Back in Northwest Oz overything settled back into its usual WA rhythm. We are drinking like troopers and Louie conjures up huge cooked breakfasts before we even think of hoisting sails. We are getting bloody good at this! With Lisa aboard via Warroora to Cape Farquar, which is a bit of an iffy entrance and mooring. And no shootable fish inside the reef, the abundant large Grey Nurse sharks must have eaten the lot. Outside the reef we dangled on a long rope behind Tribute in amazingly clear but cold water and Mix was the lucky (and fearless) one to dance with a humpback whale which came to sniff us out. Crew additions at Gnaraloo- Nats, Megsie and Sandra joined and miraculously we were treated with another beautiful mellow downwind sailing day, with whales, wine and a big mackie. Once at Red Bluff, the girls had to swim in through the shorebreak. And the mackie was trussed to a surfboard to float in with them.
Anyway. The home stretch tomorrow.
Obi-Wan-K’noathi is a redneck philosopher/fisherman who lives- or ought to live- in a shack somewhere round Cape Farquar. He is old as the weathered red rocks and his language is colourful as the reefs. The fresh Southwester blows through his mind and I spend the days thinking up aphorisms to attribute to him. So far, they’re too rude to entrust to these pages so I must leave you, and this blog, and this trip and this ship with the observation that all this rah rah about the merits of travelling and arriving has really got to stop.
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