Gabo Islands– dolphins – Eden

Today we left at a very respectable 8.00am. Such a shock to the system! Not only was it light, but…it was NOT cold! We exclaimed in delight and put on just a normal amount of clothing, no underlayers of thermals. When I told Pete it wasn’t cold – I was the first to poke my nose out the door at daylight – he said, “Yes I know. I spent a lot of time on deck at 3.00am. One of the ropes was pulled up so very tight I was worried it was going to lift the boat out of the water, or that it would break and spring back and do damage.” I asked if he had been able to do anything about it – it is impossible to undo or unhook a rope which is so tightly strung – and he said, “No. But I spent a lot of time looking at it.” We decided that this intense scrutiny had prevented any disasters from befalling the boat, or the rope.

We left our beautiful solid little jetty and dear little bay, with its attendant pelicans and cormorants, and set off around the corner, into a strong head wind and big swell. As we were rounding the point with the lighthouse, Pete said, “LOOK, right there! And no don’t rush up on deck; it is wet and slippery and windy!” because – oh wow – there was a large pod of dolphins, twenty at least, right next to the boat on both sides, leaping right out of the water. They didn’t stay with us for very long but they made me very happy.

And yes our attendant albatross was waiting for us. With its friend. (We are not sure of the plural of albatross so have agreed to say, “There is an albatross. And oh look, another one!”)

We had a great trip up the coast – we are now in New South Wales, although our radio thinks we are still in Gippsland ABC local radio territory and that we still want to be very indignant about the taxi which was stolen and then burnt in the Sale Primary School playground. (I am not being kind here…we heard about the stolen taxi when we were at Mike and Helen’s, and were very amused that it was such a long-running story. This morning we heard an interview with the taxi owner; he was in tears, and has been unable to sleep. There is, ofcourse, more to the story – it was a special Tarago, fitted out for wheelchair access, and the poor man is distraught – what is going to happen to his clients?? It will take him two months to replace it. But it does seem like a funny story to be so very central to all of the news for so many days; a bit like the red awnings in Hobart, such a source of heated debate for months now, in the Mercury…)

There was a head wind, and a very big swell, so we didn’t progress very fast. We had plenty of time to look at the rugged, inhospitable coastline. Many shipwrecks marked on the chart… As we were going past some particularly threatening cliffs, the boat suddenly lost steering, and the autopilot went off. Not a good moment… Pete, with a slightly wild look, went down into the engine hatches with a trusty wrench… the shaft had come off the rudder (or something like that…) He fixed it in minutes; thank God he is so handy, and we were able to proceed up the coast with equanimity restored.

Pete wanted to go in to Bittangabi Creek for lunch; he thought I would like it. So we aimed towards the ragged rocks on surging waves and went…straight through between the cliffs into a tranquil little bay, with gently lapping water and a dear little beach. Who would ever know it was there?? It was visible on Pete’s wonderful computerised chart, and we were able to steer into it with great certainly. I made toasted sandwiches with hardboiled eggs, cheese and ham (v yummy) and we sat outside very happily, watching a sea eagle glide past. (And no I don’t believe it is the same sea eagle following us from place to place…) Leaving was equally – um –adventurous. We just headed straight into the pounding waves, and out back into the wild sea. As we went past the cliffs, which were being sprayed most violently with plumes of water, I noticed some strange, bent trees on the clifftop. Moving trees!! A little posse of backpackers…not Birnam Wood come to Dunsinane… We watched with horrified fascination as they all walked slowly and carefully to the very edge of the (slippery! wet!!) cliffs, all wearing their heavy backpacks… We thought they were mad; they were probably looking at us, surging out to sea, and saying “Look at those mad buggers on the catamaran!”

Eden was not much further. We went past a most wonderful lighthouse, on Green Cape. Lighthouses in Australia all have such a lovely little clusters of houses around them; bleak and forbidding, but beautiful, solid, dignified. We are anchored in Quarantine Bay; tomorrow we will go into Eden and get fuel (Pete), buy postcards (me) and go to the maritime museum (both of us.) This afternoon we are having a rare few hours of leisure…cups of tea, emails, books. Life is good!

Lakes Entrance 4.45am – albatross – seals – whales – pelicans – Gabo Island 5pm – cows – monument
We left our comfortable free berth in Lakes Entrance in the dark cold early morning, heading for – the bar. With some trepidation… the water was very smooth and glassy (Jan-Water) and we are aware that the sea tends to be calmer at this time of day. But still…bars are…scary! Just as we were heading towards the danger area, along came – an Angel Boat! A tough little fishing boat chugged past, obviously ready to set off across the bar – we followed very close behind. How fortuitous was that!
It was cold and dark; Pete and I took turns having a rest on the couch until the sun came up and things warmed up just a bit. I am very sad to relate that while I took my couch time, I finished the Stephen Fry Chronicles, in my left ear… I feel as if I have lost a friend - maybe I will start again at the beginning…
It was a very long day. We had a bit of pressure because we had to get to Gabo Island by daylight, and then we had to try to find a sheltered place to spend the night. Unknown territory! We had talked to the young blokes next to us at Lakes Entrance, and they said they had spent a night there. (They, incidentally, were on the most enormous shiny new catamaran, Liquid Desire, which they had built and were taking up to charter in the Pacific islands, so we might meet up with them. Somewhere. Very nice handsome young blokes; they and their beautiful boat will be very popular!)
It was all quite uneventful; the sea was calm, no wind, just a lot of distance to cover. I was delighted to find our two albatross following us for most of the day. “Oh look, Pete, it’s the same ones we saw coming into the Lakes Entrance bar the other day!” A look of joy crossed Pete’s face. “Oh! How romantic!’ he chortled! A few minutes later, he pointed at a small diving bird and said, “See that bird there? The white one, with black on its wing tips! I saw that exact same bird at Wilson’s Promontory! It has followed us!” He refused to believe these were our very own albatross couple. Pete’s cynicism aside, these birds brought me great joy all day. They were so graceful, skimming the surface of the water, flying all around the boat and then off into the distance.
The stretch of Victoria we cruised past today was amazing. Not a town or house or road in sight. And some very forbidding bits of coastline. Many shipwrecks showed up on our chart. We spent quite a happy time frightening each other with what ifs… what if both motors conked out and there was no wind to fill the sails… we would inexorably be swept onto that unforgiving coast… (Actually I didn’t come up with these scenarios; they were almost entirely Pete’s horrid fantasies…)
Daylight is short at this time of year so we were very glad when Gabo Island finally was within reach. It did not look promising – bleak and windswept. With lots of shipwrecks marked on the chart… We were heading for a little bay, and we were very much aware that it would be hard to drop and anchor because the bottom was rocky, not sandy. If the bay wasn’t suitable, we would have to press on for Eden…five more hours… So we crept towards this little bay with not much hope and much trepidation… Just as we were approaching, up came a big black shape – I was about to say, “Oh no! Rocks! AAGGHH!” or something equally unhelpful when…up came another slightly smaller big black shape, right next to the boat! A mother whale and her teenage calf! They went past us slowly and calmly and flipped their big tails out at us as they made their leisurely way along Bass Strait. Such a good omen!
We went around the corner and – oh joy indeed – there was a dear little jetty, as solid as could be. Pete said, “Quick! Read the sign on the hill! And get our the ropes! And the fenders!” I did all of these things simultaneously and found that the sign said, “Gabo Island Lighthouse Reserve. Visitors welcome. Please report to the caretaker on arrival.” Usually these signs say, basically, PISS OFF. There was another sign on the jetty, so once we were tied up I hopped off to look, a bit anxiously. Would it say PISS OFF?? No, it said, very helpfully, “Please do not tie up to this,” this being a bit of rusty black pipe. Well, no… A small herd of very fat, contented looking cattle were our welcoming committee. Just behind them, picturesquely arrayed on the rocks, was a small flock of pelicans, with some cormorants drying their wings alongside. And as the sun finally set – we were only just in time to tie up in daylight – a group of seals came and splashed around in the bay, popping their heads up to examine the boat.
It was too dark to walk across to the lighthouse but we went a kilometer or so up the track, with one of our cows accompanying us part of the way, then waiting for us to return. We found a monument - to a whole boatful of people, shipwrecked nearby in the early 1800s…
So we came back to 2XS, tied with many ropes and steadied with many fenders to the jetty, and cooked fish and potatoes on the barbecue. We had this with a very nice salad, left over from our meal with the Smiths at Paynesville. And I don’t think it wil be very long before we are in bed snoring soundly, very relieved to be so sheltered and safe, and to have had such an Attenborough Day!

