Peel's appeal

On Friday afternoon we returned to Peel Island. This time we stayed on the other side of the island where there was a beautiful beach, and to the Captain’s chagrin, many other boats.

A lovely afternoon walk along the beach at low tide meant we encountered several armies of soldier crabs. Unfortunately Matey didn’t have her phone with her so the following will have to suffice …

Aren't they cute?

Apparently, in the glorious past Peel Island had a leper colony. Lepers were removed from their families (sound familiar?) and marooned on Peel Island. Apparently, lots of them were Aboriginal – what a surprise. Still – there could be worse places to be marooned and ostracised. Hmmm – maybe they just got left in peace rather than having the ‘benefits’ of white culture foisted upon them? One can only hope. We walked in search of the buildings where they were housed to see if we could get an idea of the lives they lived – but came upon a fenced off area with a sign telling us access was restricted and by guided tour only, so we decided to leave that for another day.

The lessons for Saturday were:

1 don’t underestimate the power of a Moreton Bay wind, and

2 get to know your anchor.

Just because 42 knots here hasn’t got the same voltage as a colder wind of the same speed further south (colder = denser), neglect to respect the wind at your peril.

Following a morning of sunshine and blue skies and with an afternoon forecast of 'strong winds' we made our way to a protected anchorage at Macleay Island, which we reached by about 4 pm. By this time the wind was blowing at up to 42 knots. Down went the anchor and it was almost scotch-o’clock – when, oh dear, the Captain noticed the anchor wasn’t holding. Being a small (and very pretty!) anchorage we were being blown towards the ‘leeward’ shore.

Decision time. There was almost(!) a moment of panic as Captain barked out some orders (Matey is informed this is what Captains do – hmmm). Up with the chain as the rocks surged towards us – a slow process as it has to be wound up manually by the Matey – and off we went to brave the wind and swell back to safety and the calmer waters of Cleveland. Matey must confess she immensely enjoyed watching the sun set as we made our way towards it over rough(ish) waters. Just in time – as all light was fading we reached our mooring in Cleveland. For once those burbs were a welcome sight.

While some may celebrate football, Captain celebrated just being alive. Matey’s body celebrated going to bed after a busy day of walking, rowing the dinghy and winding in the anchor chain.

Sunday’s mission is to befriend the anchor.

High tide at Peel Island drowns the beach and the crabs.