Once we'd safely cleared out of Flinders Island, the wind decreased to almost a dead glassy run under motor for most of the day. Most unusual in the Trade Wind belt, but it felt good for a change. With our new crew member aboard, kitted out in Mary's cast off clothing, we spent most of the day relaxing and hearing about Allie's misadventures.
Later in the afternoon, our tradewinds returned, and by the time we found shelter behind Morris Island for the night, another cute little sandy cay, the wind was blowing at 25 knots again.
It was an interesting looking island for a walk around the beach, but in the morning it was grey, cloudy and windy, so we were content to just check it out through the binoculars.
But the floating log that Mary spotted at one end of the beach seemed to be purposefully cruising the shoreline, and we wisely decided not to bother heading to shore after all. He was over 3 metres long, quietly patrolling his territory. Looking for a snack.

After checking out the croc, we decided to move on from Morris Island and continue our journey northwards, once again with 25 knot winds at our back, and under full sail we made rapid progress up the coast.
We had soon rounded Cape Direction and were making our way to shelter in the mouth of the Lockhart River.
We had strong phone signal again, being only a few miles from the aboriginal settlement. (Telstra provides excellent mobile phone coverage to all of the remote aboriginal settlements in Queensland and the N.T.)
We had planned to rendezvous here with the Sea Swift freight barge, to top up our fuel and water tanks. 
With more strong wind warnings, we hunkered down in the river mouth, feeling a bit trapped because there's no place to take the dinghy ashore. Access to the settlement is only by a very exposed boat ramp some 5 miles away, so we just had to squat until the barge arrived.
A couple of days later, the barge came to us, we rafted up against her and loaded diesel and fairly murky fresh water. It was to be our last fuel top-up before crossing the Gulf Of Carpenteria, so an important event.
We also offloaded young Allie onto Captain Shane, the barge skipper, who was going to get her ashore once the wind backed off a little. From there, she was hoping to catch a ride south with a 4WD tourist passing through from Cape York. Hopefully not from the frying pan into the fire!

A couple of luxury power boats also found their way into the river mouth, and we had sundowners with them one night, but the weather was windy, rainy and grey. Not terribly pleasant, but the power boaters were keen fisherman and we did benefit from their generosity when they handed over a beautiful, freshly caught Mangrove Jack!

It was a bit frustrating being boat-bound in the Lockhart River, but having internet made it a bit easier. Having seen our last restaurant back in Port Douglas a couple of weeks earlier, we were very keen to make it into the tiny European settlement of Portland Roads, a few miles north. We knew the anchorage there was inferior to where we were, but we also knew there was actually a cafe/restaurant there which catered to the 4WD'ers who sometimes stopped in on their way to the Cape.
So, as soon as the wind had backed off a couple of knots, we zipped north and anchored off the township, such as it is. A few houses....a walk ashore....a great cafe....and a great lunch. (A bit of careful planning required there at Portland Roads, because the only dinghy access is at high tide, so it's no place for snoozing!)
After a night on the anchorage there, we were off in nice weather again, still with a 20 knot South Easterly behind us, dodging a couple of ships and rounding Cape Grenville to the superb little anchorage at Margaret Bay. Turtles, dugongs, and even a wild pig or two.  
We followed a trail of blue plastic (yes....the Blue Trail) to Indian Bay, on the southern side of Cape Grenville, a bit depressing seeing the mounds of plastic that the Tradewinds drive onto our beaches. Yes, our pristine Great Barrier Reef hasn't been pristine for years, and I can't help but wonder how much longer we can go on producing disposable plastic stuff.

We loved Margaret Bay and hung out for a few days, finding green coconuts and just enjoying being able to go to the beach whenever we felt like it. The wind was a constant of course, and after a few days, we decided to head to sea again and just cop it. Which we did. 
We left Margaret Bay at 5.00 am one morning, wind gusting to 30 knots, rough following seas and a long, rough day. 
We wanted to ensure a daylight arrival into the Escape River mouth, which we knew was a little tricky with a bar, and rocks at the entrance.
The bar was actually fun, and we surfed in on six-foot waves, dodged the rocks, then sailed quite a way up the river to a more-or-less protected anchorage. 
There was another yacht there, "City Limits", which was waiting for a break in the wind to head south.
I had a stressful night's sleep, knowing that in the morning, those fun six-foot waves we'd surfed in with, were going to be on our bow when we were leaving. And we'd be in a wind-against-tide situation, having planned a passage through the narrow and tidal Albany Passage later in the day. Just to unsettle me a bit more, we spoke to "City Limits" who told us they'd tried for a 2.00am departure that morning and been forced back by the rough conditions.
With sweaty palms, I set the staysail, fired up the engine, and out we went. 
Heading north, it was easy! 
We swapped the staysail for the jib and with 30 knots pushing us along, headed north for The Cape.

