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Video 1 (13 MB) Video 2 (30 MB)
I set sail past the SV Leeuwin II and the Splash fleet. I had an ESE stiff wind blowing 20-30 knots. The boat stood up and performed well. Her average speed was 6 knots.
The Splash fleet passed me at Hillarys Boat Harbour. The wind decreased but remained an easterly.
I decided to stop at Mindari Keys as a very low pressure was approaching from the NNW. I arrived at Mindari Keys within 5 hours. I docked easily; friends and family drove up from Perth. I stayed there for 2 nights due to the strong winds, but it enabled me to do some repairs, such as fix a few leaks.
I arrived into Jurien Bay just as the Splash fleet departed. Neil and Ted were there to help. I had a great refreshing shower at the medical centre and then went for a snapper dinner with Chris and family.
After 20 hours I tried to start the engine but could not. It may have taken water into the exhaust. I waited for daylight hoping that the solar panel would increase the battery power, but the engine still would not turn. I then radioed Geraldton and raised the Splash boats to help with entrance to the marina. However, I managed to get the engine turning near African Reef, which is about 10 miles off shore. I arrived into Geraldton after 40 hours of sailing.
Gypsy Rose in Geraldton
Major Tom and Volunteer Marine Rescue (VMR) Shark Bay were in regular contact. I sailed past the spectacular Zuytdorp cliffs and arrived into South Passage, Shark Bay at 8:30 in the evening where I met up with Major Tom. Ken Waller, skipper of Major Tom, welcomed me with a juicy steak, a glass of red wine and 30 litres of fuel.
The wind was northerly, so it was slow progress and I had to motor much of the way. There was a very strong current at the tip of Cape Peron that was also making it slow going. Once I rounded the cape, the passage was relatively quick heading south to Monkey Mia. I hit the bank at Cape Rose and was there for about an hour, but eventually managed to get off. Fortunately the tide was coming in.
I made the jetty at Monkey Mia at 1 a.m. on Wednesday the 11th of May. I had been at sea for 4 days with little sleep.
Off Cape Courier the swell was an easy 6 metres. I talked to Keith by radio and he agreed with my description of "small blocks of flats coming at you". As a young man I surfed the South African coast. The giant swell I was seeing at this moment often looked like I should start paddling to catch the wave, only I couldn't paddle and surf my small boat. Gypsy Rose has proved time and time again her sea worthiness and this was proved again in these conditions.
While Keith passed me, we came close and had a chat. He had a 34-foot boat which was faster than the Rose, but very kindly slowed himself down so we were always in sight or radio contact. Previously I tried to contact the Splash fleet that was well ahead of me but couldn't raise them. They were very much on a schedule and I found for a while that I was better travelling on at my own pace. Trying to keep up with them was causing the organisers and the boats in the fleet to worry so I had decided to officially move on my own and not try to keep up with them. Radio contact has been good at times and very bad at others.
I was finding that the wind on this leg was only good for a period of time, and then I would have to motor sail to keep up a decent 4.5 knots. As soon as the wind switched east or south west I could switch off the engine that was thunking away and skip over the swell at 5-6 knots. Motoring for over 8 hours makes the inside of my cabin area very hot. The heat comes off the engine and gets trapped down there.
I went some way off shore (about 15 miles) in my approach to the Ningaloo Reef that stretches about 2 miles offshore for about 70 miles. As I came up to the reef at 4 a.m. or so, another boat sailing south passed me and reminded me just how remote it can get out here. However, Keith and I were having regular radio skeds which broke up the monotony.
As daylight approached the spectacular reef came alive. There were fish jumping everywhere, but not at all interested in my lures that I patiently dragged behind the boat. Watching the waves break over the reef from behind, especially in this unusually big swell, was an awesome sight. Closer to Coral Bay I noticed a spotter plane above and watched as they stalked the giant whale sharks. In no time a motor boat packed with tourists arrived and through my glasses I watched as they chased the whale sharks, feeling a little sad that commercialism had arrived in my tranquil space.
Again I tried my radio to contact Coral Bay Sea Rescue but it remained silent. I tried the Splash fleet with no luck and got a very broken Keith ahead of me. I found out later that the army radio station here in Exmouth causes the bad reception. At about 5pm I was on the northwest cape. I decided to be a thrill seeker by going between a reef and the cape, instead of going around the reef and putting an extra 4 hours on my trip. The tide was rushing and 4 waves were breaking on the reef continuously. I watched the depth sounder very closely, but when I came through I was very happy and glad I did it.
I arrived at Exmouth Marina at 7:30 in the evening. Keith was there to help me tie up and a cold can of beer was handed to me. I had been at sea for three days and two nights. Within minutes of relaxing, my eyes and head told me I could finally sleep. I awoke 9 hours later with the beer still propped in my hand and had slept in an upright position.
Living in Exmouth is a fellow disabled lad by the name of Cory Cooper, who lives with his carer, Pete. They arrived to picked me up and give me a place to stay in their home. They had done this the last time I was in Exmouth when I sailed up these parts in the 2002 Splash. Needless to say I took full advantage of the bath and very comfortable bed. I woke up once wondering why my boat bunk was suddenly so soft. Cory, Pete, Trish, Tony, Lisa, Vicky, and another Pete, and all the people attached to the local yacht club, made me feel very welcome. They helped me locate charts that I needed, drove me around and invited me to a session at the club. The second Pete decided my anchoring system needed some fine tunning and took on the job himself. Very kind people and a warm stay in Exmouth.
I must say it's a worry to a degree now that the Splash boats are well ahead and I am on my own. But I also feel less pressured and can plan my trip better. One thing I've realised is that I have to improve my game and get a lot better at organising my self ahead of time from now on. All going well, I will take off on the outgoing tide on Wednesday (25 May 2005) to head for Dampier where I have a number of people helping me from the Dampier Yacht Club. It's a 180 mile journey and will be tough due to the islands and the big tides.
Talk to you all again soon. --mike
The day I planned to sail the wind kicked up and the forecast northeast of me was gusting to 30 knots. In parts the tide, being on springs, runs at 2 to 3 knots so with my little Gypsy Rose I would not have gone anywhere apart from really slow and not very far as my route was northeast for 12 days. That high pressure sat in the Bight generating day after day 30 knots of east/northeast winds. Finally it rained, the wind dropped off, and taking advice off the fishermen, (a whale researcher and a local from Dampier, John Lally, who took groups of school children sailing in the area ahead of me) I took off into a rainy and still day headed for Long Island.
