Calmly and quietly I contemplated that maybe we might not make it through the night. Sailing from the north east corner of Tasmania to Port Phillip Bay, Victoria The forecast 20 knot southerly was steadily building to a 40 knot westerly gale. With 20 knots from the south it would have been a fast passage. Forty knots from the west was a different creature altogether. Wind like that pushes the sea into frenzied heaps. The tops tumble from them as they become steeper. After 10 hours of fighting the rudder and fighting off tinges of sea sickness, exhausted, we decided to run off ahead of the wind. The prospect of shelter behind an island some 50 miles to the east is momentarily heartening. Hopefully it will also be an easier direction to sail. It was fast and we made better progress but it was a roller coaster ride up and down towering and tumbling waves. Six hours later, near midnight, we approached a looming dark mass. There was no moon and it was dark. Very dark. Distance becomes hard to judge. We are rapidly approaching dark cliffs trying to find a narrow passage between them to shelter. Our safe haven has proven to be a cauldron. We entered the passage only to find a racing tide pushing the waves up even higher. The wind was funneling up the passage against the tide and producing a fearful combination. With scant navigational aids my iPhone came to the rescue. Loaded with navigational charts its GPS capability guided us to a safe anchorage in a deep cove on the northern side of the island.
