On water lockdown

A post-apocalyptic silence looms over the bay; a distant siren adds weight to the scenario. Well, that’s a slight exaggeration but there is a noticeable difference of activity for a weekend day. A COVID-19 lockdown has finally caught up with us, but instead of being in the thick of it we are floating around on the peripheral, literally.

A glass out, until the wind changes.

With no recreational boating allowed during this Greater Brisbane lockdown, the waterways are spookily quiet. No little boats zooming to their favourite fishing spot, no jet skis mindlessly charging at full throttle to nowhere, no fleets of outriggers stridently paddling a familiar route: just the odd solo kayaker, SUP boarder, and a lone swimmer towing a fluorescent buoy. Only a jet engine roar from the nearby Brisbane airport intermittently reminds us of the modern world.

Less than a handful didn't adhere to the sign.

The only boat in the bay.

Ironically, living on board a cruising yacht is already much like the lockdown rules currently placed on 3.8 million people in South East Queensland. We come ashore for water or fuel, to shop for essential items and to get some exercise. Apart from the fact that we aren’t allowed to visit anyone, or vice versa, nor go anywhere greater than 10 kilometres, the current Covid restrictions are ones we already live with. It’s a simple life.

Daily exercise

We do have plenty of wildlife for company though. Persistent welcome swallows are keen to set up a nest, cheekily flying down below, flapping about and then wondering how to get back outside again. Dolphins do a lazy swim by, and pied cormorants dive bomb for fish. Surprisingly, an unidentified bird of prey circled us several times, landed on our mast and snacked on a freshly caught fish. That event was the talk of the day.

A poor photo but looked great through the binoculars!

Once the sun sets, the bay takes on a whole different vista. City lights encircle us, and the container cranes on the horizon at the Port of Brisbane are lit up like steel giraffes. The stars are bright still – we’ve been especially lucky to have such clement weather – and many constellations are visible with the waxing moon.

Sunrise on our freshly painted deck

Unlike a house (or Delvy, which is in lockdown in NSW!), where you can close the door for a good while and (usually) find it where and how you left it whenever you return, living on a boat takes constant vigilance. Weather has something to say about everything, and it’s an ongoing effort to remain comfortable when not living in a marina: what is a calm, quiet anchorage one day or night, can turn into a rolling, uncomfortable and potentially unsafe anchorage the next. For this reason, we are moving about the Redcliffe Peninsula depending on where the wind is blowing, exploring and admiring the different views of Moreton Bay. All the while, we undertake home improvements. Afterall, that’s what cruising is: doing boat maintenance in a variety of exotic locations.

Dinghy maintenance on the beach, with pelican supervision

Sailing to the next anchorage

Considering we are so close to the city, it’s the quietness that makes it feel different to other visits here. No sounds of traffic on water or on land make it easy to imagine a planet without motorised vehicles and vessels. At the moment, it seems we have it all to ourselves, or at least the sea anyway. We’ll enjoy it while we can.

Ever changing colours and moods of Moreton Bay