SMOOTH SAILING

The seats of the old Toyota Troopy feel like sharp rocks as l exit M1 towards Nambucca Heads, the birthplace of my mate Heath Joske. I’m here to visit the Joske family and as I pull over by the Nambucca River, I can’t help but wonder what this place looked like when the aboriginal people first walked it. Between the pristine waters and beaches, it’s no wonder Heath’s grandfather Hedley moved the entire family up here from Melbourne after accidentally stumbling on the place in the late 50s. The sleepy fishing village and the river stole his heart. Heath’s dad Paul was 11 years old when this place became his new garden of Eden, and he spent his time skimming stones and exploring the mighty Nambucca River. Now, over 62 years later, Paul is launching his handmade 30-foot catamaran into the same beloved river.

I give Heath a call and he’s about 2 days into the 3-day trek across the hot Nullarbor Plain with his wife Elisa and their two kids. He’s driving from his home in Streaky Bay, nestled on the Eyre Peninsula, about smack bang in the middle of Australia. I can hear in his tired voice that he’s had enough of the endless white lines of the road as he stares over red knuckles, deep in a zombie mind melt, watching out for any brumby, kangaroo, or goat that could run blindly into the car’s high beams. But on this trip, there’s no stopping Heath. He’d carry his family on his back to be there if he had to. I could feel his belly emotions swirling down the phone and knew he’ll keep burning the midnight oil to be beside his dad for such a cathartic moment.    

I make my way to the Joske home for one of Heath's mum Jenny’s home-cooked feasts, featuring the best from her garden. Heath’s older brother Sage and sister Violet are down for the occasion, as well as Heath’s friends, Tim and Anna. After dinner, Paul and I digest life on the couch, and what inspired him 41 years ago to buy a set of plans and build a 30-foot catamaran. Paul tells me not to ask him why, but as far back as he can remember all he wanted to be was a boat builder. His family spent their holidays in Apollo Bay, a rugged fishing town populated by lots of commercial fishermen in their beautiful Couta boats. As he got older, he started to learn some wood working skills from his father Hedley, who was a builder. The brains to hands skill came from there. Woodworking felt so natural to him, and although he never did get into the boat building trade, he always knew one day he’d build his own boat. He also has an interest in Polynesian culture, loved Hawaii, and one of his great inspirations was surfer and sailor Joey Cabell from Hawaii. So on one fine day in early 1983, that inner calling and deep passion for his own boat got the better of him, and he picked up the landline. About a week later the plans for his 30-foot James Wharram catamaran were sitting in his letter box.

For Paul, the late 70s were magical, free, and easy. He’d married the finest woman in the world, and lived on 5 acres of paradise right behind the surf. He spent his time shaping a few surfboards a week and living the dream. But soon, Paul found it hard to give any time for the boat, with his son Sage and his daughter Violet stealing his heart and focus. When Heath was born, he knew the boat needed to be shelved. For the next three decades, two lonely hulls sat in the back of his factory as Paul focused all his time on the family, and building surfboards to feed them.

In the years that followed, Paul bought a van for his surf tribe, keeping all the gear in the back for family surfs before school. On the weekends, they would all chase waves along the coast, camping and sleeping in the van. The kids all competed in the local competitions and surfed shortboards, Mals. Paul and a 7-year-old Heath even won a few tandem events in the mid-90s. All the kids were incredible surfers and blessed to have parents who encouraged the saltwater lifestyle.

Now, fast forward 20 years, and all those kids are running around with kids of their own. So for Paul, it was time to revisit the boat shed, dust off the old tools, and kick start the boat dream once again. Having just hit his mid-60s, he knew it was now or never.

Not long after Paul’s father passed away, he had found a couple of really old photos in a treasure chest of a young Hedley sailing a small boat in Borneo. He was stationed there for a year in 1945 during World War 2, and while he waited to be sent back home, he built himself a little sailing boat to relax from the hardness of war. On the back of the photo was the name of the boat — Young Woodleigh — and Paul knew he’d found his boat's name. In memory of his father, he painted Young Woodleigh 2 on the bow.

On build day, we get the two 30-foot hulls on the boat ramp while Paul directs Heath and about 20 of Paul’s closest salty surf mates on the James Wharram assembly. With all of them having 20 little things going on at every corner of the boat, it reminds me of a very large Lego set with so many intricate parts needing to come together for the boat to get off the ramp. But Heath’s friends Tim and Anna are priceless. With two Wharram Cats of their own and having been sailing around the Great Australian Bight for years, their extensive set up experience is a huge blessing.  

There’s not a dry eye on the boat ramp as Paul blesses the boat in a traditional Polynesian style by pouring coconut milk over the bow. He thanks all his family and friends for helping him get Young Woodley 2 into the sea, and his eyes meet Heath's. They’re both smiling but with tears rolling down their cheeks. Heath holds his father’s stare and I can see his mind flick through the beautiful memories he has with him and how proud he is of him. Heath sees how much he carries his dad’s soul in his own life, through his creativity and his relationship with the sea. Their father and son bond is about as pure as it gets. And one Paul, Heath, or any of the Joskes or their children will never forget as they sail around on Young Woodleigh 2.