The local yachties from the club were there first thing to help me in the rain. I cast off a little sad to leave with the Exmouth crew piled in a tinny and giving me an escort out. Good on ya, guys! The Splash was well ahead of me as they had a tight schedule to keep. It wasn't practical for me in my tiny boat and single handing most of the trip, trying to keep up with those larger boats. I'll most likely bump into them on their way back.
The Exmouth Yacht Club Crew, who couldn't do more to help me.
Exmouth to Long Island
I waved farewell to the group that was crammed into the tinny and set a course for Long Island, 32 miles away. Sailing along with me was a Royal Perth Yacht Club catamaran, Jolly Rolla. The wind kicked in, but it was tight and I had to motor sail. The extra weight I have to carry now really slows the old girl down, but what can I do? Trying to find a chart in these towns is hard. Peter in Exmouth is going to set up a decent chandlery. My GPS played up, but 2 other boats spoke of GPS problems in this area as well. I arrived at Long Island late Saturday afternoon. The bay looked fantastic - big cumulous clouds were all about. Once into the bay it was so quiet. Two other boats anchored in. I dropped my anchor using my new beaut system and it went over like a dream. I didn't even have to leave the cockpit. Turning the engine off, the tranquilness of the bay came to life. I was digging my anchor into sand for the very first time. Although we had a small squall come through early evening, I sat well. But I didn't sleep - anchor and nerves - which turned out to be for no reason because it didn't drag a bit. My anchor alarm on my GPS went wild on the plotter while I was walking my boat across the island and to the other side. Two other boats reported strange GPS stuff. Weird.
I had real lazy Sunday. An old dugong was coming up around my boat. I watched a family from neighbouring boat snore. They came over and told me of the beauty of the coral reef. I had a real pang of sadness as I love free diving and it's just too risky to try it alone. Hopefully I will get some in somewhere along the trip. I took off with the incoming tide, headed for Onslow, and had a nice wind angle and a good sail until the wind shifted.
Long Island to North Sandy Island
I passed under the roller oil platforms. Trawlers were mowing the banks in formation east of me and I was happy for them to stay there. The channel into Onslow was flashing up. The current was fierce for a while as it was now into 3-metre tide country. And coming into springs the lights of Onslow slid past me slowed. I head more northeast to take on the mangrove passage, which is an inshore passage not used very much at all by cruising yachts. The reason for this was that I was worried about a fierce easterly coming in and I would have less effect closer to shore. If conditions got bad, I could go right in and drop my anchor in the lee of the mangroves. The other choice was to go out, as most boats do, and hit strong tides and short, sharp seas. Nah. The downside of my route was that I had to dodge and weave shoals and a lot of reef. There was no time for sleep. The critical section I had to negotiate was a gutter between 2 very large reefs which snaked through the two, which gained you access to the passage. I thought I would make the tide and have it with me as I entered but no such luck. I got there at 6am expecting some indication of the 2 very large reefs, over 2 miles' worth, to find not even a flicker. This meant I had to use waypoints and GPS, which I now viewed with some distrust.
The tide was eddying and swirling, really fierce, and my tiny engine was screaming at full revs. At times in the murky water I could see the reef. It was close but we finally pushed through and into the inshore mangrove passage. I had a great sail. I saw a huge manta ray jump twice. They're amazing creatures. Up ahead was the North Sandy Island, which was not highly recommended, but I was tired. I now had my anchor system sussed so I decided to sleep and wait for an incoming tide to push me. The bottom was bad and I hooked a bombie, right where the recommend anchorage was. In my haste to go up and try to free my anchor I didn't clip on my lifting halyard well. I had small fall, which got me so peeved I got super strength and broke my anchor free by hand. I drifted off, checked my oil and turned the motor.
North Sandy Island to Dampier
I sailed up next to the passage islands. At the top island I would make my turn for Dampier and Cape Preston. I was under motor into a northerly and knew I would have a great sail on the turn. During the night my GPS played up again as I was resetting it. I noticed a nearby light change direction, which meant my autopilot was off. Again, another wakeup call for me. Getting her back on course, I thought about just how sharp you must stay. There is so much reef about and the tide on the end island was fierce. With the flood of the outgoing tide, we weren't going anywhere fast. We finally broke free and the wind was good to sail. I set Gypsy Rose up and headed for Eaglehawk Island, the beginning of the Mermaid Passage into Dampier.
Upon arriving off the wreck off the island, I found my motor wouldn't start. I had plenty of fuel, water, battery, nothing on my prop, so no reason not to start. I got down and belted my starter motor, thinking it was a stuck solenoid, and it was still a no go. Well, that's one thing for it.
While I had wind I was going to sail in as far as I could. All was going well and I was about 5 miles down the passage. Then the wind ended and I was pushed back past where I had started by the current. I was worrying about ships as it's a commercial area. I put up a bright orange V cloth and contacted the port authorities by radio. A fisherman gave me a tow for a while. Then John Lally from Hampton Yacht Club arrived. He ended up towing me 16 miles into Hampton Harbour. I tied up onto the fuel jetty and Robin from the local Rotary came to give me a lift to the local motel, where I had 4 days of relaxation, care of the local rotary club.
I later found that my brushes in my starter were worn out.
I got a strange allergic reaction to something and landed in hospital. I'm not sure what caused it, but I was glad of the respite at the motel. I went and helped the local rotary club pack salt and they donated 10 chairs. Great effort, guys! Also along those lines, a lady by the name of Billie from a local yacht got on board and rallied fellow workers to donate a further 9 chairs. This was made 10 by Furry and Roscoe, another 2 local yachties. Great effort, Dampier.
The purchase system that I use to get off the boat with got knocked off. Once again John Lally came to my aid and donated a spare one he had.
My health is going well, but I had a real close encounter. At 5:30am I was woken to an almighty bang to find that a sign perched about my boat had come loose. It landed on the walkway going down to the boat and balanced there. Had it hit my boat I would have been smashed. It was a good size, about 250 kilograms. I radioed the port authorities and again John Lally turned up to help me across to a sheltered marina. The problem was that it's 8 kilometres out of town and this delayed my departure and reprovisioning is now slow. But it is really peaceful out there. It also gave me a change to scrub down the bottom of my boat as growth was starting to appear. I also tightened up my self steering gear, which I normally can't reach. John Lally again came to my aid and, being a very seasoned Kimberly sailor, gave me a good set of charts to borrow and some very good tips on how to get through that area.
