We haven't quite left for the Ile des Pins so probably we are going somewhere closer...time is slipping by; lots of paperwork re getting tickets home for Steve and Nick. Island Time....

Pete and I went to the supermarket and nearly fainted at the price of our two bags full...of not very much...

I finally found somewhere to buy postcards - surprisingly shy and elusive - and then went to the Centre de Courier (mail centre, surely??) to buy stamps and post them. I was met with great surprise - OF COURSE they don't sell stamps or post mail at the Centre de Courier. To do this I have to go back into the city centre and find - a tobacconist... So my cards are still in my backpack.

Friday today - Coral on marina – SubZero –men & women – Duclos – cartrip – Yate – Apa Lagi - 2XS partytime - Ile Des Pins

At the top of the gangplank to our arm of the Port Moselle marina, there is a large oozy stinkpipe. And all around this pipe is – a profusion of coral and a thriving little colony of colourful little fish!

I have been made more aware as time goes by on this trip that…men and women are very different. For example, I told Pete about the sign in the women’s shower facilities, which says, in beautifully executed French:

“Due to recent complaints, we have now instituted a rule regarding couples who want to shower together. This is not permitted in the women’s facility. Couples who wish to do this must do this in the male facility.”

Pete blinked a bit, and asked why I thought his notice had been put there. “Well,” I explained, “women don’t really want men in their shower area.” He thought for a moment and said, “But wouldn’t men feel the same, about having women in their area? Ummm…oh no so they wouldn’t…we really are very different creatures…”

Yesterday we were parked outside a pharmacy, looking at a larger-than-life poster of a beautiful, sumptuous maiden with long flowing locks cascading over her bountiful bosom down to her waist. I thought, “What nice hair, I wonder what shampoo she is advertising.” Pete, Nick and Steve examined the poster with rapt attention, and said, almost in unison, “That girl needs a haircut!”

I went into the pharmacy to buy some new shampoo on the strength of the poster. I had actually bought a beautiful big and expensive bottle of anti-frizz-in-the-tropics shampoo in Warringah Mall, and left it very carefully on the floor in the shower facility the day before… So I needed a new one – I hope whoever found it really appreciates the luxury and expense! The pharmacist was a delightful woman, who told me she was “desolee” (ie desperately sorry) that the weather was so bad. It is in fact quite horrid, cold (well, 16, which isn’t what you expect on a tropical island,) and drizzly. I said we were having a perfectly nice time in spite of the weather, which was quite true, and asked if she knew of any public toilets nearby. “Come with me!” she said, proudly, taking me to a beautiful little locked toilet area and handing me a neat little bag with a key and my very own roll of toilet paper. (People here are very nice.)

We had a very long day in the car… We didn’t really have a plan, just wanted to explore a bit more of New Caledonia than inner Noumea. So off we went, with Steve in the front, with The Map. We went through some posherella suburbs, then through an enormous industrial estate called Duclos, which was a nightmare to negotiate for poor Driver Pete but which all of the men found quite fascinating. They tried to guess what each huge warehouse was selling, and what its Australian equivalent would be. (I hate industrial estates even more than shopping malls so my input was minimal.)

And then we headed for the mountains and the village of Yate on the other side. There is a lot of mining (New Caledonia produces 25% of the nickel in the world) and maybe this accounts for the extreme erosion n the mountains. It was very distressing, actually. The mountains are steep, a bit like in the highlands of Vietnam, where everything is terraced and productive. In New Caledonia there were no villages, no farms, orchards, just mountains with very thin scrub and great orange trenches of eroding soil washing down into the valleys. We stopped at a large dam and got out to admire its hugeness and steepness, and we stopped at various lookouts so the men could take photos of the erosion and the hills. As we negotiated the many kilometres of potholed, steep, winding road we consoled ourselves with the knowledge that we would be driving back along the coast road, which would be much more pleasant…

But this was not to be. When we got to Yate (we were a bit like the bear who went over the mountain to see what he could see – you may remember that what he saw was the other side of the mountain…) we were very excited – weehee, a settlement! Houses! Humans! Maybe even a shop! Some proper rainforest! And yes we did find a dear little shop, which sold all manner of things, including, to my delight, Nestles Iced Tea, peach flavor, and – even more surprising – Kingston biscuits. The shop keeper was a delightful woman who spoke French very beautifully, and told us that she was desolee that she couldn’t make us a cup of coffee – “la patronne” wasn’t at home and the kitchen was locked. She was also the bearer of bad news – the coast road, she advised, was impassable with a normal little car; it would take us many hours and we probably wouldn’t even get through.

So…the bears went back over the mountain, and it was all fine. Pete negotiated all of the potholes and all of the driving-on-the-right with aplomb and nobody whinged or said are we there yet.

We have had cups of tea with nice people from NSW, Geoff and Cherylle. Their boat is Sub Zero – named for the racehorse – and they have been waiting to get their mast fixed and replaced. We might meet up with them again in Vanuatu; such is the trail of the Grey Nomad Sailor. I asked Geoff, who is a knowledgeable man, about the erosion and he said New Caledonia has been very badly treated by the mining industry and that, really, it is an ecological disaster….

We had a beautiful dinner, cooked by a slightly anxious Steve and Nick. Steve was keen to time everything; Nick just said, “The potatoes can wait!” They prepared delicious veggies (from the nearby market) and fish (from Elizabeth Reef).

