Paynesville – hospitality of Mike, Helen and Damien – Bairnsdale - Duck Arm –power lines – swans – sea eagle

Mostly people are being very kind about my blog. I am enjoying writing it very much, and eagerly anticipate looking for comments, and looking at my stats – astounded to find people have looked at it in Saudi Arabia and Indonesia, for example… I reckon this is a mistake and that maybe nobody in Saudi Arabia would really be interested but…who knows?

The only issue is…I am either writing too much or too little. I know some readers (Tim A? Nicole D?) are exasperated that I write SO MUCH – they don’t have time to read so very many words, but they really do want to know where we are. And other people are of the opinion that too much is not enough. Pete, who is very much in the TOO MUCH camp, had a helpful suggestion – why don’t I write a summary at the top, then nobody who doesn’t want to has to wade through a whole lot of verbiage to find out exactly where we are and why. (A bit like the catchwords at the top of a legal decision.) Well I actually do think this is a good idea, and will start forthwith.

We are still in Paynesville, tied up to a wharf in the very main street of town. The supermarket and pub are on the other side of the road, and a fish & chip restaurant is less than ten meters away. Very civilized! I am sitting at the table and people are walking past on the walkway, just a metre or two from me. It is quite startling to hear snatches of conversation so close by, and to see heads going right past the windows.

We have had the most wonderful time with Helen and Mike Smith, and their lovely son Damien, and I now look a whole lot better because I have blow-dried my hair and so I do not look quite so much like the Wild Woman of Borneo.

We went to Bairnsdale with them yesterday, but I can’t give much of a tourist documentary report on this town because we only really went to Bunnings and a few boaty shops so that Pete could get new filters and anti-seaweed weapons. Helen, Damien and I squashed up happily in the back of the car with Oscar, their fluffy and cute little dog, and it was very cosy and convivial. It did seem like a nice town, typical Victorian country style, with wide streets and big two-story pubs on the corners, with wide verandahs.

We stayed in Mike and Helen’s beautiful, luxurious house last night. We had our own upstairs bedroom and bathroom, with a window looking right down the canal. In the evening we sat outside on the terrace and had steak, salad and baked veggies. Oh and chocolate cake, and biscuits and cheese... It was very cold but they have a fabulous big outdoor firepot thing. I think Pete wanted to snatch it and install it in 2XS… Such a nice evening, lots of wine, food, chat.

In the morning we sat on the front terrace overlooking the canal and allowed Mike and Helen to feed us muesli with yoghurt and fruit followed by scrambled eggs and bacon and freshly brewed coffee.

At midday we all went for a gentle little cruise down the lake. There was an overhead power line across the water where we wanted to go. We had already negotiated one of these coming into Paynesville. Pete had rung the coastguard as we were approaching it, and they were very friendly and adorable, but they had NO IDEA of the height. They said there would be signs adjacent to the power lines. The mast on 2XS is 21 metres…the signs were big and yellow and said, in very big visible letters, CONTACT WILL RESULT IN DEATH. Oh good. But how high were the lines?? I got out the binoculars, and read, on one sign, 22.5 metres, and on the other one just a few metres away, 25.2 metres. These measurements were in small and shy; it was only the words about DEATH which were visible from any distance without binoculars… Would we make it?? Some cheery chaps on the shore were highly entertained. “We think you’ll be OK,” they chortled, setting themselves up for a ringside view of our possible INSTANT DEATH. Very very slowly we inched towards the power lines… There was a line strung just below the live wires as a sort of safety guard so probably we were going to be all right… And, as I said, our mast is “only” 21 metres…so yes we were home and hosed. But this one, down at Duck Arm, looked much lower… We could read the word DEATH very clearly from a distance, but once again the measurement was all timid and hidden… Out with the binoculars…18.5 metres…EEK!

We anchored on THIS side of the power lines and pretended (how could we be at all hungry after our Smith Feasting??) to eat lunch. I had made a potato salad and Helen a green one, and Pete was very enthusiastically barbecuing his muttonbirds from Flinders Island. He, Damian and Mike were very much looking forward to their feast…but…the birds were off. “How amazing,” I said, to no-one in particular, “When they look SO delicious.” Mike and Pete very sensibly ignored my sarcasm… They both tried to eat a limb or two but…these birds had died in vain, they were inedible. I threw them overboard as a treat for fish – surely fish wouldn’t mind that the birds were off?? Two swans were very attracted to the splash; they glided over and then looked at me most accusingly because the muttonbirds had sunk like so many stones. And no, a cos lettuce leaf would not be a good substitute!

This is a very pretty part of the world, peaceful and idyllic. Lots of bird life. A white bellied sea eagle flew right over us while we were not-eating our lunch. I was, as always, thrilled to bits but possibly I went on about it just a bit too much…