It was a great day. We cruised through the narrow and spectacular gap of Albany Passage on the perfect tide, and then rounded Cape York to anchor in its lee. Wow. We'd done it!

Leaving the very pretty Port Douglas was marred a little by a creeping sense of anxiety. We were embarking on a big project, having been pleasantly day-sailing up the coast with a marina every few days for shelter and to stock up. 
Our first overnight stop was amongst the coral heads on Hope Island, a beautiful little coral cay, where we blissfully cruised in and dropped anchor after a particularly nice sail from Port. We were warned off by another yachtie, and advised to re-anchor in a different spot to avoid the coral heads. Wise advice and we pulled in closer to the island. 
Settling down to a sundown beer, we were soon visited by a boatload of young recreational fishermen who had drastically exceeded their bag limit for the day, and were giving these beautiful big Red-lipped Nannygai away to every boat in the anchorage. We didn't complain, of course, and were grateful for the gift, but still found it a bit disturbing. 
We didn't have the right gear to clean the fish as efficiently as we'd like, so wasted a bit of good flesh while roughly chopping off enough fillets for several good meals.
The next day was another cracker of a sailing day, and we arrived into a nice calm anchorage behind Cape Flattery with a full moonrise and a great night's sleep. 
And yet another great sail in the morning across to Watson's Bay on Lizard Island....for most sensible people, the northernmost destination of their cruising season. Some dozen or so boats anchored in the bay, and a beautiful bay it is, too.
Many would call it paradise!

We met some great people, listened to some sound advice, and generally enjoyed the ambience of the island. I hiked up the hill to the lookout that Captain Cook used to try to find a gap in the outer reef, visited the Research Station, snorkelled on the reef, made the most of the freshwater spring and learned a bit more how to manage our batteries and electricity usage. I could even climb high up on the cabin top and get sketchy internet coverage for the weather reports.

On one Strong Wind Warning day, we spent the entire day on board the boat, it being too windy to drive the dinghy to the beach. Late in the afternoon, we were visited by friends I'd met back in Townsville, Rick and Glad from the boat Rumba.
They'd been suffering from cabin fever, too, so arrived on their dinghy with some wine, ready for a chat. Several hours and a few drinks later, with the wind still howling, they decided to head back to their boat......and their dinghy was gone!
The line to our boat had chafed through. It was dark, and the wind was blowing offshore at some 25-30 knots. I ran them back to  Rumba in my dinghy, they pulled anchor and headed out to sea in what was a fruitless search for their almost-new, top quality dinghy and motor. It was quite distressing, and as a very experienced sailor and retired professional commercial skipper, Rick was even more disappointed that the accident had happened. Without a dinghy, Rumba's planned trip further north was no longer an option, and Rick and Glad decided that a trip back to Cairns was just what had to be done.

In the past, visiting sailors had been welcome to have a drink in the Staff bar at the resort, but with the construction crew trying to rebuild the asbestos-dust riddled place, that was no longer an option. And one afternoon at Sundowner drinks, it was mentioned that we were definitely no longer welcome, because there had apparently been a theft of diesel fuel from the construction site, with trolley tracks leading back to the yacht anchorage. Some of us tended to scoff at that, because nobody could imagine anybody going to those lengths at such an iconic yachting destination. 
For many sailors, Lizard Island is their Winter home, and they spend a couple of months there, waiting for the SE Tradewinds to calm down a little to make their trip South more comfortable. 

For us, it was the jumping off point for our trip north, into much less-travelled waters, and we headed out after less than a week for the remote little overnight anchorage of Howick Island. In what was to become quite normal for us over the next few weeks, it was a boisterous broad reach run with 28 knot gusts, to the lonely shelter of Howick. 
And, to remind us that we were now beyond the normal day cruisers path, and a long way from home, we were buzzed by a Customs aircraft. They called us on the radio and quizzed us about who we were, where we were from, and where we were going. 

As remote as our path may have been, we were still travelling in the narrow shipping channel which wends its way along the coast inside the Great Barrier Reef. So it's not sleepy cruising, there's always reef very close by, and always the danger of coming across a Very Big Ship heading in either direction. 
We were heading for the very remote Flinders Group of islands, and after leaving Howick Island in fairly pleasant conditions, and having a good day's sail, were hit again by the 28-knotters later in the afternoon when we arrived and were trying to anchor. We were impressed by the group of islands, with a very powerful sense of place.
We were pleased to see a few other boats there, and were invited for sundowner drinks with a Canadian family we'd met back at Lizard. In the morning, it was time for some long-distance exploring in the dinghy and a visit to see the aboriginal cave paintings on Stanley Island. Amazing stuff. 