I got all dressed up (well I took off my warm weather gear) in my black and white FROCK – the first time I have worn a FROCK for a very long time, because Pete said we were going to take our crewboys to a nightclub. But…did this happen?? NO!! I went back into the cabin and came back up in my nightie (well, Mum’s old green nightie, the one which looks like a maid’s costume in Chile…) Then I went and got changed back again because we were going next door, with our après diner drinks, to visit a newly arrived boat, Apa Lagi, from New Zealand. Andrew and Fiona are still in quarantine so can’t set foot off their boat, but they were very happy to have visitors – all of us, plus Carolina (Poland) and Per (Scandinavia somewhere…) from Per’s boat, Arctic, also newly arrived from NZ. Party time! We left at ten thirty but it took a while to wrest Nick away from a close examination of the back rigging of Apa Lagi…

Steve went straight to bed but Nick, Pete and I played the ipod and danced around the cabin till nearly 2am... Fortunately my ipod dock has very feeble speakers so it was only noisy on 2XS...otherwise I think we would have been very unpopular with our neighbours. Poor Steve; every now and then Pete would throw open his cabin door and sing a burst of I'm A King Bee (Rolling Stones) or You Really Got Me (Kinks.) I was very happy to find that Nick already knew and loved Manu Chau so we played my whole Manu repetroire as well. Steve's suffering was not at an end; Nick suddenly remembered he had FUN THINGS in his cabin and he reappeared with glowsticks for all of us. So Steve had bursts of Pete singing, and whirling glowsticks...

This morning we are heading off for the Ile Des Pins. I think it takes all day to get there; it is about 60 nautical miles away. We will stay there for a few days so no blogs or emails till next week.

Sailchute - Noumea - hire car

I forgot to say that when we left Lord Howe Island, we put up the sailchute. No other sail, just this magical, colourful lightweight chute, drifting above us. It stayed up all night, and looked so wonderful against the night sky. At times we could see the stars through the vents. It was almost worth being up at otherwise ghastly hours like 4am, to see the chute drifting lazily above the boat, pulling us along at a very respectable rate of knots.

Steve had never been to a country where they drive on the right hand side of the road. His first venture into the streets of Noumea presented him with a shocking sight – cars coming right at him with nobody in the driver’s seat!

Pete and I spent the day – I think it is Wednesday, although blogspot seemed to think it was Tuesday – wandering around Noumea. I was particularly fascinated by the clothes shops, selling frocks for the local ladies. The younger local girls wear tight modern clothing; at some stage of life, I’m not sure exactly what age, they stop dressing like Britney Spears and start wearing – a brightly coloured tent, with a ruffle or two at hem and sleeve. These voluminous garments come in the most extraordinarily shouty colours. Turquoise! Pink! Yellow! Orange! And sometimes all the colours of the rainbow in the one garment. The young men, who drift around the city, hanging out, dress like Boyz in Da Hood. And a very aimless lot they are too, just hanging out… Or walking down the street in packs, playing ,music, or singing. They are mostly large, and not in the least menacing. Most of them say, “Bonjour, Madame,’ and “Pardon!” when they jostle us off the footpath (they are often walking sideways looking behind them, and present a bit of a roadblock on the streets…

We have hired a car to go touring inland. I imagine that Nick, Steve and Pete will be sitting with their knees up around their ears…it is a very small car.

It is quite chilly and raining… Steve and Pete have taken the boat to a fuel wharf; Nick and I have done the veggie shopping at the nearby market, and now we are about to have a croissant and coffee before setting off in the tiny car.

Elizabeth reef – sharks – fishing – ocean passage - Noumea

I had three final shopping trips, with my backpack, to stock up on bread and milk etc. All hideously expensive… I wanted to buy Lavazza ground coffee, for example. We usually pay between $9-12 for a double pack; on Lord Howe it was $15.95 for a single pack… The biggest shop – well I won’t name it, but it has a name which indicates bliss. But…it was not so blissful, as a shopping experience. Two women work there; a plump young blonde girl, quite friendly, and a VERY grumpy older woman, with a European accent and a Very Bad Attitude. She and the young girl – maybe I will call them Cressida and Griselda spend all of their working day squabbling. And Griselda extends this exasperation nd annoyance to her customers. She sighs deeply and rolls her eyes when asked, for example, where the sausages are. “Sausages! And more sausages!” while pointing with a stabby finger at the freezer. So imagine my amazement when I went there on the last day, with Steve. Griselda twinkled away at us and waxed lyrical about life at sea. “It must be so beautiful, waking up in the morning to golden sunlight on the water. And so lovely at night, with slivery moonlight on the water!” On and on! We left the shop on a wave of love and delight. So when I realised I had forgotten something, I went back in very confidently, smiling and saying, “Hi, I’m back!” “Hmmmph!” was the stern reply… What had happened to our lyrical friendship?? I can only conclude that she was very taken by Steve, who is a very handsome man. Without Steve, I was just any old nuisance-y customer…

We left beautiful Lord Howe Island around three in the afternoon. Our bikes, which had been left on shore, unlocked, with helmets dangling from the handlebars, on various bike racks, were folded and put away on their very own bunk once again. We had been assured that the bikes would be safe; after all, it is a very small island – who would take them, and where would they hide them??

We were heading for Elizabeth Reef, which is way out in the ocean, north of Lord Howe. Our lovely waitress at Humpty Micks café on the island had shuddered when I had told her where we were going. “Yes you will find it very beautiful, but I would never go swimming there…it is VERY sharky!” We arrived at the reef in time for breakfast, and sat on the deck eating bacon and eggs very happily, admiring the beauty and splendour around us. It is so strange, to come upon a little oasis of calm in the middle of the wild wide ocean. A beautiful little golden sandbar, a wide ring of coral, crystal clear calm water. Gorgeous! And look, approaching the boat, how cute, a dear little shark, only about one metre long. Pete and I got all togged up ready to go snorkeling. He wore his new silver and black wetsuit; I was resplendent in bright orange bathers and my new bright pink flippers and mask. Splish splash into the water…we hadn’t swum away from the boat when Nick and Steve shouted, “More sharks!” I am ashamed to say there was an unseemly scramble for the ladder and I used poor Pete as a sort of platform to get to the steps… The sharks weren’t big, really, maybe one and a half metres, but there were a lot of them, and they had big sharp teeth…

