Yo-ho-ho And A Bottle Of Rum

As The Husband was working on his birthday, I decided to organise something special for the following day, something we definitely couldn’t do in Reading. We, and eight friends, set sail aboard Spinifex Spray, a magnificent 12-metre ketch, complete with pirate flag fluttering high above us. As we would be later told by the skipper, a typically crusty old barnacle of a seafarer, the skull and crossbones is in recognition of the founder of the island we were sailing from and the first Englishman to set foot on Australian soil, the pirate (or ‘profiteer’ as he preferred to be known as) William Dampier.


After a false start, whereby we hung around the wrong jetty and were almost taken out by a launching vessel, we finally made it to the correct pontoon where the sailing boat was standing proud in the water, masts reaching up to the sky. Unfortunately, our skipper was nowhere to be seen. Ignoring the urge to call, “ahoy there, matey, permission to step aboard your vessel?”, I shouted, “Hellooo?” and managed to sound like a nosy neighbour instead. A few seconds later, Brad popped his head up from the cabin. Rather than the young, tanned, ripped blonde surfer-type I had imagined from the name, Brad turned out to be a silver-bearded man in his late fifties with leathery skin and a muffin-top. He was, however, incredibly friendly in that relaxed Aussie way, as well as impressively knowledgeable about the history of the area. He welcomed us aboard and we deposited our snorkelling gear, bags and eskis before settling ourselves at the front of the boat as we set sail out of the harbour towards the Dampier archipelago, a group of 42 islands off the coast of Dampier and nearby Point Samson. It’s a world of white sandy beaches fringed with coral reefs in crystal-clear waters, where turtles, dolphins, whales and a host of other marine life can be found. If it wasn’t for the constant presence of the huge gas and oil projects on the Burrup Peninsula (the whole reason we’re here, of course), we could have been sailing through some Caribbean islands. It was stunning and, with the gentle rocking of the boat, the wind in our hair, and a deliciously blue sky above us, completely and utterly relaxing.

Our first port of call was Malus Island which, like all the islands around here, was completely deserted. If this was Queensland, the bay would be rammed with tourist and private boats alike but we had it all to ourselves in this little-visited spot of Australia. Brad docked the boat within swimming distance of the beach so we donned our snorkelling gear and jumped into the refreshing, transparent water. I was so busy packing my stuff into a bag to put into the little motor boat and then getting my gear on that I didn’t think about the Things That May Kill Me in the water, and it wasn’t until I was jumping in that a flutter of nerves hit my belly. I tried to comfort myself with the fact that with such great visibility, I should be able to spot anything nasty – I shouldn’t just be suddenly confronted with something appearing in front of me from the gloom. With so much beautiful coral and such an array of dazzlingly colourful fish to see, I actually barely gave thought to the nasties of the sea. I just made sure that I stayed near to one of the boys so that there was a reduced chance of me getting attacked first!

All that swimming gave us an appetite, so we waded around to a cluster of rocks that was home to a plethora of oysters. I am not normally a fan of the slimy creatures but when this fresh they’re actually pretty good. Brad armed us with a hammer and we happily opened up the shells and popped the molluscs straight into our mouths – you can’t get much fresher than that. It was then time to hop into the small boat – I managed to fall into it backwards, legs akimbo, in a very lady-like manner – back to Spinifex Spray. We spent the rest of the day cruising around the archipelago, stopping at another beach, and generally totally exhausting ourselves. It was a tough day.

People can diss Karratha all they want, but we’re incredibly lucky to be able to do something like that on a Sunday. The worrying thing now is that The Husband has decided that we are going to buy a boat and spend the rest of our days sailing around in it. That would be fabulous for a week or so but I’m sure the lack of a proper power-shower, a push-button flushing toilet and a full kitchen would soon set tempers flaring. I wouldn’t mind a sailing holiday – as long as there was someone to do most of the work of course (I don’t want to spend every day of my holiday tacking and winching and tying knots in rope and whatever else sailors do thank you very much) – but living on a boat? Not unless it was a Russian billionaire type with full-sized bedrooms, bathrooms, a kitchen, dining room, sitting room and library. He’d better get saving.