The more I think of it, the more I realise I have 2 choices for that area. I can go offshore for 6-8 days or find a buddy to come through the Buccaneer Archipelago with me. The tides here are 10 metres and in areas the current is over 10 knots strong. It is some of the most savage and isolated areas in the world. Little Gypsy Rose, 26-ft with an 8 horsepower motor will not find it easy. I will only be able to sail on the neap tides, and stay put in an anchorage for the duration of the spring tides. I have in mind one friend, but we'll see. It would also be good to have a camera person, as it is such a wild and beautiful area.
It's the 20th of June today. It's blowing about 25-30 knots easterly, my favourite wind I love to hate. So I hope to leave tomorrow for Broome but it may well be the next day if it's still pumping.
From here I will go out to Legendre Island, about 15 miles offshore. I will head from there passed Port Hedland (decided not to stop, have been waiting to hear if any fundraising has been organised but have no heard back from the guys in down in Perth about that). I have now decided to not go in and go past as it's not an easy place to enter. Once passed Port Hedland I will go inshore and stay 2 miles offshore along 80 Mile Beach all the way to Broome. Once in Broome I will anchor off Gantheaume Point Beach. The pattern from now is anchorages. No more luxuries of a jetty until Darwin. Thanks Pete in Exmouth for helping to get my anchor system operation well. I can now easily lower and pull my anchor from my cockpit.
Thanks all for a while, Folks. Talk to you later. Regards, Mike
The Dampier Rotary Club packed salt one night to raise $1,000 for wheelchairs!
Dampier to Broome
As planned I left Dampier on an outgoing tide and in a moderating easterly. The met office in Port Hedland had assured me that the weather was going down and I had a three day window. This was not enough time to make Broome but at least a big chunk of it would be good.
I sailed past all the industry, trying to imagine the land before the companies moved in. It really is a beautiful archipelago. On my turn north at Hamersley Reef I passed a lot of anchored ships and it made me sharpen up to the fact I was in thick ship country for at least as far as Port Hedland. The wind slowly moderated through the night and it was all too easy.
The next day took me past Port Hedland. Again the ships were lined up but I crossed the channel and kept on going. I was originally going to go in to try and raise a few chairs but decided against it as it seemed a hard and difficult place to enter. And later, looking at people's iron ore covered boats, I was glad I didn't.
Early evening had brought me to big and small Angel Islands. It was here I realised that I was really getting into tide country now, as I whisked past Angel Island doing 5 knots without sail or motor! I also noticed a lot of condensation on the deck, a sign as far as I am concerned that wind was a coming. It was a glass out and a big yellow banana moon came up. I wouldn't be dead for quids.
I couldn't say that the next morning when I found myself in a 30-knot easterly while trying to make two miles off 80 Mile Beach. The tide and fetch drove me out and soon I was 20 miles off 80 Mile Beach. The wind on tide picked up a 2-metre breaking sea which made it hollow, very wet and uncomfortable. And my course line was taking me to Bali.
Every day it slacked off mid afternoon but pumped up again at about 10 o'clock in the evening. During these times I busted my guts trying to make ground and get closer to the shore. I was sailing hard on the wind trying to make shore when the boat kept on driving up into the wind. My auto pilot was hard over and stuck. I thought it was just a malfunction and while up there trying to reset it, I realised it was dead locked over. I got it off the tiller to find I was now stuck on the tiller with hard sheets and 25 knots of wind. What to do - if I let the tiller go then I would jibe. But I needed to ease the sheets and bear away.
I decided to go for it. I lashed the tiller but not as well as I should have, so I'm halfway across the cockpit to reach the sheets when it came loose and she jibed. The mainsheet rope hit my head and for a few minutes I felt for blood then realised it couldn't have been the boom as it would have hit the solar panel first. The boat jibed back before I got her under control; it was not nice and no good for the mast and tackle.
I then started to set up my backup windvane self steer. To find the extra blade, which I had so cleverly taped to the standing blade to bulk it up after I snapped one off Exmouth, was a very bad idea. It made the vane not as responsive as it should be.
I took a big, deep breath, hooked up and pulled myself 5 feet into the air. I had hooked up a retaining line to hold me backwards over the back of the boat, but I found myself in that sea swinging out of control from port to starboard. I managed to grab the backstay and pulled myself backwards into the basket I have on the boats transom. From there I managed to slash off the tape and we were back in business.
Sadly, about 8 hours later, the blade snapped as the wind turned southeast and I couldn't get up there to change the angle of the blade so it finally snapped. I have changed the setup to now change the angle in the safety and comfort of the cockpit.
Now I had no self-steer and I can't sail this boat without it. After some deliberation I set up a system using my purchase system of the running backstays. (Sorry for all the boat jargon but to explain would take ages!) Basically I had 2 lines running from the boat's tiller down into my saloon and I steered for 2 days like this. Then it calmed out and I took the hatch off the lazzarette so I could get into the locker to see if I could fix the auto pilot. Bingo, I found a loose wire. I fixed it and had herby the auto pilot back and was back to easy sailing. I had no more dramas until I made the light off Gantheum Point.
Keith and Kevin, 2 single-handers like myself, were there waiting for me to get in and they hooked me up to a mooring. We have a small clan of us moving about the same time north. They have been very supportive of me. The next morning I awoke to a combination of a micro light flying overhead and the coconut shell clap of the race horses training on the sand. I watched fascinated as the jockeys took the horses into the water and gave them a swim, getting towed along. Cable beach was filling up. A friendly charter operator came up and said I was on his mooring and I was welcome to use it.
Broome
The local rotary club made me welcome and after 4.5 days out at sea and 4 days sitting on the mooring, I was over ready to hit the smoke. Lynne Willis, the then president of rotary in Broome, made me welcome. I was going to give a talk on my sail at their annual change over dinner but could not find accommodation. I was going to head back out to my boat when Lynne said they had found a room in the Cable Beach Resort, but it was way over my budget. The club offered to pay for a night's accommodation and after weeks of doing it hard on the boat I couldn't refuse.
What a spot! I sat on my veranda watching peacocks and listening to water features. Move over Kylie! That night I attended the dinner and talked of my sail and the reason for it. They donated 4 wheelchairs, which was later made to 5 by the staff of Matso's restaurant. Once again Keith, my cruising companion, and Maria, his girlfriend, made me welcome. Keith ferried me ashore as did other yachties, Bill and Kevin. There are about 5 boats cruising north at the same pace. I have lost ground with them at present but hopefully will catch them again.