Steve and Nick were very keen to catch fish. Pete and I mocked them unkindly for their lack of success for a very short time and then…fish! More than you could jump over, said Pete. Very beautiful fish, including a giant silver trevally. They were just delighted and our freezer now has about ten gourmet serves of lovely reef fish. The sharks enjoyed all of this very much too and came right up to the boat. We threw the fish remains in and created a very gratifying feeding frenzy. “Well,” said Pete, “Now would probably be a good time for us to go swimming because the sharks are all FULL.” But…we didn’t set so much as a toe in the crystal clear water… Not quite correct; Pete and Nick took the tender out to a coral outcrop, and Nick went for a brief snorkel in the shallow water. He said it was very disappointing; the coral is mostly dead, or bleached. Too sad…

It was a long haul from the reef to New Caledonia. I lost all track of time, but it probably took five days and four nights. We were on four hour rosters:
2 hours on the helm
2 hours on the couch
4 hours in bed
I had shifts on the helm which began at 8pm and 4am. Pete was on before me, and it was his irksome task to wake me. The last morning I heard him laughing at the foot of the bed. He said, “You always look so startled and horrified when I wake you up!” And indeed I FELT startled and horrified!

It was poor Steve’s turn to be ill… We all felt so sorry for him as he trudged wearily off to his bed with a large bucket under his arm… He was a true hero; didn’t complain one bit, did all of his shifts stoically and competently. Fortunately he came good after only a few days of nastiness.
And yesterday we arrived in Noumea, very pleased with ourselves indeed! We had crossed a big stretch of ocean and had arrived in a new country! We are tied up at a lovely marina just near the food markets. We had been told that there would be a lot of paper work and officialdom to greet us, and indeed our whole afternoon was spent with poor Pete filling in form after form.

First came the Immigration team, then Quarantine, then Customs. Nick and Steve were very surprised to hear that I could speak French. This was actually very helpful; not all of the officials swarming over the boat spoke English, and it made everything a bit easier if I could translate. “Are you sure they understand what you are saying?” asked Nick, sceptically. My large, stern Immigration friend, Valerie, said, “Tell him that your French is EXCELLENT!” (She lied but never mind!) She asked where we had been – they need to know everything, for their files – and asked if there had been sharks at Elizabeth Reef. I told her about them and asked if there were sharks in New Caledonia. “Yes, lots!” she said. “Big ones and small ones. Some for every taste!”

Yannick was our Quarantine official. He was so very apologetic as he left the boat with two large bags full of our fresh supplies – goodbye lemons, pumpkins from Pete’s garden, garlic, everything. But he left our fish in the freezer – I was very sad to think that these lovely fish might have died for nothing.

Customs were a bit less friendly than Immigration and Quarantine. They were deeply suspicious and looked at us with narrowed eyes. But…they didn’t do a full boat-search, with sniffer dogs. Ian, in the boat next to ours, says it is all totally random – some boats don’t get a visit from Customs at all, while others get every cavity explored. We got a medium level investigation, which was fine.

I went for a walk around town, looking for a computer shop. I wanted to buy a connection for the internet, but…no luck. The café at the end of the marina has free WiFi so I will go there in a while and see if I can get things up and running.

This cafe is called...Le Bout Du Monde (the end of the world...)

Lord Howe Island - leaving for Elizabeth Reef then New Caledonia

Pete has been extremely busy with mountains of red tape, to do with registering the boat, getting his satellite phone up and running, passing through Australian customs, getting permission to enter New Caledonia - the list is endless!! We have been told that they are very strict in Noumea, extremely bureaucratic. One of the stipulations for ships entering NC waters is that a yellow Q (Quarantine) flag must be prominently displayed. I offered to help with this one aspect, and wrote an email in French and in English to the port authorites. This is the reply I received, v promptly...

Hello Marguerite,

International rules and regulations stipulate that vessels entering in foreign countries must hoist the Q flag as soon as they enter in territorial waters. The only advice I can give you is to buy a Q flag in Lord Howe or :

1. to use something yellow like a T-Shirt

2. yellow material

3. or paint something with yellow paint, I am sure that there is a hardware store that sells yellow paint in Lord Howe, sorry for not being more helpful.

Regards, Corinne

We were highly amused...this did not sound too bureaucratic at all!! I have bought a lovely size 16 Lord Howe Island t-shirt, and we will proudly hang it from the mast as we approach New Caledonia!

You may gather that we haven't left yet... Various reasons, but we are all quite happy to have another LHI day, and we will probably leave mid afternoon, for Elizabeth Reef, out there in the ocean about 100 nautical miles north of here.

We went to dinner at Humpty Mick's, the nearest restaurant to the jetty, and had a cheery meal - it was pasta and pizza night. Sad not to have John with us, and I didn't even say goodbye, was too busy whizzing around the island on my bike... We will miss him.

Everyone had wild sailing stores to tell. Nick told us about a French couple he knew, who settled, more or less, in Tasmania, in the 90s, I think. Jacques and Marie. They decided to sail the world with their two young children, bought a yacht and set off. from France. They had never sailed before, and had no charts or maps. They just went where the wind took them, all around the world, and ended up in Tasmania. On the way they adopted two small children from South America...Nick isn't sure where any of them are now. Jacques and Marie eventually divorced and Jacques is probably having wild adventures with a new, less worn-out wife...

This morning Steve and I left Nick doing busy things with cans of oil, and Pete scratching his head at his satphone, and went for a beautiful ride up some of the roads I hadn't yet explored. It is a gorgeous day, sunny and mild - the first day I haven't had to wear my warmest coat. It is indeed a fabulous island, full of beauty and serenity. Bill lent Pete his ute to do some jobs yesterday, and said, vey sternly, "Make sure you so NOT exceed 30 lilometres per hour!" That is one of the reasons the island is so calm - the only traffic is bikes, or cars cruising very s-l-o-w-l-y.

