Let the Summer Cruise begin – Summer? Bass Strait Crossing

Let the Summer Cruise begin – Summer?

After returning from the tropical north of Queensland in 2023, I contemplated a cruise to Tasmania. Malua had been there twice previously, and a round Van Diemen's Land cruise would just be the ticket for a late summer cruise in company, so I put the money down and booked a spot in what I thought was a few months' time, restricted to about 30 vessels.

Did I get a surprise when I started in December to prepare and check the safety requirements and equipment needed. The cruise was not months away but years away. Yes, February 2026.

That was a disappointment, but it gave me time to prepare Malua for the cruise. However, in February 2025 I got a call from a very good sailing companion who I had never sailed on this boat with, but we had covered many miles from the Med, Atlantic, USA and finally the Pacific and home together. His request was simple: there is a short window of opportunity to cross Bass Strait, would I come with him on the passage? The answer was simple and I jumped at the opportunity.

You can read the account above (earlier post) "Was that a dream…"

2026 finally dawned and I started to again intensely study the weather. This time it was my turn to take a friend for the passage. I had stated I would leave Bermagui when the first high formed in the Tasman after the full moon of 3 January. He scheduled many activities both at home and in Tassie on my throwaway line.

The weather cooperated much sooner than I had expected, so there was a final rush from the coast back to Canberra to try to get everything done prior to the early weather window opening, which it did on the 6th of January 2026.

Duncan H drove us down to Bermagui along with his family, and we cast off the following day as we set off in a relatively calm sea with the wind aft of the beam. The sails filled abeam of Eden and we rolled in the genoa and switched on the iron genoa as we crossed the shipping lanes just as the sun set.

At noon on the second day we were at the halfway waypoint as the noise of the engine purred in the background. This continued for the full day and night on flat seas and little wind, but at midnight, just as I went off watch and fell asleep, the thunder clouds and lightning came barrelling in from the west. Luckily they passed to our stern (north) and we were spared the rain and lightning. I was informed, at change of watch, that the light show was dramatic.

At dawn of the third day we were following the drop-off of the continental shelf and were abeam of Eddystone Light. A southerly change was forecast at noon and almost on time it arrived from the south at 18 knots. The next three hours were lumpy as we tried to get away from the upwelling of the southerly flowing current and the northerly a direction wind. We finally broke free and set sail for the area of Wineglass Bay. I do not like this location, and two yachts, also on the crossing, chose the bay to anchor and regretted their decision for three days as they rode out adverse winds and rolly conditions.

We turned towards Prosser Bay at midnight and dropped the anchor in the NW corner seconds after 3:00, as Duncan—our meticulous navigator—had stated hours earlier. That gave me great confidence he would guide us through the Denison Canal during the neap tides and reducing water under the keel.

The next two days were spent at anchor in Prosser Bay as we rode out a westerly gale which saw the wind instruments touch more than 40 knots at times. The Lone Star anchor held in deep sand and flat water.

Malua has passed through more than a hundred canal locks in her time, some as high as seven storeys above the deck level and on occasions less than inches below the keel, but this canal has history with Malua and changing sandbanks and shallow water, so Duncan's navigating and planning almost down to the second and his expert helmsmanship got us through the tidal narrows and at the entrance to the canal exactly on time. Now we were dependent on the lockkeeper to keep his part of the planning and let us through at the appointed booked time. As the minutes ticked by and the tide started to drop, we waited as one after another vessel came through towards us.

Finally, with four vessels waiting, we were instructed to enter the shallowest part of our passage. There was, as planned, less than 200 cm under the keel. Not a big margin of error. We passed without a hitch through the narrow swing bridge concrete canal (this time with no lock keeper with fishing net to receive a gift of thanks) and out into the sea.

The next two days were spent shuffling away from one lee shore to the calm of the opposite shore, waiting for the right wind to blow us up the Derwent towards Hobart. We pulled the anchor up at 6:00 on our way to the Royal Yacht Club of Tasmania, expecting after a letter of introduction from the Canberra Yacht Club to have the red carpet rolled out and a band waiting on the dock. We went astern into a large dock completely unnoticed alongside a number of Sydney to Hobart racing yachts and other large vessels.