Lakes Entrance 4.45am – albatross – seals – whales – pelicans – Gabo Island 5pm – cows – monument
We left our comfortable free berth in Lakes Entrance in the dark cold early morning, heading for – the bar. With some trepidation… the water was very smooth and glassy (Jan-Water) and we are aware that the sea tends to be calmer at this time of day. But still…bars are…scary! Just as we were heading towards the danger area, along came – an Angel Boat! A tough little fishing boat chugged past, obviously ready to set off across the bar – we followed very close behind. How fortuitous was that!
It was cold and dark; Pete and I took turns having a rest on the couch until the sun came up and things warmed up just a bit. I am very sad to relate that while I took my couch time, I finished the Stephen Fry Chronicles, in my left ear… I feel as if I have lost a friend - maybe I will start again at the beginning…
It was a very long day. We had a bit of pressure because we had to get to Gabo Island by daylight, and then we had to try to find a sheltered place to spend the night. Unknown territory! We had talked to the young blokes next to us at Lakes Entrance, and they said they had spent a night there. (They, incidentally, were on the most enormous shiny new catamaran, Liquid Desire, which they had built and were taking up to charter in the Pacific islands, so we might meet up with them. Somewhere. Very nice handsome young blokes; they and their beautiful boat will be very popular!)
It was all quite uneventful; the sea was calm, no wind, just a lot of distance to cover. I was delighted to find our two albatross following us for most of the day. “Oh look, Pete, it’s the same ones we saw coming into the Lakes Entrance bar the other day!” A look of joy crossed Pete’s face. “Oh! How romantic!’ he chortled! A few minutes later, he pointed at a small diving bird and said, “See that bird there? The white one, with black on its wing tips! I saw that exact same bird at Wilson’s Promontory! It has followed us!” He refused to believe these were our very own albatross couple. Pete’s cynicism aside, these birds brought me great joy all day. They were so graceful, skimming the surface of the water, flying all around the boat and then off into the distance.
The stretch of Victoria we cruised past today was amazing. Not a town or house or road in sight. And some very forbidding bits of coastline. Many shipwrecks showed up on our chart. We spent quite a happy time frightening each other with what ifs… what if both motors conked out and there was no wind to fill the sails… we would inexorably be swept onto that unforgiving coast… (Actually I didn’t come up with these scenarios; they were almost entirely Pete’s horrid fantasies…)
Daylight is short at this time of year so we were very glad when Gabo Island finally was within reach. It did not look promising – bleak and windswept. With lots of shipwrecks marked on the chart… We were heading for a little bay, and we were very much aware that it would be hard to drop and anchor because the bottom was rocky, not sandy. If the bay wasn’t suitable, we would have to press on for Eden…five more hours… So we crept towards this little bay with not much hope and much trepidation… Just as we were approaching, up came a big black shape – I was about to say, “Oh no! Rocks! AAGGHH!” or something equally unhelpful when…up came another slightly smaller big black shape, right next to the boat! A mother whale and her teenage calf! They went past us slowly and calmly and flipped their big tails out at us as they made their leisurely way along Bass Strait. Such a good omen!
We went around the corner and – oh joy indeed – there was a dear little jetty, as solid as could be. Pete said, “Quick! Read the sign on the hill! And get our the ropes! And the fenders!” I did all of these things simultaneously and found that the sign said, “Gabo Island Lighthouse Reserve. Visitors welcome. Please report to the caretaker on arrival.” Usually these signs say, basically, PISS OFF. There was another sign on the jetty, so once we were tied up I hopped off to look, a bit anxiously. Would it say PISS OFF?? No, it said, very helpfully, “Please do not tie up to this,” this being a bit of rusty black pipe. Well, no… A small herd of very fat, contented looking cattle were our welcoming committee. Just behind them, picturesquely arrayed on the rocks, was a small flock of pelicans, with some cormorants drying their wings alongside. And as the sun finally set – we were only just in time to tie up in daylight – a group of seals came and splashed around in the bay, popping their heads up to examine the boat.
It was too dark to walk across to the lighthouse but we went a kilometer or so up the track, with one of our cows accompanying us part of the way, then waiting for us to return. We found a monument - to a whole boatful of people, shipwrecked nearby in the early 1800s…
So we came back to 2XS, tied with many ropes and steadied with many fenders to the jetty, and cooked fish and potatoes on the barbecue. We had this with a very nice salad, left over from our meal with the Smiths at Paynesville. And I don’t think it wil be very long before we are in bed snoring soundly, very relieved to be so sheltered and safe, and to have had such an Attenborough Day!

Paynesville – bike bide – Raymond Island – no koalas – dolphins in the sunset – Lakes Entrance - pub – Lindsay-on-skype
We got up this morning after almost twelve hours sleep…SO tiring, being on holiday… I went up on deck and watched pelicans gliding right past my head, so majestic and dignified. We were so cold we were not in the least attracted to yoghurt and cereal…over to the shop (we were living in the main street, right opposite the supermarket!) for eggs, bacon, hash browns – very warming!
Well mostly we had a Paynesville day… I have just found out that Paynesville is considered to be, in the Gippsland Lakes area, as God’s Waiting Room…It is a lovely, gentle place. And most of the people are a lot older, even, than Pete and me. I went to the pharmacy this morning, and found it to be absolutely thriving. A real money-spinner, people lining up…for heart medication, arthritis creams etc etc… The pharmacist was a very nice young bloke. He had to ask me to spell my name – H-A-R-M-S-E-N before he was allowed to sell me some over-the counter pain pills (just on case I might brew the pills up in a special boat/lab and turn them into crystal meth…) He found H-A-R-M-S-E-N very difficult but I said, “It is easier to spell than your name!” (I had seen it at the counter…something like Thanatalopololous…) He was delighted, and said, “Yes, indeed. But I must tell you, I think Marguerite is the MOST beautiful name!” So…we were firm friends. I was very impressed because my Dolased arrived down a spiral chute… He said, “Yes, it is an automated system…no, actually, we have little men in the ceiling who scurry around and find whatever we need!” I understood – “Just like Harry Potter!”
I then went to the newsagent and bought postcards; behind the counter, on a fluffy rug in front of a cosy heater, were two small dogs, a pug and a – something wiry and dozy. I said, “I saw that little dog walking along the boardwalk yesterday!” “Yes,” the newsagent proudly. “That is Our Pug!”
I also made friends with some ancient people sitting on a bench right outside the boat eating fish and chips…maybe Pete and I should say in Paynesville forever!
In the morning we went for a bike ride, around the waterfront and backblocks of Beautiful Paynesville. Apart from the scenic highlights, we went to:
a hardware store (Pete’s spiritual home) and
a workshop which specialises in making - ahem – holding tanks….(holding tanks are for poo, to be released into open ocean water, in case you need to know.) Product placement #? – if you ever need a holding tank, do go to Paynesville; the young bloke there was so helpful and so competent…but it would have taken days to do it so we just drained (??) him of all info at his disposal and went on our way.
In the hardware store we met a cheery chap who is traveling around on his yacht, from Tasmania, “keeping Australia on the left.” Colin Cluff/Clough – I am sure we will run into him again…
After lunch we caught the ferry over to Raymond Island. This is a lovely ferry trip of about five minutes. Free for bikes and pedestrians. Raymond Island is Home To Koalas. Or so we are told… Unfortunately the only koalas we saw were ones on a cut-out board where you can stick your head through and get your photo taken, looking foolish, with koala ears. Pete and I, so dignified did not do this. What we did was ride round this very beautiful island, through the silent, neat, pretty streets and into the magical forest, full of giant banksias and some sort of wonderful eucalypts – redgum? Not sure. I said, “Pete! Trees! This is your forte, surely! What are they??” I know he studied TREES, at uni. “Oh gawd,” he said, pedaling along. “They are….trees…eucalypts.” Whatever; they were magnificent, big and high-branching with beautiful bark and thick with leaves. Perfect, surely, for koalas. Our friend Andrew, in Port Macquarie, says you can always tell where there is a koala, because there will be a crowd of people stannding under the tree, looking upward. But…there were houses, but no visible people, on Raymond Island…We did see a big grey kangaroo. “Wallaby”; said Pete, firmly. “With a wallaby in its pouch!” I disagree…it was MUCH too big to be a wallaby!
We rode through forest and down dirt roads, and came to a beautiful (Anglican Church) place, St Barnabas at a’Beckett, which is “a refuge for spiritual and environmental solace” or words to that effect. Another product placement…if you are in need of spiritual or environmental retreat-ing, this would be a most lovely place to come. I am sure if you stayed there long enough you would see…a koala!!!
We got back to 2XS and reluctantly tore ourselves away from peaceful Paynesville. Off to Lakes Entrance! This was a glorious trip up the lakes. Yes I am going to make you totally green with envy…just at sunset, Pete (Attenborough) Headlam spied a pod of dolphins, leaping most energetically from the calm, silky water. They stayed with us as the boat went over them, but showed no interest in playing, they were obviously feeding, hunting some hapless school of smaller fish. As we cruised past we saw them leaping and diving in the sunset-reflecting water…
The water was so still in the lakes, which was a good thing, because…it got dark and we had to negotiate many red and green (and sometimes, confusingly, yellow or blue,) lights to avoid running aground. This is what our friend Tim calls Jan-Water, because his wife only really likes being on their boat when the water is calm and smooth. She would have loved this water…like a mirror!
It was a teensy bit stressful cruising up to Lakes Entrance, trying to work out WHICH red and green lights we were supposed to be following… I stood up the front with binoculars…and then with a torch… You will, I am sure, be glad to know that we negotiated our way, with scarcely any running into very shallow water, all the way to a lovely FREE marina berth in the middle of Lakes Entrance.
This seems to be a prosperous little town. We are next to an enormous catamaran, newly built, called…Liquid Desire. “Let’s go and see what is to be seen!” said Pete, happily, when we finally tied up. What was to be seen was…a pub, ofcourse, just across the road. One of those very big Victorian pubs, with machines, dining room, bar, hardly a soul to be seen but…lovely staff, cheery service, fish & chips! But…no newspapers, no reading material… I made a strategic error and just hopped over there with nothing my pockets except a $20 or so. Pete had his phone and many phone calls to make and receive… From now on I will ALWAYS take either my phone or my book; I have, as I have said before, no inner resources. I talked to our waitress, who was lovely, and who, she said, was reading a true-crime book about Peter Falconio. “I think the girlfriend did it!” she said, darkly. We were very happily engrossed in our conversation when we looked up and found customers and other staff waving their fingers at her…oh dear and oh no….
Now we are back on the boat with Big Bertha blazing away proudly. Tomorrow I think we are leaving every early again, 4am or so, to cross the bar and go…north! To maybe Eden, maybe Gabo Island.
At this very moment Pete talking, on Skype, to Lindsay, his lovely Scottish builder/friend. So…I am a bit distracted…More tomorrow, if we re within Internet Reach!