Ball’s Pyramid – man overboard – still on Lord Howe

Today I am not at the museum battling with the weird-o computers. (The museum, open 10-2 daily, is the only internet access on the island.) Calloo callay! Instead I am in Bill's office, plugged into his cable, with my very own beloved computer at my fingertips. If you ever come to Lord Howe, stay at Arajilla; it is just beautiful, set in the thick forest, calm and peaceful.

This morning we set off early to Ball's Pyramid so that John could see it before his flight back to Sydney at lunchtime. I was sitting happily on the deck, all drugged up with two lots of chemicals – scopolamine AND Kwells – and it was all very nice, sailing past the beautiful mountains of Lord Howe, looking at the seabirds, going lalalala in my head when suddenly… MAN OVERBOARD! Well that brought us out of our early morning trance, for sure. Yo and Ho! Nick had decided we needed an emergency drill. He had thrown the lifesaving ring up and away into the waves, and we had to retrieve it. My role was to keep an eye on it at all times; not so easy, in the big surging waves. We did rescue our man, and were flushed with achievement.

Did we get to Ball’s Pyramid? Well, no…we got closer and closer but…we had to turn back, otherwise John would have missed his plane. But…it is extra-spectacular. We took 2XS right into the jetty instead of back to our mooring, so that we could load and unload stuff (Beloved Bikes, washing rubbish, groceries,) and there was Bill, waiting kindly for us.

We are supposed to be leaving tonight, to arrive at Elizabeth Reef by dawn. This reef is way out in the ocean, with a sandbar and a lagoon, and we are all very keen to go and swim, snorkel, play for a day. And from there – New Caledonia!! But…the weather is not propitious so we will probably be here another day. If no new blogposts appear, it is because we are at sea, and I think (gulp!) it takes about seven days to get to Noumea…

Ball’s Pyramid – man overboard – still on Lord Howe

Today I am not at the museum battling with the weird-o computers. (The museum, open 10-2 daily, is the only internet access on the island.) Calloo callay! Instead I am in Bill's office, plugged into his cable, with my very own beloved computer at my fingertips. If you ever come to Lord Howe, stay at Arajilla; it is just beautiful, set in the thick forest, calm and peaceful.

This morning we set off early to Ball's Pyramid so that John could see it before his flight back to Sydney at lunchtime. I was sitting happily on the deck, all drugged up with two lots of chemicals – scopolamine AND Kwells – and it was all very nice, sailing past the beautiful mountains of Lord Howe, looking at the seabirds, going lalalala in my head when suddenly… MAN OVERBOARD! Well that brought us out of our early morning trance, for sure. Yo and Ho! Nick had decided we needed an emergency drill. He had thrown the lifesaving ring up and away into the waves, and we had to retrieve it. My role was to keep an eye on it at all times; not so easy, in the big surging waves. We did rescue our man, and were flushed with achievement.

Did we get to Ball’s Pyramid? Well, no…we got closer and closer but…we had to turn back, otherwise John would have missed his plane. But…it is extra-spectacular. We took 2XS right into the jetty instead of back to our mooring, so that we could load and unload stuff (Beloved Bikes, washing rubbish, groceries,) and there was Bill, waiting kindly for us.

We are supposed to be leaving tonight, to arrive at Elizabeth Reef by dawn. This reef is way out in the ocean, with a sandbar and a lagoon, and we are all very keen to go and swim, snorkel, play for a day. And from there – New Caledonia!! But…the weather is not propitious so we will probably be here another day. If no new blogposts appear, it is because we are at sea, and I think (gulp!) it takes about seven days to get to Noumea…

Lord Howe
There are lots of tourists on Lord Howe at the moment, most of them riding bikes, most of them over 50, and everyone is rugged up because - it is not warm! In fact I think every second person looks just like me! So imagine my surprise yesterday, when I was riding happily along the road and a ute pulled up, with a cheery grey-haired man beaming from the driver's window. "Are you off the boat moored in the lagoon?" Well yes...but how did he know?? (I have thought about it since and the only identifying feature would have been - my bike! Everyone other than Pete and me is on a hired mountain bike. So he wasn't exhibiting ESP after all.) He asked me lots of questions and very swiftly exhausted my knowledge of the details of 2XS...I told him we would all be at the cafe around dinner time if he would like to join us, and promptly forgot all about this meeting.

But at dinner, there he was, still beaming, and full of information and questions for Pete, John, Nick and Steve, who could all answer in more detail than I could. Bill has lived on Lord Howe for 25 years so he is practically a local... There are only 350 permanent residents, and they only allow 400 visitors at a time - this is a World Heritage site, and very strictly controlled. He has invited us to his place and we are all very keen - Pestering Bill is on our agenda! He has an even bigger cat, also moored in the lagoon, and a beautiful accommodation place, Rajilla, I think, which is being renovated as we speak.

We had a lovely dinner before chuffing back to the boat in the tender - it takes two trips, ofcourse - even three is a big load for this little boat... We left our bikes and hemets on a rack at the beach and there they were in the morning, faithfully waiting, un-stolen.

My computer time is about to run out...I am finding it quite stressful; the screen goes blank every 20 minutes and the keyboard is weird... So I will come back tomorrow and tell you some more stuff about Lord Howe and life bobbing around on 2XS.