On the way to visit the caves, we stopped off to meet Ron and Annie on the boat "Siri Of The Sea", a very similar vessel to our own boat, then called in at the water tanks ashore and filled up our containers with nice fresh water.

Back at the anchorage, we chatted to the crew from the boat "Arjuna" who we had also met back in Lizard, the Harman family with their three wonderful young boys, having the experience of a lifetime. We joined them for Sundowner drinks, which was terrific, and being surrounded by clever, polite kids was great.
The next morning, we gave the Harmans a tour of our little Pirate Ship, took on more water and dinghied across for coffee on "Siri". 

And from then, we found ourselves embroiled in a little drama. It seems that Ron had found a most upset young girl, alone on the beach. She was an English backpacker who had accepted a crew position on a yacht travelling north from Cairns. The same yacht, as it turned out, whose skipper had pinched the diesel fuel from Lizard Island. And now was pressuring her for both money and services of a more personal nature. 
Anyway, she was in quite a bit of strife.

The Flinders Group is a long way from anywhere, and being stuck, alone, on a yacht with a dodgy skipper is a scary situation.
With a little subterfuge, we sneaked her onto our boat during sundowner drinks with Ron and Annie, and abandoning most of her possessions, Londoner Allie joined the crew of "Endurance".
It was a sneaky dawn departure the next day from Flinders Island, with young Allie hidden below decks until we were safely out at sea, and away from the allegedly scumbag skipper of the Cairns-based yacht ....who we were sincerely hoping wouldn't take off in pursuit. 

Load the Cannons!

Once again, we made the most of a nice weather window, and headed out from Mourilyn towards Fitzroy Island, just around the corner from Cairns. Finally getting some hotter weather, I lept off the boat for a swim as soon as we'd dropped anchor. Followed shortly after by a cold beer in the pub....Fitzroy being an unashamedly mainstream tourist focussed resort. 
Sure enough though, the weather had turned a bit nasty by the following morning, so we made our way around Cape Grafton, with the odd 30-knot "bullet" to make things interesting. Up the well-marked channel and into the Marlin Marina at Cairns, a short walk to shops and restaurants, past the man-made "beach" which is stinger-and-crocodile free.
We also had a visit from many of the "ARC" cruisers on their round-the-world yacht rally, so there was a very cosmopolitan atmosphere in the harbour with lots of foreign-flagged vessels, Customs and Quarantine people and multiple accents.
We picked up a rental car, did lots of maintenance jobs, trips to Bunnings, a drive through the hinterland, a visit to a crocodile farm, and lots of socialising, eating and drinking. We had some shocking weather, and were quite happy to wait it out in the comfort of this bustling tourist town.
Our friends John & Jo from the catamaran "Kirra Kirra" joined us one evening for a live performance by the musician Harry Manx, which was a bonus.

Daughter India and partner Oscar came to visit for a few days and we revisited the croc in the safety of an aluminium rental barge. They rented a car and we hiked to Mosman Gorge, driving north through the Daintree reserve and Cape Tribulation. We spent one day sailing out to the Low Isles for some snorkelling amongst the tourist boat day-trippers.
We also looked up our friends Kathy and John, from Torquay, who manage a resort in Port Douglas. It was great catching up with them, and taking a look at Port Douglas through different eyes. And running into their Geelong guest, Bernie Leen, was another bonus. 
I swam on the beach there, too, under the watchful eye of the Lifesavers, who are no doubt trained in croc-spotting.

Decision Time!
It was while we were sitting around in Port Douglas that we thought it best to have a serious discussion about what we were doing next. Port Douglas is the most Northerly marina in Queensland, so, after here, we were having to be completely self sufficient. We had vaguely decided that we'd like to sail as far north as Lizard Island and spend a week or two on the anchor there.

A friend in Geelong, a very good sailor, had volunteered to help us sail to Darwin at one point, and we considered that for a couple of days, and decided, yep, we could do the Darwin trip with a capable helper. So, I gave him a call, but he was already booked out for the period. 

"Arr, buggar it, let's do it anyway...by ourselves." Mary had actually volunteered!
It was obviously a weak moment, and I don't remember whether there was alcohol involved, but from that moment, we were committed.

Supermarket shopping and provisioning took on a whole new meaning from then on, knowing that the next time we saw a marina would be in Darwin, and after a couple of days I was wondering just what I had let myself in for......