Peter, a fisheries officer looking after a fisheries boat whilst the crew was on a swing, was very helpful and friendly. He often dropped past my boat to see how I was and take my rubbish off or give a hand landing me ashore, which I did all but 4 times in the total of 16 days I sat on the mooring off Cable Beach.
I was waiting on a crew, Sally Brown, an old friend, who was going to help me with the boat through the very tidal and very isolated Kimberley area through to Darwin. I was also waiting on replacement wind vanes for my self steering and a replacement depth sounder. Keith and Peter helped me to reprovision. Keith brought the fuel over a mile off Town Beach for me to pick up as a nasty northwester came in and made Cable Beach anchorage not only very rollie and uncomfortable but also impossible to fuel up.
After the trip around the point to fuel up I heard a weather change back to southeast and decided to head back as it was going to calm out. I rolled another 2 days. Sally arrived and now it was just a wait for parts to arrive. Sal stayed ashore, as getting to and fro from my boat is a hassle. I have Little Rosy, my inflatable dive yak, but it's a wet ride which is not good if you're going to town.
Finally all stores were loaded. Broome is the last outpost before you hit the real wilderness, but what a hassle of a place for a yachty! They need a marina there desperately as more and more boats are attempting the Kimberley's. My parts arrived and after some mind-grinding with another yachty, Geoff, a returning splasher, we got the new depth sounder calibrated. Just on sunset me and my new crew, Sally, were under way in my cramped boat. I think both Sally and I are going to find it hard at times as I have had that boat to myself and it's geared for one person (a paraplegic person, which makes it even harder), but I am very grateful that Sally was keen and brave enough to come on board and give me a hand through this next section. Doing what I am doing I have two priorities: not to land myself in a real fix and give offshore disabled sailors a bad name; and to complete my voyage of over 7000 miles in order to get as many kids chairs as I possibly can.
Broome to Cygnet Bay
We had a very nice southeaster. We were running up the coast about 2 miles offshore. It was strange having a companion aboard and I must have burned a hole in the poor lass' ear as I have been isolated on the boat a lot, the ideal hermit for 3 months now. I was yapping away when I noticed some breakers ahead and realised we were closer to some sand banks than I liked. So I changed course very quickly. We had to change once more to avoid a pearl farm offshore of Quandong.
As daylight dawned we watched humpback whales leaping up into the air. This was fantastic in the Lacepede Channel. The wind was nil and we got our first taste of heat. Having the engine running pushes indoor heat up by ten degrees or more. We cramped into the cockpit under my sun shade for some relief while a massive sea snake sneaked past.
Closer to Cape Leveque I tried my hand at fishing and was proud to hook my first mackerel, however, in the delay to get a photo of it we lost it! My fishing luck is still down although I was getting a feed most nights that I was on the mooring in Broome (just pan size).
We had decided to anchor in Tomas Bay, just around the corner from King Sound, and wait for an ingoing tide to head into the sound with. During the night I was awoken by a strong easterly. I checked the anchor and we hadn't moved but a few hours later at about 5 am I woke and felt the movement of the boat was not right. Upon checking, I found we were not only adrift but out at sea. We had floated with great fortune over a reef and into the open ocean. Lucky? Yes, and here's why. Upon checking the rope I discovered that the anchor was cut off. It must have dragged after I checked it and snagged a sharp rock. I have used rope and chain because I drop and pull the anchor from my cockpit alone. So I had only ten metres of chain, which is great anywhere south of here but not up here in the strong currents.
We had no choice but to head down into the sound. I didn't trust my spare Bruce. I felt it was too light for theses conditions. The only problem was we were heading into the outgoing tide. I was hoping to make Cygnet Bay Pearl Farm before the tide really kicked in, which was 30 miles away. Well, we didn't make it. We got caught in a tidal stream off Sunday Island running 5-6 knots flat out. I can barely manage 6 knots on the motor. We had over falls, large area of water going crazy. No pattern to the broken water and we got caught in whirlpools bigger than Gypsy Rose which flicked us about like a leaf in a strong stream. Both Sally and I tested our patience for 5 hours. I almost turned the boat about and headed back for Broome as we had no decent anchor now, but Sally saved the day. She and was determined to fight on and break free.
We got to the pearl farm by a combination of calling the coast watch plane and relaying a message via two other yachts, Jolly Roller and Took A While, to the farm asking for assistance and a new anchor. As the tide turned, we finally broke free. We spied James Brown and Allen, the assistant manager, speeding out to us. They had travelled 30 minutes to bring us an anchor and give us a tow if we needed one. We thanked them and decided to make our own way to the farm.
The farm's staff and owners bent over backwards for us. It was now 8:30 PM. As we came close to the farm again James and Billy, the manager when I worked for the farm, were out in a dingy with spotlights to guide us through the farm as it is full of lines and pearl shell panels. I was very happy to shake both Billy's and James' hands. They hooked us up onto a mooring in a tranquil bay and it almost seemed unreal what we had experienced.
Saying that we were treated like royalty is not over doing it. Bruce Brown got us placed in a comfortable company house with a toilet, shower, and a TV. Wow, what a luxury as I had hardly left my boat deck for over a month. Billy is an amazing character. He will make a bicycle out of an old washing machine. He took on the job of my engine, which had been using oil and was worrying me because I was going to depend on that motor a lot on the next leg to Darwin. Along with Bindy, another friend, they have stripped it down, found burned valves and a dodgy injector, sent it off to be resealed and as I write the parts are back and Billy is out there putting it all back. What an effort!
It doesn't even stop there. My old shipmate, George, a worker and former skipper on the farm, and wife, Panya, made us welcome. Panya fed us until we were near bursting. George is always on hand after work to help where necessary and went to Broome to pick up my parts, a distance of over 500 miles round trip on a bad dirt road.
Billy, Panya, and George
The first of 2 highlights of my stay on the farm to date is a trip Sally and I made with Panya to the local Aboriginal community of One Arm Point. I talked at the local school about my trip and why I am doing it. The kids were great and asked a ton of questions. Afterwards, I was touched by three of the young ones coming back and giving me $2.50 of their pocket money towards a chair. It was a great day!
