Navigation By Wire Contraption

A couple of weeks ago an old mate of mine came to visit us at Wilderness Island. It’s some of the best fun we have here, when mates come to visit. Andrew and I have known each other since I was a kid so its pretty relaxed and laid back with no real itinerary. It’s a real bonus too when mates bring their own boat as it means the results of a days fishing don’t rest on my shoulders.

Andrew has been coming here since the very early days when we were living under the tarp on the beach and has seen the place developing over the years from a rough beach camp to what it is today. Usually it’s a few years between visits so the changes are noticeable to him. He used to write for a well-known fishing mag too so he gave us a few good plugs that let people know about us.

And one not so good one too which referred to me as “DJ Decky” “when your fishing mates let you down”.

One summer a few years ago now I happened to be in Perth for a week or so and Andrew invited me out for a days fishing somewhere off Fremantle. ‘Great I thought, never done much fishing down this way’, and the weather was looking good so the time was set to meet at 6.00 am at the E Shed Jetty.

Being summer in Perth, Friday night and all, and a country boy, I decided to head down to that wonderful country institution known as the OBH. A few quiet beers were had and of coarse you always bang into someone you know that you haven’t seen for a while. ‘Come to a party with us’, one particular friend said, and being a bit socially excited, I thought this was a splendid idea.

Fast-forward through the night to 6.30 am and the phone rings (I’m still at the party, asleep on the veranda).  ‘Where the hell are you’ is the greeting. ‘Oh Christ’, I thought, ‘I’ve forgotten all about going fishing’. I’m on my way mate, just a bit caught up in traffic at the moment. Next step is to con my mate into coming fishing with me so I can share the hangover experience, ring a taxi and get there in 20 minutes flat. Don’t know what the taxi driver must have thought. He stops and lets us out right on the side of the jetty, we disappear down the ladder and take off in a dinghy full of fishing gear,….. still in our party clothes. A small detail I’d forgotten too till Andrew pulls out his camera saying, ‘I gotta get a photo of this’.

He very kindly rings me up a few weeks later to inform me of his latest article he’s written featuring me in it as the main character with the aforementioned headline, ‘DJ Decky’, when your fishing mates let you down’, with the photo as well (not a good one).

I reckon Andrew would have to be one of the most dedicated fishermen I know. He lives and breathes fishing. Lobbies ministers about fishing issues and writes about fishing. He collects lures, builds his own rods, pores through fishing magazines and could even be considered a bit of a tackle junkie. His holidays usually revolve around fishing, getting his two boys interested in fishing or going on camping trips somewhere new that there might be a bit of fishing to do.

If only his passion for his hobby extended to boat maintenance.

Andrew arrived up here about 4 weeks ago with his newest boat, his two boys and literally a boat-load of gear, all towed up from Perth for a week of fishing out here at the island. The first couple of days were pretty laid back with late starts fishing around the tides and going on a couple of mud crabbing jaunts. We had some very relaxed nights around the fire and it wasn’t till later in the week that he decided to start foraging further afield. I’d decided to stay back this particular day and get a few jobs done around the camp.

I’d been keeping an eye out for his return from 3 pm onwards and when I saw his boat heading back from a nearby island, I headed down to the jetty to pick him and the boys up. I’d been waiting for about ½ an hour at the jetty (shoe’s on the other foot now) when it should have taken him only ten minutes or so to navigate up the creek. I decided he must have had boat ‘issues’ so jumped in my boat and went to see what the problem was. Around the next bend comes Andrew in his splendiferous barge,,, under electric motor. ‘What’s up mate’ I said. ‘Bloody power steering has gone, just shit itself for no reason’. “No reason” turns out to be severe corrosion of the shaft that runs inside the hydraulic pusher thingy.

So now we have a problem. Andrew has to leave the next day heading all the way back to Exmouth which is 20 odd miles across open water in a boat with no steering. I cant tow him back because I have a big charter starting the next day so we have to make some sort of jury steering system. I know its not a huge deal to a lot of you experienced boaties but both Andrew and I, (both being ex farmers) we’re not sure how to do this.

Andrew’s agricultural back-ground leads him to the conclusion that we should try and fix it with fencing wire somehow. I’m not sure how this is going to work but we have a few discussions and look around the spare parts division (which really is just a rubbish tip made up of stuff that’s too good to throw out. All farmers have one and living on an island with the nearest shop 20 miles away, so do I). We deduct that we need a shaft to act as a tiller and then some way to connect it to the 70hp motor. Considering the boat is fully loaded and it’s a fair way to go in not great conditions, we reckon that we need a pretty hefty sort of set-up that’s not going to fall off or fail mid-trip. At this stage, Andrew still wont shut up about the wire, ‘we need wire’, ‘how come you don’t have any wire’, just wire it on’.

After some more discussion we agree that we can make something with the shaft of an old kayak paddle for the tiller and an old fish landing net with an aluminium frame that we can reshape to fit the cowling on the motor. A few bends, some tec screws to join the paddle handle onto the old net, a lot of gaffa tape so we don’t scratch the cowling and also to give it a bit of grip and then it was time for the final fitting. It fit like a glove although getting it onto the motor itself was a bit of a balancing act as I had to compromise and use some fencing wire (I wouldn’t tell him I had any till this stage). We tightened it all up with a cob and co. wire hitch and set off up the creek to test our contraption.

It worked a treat, we decided it was good enough for the open ocean and best of all, my girlfriend Kim was there to capture it all on immortal celluloid. Andrew got back to Exmouth without another hitch and when I returned 10 days later, our ‘contraption’ was sitting on the roof of my Toyota. I have since brought it back to Wilderness Island and returned it to the ‘spare parts division’. I’m sure it will be needed again.

Jim Alston
Grew up on station right next to Exmouth Gulf and always dreamed of living the life of Robinson Crusoe. He’s just about achieved his goal by setting up a fishing camp on the edge of the gulf at Wilderness Island.