Ashmore Reef

Large breaking seas announced the outliers of Ashmore Reef and, as we sailed along its northern edge, we could see the aquamarine of its shallow water beyond the surf. Through binoculars we could see strange knobs and bumps on the horizon, and a white pole. Bit by bit these morphed and resolved into recognisable shapes; a grey warship, the Wollongong, moored to a yellow buoy, the low shape of West Island and a single tall palm tree, a yacht mast, and three cute tubby Indonesian fishing boats at mooring.


Then red and green navigation buoys led us a convoluted passage across otherwise clear open water to a field of big yellow mooring buoys where we tied up. Having navigated other reefs before, it felt rather weird to be led a dance around coral heads through which I would have otherwise independently picked my way. But it certainly made entering and leaving easier!

Justin diving at Ashmore Reef

We lunched, snorkelled, visited the neighbouring French boat, Saba II, and spoke with Matthieu and Anne-Laure who have been circumnavigating with their young children and another family since 2014. They headed off towards Cocos islands that afternoon closely followed by us heading for Christmas Island.

But before that we visited West Island, with a fringe of vegetation above a dazzling white strip of sand. As we approached we could see that the beach had four dense groups of birds at equal spaces. At the left hand point there were terns and boobies, then a group of herons and egrets, beyond which a black mass of noddies, and further on a flock of sanderlings or something like that.

The lone palm tree on West Island

As we hauled the dinghy up the beach we saw massive turtle tracks above the tide line, and these led to great pits excavated under the bushes. Beyond the bushes, on which noddies had nested, we came to a dry plain on which the single palm tree grew. Beneath it were four graves, each with a stone surround, nautilus shells placed on the grave and a carved post in the Islamic style, with fading paint and writing. There is an MOU between Indonesia and Australia allowing Indonesian fishermen to continue their traditional fishing here and to visit the graves of their ancestors.

The three of us split up to explore and I wandered along looking for shells, and meeting tame boobies sitting on bleached white tree trunks on the beach which allowed me to get within hands reach before flying off. I spotted a notice board which proclaimed the area a nature reserve, and next to it a shiny stainless steel water pump stuck into the ground. It seemed a bit like a lamp post in Narnia, but a practical and lifesaving boon for anyone marooned here.

Taking the dinghy ashore

Graves of Indonesian fishermen under the lone palm tree

Booby takes flight

The marooned mariners' water pump

After a cup of tea and Mark's delicious drop scones, we refilled the tanks with diesel from our deck cans finding that we had used 240litres in 4 days motoring. Then at 17:00 we retraced our route out of the maze, and set sail for Christmas Island 1,020 miles to the West. The wind had finally picked up after 4 days of motoring, and as I write, a day later we are making 6.1 knots in the right direction, potentially arriving on the 2nd of October. The wind is forecast to rise to a gale in three days time, so we may arrive earlier.

Meanwhile our batteries seem to be behaving as they should, giving 12+ volts for a long time as they discharge. It seems that we have suffered from several substandard batteries which dragged everything else down.