Article by CDTPO Charli Wright
Stepping aboard Young Endeavour in Broome for Voyage 12/25, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. The Kimberley coastline stretched away in shades of red and gold, the deck hummed with nervous chatter, and the crew’s smiles told me that whatever was ahead, it was going to be unforgettable. That night we clipped into our harnesses for the night climb, scaling the foremast under a sky crowded with stars. From the top, I could see baby sharks circling in the light from the hull—my first glimpse of the incredible marine life that would follow us along Western Australia’s coast.
Day two started early with sunrise on deck, the sea glowing pink and orange as we played icebreaker games to shake off the chill. Breakfast from Kingy, our wonderful chef, was amazing. Later, we sailed into Broome’s main wharf for a “splash and dash” refueling and clearing rubbish—before starting our first proper night watches. Under the dim bridge lights, I learned how to take the helm, plot a position on a chart, and work the lines to set and furl sails. My very first watch was 8 pm to midnight, which meant I was lucky enough to watch the sun melt into the horizon over the Kimberley coast from the bridge, hands wrapped around a steaming cup of Milo.
By day three, we were truly at sea. Some youthies fell victim to “Land Demon Purging” (better known as seasickness), but spirits stayed high. We got our first taste of Rope Races with the legendary Engineer Sparkles and set the forestaysail and main staysail. Four practice tacks later, we were starting to understand the teamwork it takes to move a tall ship. That night, Snookelberry gave us a crash course in navigation: the sacred 2B pencil (if you use another he might cry), the compass rose, and how to plot latitude and longitude on a chart.
The fourth day greeted us with rougher seas and winds hitting 25 knots. After breakfast, we endured happy hour—the daily ship clean—before heading straight into more tacking practice. Salt spray soaked us as whales and dolphins surfaced nearby, turning the hard work into something magical. Rope races that afternoon saw Red Watch—Big Sauce—dominate with eight out of ten points. Later, I climbed aloft to release the gaskets on the square sails, looking down to see a baby whale trailing us before gliding to within two meters of the hull.
Day five brought us to Depuch Island, a rusty-red rock rising from the turquoise water. We went ashore in small groups, walking where few people have ever been. The island’s ancient Indigenous history was etched into the rock in hundreds of lithographs, each one telling a story. We ate wraps on the beach while sharks played in the shallows and spotted our first turtle of the trip. In true Karson fashion, she sniffed a calcified starfish—and immediately regretted it.
We started day six with short anchor watches overnight and a small navigation challenge left by the Navigator. Once we’d weighed anchor and left Depuch, we learned sail theory with Leups and Snookelberry, followed by rope races that ended in a tie. The afternoon brought a spectacle—eight whales breaching and splashing around us, turtles drifting by, and, to Captain Leups’ dismay, me accidentally catching a sea snake on the fishing rod.
Day seven opened with more whales and dolphins before we moved into demo tacks, learning every role involved in the maneuver. After a lunch of steak and curry, we faced the Captain’s Challenge, proving our skills before we could take over for Command Day. That night, it was back to our four-hour watches.
On day eight, we tackled the much-loved BEAREX challenge—a list of tasks to complete during a single watch, testing our teamwork and communication. After a quick reflection, we turned the deck into a playground with a giant skipping rope before Sail Master Sarah piped “Hands to bathing stations.” The crew set up a rope swing, and we launched ourselves into the water—some of us gracefully, others not so much. We spent the afternoon swimming, jumping from the bowsprit, and lounging on the lily pad. Laughter echoed across the water, and to top it off, an eagle ray glided past as if waving. That night, we held Command Day elections.
Day nine began with a game of Ubuntu, which Leups insists is the greatest game ever invented. After a “snappy” happy hour, the new Command Team shadowed the people whose jobs they’d be taking over in a session called Opposites, gathering advice before the handover ceremony.
By day ten, we were under full youth crew command, tacking through the night and waking to yet another tack at dawn. After breakfast, we played Bacawk (exactly what it sounds like) before it descended into a moo-off—thank you, Mark—for reasons that made perfect sense at the time.
When we finally sailed into Exmouth, I realised this voyage had been so much more than a trip down the coast. It had been early mornings and midnight watches, laughter and hard work, salt in my hair and bruises on my shins. It had been sunsets over the Kimberley, whales alongside the hull, and the creak of sails in the wind. Most of all, it had been about trust—trusting myself, trusting my crewmates, and knowing that, together, we could meet whatever the sea threw our way.