Fraser Island

"What are you going to do with the blog, now that you've arrived in Australia?"

We've been asked that question a few times.

I think I've come up with a new blogging approach for this new phase in our sailing lives. I'm using my writing time to start on another project, so for the foreseeable future there won't be any more long essay postings. But I am going to try to get a quick post up every week or so to keep all our friends and fam who are stuck in the Northern Hemisphere up to date with our life down here.

We're in a pretty momentous-feeling period right now. My family has gone back to the States after a great visit, and we're starting to think about what will be involved for us to settle down in this new country. Lots of important questions are up in the air. We're watching all of those questions with great interest, wondering which ones will fall to the ground showing "yes" and which will come down showing "no".

Those big questions will likely all sort themselves out over the next few months. For now, here are a few pics from our trip to Fraser Island with my Dad.

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My Dad was on Pelagic for about ten days as we sailed from Bundaberg, our first port in Australia, down to Mooloolaba, where we had our family reunion. The highlight was our visit to Fraser Island, which my Dad had last visited in 1962.

Motoring down the Burnett River at the start of our trip with my Dad aboard.

Putting up the main. Dad is watching the masthead telltale to make sure he's keeping us pointed into the wind.

Three blokes and a gum tree, Fraser Island.


Our first anchorage off Fraser - check out the shoals in the foreground and background - pretty different from the deep water navigation we were used to on the Pacific crossing.

Motoring through the Great Sandy Straits, between Fraser Island and the mainland.

Dad rowing the family ashore.

We had some incredible thunder storms. This is Tin Can Bay, a little town that we visited to get the election results. Australian Broadcasting carried Obama's victory speech live.

Dad kept asking what he could do to help. Finally we said, "well, there's the dishes..."