Raine Island - Nature's Cradle on the Edge of the Coral Sea
Satellite Web Cast From Turtle Heaven and Hell
Journal Entry - 12 - 17 - 02 - Mother Ship - Floreat
Just like the "Orca" in "Jaws", Floreat is a character in her own right. She's 19 metres (60 ft.) long with a 5 metre (15ft) beam and 2 metres (6.5 ft.) of draught. But there's more to a lady than just her measurements. You want to know a little of her past, what she's like to live with, and more importantly, her drinking habits.

Built in 1970 for the Cairns port authority, she's approaching middle age. But Marcus & Gordon Oke bought her in 1990 and gave her a facelift, so she looks like a teenager. I'm not being indelicate though when I say this girl likes a drink. During the course of the trip, she'll burn 7,000 litres of diesel. When her two16 litre V-10 Mercedes engines push us through the water at a cruising speed of 10 1/2 knots, they guzzle a litre a minute. Experienced drinkers know the value of water too, and Floreat is no exception. She holds 3,000 litres of H20 and can make 1500 litres from sea water each day.
That desalination capacity is powered by a 4 cylinder generator, running day and night. Not only does it provide power for fresh water, but also lighting, navigation and communications, two refrigerators, and three freezers packed with food, beer and shark bait. More electricity is sucked up by our battery chargers. Five video cameras, an underwater scooter, sound recording gear and four or five laptops all like sucking up to their electronic nipples, to coin a phrase.
For a remote offshore expedition, we're remarkably well connected to the world. Paul's Iridium satellite phone and Apple computer up-and-download email and pictures daily. Weather radio and fax updates are constant and GPS tells Marcus where we are within metres, updating our position every second. That comes in handy when you're navigating dangerous reefs late at night. The satellites can not only see us swing around the anchorage in the tide, they see us roll in the swell.
All these electromechanics make for a not of noise. When we're steaming along, there's a lot of it, especially in my bunk, which sounds like it's between engines and water pump, but I'm the first to admit that a few decibels of that could actually be my snores. When we're at anchor, there's still a significant generator hum. But you get used to that. Space is the big issue. With fourteen people aboard, you take it for granted that living will be intimate, but you don't count on waking each morning with the trademark of your laptop imprinted on your cheek.

Most storage space is taken up by pro gear. Benches in the cabins support battery chargers. In the saloon, the two tables and fridge top are used for camera and housing maintenance, interrupted by meals. Any other space is hogged by cameras and their various housings, tool kits, video tapes and books. Headlamps, hats, sunglasses and radios swing from any available wall fixture. At mealtime, there's room for maybe seven people to squeeze around the tables and drape their legs over a crate of gear. It's sweltering in the saloon. There's a constant waft of hot air from Sherry's oven. The up side is that it carries the aroma of fresh bread, cake or cookies daily.
Two four bunk cabins accommodate the film crew. There are two bunks up in the wheel house , and some more in a cabin below the forward deck, where we have stowed Paul Sutherland and Ian Bell. These areas too abound in gear. It's a constant struggle to keep all this stuff out of the way, but we manage. The cabins are actually cocoons of luxury, due to the air conditioning. They're a favorite spot for a little cool, quiet time - or to be more precise, a little cool, incessant throbbing hum time. Outside, the deck spaces are covered to protect us from the sun. The rear deck and sides of the boat hold air tanks, crates of dive gear and wetsuits. For those going out into the UV, there's a large sunscreen dispenser taped to a rail. The forward deck has benches and chairs, and has become the spot of choice for appetizers and aperitifs before dinner. We may be rugged filmmakers, but we're not uncivilized. Above the saloon, the top deck is a good place for views and breezes, but watch out. There's a major air conditioning vent up there that pumps out air as hot as Sherry's oven.
The work schedule is episodic, shooting mainly at dusk and dawn, with occasional afternoon expeditions. The rest of the time, we're all in each others pockets. Amazingly, we're getting on better than the average extended family. Occasionally, the generation gap reveals itself via lively debate as to the merits of what's on the stereo. Despite the lack of physical space, solitude is silently acknowledged and granted, in the same way a crowd can step over a drunk on the pavement.
That's the character of the Floreat. She was built to do what she is doing now: reaching far offshore to distant reefs in search of exotic locales and she does it very well supporting a full load of divers and filmmakers in their research and film making efforts. As for the human factor, well, that's another story...
Don't forget you can email us questions at
raineexpedition@netcarrier.com
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Photo Captions:
• Jules and Adam.
• Steak with flurry.
• What sharks.