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!)