sail any more. It was just as well we did put it away and veer off as we lost sight of them for a little while and when they next surfaced it was right where our wake still showed. Mother shot into the air almost her full length and come down on her belly with a clap and explosion of water like a depth-charge going off.

We anchored at Plantation Bay on the southern side of Lindeman Island, which is mostly national park apart from the resort. There are a number of walking tracks which we planned to explore but the forecast of a strong southerly change nobbled that idea – we had to move next day. The wind was going to blow strongly from the north and north-west before coming in at 30 knots from the south. The trouble with this particular change is that there are few anchorages protected from all these wind directions. Where to go? 

Cid Harbour proved to be a good choice, even though it is exposed from the north-west. We bounced around at anchor until 2am when the change came through, then all was fine. Just as well it was a good choice as we ended up staying there for twelve days while the wind howled from the south-east.

We were joined by friends Dave and Karen off Warneta, whom we had last seen at Pearl Bay. Dave has had 17 years experience sailing the east coast. “You watch,” he said. “The anchor holding can be a bit suspect here when the wind really picks up. We should see some interesting things!”

A few days later we were on board Warneta for one of several games of scrabble. As we departed in the dinghy around sunset, a large private catamaran called Happy Dog anchored beside Warneta, and upwind of us. Another strong change was expected through that night, but we thought nothing more of it as our anchor was securely dug in by now.

At 3am the front came through. Why is it that they always come through at night? There is a 50% probability of coming through in the day or night at this time of the year, but it rarely happens during the day. Murphy’s Law of wind changes. Anyway, the force of the wind woke me up. I got out of bed and climbed out into the cockpit to check that everything was OK. That’s funny, there’s a catamaran anchored close beside us. Wonder when they came in? Never mind.

I went around the deck checking everything then climbed back into the shelter of the cockpit. The catamaran was gone! I looked around in puzzlement then saw it behind us, about 50m away, lit up by the strong moonlight. It was Happy Dog, dragging through the anchorage, with all aboard sound asleep and oblivious to their peril.

Leanne and I watched the cat as it dragged slowly across the bay, inexorably approaching the reef on the far side. “I’ll have to put the dinghy down and go and wake them up,” I said.

“No way, the conditions are awful and it’s pitch black. If anything goes wrong you’ll never be found. It’s far too dangerous to take the dinghy out.”

Leanne had a point. So we sat and watched Happy Dog drag down until almost impaled on the rocks. At the last moment the lights came on and soon she was motoring back and safely anchored again. Phew! What a relief.

The wind continued to howl the rest of the night. When we got up in the morning we were gob-smacked to see that Happy Dog had dragged half way across the bay again. We renamed her “Unhappy Bitch”. Besides, who’d name a cat after a dog?

Whilst Cid Harbour held one of the best experiences of the whole trip – the 340 metre ascent of Whitsunday Peak, the highest point in the Whitsunday Islands. The foot pad winds steeply uphill through rock-strewn rainforest before emerging onto a granite outcrop with the most stupendous views over the islands. What a gem! It takes two hours or more on the way up and about 1.5 hours on the way back.