So ended a very uneventful passage across Bass Strait with no gear breaking, the freezer slightly emptier and the help of a very accomplished navigator who I hope took away some tricks and tips from sailing on Malua. Thank you for the wonderful company, Duncan.

Preparations for the Summer Cruise

 Winter is now over and the Kayak project is complete with the launching in Canberra and test paddle in Malua Bay.  So now preparing for the sail of the summer around Tasmania.

Just like the last dream trip, a lot of work had gone into Eye Candy prior to our leaving to cross Bass Strait, but in that case Andrew had done the work.  It was now my turn to prepare Malua for the summer.

I asked the local Jubb slip if he could haul Malua out and antifoul it.  As expected he said the first week in April the following year, so I said that would suit me just fine—so let's set the day.  I called his bluff, at which point he got annoyed and told me to leave his boat yard, just as he had done on two previous occasions.  I always give the locals a chance, but not again.

As you would have expected, I had my Plan A, so the following day Jim G and I set off for Wollongong harbour.  The wind came up from the south as we headed off for Jervis Bay and our first overnight stop.  The next day we were off around Point Perpendicular and up the coast, by which time the wind had risen to well over 25 knots from the west.  A few reefs in the sail and some flat sea and we were steaming along towards Wollongong.  We arrived and pulled up onto the courtesy mooring and went ashore to the slip.  We found the Pasadena Star, a steel fishing boat on the large cradle with a number of large square holes cut in the hull and the welder Henry trying to cut and close the rust that almost sunk the vessel.

This delayed us a few days.  They finally launched it on a Friday, so I could only go up on the slip on Saturday.  No worries—Jim took the bus back to Bermagui and I went to visit Nicola at Fairy Meadow.  I returned to Malua every night as I was moored alongside a fishing boat belonging to a cousin of Tony and Charlie L from Ulladulla—small world.

Work started on Malua after it had been very well pressure washed soon after coming out of the water on Saturday.  Monday was a quick touch up of some undercoat and good clean of the waterline, and they were off spraying 80 to 20 mix of blue and black Seavictor 50 Jotun antifoul onto Malua.

The Swedish shipwright did a very good job while the other did all the masking of the through hulls, waterline and cleaning the prop.  That was finished by noon and then he started on the Propspeed for the propeller.  The clearcoat went on and next the zinc anode, and we were ready to go back in the water but had to wait eight hours for the Propspeed and the tide.

Tuesday dawned and we were ready to go but had to wait for the high tide, which was about noon.

The two shipwrights and I got on Malua after clearing away the sand from the slip rails, and the large cradle started to run down the rails into the water. Malua is rather light for the large cradle, so it did not run all the way to the end stops and we had to wait for the tide to rise before Malua floated off back into its natural environment.  I dropped the fellows at the wharf and headed out into the sea for a trip south.  I pulled into Jervis Bay for the night and out the following day to get into Batemans Bay before a very strong gale force wind came off the land about 1:00 that day.

The wild windy Wednesday hit me just as I was about to enter Batemans Bay with a force of 47 knots. The spray was coming off the sea in sheets.  It was the most violent wind I have experienced in Australia.  I had dropped all the sails as I saw it coming and tried to motor around Yellow Rock up into the Clyde River mouth of Batemans Bay.  Malua would not make any headway at all.  I had to keep the bow directly into the wind or else I would lose direction and be blown off course.

I tried sheltering behind the Tollgate Islands but that did not work, so I moved to Black Rock, but again the wind was too strong to motor into it.  I eventually turned and headed for Bermagui with the wind on the beam and a good run down the coast.

At Montague the wind dropped, but the swell and confused sea made the last 12 nm into Bermagui a very violent and uncomfortable ride home. I entered the harbour in the dark but with little wind and came alongside to be welcomed by Macca.  What a trip.

I now had almost a month prior to Christmas to polish the topsides, add a few extras and to get the inside of Malua ready for a three-month long cruise to Tasmania.