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Lying on the tramp of Tickled Purple which was dragging its anchor through an unnamed mangrove swamp in the windy North of West-Australia I thought of the Apollo-missions. A tiny, self-contained capsule with only space around it.

The plan was to sail for the Montebello Islands, a remote island archipelago about 60 nM Northeast of Onslow, WA-see map.The Brits exploded three nuclear devices there in the fifties, and it is partly because of this that the ‘Monties' still have a reputation for pristine nature even by WA standards. The radiation has ebbed over the years and is not considered a risk apart from ‘ground zero itself.

The logical route in the prevailing brisk Westerlies would be to start in Onslow, hop across to Barrow Island, cruise North in its lee and then skip the 12 nM to the Monties. The only problem with this otherwise brilliant plan is that the charts are a virginal white on the route described. Strange thing is that a chart which is half ‘unsurveyed' doesn’t come at half price.

We slowly trailered the boat to Onslow where a friendly fisherman informed us that a saltwater crocodile had been sighted in the launching creek. Late in the afternoon we had the boat ready and set off for Direction Island about six miles offshore. The speed of the Farrier came in very handy and we made it there just after sunset. Anchored, ate and relaxed only to find that then 50-litre water bladder had burst. So the next morning we had to go back to Onslow to stock up again, which made a timely passage to Barrow impossible. Instead, we headed East for Mangrove Passage which was allegedly very pretty. A three- knot countercurrent, overfalls in the murky water, an invisible reef passage 200 m wide and a 20-knotter from astern meant I couldn’t really appreciate it. A faint green line of mangroves in the distance was about all there was to see. We anchored in Port Weld.

The forecast was for three days of strong wind warnings so we left Port Weld in search of a more protected anchorage which we found in one of the unnamed mangrove estuaries on the mainland. We explored some of the tributaries which felt strangely similar to sailing the lakes of Holland, with narrow brown-water channels lined with greenery either side. Birds and turtles and desolation. Made a Dutchman feel right at home! We anchored in the deepest bit and found that we dragged. So I set up a second anchor attached both to a cleat and an empty beercan over my sleeping face as well as the alarm clock for an hourly check. The 10 kg Bruce copy crept backward in the sludgy mud and 25-knot winds, but slowly- about 50 metres per day. Not good enough, broken sleep and stressful.

Four days had passed and we were still on the mainland. We left, pulling the boat through the shallows- it floats in knee-height- goosewinged the screacher and jib and set off North. Trying to stay in charted waters we approached Barrow and inched inshore, caught a big tuna and eventually found an anchorage in a 50m. wide channel in Whitlock Bay. Protected from three sides windwise, there was coral on either side of the channel so again, all anti-drag devices and alarms were rigged.

A very early start the next day into a forecast 20-30 knot Easterly.We sailed North past Barrow Island. Which way? Should we try to take the Western route past the Monties reefs, and be protected from the windchop, but be exposed to the Indian Ocean swell? The Eastern route was directly upwind. So we decided to go straight through the unknown blank bits on the charts. Hoping that at the expected spring tide at noon, anything that wasn’t actually an island should be well and truly below a boat with 30 cm draft. The satellite photo’s I had downloaded from the Web showed no islands at all. Trying this direct approach there was huge surf visible about a mile up ahead and so we reverted to plan B- upwind to Varanus after all. The Cruising Guide mentions that a direct line from Surf Point on Barrow to the oil tanks on Varanus was the way to go. We short-tacked up through the shallows and halfway there the gooseneck broke. Through a clear tuorqoise shallow lagoon we motored into the very stiff breeze until I repaired the damage in the lee of Varanus. It would be a resort island if it wasn’t for the refinery on it.The wind abated as forecast and we headed North once more over a green-blue sea dotted with offshore oilrigs.

In mellow winds we made the tricky approach into the Monties without major drama (that’s Flag island! - No it is not, it must be Epsilon! What is the depth, what say the Cruising guide, the GPS and the chart?) and cracked open a beer to celebrate on entering the calm lagoon. Finally!

The Montebello’s- short of coconut palms, they are all I expect paradise to look like. There are about 70 islands in convoluted shapes creating many enclosed lagoons connected by deeper, clear blue channels. For our first anchorage we aimed for Champagne Bay and I stared in disbelief at the sheer-sided entance which is about 8m wide. Checked the chart again, but it seemed right , and with a metre to spare on either side we entered the the bay as if through a door to find ourselves in a calm milky-blue millpond about half a mile across. The only deeper water is near the entrance but we chose to dry out between a little island and a mangrove patch. From a hill the view of waterways and lagoons and bays and rocky islands was breathtaking. The islands are covered in spinifex- very unpleasant walking- but at low tide we walked straight across the white sand of the empty lagoon.

Via Vermouth Lagoon ( there are 15 beverage bays and some day I hope to return to drink a namesake bottle in every one of them) and Home Lagoon we sailed slowly in light winds to Willy-Nilly, the big central lagoon of Hermite island, savouring the views. The days passed in a warm haze of gentle sailing, slow books, glasses of wine and lots of time for cooking. Baby sharks and rays played hide-and-seek around the boat and swallows came within touching range. We found a giant cod the size of me and fins living in one of the tiny, boatwidth passages.