Essington - The First Trip

     The next question was where to go? I pulled out the marine charts and start scanning. To the west is Bynoe Harbour, a beautiful stretch of water with pristine foreshores and magnificent fishing. Been there plenty of times. No, I’d like to go somewhere else. When Lowana was first coming to Darwin we passed right by Port Essington on the Cobourg Peninsula, northeast of Darwin. It’s an historic place. An attempt at a settlement was made by the British last century, but it had failed. Today, the peninsula is known as Gurig National Park. I’d thought at the time this place would be worth a visit. That’s the place to go.
     I spent the next couple of days checking into the trip, looking at weather forecasts, tides and rostered days off work. I worked out several suitable dates and approached my good friend Martin, who readily agreed to help crew the boat. He was a commercial pilot who often flew his own light plane into the park. He was also a long time friend of the lady who ran the store and a tourist camp at the ranger station.
     In due course we set off into blustery headwinds, which set the standard for the rest of the journey. They were so constant that Martin became used to lashing the tiller against the pressure of the wind for short periods, while he did some other task. The trip was uneventful and it was early the next afternoon when we entered Port Essington and anchored off Black Point, just below the ranger station.
     We went ashore and visited Martins friend, socialising into the late hours. Luckily I’d lit a kerosene lamp out on the boat beforehand to help us find our way back again that night. In the morning we visited the local museum, which contains some excellent displays of the early settlement, including clothes of the period and an excellent scale model of its layout. We re-stocked with some ice bought from the park store, before going back to the boat.
     As we headed off towards home, I looked at threatening thunderclouds looming ahead. We might be in for a rough squall or two on the way. I’d need to watch it carefully to see which way it went before we committed to going around Cape Don into the Van Dieman Gulf, where there are extensive reef systems.
     Martin was on the tiller when we cleared Port Essington and turned west, bringing the wind dead aft. The wind was strengthening and the seas, at first choppy, were now getting quite lumpy. I went forward to goosewing the sails and while engaged in setting it up, Martin noticed a loose sheet trailing in the water. He had been warned about this since there was always the possibility of such things becoming wrapped around the propeller. Seeking to do the right thing he lashed the tiller as he was accustomed to do, and then collected the boat hook with the intention of getting the errant sheet back inboard.
     Unfortunately for Martin the wind was now blowing from astern and there was no side pressure on the sails, so consequently there was no longer any strain on the tiller. Unnoticed by him, the tiller started wobbling from side to side while the boat corkscrewed its way forward as the following seas overtook us.
     The first thing to alert me something was amiss was a loud krang noise. I looked around to see Martin wedged between the wheelhouse and the steel life rails, staggering to remain on his feet but losing the fight as he slowly sank to his knees. The boat had twisted over a wave just enough that the wind got behind the mainsail. The mainsail boom had cracked across the boat and smacked Martin solidly on the forehead, sending him almost unconscious.
     As I rushed to him we were suddenly in a predicament. We were on a lee shore with blustery following winds and being driven towards it. The waves stood at three metres being pushed up by the winds from the open waters of the Arafura Sea onto the relatively shallow coastal waters, before thundering onto the reefs ahead.
    On the other hand I had an injured crewmember on my hands. I looked quickly at him and apart from a swelling on his forehead, there was no blood coming from a small wound, his ears or his eyes. I asked him his name and he mumbled something. I didn’t have time to fiddle about, so dragged him into the cockpit and propped him on one of the seats, with his back against the wheelhouse. As I did this, to my relief, he started gaining consciousness, telling me briefly what he’d been trying to do. I was now free for the moment to get the boat back under control.
     Thank God he didn’t go over the side. I’d have had an awful job of trying to find him again in the conditions. In his semi-conscious state he would have been unlikely to find the dan-buoy or lifering thrown in after him and may have drowned. I grabbed the loose sheet and secured it, then turned the motor on. I then dropped the sails and turned back out to sea to give me some relatively calmer water, before turning back towards Black Point. With the wind now coming from ahead, I was able to lash the tiller for a moment while I quickly checked on Martin again. He was aware of his surroundings but in a lot of pain. All I could do for now was to give him some painkiller tablets and put some ice packs on his forehead.
     I asked Martin if he thought he could go on. He was agreeable but even as he was saying “yes”, I noticed him shaking his head ever so slightly. It looked to me that he’d lost all heart with this trip and I couldn’t say I blamed him. I thought I’d better get some medical advice, so a call on the short range VHF radio to the ranger station soon raised the resident Nurse. We discussed Martin's condition and she told me to keep bringing him back for the time being while she checked with the Royal Darwin Hospital. Not too long later she came back and said for me to get him to Black Point as soon as possible. With this, I raised all the sails again and pushed the throttle up on the motor as far as I dared.
    As Black Point came in sight an aluminium boat of around six or seven metres came out to greet us. There were three men aboard it. I put the motor in neutral and dropped the sails while they came up and threw a securing line. By this time Martin was fully cognisant of everything, but still holding his head. They took him off the yacht and scuttled back towards the shore, leaving me completely alone for the very first time to either bring Lowana home by myself, or take her back to Black Point.
I looked around at the looming black clouds to the west. I’d have to go back through them by myself. I hadn’t even sailed Lowana in Darwin Harbour by myself, let alone in open water on an overnight trip. The last thing I needed was to be caught in a storm among the reefs in there. And I didn’t have a working autopilot anymore to help with the tedium of steering for endless hours.
     The solution was already made but I just had to see it. If I’d had more sailing experience and perhaps a better knowledge of the area I might have attempted it, but as it was, it wouldn’t be sensible for me to try to get back home on my own.
     Although unpalatable, the decision was easy enough and I returned to Black Point and anchored up. On going ashore I went to the Medical Clinic and found Martin sitting up on the bed looking reasonably cheerful under the circumstances. He’d been advised not to attempt to sail home at least for another 24 hours, which left me with a little problem.
     Both of us had to be back at work in Darwin in two days. As it was, a truckload of empty 200 litre fuel drums had to be taken back to Darwin the next day. Martin could go on that, but I had to make a decision. If the weather fined up, should I attempt to sail Lowana back by myself? Instead, should I leave her here at anchor and come back later with another crew? If I chose the latter, it would have to be soon given that this was the cyclone season and even localised storms could be severe. If I left it too long I’d be likely to come back and find the boat on the beach, if I was lucky enough to find her at all. Who could I get at short notice? How would I get back here to Black Point?
     I again thought about trying to get Lowana home on my own, but in the end my confidence simply didn’t stretch far enough. And even if I did attempt it, I’d have to anchor up somewhere overnight to rest, making me a day late back at my place of work anyway. Martin solved part of the problem by promising to arrange a flight back to Black Point, and he thought he knew someone who might help me bring her back. With some misgivings I climbed onto the truck with the empty fuel drums the next day, and together with Martin we made the long drive back to Darwin.