Sydney to Lord Howe - feeding the fish - sailchute
Not suer how much I can get done; I am at a computer in the Lord Howe Island museum and it is after closing time...(2pm!)
No internet connection here for our computers - we are all bereft. No mobile phone connection either.
But...it is so stunninglybeautiful, all is forgiven!
The trip here was...ummm..l.ong. Very beatiful, with the moon shining silver on the rolling ocean.
We had the sailchute up on the first sday and it was wonderful, and looked spectcular. We attracted the Westpac rescue helicopter, which did a couple of circles around us to make sure we weren't a lost windsurfer...A pod of dolphins leapt enthusiastically around; they seemed to be fascinated by our bright kite!
I wish I could say I enjoyed every minute but...unfortunately no... I spent a lot of time feeding the fish over the back of the boat, and then clutching a bucket miserably between my knees. Nick was sick too; we shared the bucket...He recovered more quickly and was wreathed in smiles. Both Nick and John have been fantastic on the boat; I have been only marginally useful...
We have met up with Steve, and John will leave us in the next day or so.
My time is about to run out...

Saturday
Bright and sunny – and – we are off!

We had our last cheery dinner with the Clonarf Harmsens.

Customs officers have been; and very nice they were too. (Thorough but not overbearing.)

We are at the Clontarf fuel wharf at this moment, filling up with many gallons.

Our dear friend Robert has picked up his car…

The unstartable BMW is still firmly stuck in place, immovable…

And we have left our recent home, Middle Harbour Yacht Club.

Not sure when next we will be in internet reach – maybe not until Lord Howe Island?

Friday
Last Sydney day – John and Nick are here – dinner at Harmsens again – off tomorrow, all things being equal

This morning I went – yes! – for a walk! It was sunny; no sleet, no scary wind. So I left Nick and Pete doing busy busy things on the boat, and walked around Mosman, and into Neutral Bay. All very pleasant; life back to normal after the evil weather which made even a brief walk to the bathroom facilities an ordeal. I got back to 2XS at midday and – guess what – back to Brookvale, back to North Ryde, with faithful NavMan helping us all the way. There was a short period of time during which NavMan lost its dulcet female voice. I helpfully read directions to Pete, but…he didn’t like this and insisted I shut it all down and program it all back in until calm, unflappable NavMan girl was back in our midst. Maybe her tone was less stressful (stressed?) than mine…

We are, you may be surprised to hear, about to go back to Chris and Karen’s for dinner…but this time we are actually taking a bit of food to them. We are also taking Nick Wood, and John Miedecke, who arrived this afternoon.

And did we get to the Archibald Prize exhibition?? Well…no… we got to the door of the gallery and Pete, who is favoured by the gods, found a carpark right outside. We were meeting John – had told him to catch the train and meet us there instead of picking him up at the airport. Cunning plan! But…the best laid plans… We told poor John to get off at the wrong stop for the wrong museum and then had a bit of find-the-friend in the busy Friday afternoon streets of Sydney. By the time we found him, plans had to change.

I left John and Pete to speed back for some spinnaker practice with Chris and Nick back in Middle Harbour and I – so brave – went To Town. I did enjoy this much more than Warringah Mall but it was all very testing, for a person with limited sense of direction. I was on a mission to find mesh bags to store our vegetables in on 2XS. Does this sound so very difficult?? I really wanted ordinary old string bags. Rare as hen’s teeth! I thought trendy kitchen shops would stock such things – well why not? Or bag shops. But everyone I asked turned up their delicate noses and said, “No, you need to go to a Hot Dollar Shop. Or out to the suburbs, to a Big W.” In the end I did have success; I found a street of outdoor shops, and I managed to buy three laundry bags, made of very durable mesh. Soon they will be dangling from the ceilings of 2XS full of cauliflowers, apples and cabbages.

I am listening with one ear to John, Nick and Pete. They are horrifying poor Nick, who was only born in 1968, with stories about hydatids – he had never heard of such a thing, and now we have given him nightmares for years to come. And John just told us – changing the subject - about some old codger he knew who had nine kids in nine years in the 50s, and then TV arrived in Tasmania. No more kids from that moment on!

Once again, all is well, life is good!

Thursday
Shopping – flash of sunshine – Marrickville - Greek food - Nick at airport

Yes a tiny flash of sunshine this morning, around 11am! I was so excited I nearly tore off all my clothes and leapt into Middle Harbour. But no…within minutes it was cold, windy and sleety again.

This wasn’t a very boat-y day. I spent a lot of hours in (what fresh hell is this…) Warringah Mall… Those who know me well will know that this is not the pleasure it should and could be… I get freaked out in big shopping malls. I like cities with streets, shops, little arcades… Big shopping malls are just a maze, totally confusing and sapping of energy… I found my way uneasily to book shop, newsagent, post office, and then, many many hours later, met Pete at one of the huge supermarkets so we could stock the boat with food food FOOD. He had been wearily trudging around his Brookvale traps. Possibly less daunting for him than Warringah Mall for me but…maybe not!

The boat is now heaving with food. I have made two loaves of bread into ham and cheese sandwiches, ready to be toasted for lunches when we (finally!) sail off into the blue. One of the bedrooms (sorry, cabins!) has so much food in it I don’t know how John will be able to sleep when he arrives tomorrow…with the scent of cauliflower and cabbage and pumpkin wafting out from a lower cupboard… We want to buy string bags so we can dangle our vegetables, hammock-like, from hooks in the galley and spare cabin (the one where the bikes lived) but – where do you buy string bags?? Anybody? We need to know by tomorrow!

At five we set off for the airport to pick up the first of our trusty crew members, Nick Wood. We were hoping to go to see the Archibald Prize exhibition but…much to Pete’s disgust, it closes at 5pm each day.

So instead of Art, we did Culture. Marrickville… Last year we stopped in this suburb for an early dinner before I flew back to Hobart, after our Whitsundays-Sydney trip. Pete had been impressed by the variety of food on offer – every nationality imaginable up and down the street. The other advantage of Marrickville is that it is only a few kilometres from the airport.

