Jack & Jude: The three amigos trapped in Strahan
by Jack and Jude 6 May 2020 20:23 UTC
Strahan, Australia © Jack and Jude
First Winter Storm
As I write there's a force 10 storm raging through Bass Strait with Hogan Island recording blasts of 78 knots. Cape Sorell lighthouse, just seven nautical miles from our vessel, has recorded 57-knot gusts with sustained winds above 40 knots while 25 mm of rain fell on our vessel as 13-metre waves pounded the shores.
Just a week ago, Jude and I were scurrying around Banyandah removing halyards, sheets and running blocks, packing away the Green Machine kayak, lowering the furling headsail and storing it. All done with worrisome thoughts of mingling with potential Coronavirus carriers after the security of living aboard our floating home on the wild west coast of Tasmania.
The hamlet of Strahan had been a virtual ghost town since the tour boats closed early in March when Tasmania shut entry to all but returning residents. Walking to the only shop, we might encounter one other on the deserted streets, or a vehicle or maybe two would pass us. No one ever stopped to talk, although we might speak from a distance with friends we knew well.
In that month after all transport ceased, Jude and I were thinking we'd be wintering in Macquarie Harbour, a fact that unsettled us. We might not succumb to the Coronavirus. Instead, a wet, cold winter aboard a small boat without much exercise could lead to other illnesses that at our age could prove just as fatal. At first, we thought of sailing to South Australia where we have a berth exposed to milder winters. That required unseasonal winds to achieve, and spying one approach, we started making preparations for the 500-mile voyage. But that weather window closed, never to reopen.
Changing Hats never so dangerous
Raging storms no longer strike fear in us, and no more do we wear thermals to bed or work on the laptop under a duvet to keep warm. Why? Well, we made our escape last Sunday with help from a good friend who drove us to Hobart, where we stayed a few days in another friend's vacant bungalow before boarding one of the first flights to leave Tasmania after the month-long lockdown. Love the helpful nature of Taswegians. Something we miss in the busyness of a more significant community.
After failing to get off the ground a month earlier when our first booked flight was cancelled, this time everything went sweetly. A vacant Hobart airport greeted us and then ever so slowly a few others arrive until a single boarding booth opened, and hooray, we took-off with half a planeload. Scary that. Being surrounded by other potential virus carriers. And, worse to come.
Landing in Melbourne, trapped within the herd collecting baggage, we then repeated the process, all the while thinking we'll be infected for sure. Gosh! We've never disinfected our hands so much. We tried wearing masks, but cheap things were pretty useless and just plain uncomfortable. So, with fingers crossed, we ran the gauntlet, reaching Sydney at 6 PM to find our rent-a-car waiting for us.
Finding our way north out of Sydney in the drizzle and darkness after a whale of a day proved tiring, but it too ended in success. Near Taree, we found a quiet tree-lined lane and settled down best we could for some rest. Surprisingly we both slept well till the morning chill woke us at 5 AM
Then when driving down an empty motorway, the lovely golden sunrise filling our view became a cloudless day of cerulean blue. Magic. We'd escaped!
The remainder of this tale is boringly beautiful with a smooth transition back into our shack, which was remarkably in good nick. Waltzing around the grounds, admiring the lush green foliage on the tall trees and shrubs sent our minds spinning because we'd left the place with everything dead from drought. Wow, now our water tanks nearly burst with full capacity, the grass was thick and lush, and further magic, our neighbour had planted out our veggie patch with seedlings that were all jumping out the ground.
Self-Isolate
Although NSW only requires overseas arrivals to self-isolate, we are going to stay at home for the next couple of weeks to make sure we did not pick up the deadly lurgy. There'll be plenty of time ahead for family and friends.
Celebrating Jude's Birthday
In our last fling amongst the wilds of Macquarie Harbour, we celebrated Jude reaching three-quarters of a century. That's amazing considering the adventures this capable lady has survived. On our honeymoon, a deranged Arab put a knife to her throat, demanding her valuables. In Nigeria, they put her in jail as a spy and in the Congo just after the Mau-Mau uprising a pair discussed slitting our throats as we lay petrified in our pup tent. All that before she sailed across oceans, home-schooling two little ones afloat from birth to maturity.
Above all these trials, she has had to put up with me. Daring, brave, a willing worker with extraordinary courage, she survived being flipped upside down during a North Pacific gale that wiped out our dodger and shredded our mainsail. Not to mention my muck up at Madagascar recorded in our latest book that she survived and saved our lives with her cool action.
So, how to celebrate such a momentous milestone? Well, first off it rained on her special day. Cold misty west coast weather, but we launched our Green Machine kayak to paddle up the Pine Cove creek to where the first Huon pine was cut by James Kelly in 1818. Lonely quiet spot frequented by a pair of white sea eagles.
As we left the creek, Jude spied something unusual on the bank, which upon closer inspection proved to be a gill net owned by a mate of ours. So, we set it, hoping good fortune would bring Jude a delicious birthday gift. Watch this video to see the results.
This article has been provided by the courtesy of jackandjude.com.