The Last Hurrah for Oosterchelde

Day 5& 6
 
The day started with a grey overcast sky, Tecla, Windward Bound and Young Endevour lay at anchor in the bay silhouetted against the mountains looming all around. The Tecla had raised her mizzen sail the night before to so the ship with feather into the wind though  others did not followed suit.
 
After breakfast we manned the main sheet halyard and sheets to launch the inflatable off the middle deck and all hands worked in unison achieving it flawlessly. We proceeded to dip our boots in the disinfectant as per the protocol to protect the environment from transferring root rot fungus to the wilderness area and went ashore in groups of six at a time.
 
The cove we landed in was where the gravesites and brass plaque were, a small tannin stained creek ran down from the mountains, trees stunted and knarled from the winds blowing off the Southern Ocean. The other boat inflatables pulled ashore and crew waded bare foot through the icy waters before putting on their hiking boots. As comfortable as I was going ashore in my sea boots this was going to be my undoing in a short while.
 
A line of people stretched up the ridge back trail to the mountain top until they appeared like ants, I hiked to the first hill in the drizzling rain and satisfied myself with a photo of myself , the Oosterchelde and the bay far below. The return down was slippery and I sought clumps of grass and rocks to maintain a good foothold until suddenly my left foot slipped out and down I went with my right leg locking under my body. I feared the worst but was able to stand continuing down with only minor strain to the knee which did not affect the rest of the trip. I vowed to purchase good hiking boots after that!
 
18th Sept. 1600hrs. With the westerly change due later that evening and the promise a good sail around the bottom of Tasmania we weighed anchor, motored out of Port Davey in company with the other tall ships as the misty rain closed down the mountain peaks.The wind change did not eventuate and sail we had set flogged incessantly as the throb of the diesel drove us through a bleak and listless night.
 
19th Sept. oooohrs. I began my watch, the lights of the Europa,Tecla and Young Endevour dotted around us in the sea mist. Looming black and ominous were Maatsuyker Island, Dewit Island and Flat Witch Island. As foreboding as they looked in the black of night the GPS plotter gave them a friendlier face and we could see we had clear water. What must it have been like 150 yrs ago with no diesel engine and no GPS plotter to guide our passage. We took in useless sails and tightened the main and schooner sheets and boom preventers to stop the boom from flogging side to side.
 
After my watch I managed a couple of hours sleep and rose for breakfast. The rolling ship caused great commotion at breakfast with Fernardie struggling in the galley, cups of coffee spilling and a fire extinguisher breaking loose and rolling across the floor. Relief came at 0900hrs after rounding South East Cape when we dropped anchor in Recherce Bay. It was Thursday, we had Friday to sail into Storm Bay and make a grand entrance, Saturday onboard with an open ship and Sunday to disembark at 0900hrs.
 
As Maritime authorities would not allow Oostercheld to pass through the calm of Dentrecastreaux Channel inside Bruny Island the  we raised anchor at 1000hrsand set sail for Adventure Bay on Bruny Island. The westerly change had now arrived and provided excellent winds, a favorable sea for a great day of sailing past the towering cliffs of South Bruny National Park.
 
Friday 20th We made our entrance through Storm Bay into the Derwent River in company of the other tall ships and surrounded by a plethora wooden boats that Tasmania is renowned for. Graceful sailing yachts, steam and motor launches, one boat sporting a pirate crew who were making noises of taking over our ship, not! One lone sailor in wooden Nordic sailing boat pulled alongside and played the Pan flutes and that was just grand.
 
After our open day on Saturday we had a final dinner, presentations were made from the conscripts to Captain Gerban, Fernardie the cook and the crew Maarten, Arno, Peter and Ben. I recited John Masefields ‘Sea Fever’ to much applause as tears misted our eyes knowing that our adventure had ended.
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I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way, where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.