We had a lovely stroll along the main drag. Lots of Vietnamese shops. I particularly loved Sincere Florists. One of the pharmacies was quite alarming; it had two if not THREE huge great Islander bouncers. We looked around - was there a disco, at 5.30, in Marrickville? A meths lab? No, it was the pharmacy! There was another one across the road, innocent of bouncers. I popped in for some painkillers (the new bed arrangement, while very good for moisture, is just that bit harder on my poor achey-breaky back…) and as I handed over my $4.95 (last of the big spenders!) I asked the pharmacist why he didn’t have bouncers at his pharmacy. He looked a bit shifty and said, “Maybe this is a bad neighbourhood. On the other side of the road… We haven’t had any trouble…yet…”

Pete apparently had his heart set on Greek food and we found the most authentic restaurant this side of Athens. Within minutes of ordering, I had a huge plate of moussaka with vegetables, cooked within an inch of their lives, and Pete had the lamb roast to beat all lamb roasts.

Nick’s plane was on time – no problems with Chilean volcanoes – so we scooped him up and brought him back to 2XS with only one or two minor altercations with NavMan along our way…

Tomorrow…well tomorrow night we are going to dinner…at Chris and Karen’s…again…this time with John and Nick in tow. Pete and I have insisted that we will bring FOOD so I am cooking hard boiled eggs and potatoes as I write, so that we can arrive with a large potato salad and some (bought) roast chickens under our arms.

Other than that…Nick and Pete have many boat-y plans and I hope…to go for a walk!! Yes, at last! If it isn’t sleeting and blowing in a violent and terrifying way, I am going to stroll down to Neutral Bay and wander around for an hour or so.

Wee hee!

John, our other crew member, arrives around 2pm and maybe we can go and see the Archibald Prize exhibition on our way back to Middle Harbour when we have picked him up. Pete has organised with Chris to go out for a test sail (new – I mean second hand - spinnaker) at 4pm so I’m not sure how everything will fit in but…we will see…

Wednesday
Rain rain rain wind wind wind – BMW stuck in carpark – Brookvale revisited

Another stormy Sydney day… I suppose some of you must be wondering why on EARTH I am not out and about doing more fabulous things with my Sydney time…well it isn’t easy! I would love to be riding my beloved bike, going for a brisk (or dreamy…walk), rushing about exploring the neighborhood – the marina is on the border of Mosman, a very salubrious suburb, with shops and things to look at within half an hour’s walk. But…it is such fierce and violent weather! Just going to the amenities (lovely showers! A choice of four toilets!) requires a fair measure of fortitude. I am quite happy, while Pete does arcane things on his computer. I read my Kindle, look at the internet, and, in slightly more useful vein, have cleaned and re-organised the kitchen (galley!) shelves and cupboards.

About three days, while I was at the laundromat, Pete found a poor man, sitting on a folding stool , huddled in ago the sleet, next to a small, silver BMW in the marina carpark. He was hunched over the door, with a set of pick-locks (lock-picks??). When Pete came back, over an hour later, the man was still there…patiently trying… Pete said, “Gawd, mate, that’s taking you a while!” and the man replied, “Oh yes, but I’ll get there in the end!” He did indeed manage to unlock the recalcitrant door…but the car punished him by refusing to start. The owner says, “Well nobody can ever steal this car, and that’s for sure!” It is still there, in the carpark, smugly refusing to start. I reckon the owner comes back every now and then, in the howling wind and the rain, to give it a swift kick, for its own good.

I had been thinking of going home for a few days…just to touch base and see my family for a few hours… But the Chilean volcano has conspired against me – no hope of getting a ticket, and even if I did, no certainty of getting back. So 2XS might set off for Lord Howe Island without me on Saturday. (NOT a good thought...) Also…if I went home, maybe I wouldn’t come back; the lure of familiarity, family, friends… No going back! I am very happy even though we are in a state of hiatus in windy sleety Sydney. There are lots of compensations – being neighbours with the Sydney Harmsens, living on the North Shore for a week or so, watching Pete do his complicated preparations. He is so very resourceful, and so very last-minute… I am in awe because my way (the boring, plodding Harmsen way…) would be to plot and plan months if not years in advance for all of the red-tape; Pete is doing it all NOW, with great success.

This afternoon we ventured out, in wind and sleet, to Brookvale, Pete’s newspiritual home. He darted in and out of toolshops and sailshops and boating supplies, whiel I sat an dplayed Boggle on my iphone. I did get out when we got to Warringah Mall because I wanted to buy ingredients for dinner. (The tuna-sloppy thing I made last night, in an unnecessarily vast quantity, has lost its pulling power for me…) So now I have a red pasta sauce (chilli, mussels, capers – Niece Jo’s recipe…) simmering on the stove, and Pete is playing very happily with a lovely new battery-operated grinder. And we have very sustaining G & Ts at hand… Life is good!

Tomorrow – who knows??

Reprieve

8.00pm

The wind has dropped down a bit and Pete has had much consultation and discussion. The general consensus is “relax, sit tight, don’t go anywhere!”

So we are very happy…are going to lie on couches and watch goodness knows what on TV.

Tuesday
Rain – storms – shopping – more rain – more storm

Our theme song for today is – Stormy Weather!

We went out late this morning to drive around in the pelting rain, doing boat-related chores in Brookvale and North Ryde, with the help of the not-so-trusty NavMan. Every so often, our guide with the dulcet tones would just close down shop and leave us with a blank screen. This was not – ahem – a good thing… I would hold NavMan tenderly on my lap, doing reiki and uttering cooing sounds which I hoped were of a computer-healing nature, while Pete tried to find our way with staring eyes and muttered curses. Inexplicably, NavMan would start up again, with our ever-calm guide saying, “At the traffic lights in 400 metres, turn right,” just as if she had never left us in a heavy rainstorm in the middle of God-Knows-Where.