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…

Friday

Well we left, once again, very very early…between 4 and 5am… This early rising is anathema to a Headlam, and I must say not all that pleasing to this particular Harmsen. It was very cold and dark, with bright twinkly stars above us. I sat outside with Pete for hours, with Stephen Fry in my left ear, and then Pete said, “Why don’t you go inside?” Well the reason I never go inside is…I feel ill in the cabin when we are on the move… But I was SO cold I took a chance and went and lay on the couch, with Stephen still uttering soothing stories about Cambridge Days in my left ear, and, I am SO happy to relate that… I just lay there, a bit corpse-like but happy enough, and didn’t have to rush back out into the cold and dark! A big breakthrough!

Not long after daylight, Pete came inside too. He said, “It’s time to get out the heavy artillery!” and he went and lugged Big Bertha up the stairs – Big Bertha is the bigger of our two gas heaters. For the next three hours we, rather guiltily, huddled inside the super-warm cabin, and watched the seascape on split screen – radar and chart. I looked at email and did a blogthing.

Re-invigorated by warmth and rest, we rugged up again and went back out to be proper Sailors On Watch. It was still bitterly cold.

(I must tell you that I am not looking all that lovely on this trip. And yes I am just a bit vain; this does not make me happy. When I look in the mirror I see someone with wild, unkempt hair under a khaki-coloured beanie, pink cheeks, despite copious amounts of beautiful skin care products (thank you Mum!!), staring eyes devoid of mascara, and wearing many many layers of clothing – thermals, trackpants, merino top, woolly jumper, pufferjacket, Stormy Seas jacket, gloves, sunglasses. Thank goodness my sunglasses are BIG and hide a lot of the Bad Look. Pete, on the other hand, still looks just like Pete, only with a few more layers of clothing…)

It took us from very early morning till well after 5pm to get to our anchorage in the Gippsland Lakes area. I would have thought I had nothing at all to tell you other than how horrid I am looking, but… in the last few hours of our sailing supermarathon, we turned, once again, into David and Davina Attenborough! Birds…oh the birds were wonderful! Even better than further south…petrels and small unidentified diving birds, and even a pair of beautiful albatross which came and bobbed about on the water just near us, not far from the Lakes Entrance bar. (No not sure exactly which sort of albatross…I hunted through my Bird Book but am still unsure…)

And while I was sitting, lightly frozen, at the wheel, Pete called to me in delight – dolphins!! I left the wheel (on autopilot, NOT to its own devices!!) and went to the front of the boat – 3, 4, no 5 lovely big dolphins, racing us up the coast! We were going at our very fastest by then, with two engines and two sails – about 14 knots, and they dived and splashed and whisked about ahead of the boat for at least half an hour. I got quite wet but why would I care – have I ever been splashed by dolphins before?? They disappeared and went off for a bit of a rest; maybe some dolphin-esque light refreshments? A few minutes later they were back – with friends!! And – now I am going to be totally poetic – 2XS had managed to acquire a double rainbow on the starboard side of the boat. These lovely dolphins were diving in and out of rainbows!!

Finally we were approaching Lakes Entrance…there is a bar… I think everyone know a BAR is scary… Pete was very well prepared (he is a Hero of the Sea.) Some of the info we read told us how many people had died being foolish or unlucky crossing this bar…oh dear and oh no…. We put on our safety devices and lined up our leads (a big downwards triangle and a big perpendicular mark, outlined in fluorescent blue,) went off privately and separately to do nervous last-minute wees, then got ready to…cross the bar. At this precise moment…SEALS! Dear little brown seals, leaping out of the water! Pete was not quite as entranced as I was….

Going over a bar, in case you don’t know, is a bit like white-water rafting (one of my least favourite Outdoor Pursuits.) You point the boat in the right direction and…whoo and whee…over you go. We were very happy to be up and over with the minimum of drama and disgrace; I think Pete had prepared VERY well for this moment.

Next thing – we were into the Gippsland Lakes area. How lovely, how calm, how civilised. We cruised in for another two hours, hoping to get to Paynesville. We are nearly there, moored off Raymont Island (I think…by the time we anchored I was peeling potatoes…) So beautiful, so sheltered. One minute we were cruising with albatross and seals, the next we were sailing past roads, houses, pelicans, swans, cormorants, blah blah blah birds….

Saturday we are meeting up with Pete’s lovely friends Helen and Michael, who have a holiday house in Paynesville – hence this particular destination….

Wednesday 4.00

We have just anchored in a little cove on Deal Island, with clear green water and a little beach. But…no internet or phone reception. A bit much to expect, I suppose; this is a very isolated place!

It is also, like all of these islands between Tasmania and the mainland, extremely beautiful, with towering orange cliffs, like the ramparts of an ancient and well-fortified castle. Right on top of the island, way up high, is a very impressive lighthouse. Just above the little cove where we are moored there are a few neat little white houses; obviously lighthouse keeper’s quarters. Not sure how many people live here now, but we know there is at least one: Spud. Many people we met on Flinders said, “Say g’day to Spud for us when you get to Deal Island!”

But…we are not pootling into the little beach in the tender to offer greetings and light refreshments to Spud… I am typing, and Pete is, once again, down in the engine hatch. He spent quite a long time in both hatches today, clearing out seaweed which was blocking the engines, and pumping horrid oily water out of the bilges. One of the engines has been making a less-than-auspicious sound in the last few miles so…poor old Pete is down there with a torch and a screwdriver instead of enjoying an anchoring beer.

I am not completely useless; every now and then I pass him something, and I was instrumental in hauling the buckets of yucky water out of the hatches and emptying them into the forgiving sea. I also spent about thirty seconds in the forward hatch hunting for the bilge pump…Yes I found it and yes I scampered back up and out of there as quickly as I could; I don’t know how Pete stands it in the aft hatches, which are full of engines, noise, and, well, bilge…

It is very cold. I have just had a shower and made a cup of tea in the hopes of warming up a bit. So I am relatively warm and comfy and doing something I enjoy while poor Pete is down a cold metal hatch, knocking bits of skin off his hands and making them bleed, and occasionally uttering a mournful sigh. He is very patient and uncomplaining about all of this; I am sure I would be sobbing and whingeing…

We left a bit after 5.30am; I think I wrote this already… It was just beautiful, cruising along between Flinders and Cape Barren, then out, finally, across our first leg of Bass Strait to Deal Island. There are lots of islands, most of them looking like small craggy castles rising from the sparkling sea. Except for Prime Seal Island, which was not craggy; it was green and lush and pretty, and was inhabited, not by seals, but by a small flock of very contented looking sheep.
Re the lighthouse… When we were on Flinders, somebody told us about one of the island lighthouses; it might have been this one. It was built in the early 1800s, strong and tall, on the very highest part of the island. The engineers and builders must have been so pleased with themselves… but what they didn’t realise was that the clouds sit low on the island a lot of the time so the lighthouse was virtually useless and they had to build a second, lesser one on a lower bit of ground. Too sad! (So sorry I didn’t absorb all of the necessary information about which lighthouse this was…I was probably in the back of Steve’s car looking at blue native hens and geese and going gollygosh in my head…)

Thursday lunchtime

Still no internet connection so I can’t make the BIG announcement that we have crossed Bass Strait and that we are at Wilson’s Promontory!! We left Deal Island in the pitch black darkness, having got up at 4.30am…oh deary me… We were hoping to get to Victoria in daylight, and to our astonishment found ourselves here before 1.00. It’s not that far; at one stage we could see both Deal Island behind us and Wilson’s Prom ahead. The sad thing about leaving Deal island so early was that we cruised past the island with the big seal colony before the seals were out and about, or even visible at all…

We had only one unpleasant incident – another lot of seaweed in the starboard engine, causing it to overheat. Once again Pete had to rock and roll around down the hatch with wrenches and screwdrivers. I very helpfully sat at the wheel, watching birds, listening to Stephen Fry, and occasionally running inside to find Pete another weapon.

Never mind! We are in Refuge Cove, totally sheltered from wind and weather in every direction, and it is absolutely beautiful, if very cold. As we cruised into our dear little bay, we were greeted by…a sea eagle, close by, fishing, with two small gulls nervously following, hoping, no doubt for leavings from the Royal Table. There are two lovely little beaches in this bay, and the area is covered with thick green bush. The rocks are beautiful, tinged with orange, reminiscent of the Furneaux islands, so it doesn’t feel as if we have come all that far. But…we have crossed Bass Strait!

4.00

It was drizzling and still cold but we decided not to have an afternoon nap, tempting though this was – we had been up, may I remind you, since 4.30 am – and we took the tender in to the beach for a bit of exploration. There were two campsites one for boat campers, one for hikers - not sure why this very clear distinction. The boat campers’ site was great. People had gone to a lot of trouble engraving the names of their boats, and sometimes their own names and achievements, eg Bill and Ted kayaked all the way from Woop-Wooperella – on planks, which were displayed between big posts which must have been put there by National Parks and Wildlife rangers. Pete thought I should go back to the beach and leave him on the boat with a comforting beer and a book; I could spend a useful hour or two whittling something witty and amusing to commemorate the brief visit of 2XS. I declined this opportunity for creativity, you maybe be surprised to hear.