Talking to the kids at One Arm Point School
The other highlight came after I was told one day that a few of the workers wanted to drop around and say hello. Well, the whole entire population of Cygnet Bay Pearl Farm pitched up. Panya and Sally heaved food onto the table and an esky of beer donated by Bruce Brown was opened. All 25 people, staff/management/owners, had come to make a presentation of $3902.50 to go towards wheelchairs. George and Panya and their son, Arm, donated another chair which made it a total of 40 wheelchairs. Forty kids up off the dirt and getting a glimpse of life outside the shanty.
Bloody fantastic people! This is the biggest single donation I have had on the west coast to date from a community of twenty five!
Cheque presentation night by the staff of Cygnet Bay Pearl Farm
The workers had forfeited a day's wage and worked for free to make that donation. I can't praise their efforts more and as I told them, it's ammo for me as it's a hard and tiring trip I am attempting. I am only doing this trip for the kids. I need to see wheelchairs come in to gain the energy that I need to continue. Thanks big time, guys!
It doesn't even end there. Bindy and his wife, Robin, and family not only ran us about, helped me with jobs and fed us, but they as a family have made a further donation of $500. That's a total of 45 chairs from one of the most isolated areas in Australia.
As I write, we are still on the farm. All parts have arrived plus my new anchors and new chain. Billy, Bindy and George are hoping to do the engine today but a strong easterly (yes my old friend) is blowing and they may not be able to work on the engine. Sally and I are hoping to leave early this week. We plan to spend a short time on the coast and staying in a few creeks, then head out to sea and go non-stop to Darwin.
Sally is already overdue to return to Monkey Mia and her shop there, which has a sign saying "Back in two weeks" on the door. It's now coming on 3 weeks and we are still 500 miles from Darwin. She is hanging in, but if we don't leave soon she may have to head back and that will be a shame for both of us.
All is going well. The next time you hear from me will be from Darwin. Till later --Mike
Cygnet Bay to Darwin
Finally all the parts arrived. Billy and Bindi worked through a Sunday day off to install the new rings, valves and injector. Bruce Brown covered the costs and every time I tried to sort out payment I was ignored.
Sally and I decided to put on a last supper to the whole crew in thanks for the hospitality and for the huge effort made to fix my engine. Not to mention the 45 chairs that were donated. We approached Panya, a friend's Thai wife who was a deadly cook, and she jumped at the challenge. She and Sally were up and about early in the morning and worked steadily through the whole day to get what can only be described as a banquet of Thai cuisine ready for that night. Pretty much all of the crew and management pitched up and didn't go away disappointed. Actually as a past worker on the farm I don't think many of the young workers had eaten so well since leaving home, and all got take aways for lunch the next day.
Bindi and young Yaron pitched up the next night with 3 large mackerel that they had caught. So for two days running we ate like kings and queens. Words just cannot do justice for the help and camaraderie we received from that tiny community in the remote Kimberley region.
Finally the day came for us to leave. We had a tricky time working and judging the exact time to leave the farm and head through Escape Passage out into the open sea. I had decided that due to Sally's lack of time and the strong currents we were encountering to not hug the coast creek hopping, but instead to head out as far as I could with an out going tide and stay to sea until we reached Darwin.
Sunday Island had almost defeated us on the way in so we couldn't risk that again. For our nerves but mainly for the diesel we would burn going through the tidal streams and whirlpools. Sally flashed a signal mirror and I waved a shirt to the small group that had come out of the seeding shed to wave us off. Earlier Bruce and Alison Brown, the owners of the farm, had motored out to wish us well and I exchanged info with Bruce. He had been introduced to this area and its pitfalls by his father, who had been a croc hunter and lugger man of these parts. As we tentatively approached Escape Passage I saw the tide still ripping in. Due to prior experience, I decided to sail in a big loop and, all going well, make the entrance as the tide turned. Escape Passage was used in by gone days by state ships going down to Derby so it was plenty deep enough.
We had judged it well and flew through the passage and into the open ocean. Words can't do justice to the relief I felt as I watched Sunday Island go past. Soon we were out into the open ocean. Cape Leveque became distant and ahead the islands of Cafferely came up. We were under sail, no motor, doing 5 knots in a gentle sea. It's all good mate.
Dusk came and the good conditions prevailed. I was down below checking motor and oil when I heard a whale song. Two in fact, mother and calf, were right under the boat. To make sure I wasn't imagining things I called Sally down and for a good half hour we listened to mom talking to junior under our keel. Were we scared of collision? Not at all. I don't care what people say I know a whale is too slick to allow a piece of fibreglass to crunch it. Sailor stories, like the containers and ships running you down, are good for the yacht club bar. What a treat!
Later that morning the wind picked up, but again all good as it was just in the right quarter. For the next two days, we worked our way past Kuri Bay and Shale Island, where the tides reach currents of 8 knots. Shale Island records the highest tides in the world at 12 metres. Doesn't mean much? Well, Perth has tides ranging up to two meters, so work it out.
It was lunch time in a hot and a balmy sea. I was trying to get some shut eye when Sally commented on a tinny and some fishermen. I realised that being 20-30 miles off shore, these were keen fishermen or fishermen drifting without a motor. I decided after looking that we would investigate. Sure it meant turning back using diesel but my binoculars couldn't pick them out for sure and I didn't want them on my conscious.
As we motored closer the boat suddenly looked very Indo --very Indo. We were out just off Indonesian waters. Were they fishermen lost or in trouble or were they boat people? What to do as I didn't want to get too close in case they turned pirate on us. I told Sally we would get close but not too close and if need be drop them some water and supplies, then call coast watch or leave them to their own devices.
Suddenly one of the men stood up and flew away. No, I wasn't going mad. What it turned out to be was a huge tree stuck upside down on a reef. The boat and outriggers were roots and the people were sea birds roosting on the tree. So much for drama. We turned the boat about and continued north.
Day 4 found us at the head of the Joseph Bonaparte Gulf. Here I had to make a big decision to either head in across Holiara Shoals or stay to sea and go around a distance of 50 miles extra. After some debate with Sally I decided to be prudent. Diesel was my concern as we still had a big distance to travel. Food and water were going well, but I had to have a stock of diesel in the tanks just in case our good run came to a close and the wind and tide turned on us.
Dawn came up as we finished crossing the shoals, which had been relatively easy. Ahead a large cumulous cloud blocked the sky. As we sailed under it the wind swung from southeast to east, straight on the nose and about 22 knots worth. After trying to motor into it, I tacked and sailed down but this turned out to be no good as after 2 hours we had made over ground 2 miles. We plugged into it and after some hours, the wind swung back to the southeast and the tide turned in our favour.
