Port Davey

Ed Rensen in contemplation of his rope work trivet
 
Maarten the second mate stood watch over the grey dawn of the third day, no surprises with the weather or the ship. Away to the east a thin dagger of sky heralded the dawn, the Tasmanian wilderness a dark jagged line of forbidding looking mountains on the horizon. Again we all relished breakfast, each of the crew tucking into a well-earned first meal of the day. The ships roll was back to 8 deg and tolerable. Some of the crew helped Fernardie the chef out in the galley with cleaning up. After breakfast I showered, changed socks and underwear and went on deck.
 
17th Sept 2013 @ 1000hr Aus eastern standard time
Lat/Long               43’18.70S             145’18.87E
COG/SOG             143 deg @ 5.9 kt
Temp 13 deg C
 
With the decision made to enter Port Davey made, Gerban ordered a course change from 167 deg to 145 deg and anticipation onboard heightened, anticipation that would be tempered with time as sailing ships make progress slowly across the oceans. Much of the weather that had tested us across Bass Strait was now further north. As we sailed toward Port Davey 20 mls away the cloud thinned and broken sunshine light up a grey sea.
 
A hundred foot aloft on the top yardarms Peter and Ben (Dutch crew) worked to tidy up the Top gallant sail whilst on deck the conscripts who weren’t on watch amused themselves. Cabin mate George seized the opportunity to take the helm, the focused look on his face lacked only one thing and that was a mariners beard. Ed Rensen busied himself weaving rope trivets around the sheet blocks  using a Carrick bend, Ed had done a couple of legs before we boarded and had sailed the Oosterchelde before. He was Dutch and seemed more at home on the ship and that made him in my eyes less a conscript and more an honorary crew member. If Ed wasn’t doing rope work he would be tidying up the Mizzen sail or coiling rope. Some of the rope trivets done previously had aged with time and that gave credence to his lineage on the ship. Having completed his latest trivet Ed sat there for some time examining his handiwork, I always wondered what he was thinking.
 
The crew were rarely idle, when the weather eased Ben would be scraping rust spots on the hatches and priming them, Gerhard and Maarten would be examining the sail set for wear points. The conscripts on the other hand were still on a cruise, some stared in placid enjoyment at the rolling sea and distant shoreline whilst other more enquiring minds followed the crew around learning what they could.
 
Tony (Dutch crew) Australian raised now Dutch resident held court with rope making classes on deck, armed with his heat gun rope cutter. Ted, George, Josephine, Geoff all joining in on the class. Tony stood out as the proverbial comic/ comedian commentator on any subject that came his way.
Watching another ship in port he would conduct a parody on the happenings in English broken with a thick Dutch accent.
 
The Captain
“Seaman, lower the dinghy on the Port side.”
Seaman
“Excuse me Sir, which is the Port side?”
Captain
“The Port side is the opposite to the starboard side.”
Seaman
“Sir, is that at the back of the ship.”
Captain
<div style=”margin: 0in 0in 0pt”>“The back of the ship is the blunt end, the font of the ship is the pointy end, the port side is whatever side port is on, it changes depending on whether you’re going into port or coming out.”
 
We all laughed with amusement and as every comedian loves audience appreciation it only encouraged him more. Adding to Tony’s comic relief was his Barts balaclava with its floppy ears hanging down and his ever-changing expressive face.
 
The sea was pleasant, we were running almost down the swell now, the distant black mountains turned blue and as the filtered sun shone through white peaks like snow appeared. It soon became evident that the snow was bare dolerite rock the mountains were made of, devoid of covering soil and only in the gullies running down to the sea could trees survive.
 
A pleasant sea and the south west coast of Tasmania are not words often uttered together, this is a hostile and dangerous environment.  At Cape Sorell on the West coast the wave rider buoy recorded an 20metre wave on Aug 6th 2012. There are more bad days than good days out here and we were fortunate in our journey.
 
Having finished my watch at 0800hrs I was due back on watch at 1600hrs but we would be at anchor by then so I stood and watched the unfolding canvas of natural beauty that is the South West wilderness. The rugged cliffs had an almost Dover white appearance, we passed Payne bay and rounded Breaksea Islands and entered Port Davey to anchor under Munday Island. Port Davey runs another 15 mile further up into Bathurst Harbour, this is a harbour that has been protected from human habitation by its hostile environment. At 1600hrs we anchored and Fernardie  could prepare the evening meal in calm waters and we could feast and share a wine with the safe knowledge that only one hour anchor watches need be stood tonight.
 
18th Sept
We all slept well, enjoyed our hour anchor watch. In the half light the siloheute of the Tecla and Soreen Larsen took us back 140years  to when whaling ships anchored in this sheltered harbour as did the Piners chasing the white gold of Huon Pine. Around the our ship, souls, ghosts hovered, lost souls seeking another passage around the Cape, around Horn.
 
Ashore in a sheltered cove lined with trees a creek ran out of the mountains and there in shallow graves their bones lay.
Patrick Bourke fell from the masthead of the Bark Planter off Macquaire Harbour 5th Feb 1872, aged 22 yrs
George. Native of Mangea died on the Barque Terror 4th April 1853 aged 20 yr
Mathew Hendry fell from the mast of the Maid of Erin 29th Jan 1863 aged 32 yr
James Chard fell from the topsail yard on the Brig Roscoe 13th Jan 1852 aged 39yr
Many other graves, unmarked, desecrated and lost to time rested in this beautiful place, and in the still of night they sought to passage on another ship.
 

Dolerite rock mountains of Port Davey