There were a few walks on offer, to other tempting sounding coves and a look-out. We did walk just a few kilometres up one of the tracks, and got to a beautiful view of our little bay, with 2XS peacefully at anchor, surrounded by dense bush, tweeting birds, jade green water. After some consideration of the very up and down track still ahead of us, we decided that we had indeed reached THE look-out, and went back to the boat for cups of tea and/or beer.

Usually we get in and out of the tender with a modicum of dignity. Sometimes we take off our shoes and socks and wade; easier to dry our feet than our shoes and socks. This time Pete had a complicated plan which involved me hopping onto a rock then into the tender as the waves went in and out while he did pushed the boat out a bit and did something similar ahead of me. Oh oops…a loud splash and a cry of despair – he had at least one very wet leg and one very wet foot, having done an inelegant little dance off the designated rock. I, on the other hand, was able to follow the plan perfectly and step neatly, dry-footed, into the tender, because he had already done the hard yards.

While we were on Flinders I spent a few very stressful hours trying to download an audiobook onto my ipod. Yes I know this is as simple as can be and several kind and good people have shown me just how simple it it…but…it wasn’t . Next time I will do it in seconds with a merry laugh, I am sure. The problem wasn’t downloading and paying for it; that was a cinch. My issue was – I couldn’t find the rotten thing anywhere on my computer, although iTunes assured me that they had “sent” it to me and taken my money forthwith. And then when I finally did find it…how to get it from my computer onto my ipod… I’m not sure how I did achieve this; maybe next time there will be muttering and waving of hands in the air again…

Anyway…after all of that I have Stephen Fry’s Chronicles, and very entertaining they are. They could hardly be more removed from my life on 2XS if they tried, mind you. This life of writing, acting, BBC, comedy, London, country houses, is a world away from Bass Strait… My ipod is wonderful. But…every now and then it decides I want to start at the beginning again. My friend Stephen very considerately reads out chapter headings every few minutes, so it’s not too hard to fast forward and find my place again, but I must say I have listened to some of his stories far more than once…

Friday 8.00am

We are just going past a town – Port Albert, I think. So I am going to seize the opportunity of having some sort of connection. We got up a 4.00 again… On our way to Lakes Entrance. It is a lovely day but FREEZING!

Tuesday 10.30am

Well maybe we aren’t going anywhere…

We are still tied up to our solid, friendly little jetty at Lady Barron. We are becoming increasingly fond of this jetty because…the wind is blowing most powerfully! How attractive is it to make a cup of coffee and sit in the gently rocking cabin with our computers, novels, newspapers?? We have filled up our watertank, our food cupboards are stocked, and we are ready to go…but not into the teeth of a gale!

Getting on and off the boat is a challenge. The gap between the jetty and the deck is quite wide, and the tide is low. There is a useful metal ladder on the jetty but to get to it, we have to stretch our legs wide as can be and reach, perilously, for the rungs, or the boat railings. For some reason I don’t find in the least difficult or intimidating – my childhood as a monkeygirl climbing trees and walking along fences in Waddamana have finally borne fruit! And really, the worst that could happen would be a plunge into the sea…cold and yucky and a bit of a shock. But not life-threatening.

I forgot to say, when I was writing about Barbara and KR, that they go away in a camper-bus every year for four months or so, grey-nomading around the Outback. And one of the things they do while they are away, which amazed me is…they go and sing, in choirs! Sing Australia has this great program, where choirs in every remote or city location can join up. Presumably they all get a similar repertoire to learn and enjoy. And if you belong to any of these affiliated choirs, you are more than welcome to rock up on a Thursday night and sing…with a whole lot of new friends. The Flinders choir meets at Whitemark once a week. I was flabbergasted to hear there are 40 members, at least half of them men! The population of the whole island is only 750!!

Tuesday 5.00

We spent most of the day tossing around tied up to the jetty with an ever-increasing number of ropes, feeling very secure, and happy we weren’t out on the wild wild sea. This afternoon we went for a walk in the bitter wind, to the shop to buy the Mercury – oh deary me, more shame and scandal amongst teachers, front page of Mercury…. WHAT was this wretched man thinking??? I can’t even say innocent till proven guilty…he pleaded guilty….

On the way back we stopped and had a drink at Our Local (the Furneaux Tavern). And now Pete is cooking dinner – some of our gourmet sausages from Dave Madden, some of our Flinders veggies from Barbara and KR…

Pete told us such a funny story the other night, when we were having dinner with Steve and Margaret. All Headlams will know it but the rest of you…will know now! This happened when the Headlam family were living in Cressy, so Pete can have been no older than four; Angela wasn’t even born. Some of the cousins were there – part of the Nielsen clan. So a whole wicked little gang… The mail was delivered to big letterboxes at the end of the long farm driveways. Another family had a letterbox adjacent to the Headlams, where groceries were delivered as well as mail. The Gang of However Many raided the Wallace’s letterbox one fine day, and stole cigarettes which had been delivered… But…what to do? Well send in cute little Petey-Wetey! Pete toddled into the living room, where his father and a friend were sitting having a peaceful cup of tea. (Or maybe a whisky!!) “Excuse me, could I please have some matches?” Blink. Blink. from the adults… “And why, young Peter, would you be needing matches?” Pete looked at them with his big green eyes and said, “To light our cigarettes, of course!” And…the jig was up…

Wednesday 8.00am

Well we are up and away again – no horrid wind today. We got up a bit after 5 and left Lady Barron in the dark, with bright stars overhead. Now it is sunny and beautiful (cold..bbrrrr…) and we have just cruised past Mt Strzelecki, on our way to Deal island. So…all is well! We have also gone past beautiful Cape Barren Island and I have finally worked out that the two Barron/Barren names are not the same spelling...oh oops..

So…we rode along our lovely country road, for seven kilometres. Pete wasn’t as fast as I was, but he was spending a lot of time communicating with the lovely black cows in the paddocks. They were fascinated by him and galloped hither and yon in response to his cow-calls.

I didn’t actually care where I was going – I am ON HOLIDAY. I could see signposts which said Whitemark 26 kilometres – well that was fine by me… But we got to an intersection and turned off to – oh bummer I have lost the address – Lackrana, something like that… - and kept going another few ks. Lovely, sunny, all was groovy. And what was my treat for the morning? Why, to meet Dave Madden at his newly re-jigged Flinders Island Abattoir! No I wasn’t horrified; I am all in favour of small country abattoirs, and wish all farm animals could be killed close to their lovely green home paddocks. At this very moment there is a cattle yard on the wharf, full of Hereford cattle waiting patiently for the boat to take them to the Tasmanian mainland for “processing” tomorrow. How much nicer if they could just amble down the road to meet their inevitable end?? Poor Dave…at the very minute we wheeled up to the drive, along came a tractor arrangement with a newly slaughtered cow dangling from its – um – crane-like arrangement on the front. He must have thought I would FREAK – poor old hippy/city-chick… He swiftly explained that this cow had had an accident, hurt herself very badly, and they had slaughtered her in the paddock rather than trying to make her walk the kilometre or so to the abattoir. I said, “Well, good thing too. No pain!” and he looked very relieved and said, “No, that’s the last thing we would want, for her to suffer!” So we were, after all, hearts that beat as one!

And how did Dave want to spend his morning? Well, driving us around Beautiful Flinders, showing us this & that, talking animatedly to Pete about cattle, the wonders of Flinders (he has been here 6 months and is wildly enthusiastic,) Days Gone By in the rural life of Tasmania. I sat happily in the back of the car, enjoying the scenery, gazing at geese, grass, cows, beauty all around.

We went to Whitemark and had coffee in a thriving little café (very nice it was too!) Dave then took us, very proudly, into the butchers shop, which is his, also newly re-jigged and full of fancy products and cheery people. He said, “What would you like? Anything at all!” Well just about everything looked delicious, and just about everything made me happy because I knew it was all produced locally. (Product Placement #3 – buy Flinders Island meat!!) And he picked this, that, the other and GAVE it to us! I said, “Dave, this is wrong. This is supposed to be A SHOP!” He said, “Well it is still a shop, isn’t it??” So now our freezer has some very special Flinders Island Treats waiting to be turned into Very Special Meals! That Pete – everywhere he goes people want to give him things! Dave drove us and our bikes back to 2XS then took Pete off to some store room nearby, to get some muttonbirds, cryopacked. They are also in the fridge for Pete but - ummmm – not for me… I love shearwaters, flying over the water, but really, muttonbirds – everyone tells me they are SO DELICIOUS, so strong and gamey and fatty…but do I like strong and gamey and fatty??? Maybe not…

A funny thing… When we were in the butchers in Whitemark, I recognised two Hobart Boys, Jim Everett, and Richard Bladel. I said hello to Jim, who looked TOTALLY blank, then Richard came over, beaming, to chat. He is doing The Happiness Project, on Flinders, Cape Barron, Oatlands, Huonville. (I told Pete later and he said, “What is the Happiness Project?” I said “Well I don’t know but it sounds GOOD!”) Jim stood around, blinking faintly, then he came over to be introduced. I said, “Jim, you know me, from the Republic: Marguerite. Friend of Pauline Shelley’s. You know Pauline, don’t you?” No he didn’t. Not a clue. Blink. Blink. Then… “Pauline??? Me old mate!!! How is she!!” (WILD enthusiasm!) “And yes OFCOURSE I know you too, mate!” Richard and Jim wanted to know what we were doing, had been doing, etc so I told them we had been on Cape Barron, for a lovely walk. Jim, who lives on the island most of the time, stared at me, and said, “Yesterday? You were on THAT yacht, moored in the bay?” I admitted to this, a bit nervously, and he said, “Oh yes, I heard some LOVELY people had been walking on the inland!” Lovely??? How did they know we were lovely?? And really…we only saw the lady watering her veggies, the young couple with their toddler in a ute, the bloke hosing down his car… All we did was wave from a disance!