Over the next 3 days we were out of sight of land, at times doing 6 knots under sail, at times 1 to 2. Big swell rolled up but as always little Gypsy Rose held her own. I cooked once a day and we settled into a ocean pattern. Sally preferred to sleep in the cockpit as she felt claustrophobic down below in my cramped quarters. This worked out well as it gave me my normal space to move (drag about) and I could concentrate on navigation and trying to get us as quickly and fuel efficiently to Darwin.
For 2 days we got hit with southeasters of over 28 knots. This built the seas up to a very large offshore ocean swell. We were about 150 miles from land at any point of the compass. The biggest problem we were having was electronic failure; both with my GPS chart plotter and more importantly the auto pilot, which was constantly shutting down. This meant we couldn't relax and had to keep a 24 hour check on our course.
For 1 day we couldn't do much other than lie below and hold on. My gunnels were under water and we were powering under reef at 6 knots in 28-30 knots of southeaster. We had the weather boards in as waves were coming completely over the side and into the cockpit. Whenever it calmed we sorted out the confusion down below, ate, refuelled and checked engine.
We had a close call 130 miles from Darwin when, in the middle of the night, the wind picked up and I went up to reef the sails. I switched on the motor and motored into the wind while I reduced sail. Suddenly the boat swung into a tight turn. Looking back I could see the auto pilot had switched off again. As I yelled out for sally and was moving back to disengage the pilot, I watched as the boat swung through 360 degrees not once but twice. We were in a big wind and very lucky. I got Gypsy off and Sally, who had done this procedure twice so far, very nimbly and very bravely climbed out with a safety harness and screwed the wind vane in. We had been taking the vane out when we used the auto as it caused the pilot to work harder. I can't praise Sally more. For a person who had never sailed in big ocean conditions at all, she was powering and was really brave and reliable.
The next day brought us to within "cooee" of land. We still couldn't see it and hadn't for 5 days now, but bits of seaweed floated passed and there were birds and some ships heading for Darwin. We fought tide once more before it turned. The wind calmed to a decent 19 knots southeast and on a broad reach, we sailed at 6 knots up to our first sight of land, Fish Reef Light off the Daly River.
Soon we were sailing past Point Charles. Then out of the greenery and balmy water, a city arose. What a contrast to the wilderness and open water we had just experienced for 7 days. Suddenly I had to dodge outgoing ships, find channel markers and sky risers filled the horizon. I looked at Sally and we were both very happy and relieved to see land. I still had 60 litres of diesel. My fuel pinching ways had payed off.
As dusk closed down, we sunk our new delta anchor into the soft mud of Fannie Bay. On the shore, the lights and party sounds of the Darwin Yacht Club trickled out to us. The next morning we made the lock at Cullen Bay Marina where we were met by the local rotary club. One member, Ernie Chin, had kindly provided us with a berth in the marina. It was a weary 2 sailors who tied up along side a jetty and calm water. Sally got off and started wobbling. I don't have that problem of sea legs.
The reception in Darwin has been fantastic. The rotary club has pitched in and run me about. Lt. Col. Richard Wiltshire of the Darwin military and his wife, Dianne, have kindly put me up in their home. The boat has been moved to a better location.
The big surprise was the arrival of Ted Smith and Neil Darch and their wives, Tish and Jeanette. They travelled all the way up from Perth to greet me in Darwin and help with repairs and provisioning. Neil and Ted have been my steadfast supporters and helpers on this project for over 12 months now. How lucky I am to have such a support base.
Over the next few weeks I will rest up and get the Rose back in order. I will reprovision and look about for another crew to help me through the next 1500 miles of wild, isolated country and tides. I need to make it around Cape York and down before the cyclone season starts. I have decided, due to the extreme remoteness, to take a crew. It's safer and safety is paramount for me. I don't want to incur anybody the trouble of coming to help me if I get into a spot out there. And I don't want to give offshore disabled sailing a bad name. There's only a few of us who have ventured offshore and I don't want to ruin that with an accident. Getting my kids chairs, adventure and the good will of people keep me going on this venture and I have a lot to be thankful for.
Until later—regards, Mike
After the remoteness of the Kimberleys it was a strange sight to see skyscrapers rising out of the wonderful territory greenery, a welcome sight after our trip across the "Blown Apart Gulf" (Bonaparte Gulf).
After a night off Fannie Bay at anchor, I was woken by my mobile ringing. I had forgotten the time difference of one and a half hours so what seemed early for me was office hours here in Darwin. On the line was Geoff James of the Darwin North Rotary Club. He had arranged for us to get into a marina. As I was sailing out past a sand bar to reach Cullen Bay Marina, my phone rang again. This time it was LT Colonel Richard Wiltshire, a friend's brother, asking how he could help and where I would be. This was all mind-blowing for me and Sal because we had not seen or spoken to anybody for a while. I was overwhelmed by the offers of help.
We negotiated the sand bar and made our entrance to Cullen Bay. I had not been in a lock for some time so it was a bit of a novelty. Waiting to help us in was Geoff and Eddie Chin, the owner of the berth that had been arranged for us. Standing on the lock were two journalists taking pictures. Both Sally and I felt a bit self conscious as we were still wild and woolly after our 7 day non-stop sail.
Once inside and safely berthed, Sally got off and was a little wobbly while trying to adapt to a solid platform. She headed straight for the nearest fish 'n' chip shop. We had been dreaming of some nice greasy fish 'n' chips for days. I attended to the press.
I just want at this point to make a statement. The attention the press has given me and this project has been great. Julie Loader, who handles all the donations, has told me that every time I get in the paper or on T.V. she gets a spate of wheelchair donations. Jan Barrie, my media consultant, has been pulling her hair out because of my shyness of the media which makes her job in this project hard. But I cannot be held responsible for how the media wants to project me or events. I have had a number of Dampier residents come back to me after an article was published in "The West Australian" about a block and tackle being stolen there. Sure, I was angry, but it was just a hiccup, and I face many of those. I had no anger or dislike for the town of Dampier because of this incident. I have the total opposite actually. I was well looked after by many residents there - very well looked after. I tell journos as it is. I don't exaggerate or try to manipulate the media. There have been a number of errors, which I only get to see after the paper is published. I hope people following my trip understand my situation and understand how important it is for me to work with the media in order to get my kids chairs.