Our plan had been to get back to the boat and catch a bus into the city, to look at the Archibald Prize exhibition, then stroll to the Opera House, have a meal at a nearby restaurant, and then go to one of the smaller theatres to see Haunted, a play by Edna O’Brien starring Brenda Blethyn. Delightful plan, don’t you think?? Sadly…it was not to be.

We were delayed, ofcourse, on our shopping exhibitions from North Ryde to Brookvale, and we didn’t get back to the marina until five. By then we had had a phone call from one of the managers, Anthony, saying could we please come straight back and move 2XS to “a mooring somewhere” because of the violent weather about to hit Middle Harbour.

Oh goody…we are now still at the marina, waiting for the Spit Bridge to open at 8.00 so we can scarper up into a safer area. We are also rather hoping that maybe we can stay here; this is our comfort zone after all.

Instead of a gourmet meal in a cool Sydney restaurant, I made tuna mornay with tinned peas, served with a mash of potatoes and pumpkin. It was very filling but – very much nursery food…

Never mind. We are watching the news on the wonderful new TV, and the storms further north have been just horrendous. We are fine.

Gorillas – rain and wind – mould and damp – 2XS fans - family dinners

Last night we were lying happily on the couches watching a program about gorillas on the ABC. We saw bright lights going right past the windows and went out to look – a party boat!! A very big cruiser, with Lady Gaga playing loudly, and inside the cabin – bright young things, dancing! Pete lost interest quite quickly but I stayed outside in the rain to see what they were doing. The boat backed up to a landing at the fancy restaurant next door to the yacht club, and the bright young things poured out, singing and dancing, and occasionally shrieking, to continue the festivities. We thought it all looked like great fun but were perfectly happy with our couches, TV, gorillas…

As we were going to sleep, the rain, and the wind, increased in strength. It was like bobbing around in a warm dry cocoon inside a waterfall. I was quite happy and felt very secure and cosy, but Pete felt the need to go and pitter-patter around on deck, securing ropes and getting another fender out of the hold. The rain became positively torrential, and I expected he would come back in drenched, but no. He said, quite happily, “I climbed into the hold and pulled the hatch cover down until it had eased off a bit.” It wouldn’t have been pitch black in there – he was wearing a head torch. But it would have been absolutely horrid! I don’t like going down into the hatches in broad daylight with the cover wide open…

The lovely girl I was talking to at the Manly laundromat told me some funny stories. (Yes she was right; I did wait quite a while for Pete to complete his adventures in Brookvale boat shops…lucky I had a (damp) book to read, and a nice person to talk to.) Recently she did some cold calling for a friend, trying to update client information about boats. She works in marketing, and usually cold calling is a nightmare – people hang up very swiftly, or shout and swear and then hang up. But this time, everyone she rang wanted to talk and TALK…men and their boats… They wanted to tell her about their own boat, the boat they used to have, the boat they wanted to get in the future. She was being paid $1 per phone call and she could see her hourly rate going down rapidly as the minutes added up for each call.

Something to think about if you are going to live on a boat…the bed gets damp…and musty…and mouldy…I spent a jolly hour or so looking up info re this with my friend Google. There are whole forums devoted to this topic. One man wrote, “The only thing for it is to move to a warm climate! I wish I had been born rich instead of good-looking!” But we know from experience that a warm climate just makes things worse…mustier and mouldier…

So this morning we set off, in the rain, for Bunnings. Pete had the idea of constructing a lattice of big solid wooden slats under the mattress and drilling holes in the wooden surrounds of the bunk to allow air flow. This should fix the problem once and for all – I will keep you posted!

It is always interesting, living on a marina. I am surprised how many people wander along our arm of the floating pontoons to look at 2XS – there are SO MANY yachts all around Sydney, in all manner of marinas, and many of them are catamarans more glamorous and remarkable than this one. For example, today I watched a very stylish, big cat glide past, with stylish young people on board, and, tied onto the tender, matching pink and blue kayaks, brand new… But we often look out the window and see people earnestly examining this boat. We usually invite them aboard and they always exclaim in delight at the space and beauty of 2XS, although we are nearly always in one big mess. Today, for example, Pete has been a very busy carpenter on the deck and the whole of our cabin was, until a few minutes ago, full of sawdust. And usually the dining table is full of computers, screwdrivers, wrenches, boating manuals and the beautiful little book Anne-Marie gave me for a farewell present (I think she expected me to write delicate poetry in it…) and which Pete uses every single day to make copious technical and practical notes.

The first two days of this long weekend there was a regatta on, for juniors. We had several visits from some very confident children, who invited themselves aboard. Natasha was the leader of the pack. She kept returning – “This is my friend, Maya. She has come to meet you, Pete and Marguerite, and to look at the boat. I’ll just show her around, if you don’t mind.” We didn’t mind at all. She was about ten, and was wildly enthusiastic – four cabins! A shower! A toilet! Isn’t it lovely? When she left, she said to Pete, “I will never be able to afford a boat like this. You would have to be a millionaire!” So funny…really, all of the boats here at Middle Harbour are big and glam; 2XS is big-(ish) but looks a bit more battered-by-the-sea than the other boats. And I suppose there is the added attraction of us getting on and off all the time. Too thrilling for words!

This afternoon Chris, my brother and neighbour-across-the-bay, paddled across from Clontarf to help Pete with his broken boom-piece problem. So lovely, having family so close by. I stayed inside, trying to download podcasts, with limited success, while they scampered around on the roof in the icy wind and sleet, oblivious and happy, getting things fixed. It is getting dark...colder…windier…and in a few minutes we are happily driving over the Spit Bridge to have yet another lovely meal with Chris, Karen, Kate and Max. How lucky are we??

Actually today is Sunday 12/5...
not Saturday 11/5 as it says below
Blogspot is sometimes wrong

Wet Wet Wet Sydney

Not much to report today…

Pouring with rain!