Dave brought us back to 2XS, admired it to our satisfaction, then went off to his busy new Flinders Life. We spent the afternoon playing with our technology – Pete has a new printer and it took a bit of time for it to be recognised by his computer… Then we went for a walk to the local shop. We are now well-recognised as locals. The same big barking black Labrador has been driven past us on his ute about ten times, sometimes when we are riding bikes, sometimes when we are walking – and the Shop Lady knows our every detail.

Tuesday…we are leaving here and going, I think, north to Killiecrankie. But maybe not; it is very cold and windy and we have been spoiled by the calm and balmy weather…

Today I got an email from my friend Jutta, as follows…

Have read of your adventures on Cape Barron and thought about posting a wee warning. Hayden (Jutta’s son) is in the process of filling out an incident report following an attack by Cape Barron geese.

He was checking a bush/pasture property for valuation and was greeted at the gate by "normal" white honking geese. They made a bit of fuss and then left him to complete his job. Suddenly from around a building appeared two Cape Barron geese which delighted in attacking him. He escaped by hitting at them with his clipboard and once safely back in the car checked the damage to his very sore leg. He was left with a bleeding 6" gash and a long tear in his suit trousers. He feels a bit of a ninny having to write a report, but he needs to claim for losses. The story was related with much action and merriment.

Well golly and gosh…they look so very benign!

Ok so I had got as far as Trousers Point when I had to stop typing and go off for dinner at the tavern…

Steve took us to the golf club for a beer, on our way to his house in Whitemark. It was a very friendly, convivial sort of place. The licensee, a retired policeman (Tony Powell, I think,) had even more missing bits of finger than Pete. He had cruised in the Pacific Islands and had lots of stories to share, and lots of useful information for Pete to absorb. The only bit I listened to was about a domestic incident… They had sailed up from New Zealand, where it was very cold, and when they got to the Solomon Islands, they took all their washing to a laundromat. A cheery woman there said they should go off and enjoy themselves, and come back in a few hours; she would deal with all of the washing. When Tony came back he found his washing all clean and dry with a set of tiny little thermal leggings…the kindly laundress would never have encountered this sort of thermal material, which completely shrinks when it goes in the dryer…

Steve then took us to his house, in the main drag of Whitemark, where his lovely Margaret was preparing a delicious meal for us. We had: biscuits and cheese, a hearty home-made soup, stir-fry with prawns and lots of vegetables, then cake. The only problem was…she apologised for this meal! Apparently it wasn’t good enough; well you could have fooled us, we thought it was fabulous!

We took Steve’s car back to Trousers Point. He said, laconically, “Leave the keys in the ignition. Somebody might need to use the car.” Well I suppose if anyone did steal a car on Flinders Island they wouldn’t get very far… The next morning we were up early, and back into Whitemark to pick up Steve, who was very keen to give us a guided tour of this beautiful island. Margaret…well lovely Margaret stayed behind and did our washing, and dried it. She was very sorry that one of the towels was still a bit wet but…we forgave her! (We had quite a lot of washing because our bed had got very damp and musty and we had to strip it completely and dry the mattress in the sun, and wash all of the linen and lining etc. Pete has put a large slab of wood under the mattress now; it was just sitting on the metal floor of the boat, which is presumably why it had got so yucky so quickly. Here’s hoping!)

We went all over the island, with Steve telling us lots of interesting stuff about the farms, the history, the wildlife. He took us to Patriarch’s Reserve, which was set up by Margaret’s father, Derek Smith, a local naturalist. Apparently he was very concerned about the Cape Barron geese, which love to eat the lush, rich Flinders pasture. This makes them very unpopular with the farmers. So Derek got together some money to buy a large tract of land. He cleared a big paddock for the geese, built a little shrine to St Francis of Assisi (well we assumed it was St Francis; who else could it be, who more appropriate??) and surrounded it by a moat, and built a lovely little A-frame hut in the beautiful bush. This is available to anyone who wants to go and camp or picnic there. We cast a slightly dubious eye over the cleared land…not a Cape Barron goose to be seen…they are far more interested in the lush rich pasture…

We saw lots of big fat cows, rolly-polly sheep (it has been an exceptionally good season) and many birds. Pheasants, turkey, peacocks are feral on the island. They look very pretty but…maybe they shouldn’t be there… we also saw – blue native hens! Well, once again, golly and gosh! When I got back to 2XS I looked in my birdbook and found they are purple moorhens. They fill the same niche as our less spectacular Tasmanian native hens.

We had to be back in Whitemark in time for Margaret to take us to Trousers Point and to get herself to the hospital in Whitemark were she works as a nurse by 1.35. I had done a bit of sleuthing, to see if I could find my old schoolfriend, Barbara Hughes. She left Launceston High in 1964 so I thought it might be just a bit difficult to track her down. But actually…Flinders has a population of approximately 750 people… It took me less than thirty seconds to find her! I asked some people in the golf club, Greg and Fiona, if they knew how I should start looking. They are new to Flinders, working as nurses at the hospital. They said, “Yes ofcourse; Barbara Robinson! We know her! Here is a picture of her, and her husband, KR, on the wall!” I blinked a bit – how could it be so very easy?? Steve found Barbara’s phone number for me, and I rang her from his house. Next obstacle – would she remember me… I remember nearly everybody I have ever met but I can’t assume that other people are as peculiarly retentive. But - not a problem, “Oh yes, Marguerite Harmsen!” she said. “I often think of you when we are in Launceston. You lived in Westbury Road!” Well I didn’t, I lived in Poatina, but…she obviously had the right person! I spent quite a lot of my first few months at Launceston High being called Margaret Hudson, by a very Anglo teacher who couldn’t cope with such a foreign-sounding name as mine, but Barbara had it right! (By the way, this particular teacher was SO CROSS when he found out I wasn’t Margaret Hudson after all…he behaved as if I had been trying to deceive him…so strange…the thing we get into trouble for at school!!)

We arranged for a very hurried reunion, thanks to some nifty driving and organising on Steve’s part. He and Pete dropped me off at Barbara’s house while they went back into Whitemark to visit one of their aged aunts, Joan, at the nursing home. She was very tickled to see Pete. He had caused a lot of unholy amusement at the hospital because he had rung the first Mason in the phonebook, hoping to find Steve, or his cousin Jamie. Joan had answered the phone, and he had asked her politely, if she knew whether Joan Mason was still alive. “Well, yes!’ she snapped, “And you are speaking to her!” This story has swept around Flinders Island; we heard it back from several people we met later in our travels.

Barbara was exactly as I had imagined she would be, after all these years. She was a lovely girl at school, kind and gentle, with thick blonde hair and green eyes. She and her husband Kevin have been back on the island for many years, after a bit of time in Sydney, Townsville, Launceston. Kevin was a truck driver in the army; he now still does a bit of casual driving on Flinders but basically they are retired. Barbara is very creative; she does beautiful watercolour paintings, makes photo cards, and is creating a splendid garden. Kevin grows veggies; he filled a nice big box for us – enormous potatoes, carrots, kale, silver beet. The garden is growing very nicely; Barbara says that a house is much quicker to establish than a garden, so she is concentrating on this first. So at the moment they are living in a series of small garden sheds – bathroom in one, kitchen in another, bedroom in yet another. They have a great big shed for their creative endeavours as well. I had an hour with her, then Steve, Margaret and Pete swept up the drive to take me away, with my big box of veggies and five photocards.

Margaret dropped us off at the little beach where we had tied up the tender, and she went off to work. We loaded up our washing and veggies, and my beautiful new pillow… I didn’t tell you about this… Steve took us to see his former farm, where he still rents a big workshop. He and his wife Lou used to make a variety of woollen things there – doonas, pillows, jackets, vests. It was quite a thriving business in the 90s. Now he just keeps it ticking over, making the odd woollen doona. We were very impressed. The workroom is big and filled with light, with a beautiful outlook over farmland to the water. He had big industrial machines, including one which can quilt a king-sized doona. Whacko! I was inordinately impressed so Steve offered to show me how he makes a pillow. And then…well he had to give it to me, didn’t he… He offered it first to Cousin Pete, but Pete said it really should be for me, because he knows how I love pillows. I am so happy with it; I am going to give it a Product Placement! Steve’s company is called Latitude 40 degrees, and his website is: www.latitude40.com.au. So if you want a doona or a pillow - he doesn’t make any of the other items any more - you can go onto the website and order it, and imagine him in his sun-filled workroom, making whatever-it-is, just for you!

Steve sailed from Trousers Point to Lady Barron with us. We are here now, tied up to a big jetty - wel actually we have just moved to a smaller one because many big boats are about to come in.... The tides at Lady Barron are very big (2-3 metres), so we have, at times, had to make giant steps to get in and out of the boat. But it is lovely being at a jetty; very handy for The Bikes!