After our greasy meal, it was time for Sal and I to say goodbye for a while as her brother, Rob, who lives in Darwin had come to collect her. Sally Brown not only excelled after having been through a trial of fire on her first real sailing experience, but she had stuck it out and helped me through a tough and remote area. She did this despite the fact that we were running weeks late and she had a shop to return to and run in Monkey Mia, W.A.
Richard Wiltshire arrived as did Geoff Browne, another Darwin North Rotary member. I was overwhelmed by the reception and offers of help. After tidying things away, I got Geoff Browne to run me to a local motel he had found and after thanking him and closing the door I headed for the shower then bed.
I overindulged, staying 4 nights, eating greasy breakfasts and watching T.V. Finally I had to face reality and get back to the boat. I wasn't looking forward to the hot humid conditions that would prevail aboard the boat. As I was contemplating this, Richard Wiltshire arrived and told me that he and his wife, Dianne, would like me to stay with them in their home. They had a typical Darwin house that sits up on stilts with an unused granny flat down below. Richard and his son, Hamish, had made it wheelchair friendly by building a pretty slick ramp. It was hard to refuse, so I went with Richard and met his wonderful family, Dianne, Hamish, Patrick and last but not least, young Huw. What a pleasure for many reasons: the comfort, the huge bed and the wonderful company of the family.
Being a bachelor myself, getting this much insight into the lives of the average family and children was a novel experience. Richard and Di often apologised for the inquisitive kids or for Patrick waking me every morning from the window saying, "You got to get up now Mike. It's daytime!" But for me it was a great opportunity to interact with kids.
My luck was not ending. News arrived of Neil and Ted, my trusty mates, as well as Tish and Jeanette. They flew up for two weeks to see me and help where possible. These guys have been there for me and this project from July 2004. We had a great two weeks together. Neil, Tish, and I attended all 4 of the local rotary clubs dinners or breakfasts talking about my sailing project and what Wheel Chairs For Kids does. I also talked at a few schools.
It was sad to see Sally go finally, and a little later I said my goodbyes to Neil and company. During this time I also did media interviews and some T.V. interviews. I also fitted in a meeting with a local disabled group called Integrated disAbility Action (IDA) and was a little dishearten to find how much less disabled people get here in Darwin in comparison to Perth, mostly with taxi services which are a lifeline for most severely disabled people. I hope it gets better.
I had met a guy on the pearl farm who voiced an interest in helping me to sail around to Cooktown. I have chosen to take a crewmember with me because this top end is remote and due to my spinal injury it's not safe for me to be air lifted in the event of an emergency. For instance, in my case, I might fall and break a leg, which is not difficult to do due to the paraplegia. If something like that happened, I would need to be picked up via a boat. Also there are long distances of nothing up here and vicious tidal flow. Mostly for me it's to keep sceptics of my trip at bay. Through other sailors moving up behind me, I have been told on a number of occasions of how some local boating people were frowning on my venture and regarding it as irresponsible and not safe. Sadly these people just don't understand how much this means to me to be helping less fortunate disable people and, selfishly, to be regaining my life and expanding my boundaries. They don't see the many shattered people who sit day after day disillusioned by their loss and boxing themselves in. Like an eagle, I have to soar to live.
Thus, Andy Green is now my new sailing buddy. He will help me to get first to Gove, N.T., about 500 miles away. From there we will reassess the arrangement as like Sally, Andy has not sailed before, so it will be a big challenge for him.
Around this time I also met someone who has become a friend and who has, like Richard and Di and others here in Darwin, really gone to huge lengths to help and assist me. His name is Chris Carr Smith. Like me he had a history as a yacht delivery skipper and due to this we had a lot in common. Chris is semi retired and threw himself into helping me both in arranging contacts ahead of time but mainly he has helped with many repairs using his boat building background. Richard introduced me to Peter Dermody, the lock master at Tipperary Waters, another marina which was a lot more accessible and surrounded by fellow cruising yachties. Behind me was Nils, a 76 year old Swede who had spent over 10 years sailing a 21 foot boat he had built himself from Gibraltar to Darwin. And I thought I was doing it hard.
Meanwhile, I had been having difficulty self catheterising for some time, to the point that I really needed to get it attended to here in Darwin. On ringing the local spinal home visiting nurse, I was shocked to find I would need an operation. On further investigation I found the best and affordable way for me to attend to this was to fly back to Perth.
This was a huge blow. Cyclone season was coming; Andy was here and eager to go; I needed to move on as I felt I had over extended my hospitality both at Richards and at the marina. (Not that they were perturbed but I felt it was time to go.) I quickly informed Andy and everyone. I told him if he wanted to pack it in I would understand, but I was reassured that things would still be here when I came back.
I was really lucky that firstly that I got a flight from Skywest fast and reasonably priced, but mostly due to the help of the spinal staff in Perth, I got a spot in theatre for the next week. Shock is the best word for how I felt when I wheeled out of Perth airport. It was freezing and howling with rain. Yuck. However, it was great to be in my home after almost 5 months in my boat and other people's homes. Most of all, my big familiar bed and a shower system that was easy to access was just too comfortable for words.
The operation went well. It was a stricture within the urethra, which they nipped and enlarged. Yes, ouch! But a failing in the system saw me getting discharged after the operation instead of staying overnight and going onto antibiotics. I was sent home straight after the operation with no follow up and landed back in hospital after 2 days with a savage infection. I needed heavy duty antibiotics to destroy the bug. The down side was that these drugs really floored me, making me bed bound and sick.
As soon as I could get on my feet, I booked a flight back to Darwin and was met by Chris, who insisted I stay with him, his partner, Liz and young Daniel. Andy had also arrived back after a short spell on an organic farm in my absence. Chris is very kindly putting him up as well. The build up for the wet season is here and believe me, living on a 26 foot boat with no air conditioning would be hell.
Gypsy Rose and I have been in Darwin since the 10th of August, almost 2 months, and I am sure people are wondering if I have fallen off that edge which keeps on cropping up on my website. But I am well, very busy, and still somewhat drained by my recent medical experience. I'm hoping to be moving on by very early October for Gove, and then across the mighty Gulf of Carpentaria, around Cape York and as fast as I can down to Cooktown. From Cooktown I will resume my solo sailing as I would be by then close to civilisation and many stops. I hope next time I write to have some ocean adventures to tell of, and hoping nothing dramatic.
