The Masteka Log — Day One

Touchdown, Hamilton Island. The company assembles — sea air acquired, week ahead.

The trip began the way the best ones do: coffee, croissants, and a gate number.

Morning watch

Departure lounge

Winter in Sydney, and the crew assembled early. Breakfast in the lounge, the first photos already landing in the group chat, and somewhere a thousand kilometres north a yacht sitting quietly at her berth.

Underway

The flight north

Wheels up mid-morning. Sydney and the winding silver of the Parramatta slid away under the wing, and the cabin settled into the easy business of a holiday starting: newspapers, selfies across the aisle, and a fair amount of grinning.

Selfie across the aisle in the cabin, all smiles — Across the aisle, spirits already at cruising altitude.

Couple selfie by the window seat — Window seat, northbound.

Photographing the photographer in the cabin — Photographing the photographer. The chat filled fast.

Midday

Stepping aboard

Hamilton Island, and there she was at the end of the marina arm: Masteka 2, all 37 metres of her. Bags handed up, shoes off, a walk through the saloon and wheelhouse, and lunch on the aft deck before anyone had quite finished saying how good the teak looked.

Selfie at the transom, MASTEKA 2 lettering behind — Aboard. The transom makes it official.

The group at a long lunch table on the aft deck in the marina — First lunch aboard, still alongside at Hamilton.

The afternoon

Hamilton to Cid Harbour, by paddle

The skis came off the deck almost before the lunch plates did. Hi-vis and lifejackets for the paddlers, robes and wine glasses for the spectators, and the fleet set off for Cid Harbour with the tender riding shotgun. Turtles came up alongside on the way, and a school of fish boiled off the beach as the paddlers passed.

A paddler on a surf ski heading into sun-glittered water — Into the glitter. The long haul to Cid Harbour begins.

A paddler taking the first strokes away from the yacht — First strokes off the swim platform.

A paddler dwarfed by dark cliffs and pine headland — Small ski, big country.

A swimmer near a white beach with a school of fish working the water — The school of fish working the shallows off the beach.

On the aft deck — interlude

Not everyone paddled. Half the crew stayed aboard in robes with something cold, officially as safety observers, and followed the fleet from the bow as Masteka 2 shadowed the skis up the channel.

The non-paddlers gathered on the bow cushions watching the fleet — The cheer squad, bow section.

Guests at the rail watching paddlers and turtles in the water below — Turtle spotting from the rail.

Golden hour

Into Cid Harbour

The sun was low over the islands by the time the last ski came alongside. Paddlers home, arms around shoulders on the aft deck, beers open before the lifejackets were. First night at anchor, and dinner still to dress for.

The sun dropping low over layered islands, gold on the water — Golden hour over the islands, from the deck.

The five paddlers arm in arm on the aft deck at sunset — The finish line five.

Paddlers with beers on the aft deck after the crossing — Earned.

Sunset over the water from the aft deck rail at Cid Harbour — Day one closes over Cid Harbour.

After dark

The spatchcock dinner

Showered, dressed and around the saloon table for the first dinner aboard: spatchcock, and an excellent one. Wine glasses raised, the anchorage lights glowing blue off the stern, and the day talked back through until the plates were cleared.

A guest raising a glass of red at the dinner table — A toast to day one.

The table mid-dinner, spatchcock plates all round — The spatchcock, by unanimous verdict excellent.

The stern lights glowing blue in the dark water at anchor — Cid Harbour after dark, stern lights in the water.

Boarded, paddled, anchored. The Whitsundays have us now.