Steve’s son works on big super-yachts and he showed us some of them on the computer via Google. Such luxury! One of them, a Russian boat called Motor Yacht A, accommodates 14 guests and has 42 crew to make it all as luxurious and wonderful as possible! Another one, which used to be called Myshanti but I have forgotten the new name, uses a quarter of a million dollars worth of fuel just to cross the Atlantic…

We met Margaret at the tavern a bit before seven last night and had a lovely evening. Filet Mignon all round! At the tavern Pete met up Dave Madden, who used to be a stock agent in Tasmania for Roberts. This morning he said, “Let’s go for a bike ride!” It was a beautiful morning, crisp and clear and sunny, so off we went, along the main road from Lady Barron to Whitemark. I enjoyed this ride very much, Pedalling Pete not so much. It hurt his leg muscles very badly, he said… We had just set out when a big white sea eagle swooped overhead, and flew into the bushes behind us. Wow! “Look out!” cried Pete. “He’s about to land on your back!” Oh such an elfin sense of humour… I do love birds, and am inordinately fascinated by eagles, but I do NOT want them landing on my back… We rode along the gently undulating road, with hardly any traffic to disturb us. Paddocks full of contented fat back cattle and greedily grazing geese. The only impediment to compete riding pleasure was…the road kill. Every few hundred metres a large dead marsupial. Depressing, distressing, smelly… I remember when Claire came to Flinders with the Reid family. She went bike riding with Juliet and Sophie every day. It was very hot and their riding pleasure was short lived because of the roadkill. The horrid smell was overpowering and made the whole experience very unpleasant indeed. I can’t imagine how awful it must have been; even today, when it was chilly, I had to hold my breath a lot of the time.

Well do you want to know where we were going, on this lovely winter day?? I will tell you tomorrow… Pete thinks I am writing far too much – too much information… but I say, well if it is too much, nobody has to read it, do they? (And yes Dave Madden comes back into the story...)

Yesterday we left Swan Island, which has, surrounding it, (Little Swan and Cygnet islands, so cute) and cruised around to Cape Barren Island. Swan Island was very beautiful; a lovely beach, grassy dunes, but it was VERY smelly – maybe because of the seaweed, not sure why else it seemed so, as Pete said, “marine”.

Cape Barren Island is just breath taking. The coast is lined with huge rounded boulders, tinged with orange, in random positions. They look like sculptures of elephants, seals, majestic gods of the dreamtime…

We went between Long Island and Cape Barren and moored in a beautiful little bay. Some cheery people on a strange metal barge came up, and told us that we would be OK going onto the island, but that we might get abused. A consequence, they said, pragmatically, of reconciliation.

So we puttered in to shore in the tender, tied it up to a rock, and went, a bit tentatively, for a walk. I was wearing: underwear, jeans, a singlet, a merino top, a woollen jumper and…a polar fleece coat. It was very sunny but still a bit chilly, and we didn’t know how far we would be walking. Or rather, I didn’t know how far we would be walking…We went past a neat little house, where a woman was very peacefully watering her extensive and impressive veggie garden. She waved to us in a friendly manner, so we kept on and came to an intersection of white sandy road. I said, “Well we should have brought our bikes!” because the road was long and straight, going off into infinity. “Yes,” said Pete. “That would have been a good idea.” And he started walking. We walked and WALKED. First I took off my polar fleece. A bit later, my merino. By the time we got to the coast, I was down to my singlet – and yes, ofcourse, my jeans… It was so sunny and so hot! We got to the single wind turbine on a hill, then descended into an extraordinary little Tidy Town. A dozen or so neat little houses, a school, child care centre and playground, a war memorial, public works department, a few streets of neat, attractive houses. And…not a soul to be seen… Everything closed and empty. We did see a man washing his car, and a cheery couple driving by in a ute, with a small toddler in the front, but other than that, the place seemed abandoned. We walked all the way round the inhabited – or rather, un-inhabited – area, then looked in amazement at some very nice new houses under construction. For whom??

We thought we might walk back along the coast rather than along the long straight white road. This was a bit of an adventure, with some bush-bashing and rock scrambling, but it was just wonderful. The coast is so totally beautiful, with clear green water, orange rocks, thick boobialla. To cap it all off, Pete called out, “”Look at the geese!” and there in front of us, on a rocky clifftop were one two THREE Cape Barren geese, honking enthusiastically. They waited till we got close, then flew off, still honking their little blunt heads off. (Later on Flinders, ofcourse, we saw dozens, maybe hundreds, of these geese, eating the thick lush pasture…nowhere near as thrilling as these three, on their very own islandWe got back to 2XS, patiently waiting, and our tender, which by now was bobbing around in the bay, still tied to its rock – the tide had come in. Pete was sure he had enormous blisters from our walk of over two hours, but I am pleased to be able to report that his feet, once socks and boots were removed, were as pink and unblemished as anyone could have hoped…

It took hardly any time to get from Cape Barren to Trousers Point on Flinders Island. We went past Long Island, which had its very own extraordinary rock formations, like the most wonderful Henry Moore sculptures. And, to make it even more fabulous, we were accompanied for a short time by a pod of beautiful dolphins. (Why is it called Trousers Point – well I found out later in the day… Apparently back in the 19th Century a certain John Burgess managed to survive a shipwreck and come ashore at this point. This event was remarkable because he arrived with – no trousers… I’m not sure if they were washed from his body by the wild waves or if he had just leapt from this bunk sans culottes…

Waiting for us on the shore (wearing trousers…) was Pete’s cousin (well their grandparents were cousins…) Steve Mason. What a lovely welcome to Flinders…I will write more about this tomorrow; it’s time I stopped; we are going to the

By the way I have given myself a stern talking-to re my lack of inner resources and ability to read while under way… Time to TOUGHEN UP!! So yesterday I spent an hour or so reading my Kindle, and no nothing terrible happened; I felt fine!)

My only excuse is...it is quite late at night for a sailorgirl...I have just realised that I have repeated various Triabunna stories in my most recent post...so just squeeze your eyes and don't read the repeated bits...please...

This is what I wrote yesterday…we had no internet connection so I just wrote what came into my head on Swan Island.

You may or may not be surprised to hear that we aren’t at Cape Barren island… Once again, the best laid plans… No nothing terrible has happened, we just didn’t go as fast as we had expected. So we are anchored off Swan Island, which seems very beautiful, with a lovely beach and its very own lighthouse. I don’t think anyone lives here. It is about twelve nautical miles from Musselroe Bay so yes we have left the Tasmanian mainland…but only just.

It was a long trip - we left at 6.30 and arrived at Swan Island at 5.00. I have realised (yes, already…) that I need more entertainment than just ipod music to keep me from flinging myself overboard. (I have very few inner resources…) Pete is very busy; he pops in and out of the engine hatches, humming gaily to himself as he inspects the bilges, and he also spends ages doing things on his computer, or looking at marine charts. I can’t do anything of this ilk; I am of no assistance in the bilges, and I can’t read or look at my computer for more than five minutes. In fact I really have to stay out of the cabin for the majority of the time we are under way. I did try to do some of my word puzzles (thank you Dennis and Robbie for my book; I will have to reserve it for sitting-around time, not moving-along time…) No I am not seasick, I am feeling very chipper, in fact. But…I can’t read more than a few words while we are moving and I don’t want to push my luck. So while I sat listening, quite happily, to Sting as we motored along, I remembered yet another of my useful sons-in-law’s words (Jeff, this time,) – download some books on your ipod…So why didn’t I? Because I thought I would be all serene and cruise-y on this trip; in fact I am not all that serene (yet) and I am very keen for…words… Pete and I are good at chatting but…it is noisy when the motors are running. And the radio makes a hideous beeping sound, it doesn’t like the motors, so I am cut off from my beloved ABC programs. (Whinge WHINGE!) So…what to do?? Well – download some books on my ipod… I fiddled around for a while and managed to download a Mark Twain short story on my iphone. Wonderful! I love Mark Twain, he is so witty and wise, and this was a tale about a dog. What not to like?? I plugged in my earphones and sat back at the helm feeling very contented. But…it was SUCH a sad story… About man’s inhumanity to animals… Tomorrow I will try for something more cheery! Maybe a vampire tale, or a murder mystery!!

The other day, when we were out of range (as we are again today) I spent quite a lot of time writing cheery little anecdotes about Triabunna, Wineglass bay, etc. Then I very speedily and efficiently put this entire document, fully deleted, onto the recycle bin. Why??

So I didn’t manage to tell you about my second happy bike ride around Triabunna, where I ended up on the Tasman Highway – oh the terror! Don’t ask how I got off track, when Triabunna is so small… But no logtrucks came and whizzed me off the road, and I was soon back on safe territory, nodding at the local policeman in a very law-abiding way because I was wearing my helmet – Pete had caught me trying to sneak off without it… I was just putting on my brakes at the wharf when I heard toot TOOT – oh how lovely, there was Pete’s sister Lynne, on her way to a meeting in Swansea! Once again I was overwhelmed and overjoyed to see someone from our real life… She only stayed with us a few minutes, and she didn’t risk her life leaping across from land to Osprey to 2XS – a wise woman…
D
id I say how very beautiful Wineglass Bay was, and the Hazards, as we cruised past in the early morning light? I also remember a story about my Katy, when she was only five. Her father, Thad, took her camping, with some other people, and in the evening, as they settled in the campground, he said, “Look at those mountains, Katy. They are called The Hazards. Aren’t they beautiful? She gazed at them thoughtfully. Then she said, “Yes they are. But I think they would look even better if they had red, and blue, and purple fireworks coming out of them.”

The trip from Freycinet to Long Point, just north of Bicheno, was, as Leo Thomas, when he was 4, would have said, majerous. The sea was perfectly calm, like an undulating mirror. If we had been relying on sail for travel we would have been becalmed, like the Ancient Mariner, but with the two strong 2XS motors we powered along majestically. I would like to tell you that this magical silver sea abounded with life – dolphins, whales, the odd dugong-gone-astray leaping for our delight, but there was barely a whisper of life- hardly even a gull… We arrived in late afternoon sunshine at Long Point, another beautiful East Coast bay with crystal clear water.

