No worries, mate

Yachting

Story and pictures by SALLY ANDREWS

ARRIVING in Sydney Harbour in the early hours of the morning, we anchored in glassy waters off the blue neon lights of Oceanworld in Manly and fell fast asleep. Later, we rowed ashore, picking up special treats for a New Year’s din ner. On the Corso, a young busker played Windham Hill’ish tunes on his guitar. After dropping a coin in his case, we sat in the shade and enjoyed the music.

As the afternoon wore on, we decid ed to find a spot for viewing the fire works. Within twenty minutes of pulling up our anchor, the quiet breeze became brisk and the sailing exciting. Fleets of race boats, powerboats, ferries crossed our bow, our stern, passed alongside.

We waved “Hello” to ferry captains who waved their fists in return - “right on!”

Then our inflatable dinghy performed a few hair-raising pirouettes off the stern, did a nose dive and submerged.

Unbidden, it proved its value as a sea anchor.

Not an auspicious start to the evening. With insufficient room to safe ly head up and stall under sail, we start ed the engine, dropped the mainsail and, when the dinghy resurfaced, bailed it out. It was time to drop anchor.

Sydney Harbour was congested.

Close to shore, boats were packed like sardines so we anchored at the edge of the mob in about 50 feet. The friendli ness of Sydneysiders was overwhelm ing. Soon, yachts anchored so close they could carry on conversations with each other.

We must have looked a bit anxious,

because our neighbours kept yelling

“No worries mate - she’ll be right!”

Meanwhile, the boat to starboard bel lowed out the latest update of the strong wind warning - “Winds to increase”. As the night wore on, his warnings boomed

at us like a Greek chorus. Our bay by Sydney Zoo became a zoo. Hundreds of boats lay peacefully at anchor, the rest wished they were. In this second group there were three types: 1. Those madly manoeuvring for a spot to throw their hook; 2. Those dragging in the fierce gusts that wouldn’t let up; and 3. Those who were freaking out. We were in the last division.

Anchoring conditions were not great.

Deep water compounded by lots off wind multiplied by too many boats in too small a space, and divided by a New

Years State of Mind equalled a fear in the pit of my stomach of a disaster wait ing to happen. I could feel it in my bones. Well, I could feel it in my stom ach. Our special New year’s dinner would have to wait.

We’d arrived at half-past three, five and a half hours before the start of the fireworks. By five o’clock we wanted to leave, and couldn’t. Why? Because within minutes of putting our hook down and setting it, four boats had dropped anchor in the same spot. What was the attraction? Physical? Spiritual?

Manly, inside Sydney Harbour

Magnetic? It didn t matter. There was no way we could retrieve our hook.

“Oh, no” we think, marvelling at the

ever-increasing numbers of arriving

boats. We stood watch, fenders ready.

What a show! Bang ups to the left of us, bang ups to the right. A fellow drops his hook about 10 feet ahead and to starboard of our neighbour. We watch as the

wind catches him, pushes him sideways.

Maybe they’re friends and want to side tie. But no, not friends, it seems. We lis ten for the bang, but “Hey, no worries mate”, the boat slides by, narrowly missing the stern.

Then, out of nowhere, Double- Trouble heads our way. A powerboat and sailboat tied together are motoring

i through the anchorage, their skippers

j and crews busy talking to one another and heading right for us! Foster runs : forward and hastily pays out more anchor line, which has been pre-flaked on deck with a fender attached to the bitter end in case we have to make a

quick getaway!

I was mystified by the urgent foot steps and yell so looked up to see two bows ten feet away and heading amid ships. Speechless, mouth agape, hands on hips, I wondered: “are we having fun yet?” Fellowship dropped back in a gust and the Double-Trouble demoli tion raft-up missed us with barely an inch to spare.

A few minutes later, a sailboat with no one at the wheel headed our way.

The skipper was on deck pre-occupied with his anchor while a woman cradling a baby sat helplessly in the companionway. I tried to hold my tongue, but failed. “For God’s sake, take down your awning!” The windage

created by the awning made it impossi ble for him to safely manoeuvre between the closely packed boats.

Meanwhile, the Greek chorus kindly hollered out another update of the strong wind warnings courtesy of Sydney Radio. “Yes,” we howl. “It sure is windy, aye?”

During the last hours of twilight, the jostling continued - boats entangled,

extricated themselves, played dodgem

cars, sort of an aquatic demo derby. By nine o’clock when the fireworks started, you could walk deck-to-deck across the water. Exuberant on-the-water parties let off handheld and parachute flares, several of which continued to burn brightly after hitting the water. I made a quick mental note of our nearest on board fire extinguisher.

The final blow came when a cigarette boat, in a hurry to get back to the mari na, sideswiped the boat beside us with a terrific BAMMMM. We were afraid he’d turn around for another go, but thankfully the skipper kept going. Apart from this mishap, the post-fireworks exodus was fairly orderly.

It had seemed a long frightful wait for the fireworks but once the show started - WOW! The explosions and colours were dazzling. The happy face of light on the Sydney bridge seemed to signify the Aussie spirit of “No worries!

She’ll be right, mate!” It was a $1.5 million warm-up to the 2000 Olympics spec tacular. On New Year’s Day, sun streamed in the forward hatch. The main cabin looked the victim of a sen sational celebration. In the mirror, a haggard face stared back - two crusty slits underlined by wrinkled black bags, my hair matted corkscrews, my nails bitten to the knuckles. I felt total ly wrecked.

Funny, it hadn’t felt like a riotous party. A cup of coffee improved my outlook and a bit of a clean-up put us both - boat and crew right. Sydney sunshine and bright breezes cleared out cerebral cobwebs and pro vided an auspicious start to the new year. ■

Chaos began early and got steadily worse