Best regards, Mike
What's going on? I travelled back up to Darwin, having been given the green light by the hospital in Perth that I was clear of an infection that I had contacted after an operation. But two days before I was due to sail Gypsy Rose out into the blue and sail for Gove on the Saturday tide, I felt ill enough to go into the local casualty. I found out that I had a very high white blood cell count and ended up back in hospital in Perth.
This is not the best by any means as I have now lost my window of good weather to make the Carpentaria crossing and the most favourable time to head down the East coast. However, this hiccup has made me realise that I must finish what I began in 2002, and has caused me to re-evaluate myself and this trip. So on advice I have decided to wait until after the main cyclone season has passed and leave in April 2006 from Darwin to continue my circumnavigation of Australia.
I feel this decision is prudent as I keep on saying the last thing I want to do is find myself in real strife, having to lean on the emergency services for rescue. I feel that would cast a bad light on future disabled people who want to do offshore sailing.
Until April 2006, my best regards. Thanks for the support!
Merry Xmas,
Mike Rowney
So in early May I will set off from Darwin in Gypsy Rose, sailing north to the new Democratic Republic of Timor-Leste (East Timor). The purpose of this journey is to personally distribute 20 wheelchairs through World Vision. This will give me the precious opportunity to see the purpose of my sail, providing disabled children who have no wheelchair the means to a better life.
While there I am going to look into future distribution of wheelchairs and also see if I can set up a resource centre for disabled folk in Dili. This will include a workshop for craft work and medical help. However this is just an idea at this point… But then again so was sailing around Australia three years ago.
On return to Darwin in early June I will then berth Gypsy and head down to the Cygnet Bay pearl farm in the Kimberley region of WA. I worked at the farm for a number of years as a skipper prior to my accident and consequent paraplegia. Then Bruce and Alison Brown, owners of the farm and supporters of my venture, offered me the unique opportunity to learn the craft of cultured pearl seeding. I will work there until early September, then return to my boat in October 2006. I will then have favourable conditions to continue my journey down the east coast of Australia to raise more awareness and funds for these kids.
I thank all Royal Perth Yacht Club members for their support and will keep you updated on my ventures via articles for In the Wind.
I contacted my good friend Chris Carr Smith, a Darwin yachtsman I have spoken of before. He and his wife Liz and young son Daniel have not only become good friends, but have provided me accommodation for weeks last year when I fell ill, and again now.
Chris has once again shown me the kindness and generosity of the people of Australia. He has helped me with many of the tasks around the boat that would make life hard for me on my own. Chris assured me he would find the time to get to the marina, between his own work and prepping his home for the cyclone to get Gypsy Rose well tied and snug in her berth. He also used his experience as a top end sailor to get her as cyclone proofed as is possible.
I contacted Brett Hamilton from Trident Insurance, 48 hours from estimated impact on Darwin, to be reassured my sponsor would stand by me in the event of disaster. Once again I felt grateful to the many people behind the scenes who help keep this idea going.
I changed my flight times and boat passes to Timor, for the new dates of departing Darwin 11th of May for Timor. On Tuesday the 24th at 12.45 pm, I drew a big sigh of relief as the cyclone changed course and began to dissipate. No more than a stiff breeze went over Gypsy Rose later that day.
I finally left a cold Perth on the 14th of May, after a further delay caused by sudden unexpected news of fighting in Dili, Timor, on the 28th of April. I had now planned that my cameraman, Shannon O'Donnogue, and myself would fly up to Dili on the 22nd of May, courtesy of Air North. We were going to film the distribution of the Wheelchairs for Kids wheelchairs being distributed by World Vision who had kindly agreed to transport the chairs to Dili on my request.
Darwin was hot and humid, and I loved it, but a tense time was ahead. Gypsy Rose was in good condition, some weathering as can be expected, but nothing stolen. Between Chris and the wonderful yachties of Tipperary Marina, she had been looked after like a prize duck.
I threw myself into putting her back into sailing shape, and over the next days felt good cleaning out lockers and putting familiar things back into old holes. But every night as I returned to Chris and Liz's house, I found a list of calls and emails from very tense and worried World Vision staff both in Australia, and in Dili. I was also receiving updates from Meredith Budge from Alola Foundation. All were worried and concerned.
Then four days before we were due to fly out, we got told the wheelchair distribution had been cancelled, as it was too dangerous for disabled kids to move about. But Timor was also not safe for myself or Shannon, who I joked with saying, “Yeah mate all right for you. All you have to do is run and jump the first fence. If we confronted a mob, I will have to push like mad, and just hope I don't get a blow out a tyre!
With great sadness we resolved to try again in September if the hard worked for wheelchairs aren't burnt. I must just say this, I am sure every one has an opinion, based on media coverage of the very sad state of affairs that exist in Timor as I write. The real sadness lies with innocent folk: the old, the disabled, the very young, women and children who are sitting cowering in a church compound or at the airport and watching smoke in the air that could be their homes.
As privileged Australians we don't know the evil savagery that a two foot long, razor sharp machete can do to a person. I have no doubt the politicians stuffed up, and I certainly don't condone the gang mentality of the looters. But these people are only a stone's throw away from Australia and have suffered and suffered. Great grand fathers fought and died against the Japanese to defend Australia in the Second World War. Please don't forget the innocents of this country.
I am not forgetting, and after watching and talking to many evacuees over the past few weeks here in Darwin, I am more resolved than ever to get there in September. I intend to sail Gypsy Rose up, find the container of wheelchairs and get them to the recipient children. I will then spend some time searching and collecting information as to how I can include a project for Timorese disabled folk into the rest of my sail around Australia.
From Timor, I will set my sails and draw a rhumb line to Thursday Island, if the winds are favorable for me to do so. I have no doubt after seeing what I will, if I can enter Timor, that my complaints of half a bucket of cold water to wash in every second day, or the 300 metre drags I need to do in order to go shopping up jetty's will fade away.
On 2 June I fly to Broome and then onto Cape Leveque. From there, I will make a detour to Cygnet Bay Pearl Farm and begin a traineeship that the Brown family very kindly offered to me in 2002, but which I postponed due to my commitment to this present project.
Once there I will reside on the farm in a specially adapted home the Brown family have provided. Once the pearl harvest begins in June, I will learn the fine craft of "Pearl Seeding" from the experienced Billy and Jacko for nine weeks.
This job will become my future career once a year. That's if I don't stuff up and kill too many shells learning. Then in late August it's back to Darwin to get poor old once a year flying proud again.
Please spare a thought for Timor.
Mike