And today we are moored at Trousers Point on Flinders – So beautiful, this area of magical islands…will write more tomorrow…

Today we are up v early (6.30…not the way we have been doing things so far…) and we are leaving beautiful Long Point to go to Cape Barren Island. This will be the longest trip yet and I am not sure if there will be internet connection when we finally get there. But today is the day we should be leaving the Tasmanian mainland....

Yesterday morning we walked along Wineglass Bay beach and exercised our legs – right leg, then left leg, coming and going because it was so very steep, and the sand so deep. It was just beautiful but we didn’t make up up to the lookout because we had to leave at midday and we had filled in our morning with odd jobs and dillydallying.

It has been brought to my attention by several eagle-eyed daughters and friends that I have missed out chunks of – well – words… the other day when I was writing about Triabunna I meant to put in a whole lot about the gallery/café. Triabunna is a small fishing/forestry town; one wouldn’t expect to find a cafe-cum-gallery full of beautiful and/or strange objets, for example, as I did write, a full-sized pot-bellied stove made of pure white felt. The gallery had delicious food and drinks, a fridge full of freshly made cakes and biscuits, and a whole menu of tempting delights. We only had coffee but we could have had Tunisian Goulash, or open sandwiches with all manner of fresh delicacies within. What I want know is – who goes to this café?? Who buys the artwork?? If you are making your way up the East Coast of Tasmania, I can thoroughly recommend this place; it was warm and cosy, with a friendly hostess, ready and waiting to feed delicacies to an appreciative public! (No sorry can’t remember what it is called…but it is in the main drag of Triabunna, which is…very small!)

Last night we were sitting cosily ensconced in the cabin, connected to electricity via a long power cord snaking from 2XS, over Osprey, and onto the accommodating Triabunna marina switchboard when we heard banging and yoo-hooing. Visitors! Well how very thrilling!! It was our friends Richard and Meriloy, on their way back to Hobart from Bicheno. However did they know where to find us? Well via this blog, ofcourse! I was quite overwhelmed…yes I know we have only been gone a very short number of days, but I do feel as if we have sailed off the end of the known universe. Not so!!

They came in for a drink, and then we all trotted the twenty metres to the pub, with its log fire and cheery traditional menu and friendly pub owners. We talked about all manner of things, particularly, ofcourse, things to do with the sea in its many manifestations. Meriloy did her diving course many years ago, in June, in the Maldives…where it was warm. I mean not just warm but HOT, tropical, balmy… She came back to Tasmania very enthusiastic; keen to dive dive DIVE. So she joined a dive club and found herself in a small Zodiac, powering across Fortescue Bay in July. In our Tasmanian WINTRY July. It was actually snowing on the beach, while in the Zodiac…it was hailing… This made her gasp and stretch her eyes, as you can imagine, and then suddenly there she was, diving down to 28 metres in the kelp forest. (No, sadly, the kelp forest is no longer in Fortescue Bay, it is a thing of yesteryear…) One would imagine that she would have emerged from the water shuddering, shivering and saying NEVER again, but in fact it was so breathtakingly beautiful and magical that she came out with a warm glow.

We spent the morning in Triabunna. Pete got some very nifty useful steps welded onto the boat by lovely Jamie Spencer, so we can now ascend to the roof with grace and dignity instead of heaving, slipping, and sliding up and down. And I went for a bike ride – weehee! I love my bike! I recommend for everyone to go to Ken Selfs’ in Elizabeth Street Hobart and buy a bike. Fun fun fun! Especially fun riding in Triabunna, where there seems to be no traffic at all. I got a bit lost – how is this possible, in such a very small town, I hear you cry… - and I ended up where I really didn’t want to be, on the Tasman Highway. But no log trucks whizzed by; in fact nothing at all whizzed by, and I got back into Triabunna township to nod cheerily at the local policeman – very pleased I was that Pete had insisted that I wear my helmet…I had tried to sneak off without it…

I got back to Osprey and was just getting off my bike when…toot toot…there was Lynne, Pete’s sister, on her way to a meeting in Swansea!! Once again I was wildly excited, although she was only with us or five minutes…another manifestation from my real life…

We left Triabunna around lunchtime, heading for Wineglass Bay. No I am no good at descriptive writing; you can look it up in a travelogue-type book. But I can tell you…it was so breathtakingly beautiful I nearly cried, especially when we went past Schouten island. Pete was inside doing important things on his computer; I was in charge of checking the charts and steering the boat, and also, most importantly, in charge of the ipod. I played a few snippets of Rektango as we went past the dramatic ochre cliffs of Schouten Island, and I must find Tania Bosak’s email address and tell her what a wonderful combination this was.

It was just about dark when we came into Wineglass Bay. We are nestled right in the far corner, and once again it is all so beautiful it makes me cry…
I don’t think I have any internet connection here…but I will write a less soppy story about Wineglass Bay in case I am descending too far into bathos…
Maybe it isn’t exactly the way I was told this story…my source is not always (ahem) accurate…but I liked to think it is true. A certain bushwalker from Hobart, absent-minded to an extreme degree, bewhiskered and bespectacled, was walking along Wineglass Bay beach one wintry day when he espied a neatly dressed woman on the dunes, wearing a headscarf. He blinked a bit and thought, “Oh yes, a friend of my mother’s!” So he lumbered up to her and talked about the weather, as you do. Then as he walked away he noticed men in dark suits…and out in the bay…the royal yacht Britannia…Whenever I see Our Liz on the TV I like to think she had this encounter, on a far-flung breach in the Antipodes, with an eccentric bearded bushwalker who had no idea who she was…

The weather gods are being very kind to us. Today we had a most magnificent cruise, from Little Chinaman’s Bay up to Triabunna. Glorious balmy sunshine, smooth gleaming sea all the way.

Pete started the day with…another swim! One of his big industrial strength flippers had fallen off his foot during his under-the-boat ordeal yesterday, and he was determined to retrieve it. I was not in favour of this endeavour. You may gather that I REALLY didn’t enjoy seeing him turn mauve with cold over the more than two hours he spent struggling with the recalcitrant ropes and chains attaching the errant buoy to the propeller. So when he jauntily asked me to help him get zipped back into his wetsuit I did so with a very disapproving expression. In general Pete doesn’t enjoy being in the water anywhere near as much as I do. “Ow!” he yells. “It’s COLD! I hate this!” I splish and splash about, joyfully gushing about how good the cold water is for our general well-being, in what must be a fairly annoying way. So imagine my surprise as I watched Pete this morning darting around in his back-and-silver wetsuit, showing no signs of cold or misery. He didn’t find the flipper but came out expounding about the beauty of the fish he had seen, and the general balminess of the water. Is he going to turn into a regular coldwater swimmer?? We will see!!!

I had my Birds of Australia book at the ready this morning but I didn’t do very well identifying any of the seabirds we saw. I was certain that some of them were albatross, but the book seemed to be indicating that they were petrels. Never mind; they were extremely beautiful, and made me happy whether they were albatross or petrels… We also saw one solitary seal, which was lolling about in a very relaxed manner near the big fish farm between Maria Island and the mainland. Obviously a very happy feeding ground.

We are tied up to the jetty in Triabunna until at least tomorrow because Pete is getting a bit of welding work done, by a cheering young (it is for sale, if you are after a cray boat...), so getting on and off involves climbing over two lots of rails with a bit of a leap from the fishing boat to the wharf. We have managed this with no loss of property, and have even managed to heave our bikes over to dry land. Weehee what fun!

Triabunna is a lovely little town, particularly in this very beautiful weather. The streets are wide and flat, perfect for bike riding. And our new bikes are just fantastic; I am wildly enthusiastic about mine. It is so easy to ride, with smooth, easy gears, and it goes like the wind. We rode past some young children being picked up from school. One of the boys, about 8 years old, ran out into the road after me, shouting, “I love your bike! I WANT your bike! Come back!” while his mother shouted, “Get OFF the road Jayden!!”

In case you are not familiar with Triabunna, let me tell you it is NOT a tourist town. It is a
items. For example, a full-sized pot-bellied stove, completely white, made of felt…

Tonight we are having dinner at the Triabunna pub, which is about 20 metres from 2XS and which has a lovely roaring fire and a cheery barmaid awaiting us (we checked it out at lunchtime).

We didn’t stay sadly contemplating the potential warmth of Lynne’s hospitality in Lauderdale Beach for very long… The wind died down and we hopped into the tender and went straight in to the high tide beach. Lynne performed a loaves & fishes miracle for us, and for their cousin Michael and his lovely daughter Laura She wasn’t expecting anyone at all and out came a delicious three course meal, beautifully plated in Masterchef fashion. We were very happy and appreciative! Our first night at sea and we were dining in style at Stella Maris., Lynne’s gorgeous beach house. That’s the life!

When it was time to go back to 2XS we had to take off our shoes and paddle out a bit to get the tender out of the shallows – SO cold on our warm little feet! But we were soon back on the boat and straight into our warm and cosy bed, no complaints. Today, however, Pete had more than just a splishy splash of cold water on his tippytoes…

We left Lauderdale mid morning and had a beautiful trip up the coast, through the canal at Dunalley. I felt like royalty because tourists took photos of us as we glided through; Pete has been through many times so he took it in his stride. It was all very splendid, with sparkling sunshine, not too cold, a calm sea.

Pete thought we should stop at a mooring in Little Chinaman’s beach while he made some phone calls to organise a few things in Triabunna.

The best laid plans…We had a slight altercation with moorings and buoys – I won’t go into details – and we ended up with a big entanglement of chains and ropes around one of the propellers. After much discussion and attempts with the boat hook and a bit of heaving and tugging the only thing for it was for Pete to christen his wetsuit and get in the water. He had to dive under the boat over and over, loosening the tangle a bit each time, while I sat frozen with anxiety on the deck watching him slowly turn more and more mauve with cold. After more than two hours he succeeded in releasing the errant mooring. I was so relieved when he was at last in the hot shower. But it took at least another hour for him to stop shivering and shuddering. I had awful visions of having to ring all four of Pete’s children to say oh oops, Pete went under the boat and didn’t come up again…yes I know we have only been gone one day…

A bit of nature study… We saw lots of wonderful sea birds diving and roosting on the small islands between Lauderdale and here. I can’t actually say exactly what they were; I do have a Birds of Australia book on board and I will study it and learn to identify this or that species as time goes by…but for the moment I can just say some were cormorants, others probably gannets, or maybe terns…(Every time I see terns I am reminded of the My Word shaggy dog story one good tern deserves another and it makes me smile…Those My Word stories are so enduringly clever.) While Pete was in the water a very big skate swam peacefully along beneath him – he came up for air with his eyes wide. And just as he was, literally, at his last gasp and about to give up – well no ofcourse he wasn’t about to give up; he would have kept on diving under the boat saying, “I’ve nearly got it! One more time and it will be all fixed!” – two big black eagles flew right over the boat and circled the bay.

We are now sitting in Little Chinaman’s, firmly anchored at one end and moored at the other, with the once-attached white buoy bobbling innocently nearby. The big gas heater is roaring away; Pete is wearing many layers of thermals plus a balaclava-cum-beanie and we are both drinking a much needed G & T before I start peeling potatoes for dinner. So…all is well!!

Well yes we have left…at about 2pm. Pete spent the morning organising cars and last-minute details while I idled a bit nervously on the boat, dabbing away with spray ‘n’ wipe and the vacuum cleaner. (These two items have been conspicuous in my recent life, moving in and out of our various houses.)

Eventually Pete got back and off we went, under the bridge at a fine rate. The forecast had been a bit ominous but it was all just beautiful, with bright sunshine and spectacular clouds. I took a few photos which don’t show the spectacular or beautiful nature of the afternoon at all but never mind…

When we went past Blackmans Bay, Claire and Stuart and the children went out to the clifftop opposite their house and flashed a mirror at us. This made me laugh and cry…ofcourse….
We headed into a most wonderful technicolour sunset and anchored in Lauderdale Bay, quite a long way out because this bay turns out to be extremely -and slightly alarmingly - shallow. We can see Pete’s sister Lynne’s house, and we can even see her moving around enticingly in her kitchen – how nice if we could just pootle in and meet her for a drink before dinner. But the wind has come up and we would probably get there and back all in one piece but…we would get very wet…

So now it is time for our first G & T of the trip. We are trying out the second of the two heaters Pete bought, a nifty little yellow arrangement. The one we used last night was just wonderful and made the whole living area warm and cosy; we will see if this one does the same!

The sun is shining…well it was when I started writing but now it is pitch black and it is supposed to be the Dawning of the Age Of Aquarius out there…Planets aligning as we speak!

It is very cold in Hobart but I gather it is very cold everywhere, all the way up to Sydney at least. Pete has bought not one but two small and marvellous heaters for the boat. I think he looked at my pinched white face as I sat on the couch in the South Hobart apartment wearing scarf, boots, many layers of thermals, and realised that I would not improve out at sea in a cold cold boat… I might even start doing more than just whimpering faintly… Mind you everything has improved enormously since the heat pump has been connected and working in the apartment, and I have emerged from my frozen stupor to do some useful and practical things involving vacuum cleaner, spray ‘n’ wipe, washing machine etc etc. I have also bought more layers of warm clothing – thermal socks, merino gloves, a woollen beanie with a brim to shade the sun, should the sun shine…

And it would seem that we will be ready to go tomorrow… I don’t say this too loudly; I have been saying “goodbye” and “yes we’re leaving TOMORROW!” for a few weeks and I feel just a bit no-cred in this department…

We are spending our first night on board and the new gas heater is just FANTASTIC! I can feel the tropics already…

Saying goodbye – again – is another matter…not quite so fantastic….

We should be up and running with the wind by lunchtime tomorrow –after a few more goodbyes…oh dear… but yes ofcourse I am very keen for the adventure to begin....

And no we still haven’t gone… a few hitches still with preparing the boat but…never mind!

We are hearing the most horrendous stories of people who have set off in the past week or so. One boat got 40 nautical miles from Hobart, on the way to New Zealand, and had to turn back, battered and bruised with all on board violently ill… Another boat got part way to New Zealand and was caught in a dreadful storm. They capsized three times and – yes, a theme! – everyone was violently ill, battered and bruised, and the boat badly damaged. And my sister Monique rang earlier today to tell me that a cruise ship had just limped in to Port Vila (Vanuatu, where my niece Leah lives,) with all on board- violently ill from the rough seas between New Zealand, Norfolk, Island, Vanuatu.

Pete’s son Martin has connected a beautiful fabulous heatpump in the apartment; we are now toasty warm…so we are quite happy for the weather to get just a little bit more amenable…

No we haven’t left yet.

Arctic blast in Hobart! And we will probably leave on Wednesday in spite of this…

Today we spent a lot of time rushing about buying last minute things. I bought two nifty folding bikes, with accessories, ie helmets, security chain, tyre levers, pump. I negotiated with Stuart, one of my (many!) lovely sons-in-law. Stuart works in a busy bike shop in the city and I have been talking to him about this for a few weeks. He sent me a voicemessage on my iphone early in the day: “Hey Mark, it’s Julie. Gimme a ring.”
(So cute, my big bodybuilder Stuart, now to be known as Julie! As I am to be known as Mark…Don’t you love voice-to-text??)

I am thrilled with the idea of bikes; we will be able to pootle off to shops, or along country roads, when we arrive in foreign parts, rather than having to trudge around marinas faintly searching for supermarkets and bottle shops.

We also scuttled out to Moonah, to Anchor Wetsuits, where Pete bought me a newfangled lightweight rubber number, with matching boots, black with silver stripes. He came into the changeroom to help me heave it on, and cried, “How attractive you look! Sharks will LOVE you!”

The credit card got a further workout because I also bought a little Sony camera, hoping to be able to download photos onto my blog. What will I take photos of?? Birds? Pete in the bilges? Me in my layers of merino and polar fleece?? Aha wait and see!

It is very cold in Hobart.

BRRR!

No longer a gentle autumnal feeling; this is the real thing.  So yes…we will be cold on the boat.  But I am feeling more confident because I have unpacked my clothes and stashed them away in various convenient shelves and hanging spaces and I have many sets of thermals to wear so all will be well.

We have also started to sort out the food on 2XS so we can go on our last supermarket mission with some sort of useful information in our heads.  Some of the food has been evicted and is now sadly languishing in a big cardboard box, waiting to be donated to some unsuspecting family member.  A very big bottle of pickles; many half-used bottles of arcane sauces not really suited to boat cooking, a third large jar of peanut butter.  Quick and easy is what we need.  I am watching Jamie Oliver as I write; he is whizzing some sausages in a blender and turning them into…sausage meat.  This is going to be used to create a fabulous pasta sauce; now he is zesting half a lemon.  Lovely cooking but…not sure if we will be able to achieve anything of this sort on the high seas…Tins of tomatoes, baked beans, tuna, cup-a-soup for lunches, that will be our style for a while.  This is not quite true, ofcourse.  We managed to cook lovely meals last year, when we were stopped on anchorages or on marinas.  Some of our thoughtful friends and relations have given us chocolate, always sustaining, and Ann-Marie has very cleverly given us a seed sprouter, to protect us from scurvy.

No not leaving tomorrow…probably Tuesday, possibly Wednesday… My brother Pete says some terrible weather is coming to the East Coast of Tas and that when we see the weather map, we will huddle in Hobart until the weekend.  I will keep you posted…(Terrible weather for us, that is; weather which brings a smile of total joy to my big strong surfer nephew Will!!)

We are supposed to be leaving on Monday...but this is not now likely to happen.  A few setbacks with improvements and changes to the boat... So I don't yet have an actual life-at-sea story from this year but...here is another bit from 2010....

While we were on the Gold Coast last year, Pete needed things done to the boat.  So on Monday we left early and made our way up a complicated maze of canals and river to the Gold Coast Marina.  Well no not the Gold Coast Marina, actually…we were in the wrong place and had to be directed to ummmm the Son of the Gold Coast Marina about 600 metres further up the river - can’t remember what it was called… but I did spend many hours there. 

A collection of men swarmed over the boat, and one hapless young chap spent most of the very hot day down a hatch doing exhausting things to one of the engines.  $1800 later…it wasn’t fixed… poor Pete was very upset, but brave, about this set-back.  We made our way back in the gathering gloom…this was NOT FUN.  I was in charge of finding the red and green (and sometimes yellow) markers, and had to cross them off my map with a marker pen.  This was all reasonably OK until it got so dark I couldn’t see the map; I also missed many of the markers.  And I kept shining my little flashlight in Pete’s eyes (no NOT on purpose) which made things very difficult for him and which also made him - ahem – quite cross.  At last we found our way back to our area.  Aha!  I was quite confident I could see the big house on the corner; I could recognise the silhouette of the Norfolk pines, and the shape of the house.  Very confident, I was.  “This is the opening to our canal!” I trilled.  Well no…it wasn’t…it was a nasty little dead end and we had to back out.  At last we did find it and we did get back in time to have a shower and go out to Cav’s Steakhouse for dinner.