We have done a few odd jobs and I am sure you will be thrilled and fascinated to know that, not only did I scrub (most of) the marks off the hull yesterday, today I scrubbed the bathroom area and it is all sparkly.

I spent a few very productive hours in a laundromat in Manly and discovered, when I walked down to the Corso to buy an umbrella, newspaper and postcards, that my lovely best black boots leak most copiously. So does my shopping bag, which I thought was waterproof… When I got back to the laundromat, I had to throw away the postcards and the Weekend Australian because they were saturated… I did meet a very nice girl, drying her washing. I told her that Pete was in Brookvale when I rang to tell him that the washing and I were nearly ready to be picked up, and she looked at me with deep sympathy, and said, “I know those boating shops well…I don’t think he will be here for quite a while…”

Pete up the mast – haircut – Adriano Zumbo – sailchute – Jeep Tommy

This morning first thing – fortunately AFTER I had had a soothing cup of tea – we had an exciting little time on 2XS. Pete needed me to winch him up the mast so that he could attach a halyard (I won’t go into details…) I had to hoick him up and let him down TWICE. Yes there is an electric winch but…I had his life in my hands at the end of a slippery rope, wound twice around around the winch, and once, for good measure, around my waist. And there high above my head, in a faint but threatening breeze, was Pete, looking, from where I stood, about the size of a large koala. I couldn’t bear to look up… I did not enjoy this at all…

At 9.00 Karen, my wonderful sister-in-law, came to pick me up. I had asked her to help me with a hair mission – my hair grows like a weed, and I really had to get it cut before leaving Sydney. Pete said he could cut it, with his Leatherman scissors, but…I was (strange, that,) not attracted to this idea. I won’t bore you with details, but Karen’s choice, Marcello, was very professional, and did just what I asked and wanted. I am hoping to have hair which doesn’t look as dreadful in the tropics as usual…it goes what Pete calls “frantic” in hot, humid conditions, and my usual hairstyle, which requires blow-drying and smoothness, just doesn’t work. So now it is shorter and more layered. Pete likes it very much, so all is well – thank you Karen, thank you Marcello!!

Karen and I had coffee in Manly afterwards, then a nice little stroll along to the next beach. It may be cold but the beach was full of people surfing, swimming, cavorting on the sand. On the way back, we stopped at a small corner shop on the Corso. Karen said, “They sell the very best macarons in there!” I love macarons so I was in there like a shot, to find, to my joy, that I was in Adriano Zumbo’s patisserie! (Masterchef watchers will know who I am talking about with such admiration!) The shop was totally packed, elbow to elbow, with people buying beautiful delicacies. I elbowed my way in – SydneyGirl nowl! - and bought 6 macarons and three quiches.

We went back to 2XS via Karen’s kitchen to pick up a thermos of (delicious!) vegetable soup so we had a most fabulous lunch of quiche and soup sitting on the deck. Chris was already on 2XS – he had done his 150 kilometer training bike ride for the day – so I was no longer on up-the-mast duty. (Thank God…This has to be my least favourite 2xsJob.) I very happily got some soapy water and devoted myself to a much more pleasant task – scrubbing the marks off the starboard side of the boat. This mightn’t sound like fun, but it was very satisfying because the marks were big and ugly – proof of our rough but safe times tied up alongside fishing boats such as Devocean – and they responded (surprisingly) very well to a bit of warm soapy water and a green pot scourer.

By the time I had got all but the most stubborn tyre marks off (Devocean had big used tyres for fenders) Pete had a new person on the boat – Phil, who runs a parasailing business. He is now also selling parachute-type sails for yachts – sailchutes. They are new on the market; if Pete buys one it will be the third one sold in Australia… So off we went, onto busy BUSY Sydney Harbour, to test out a sailchute! WEEHEE what fun!! I was very attracted to this new toy; it was bright and pretty – beautiful in fact – and it belled out in front of the boat in a most satisfactory and elegant manner. By the time we had to pull it back in, the sky had darkened and a bitter, cold rain was making its presence felt. But – never mind! I was very keen to pull in the cords. I had watched the promotional film on the computer, and I knew that the cords need to be made into a chain, like crocheting. Just my thing! We got it all stuffed back into the bag, with the cords beautifully chained, just as the rain came down in earnest.

So now we are happily ensconced in the cabin, with the heater on, playing with our computers and idly chatting about how much we loved the sailchute.

Tonight we are going back to Chris and Karen’s for dinner. Karen’s parents, Maureen and Tommy Hafey, are arriving for the weekend from Sydney. Tommy is in a TV ad at the moment. You may have seen it. Jeep is turning 70 this year, and they have recruited Tommy to be the face and body of Jeep. It is a great ad – there is Tommy, flexing his muscles, swimming in surf, running on beaches, and talking about how you don’t have to give up on fitness and life just because you are seventy. He looks fantastic! And…he is not in fact seventy; next year he will be eighty! Karen said her father is delighted; he got a new Jeep, for this work, and he is now driving around Melbourne hanging out the window hoping people will say, “Hey! Isn’t that Tom Hafey the Jeep Man!! The footy legend??” She wasn’t all that impressed with the film crew… It was very cold, and they kept wanting to do more shots of Tommy in the surf. “Just go back in, mate, we need another camera angle!” The crew, ofcourse, were all rugged up in polar fleeces, and there was Tommy, valiantly diving in and out of the surf in Speedos, getting colder and colder… he nearly got hypothermia!

Canberra – why not?? –and back – Parliament House – War Memorial Museum – endless Bankstown

At about 11 this morning, Pete expressed a fervent wish to go to Canberra. Right now! It will be FUN!!! It is a long long way to Canberra…it took us nearly four hours there and no faster (funny, that) coming back. We got there about 3 and left at 6.15 so we had just over three hours to see the sights.

And yes the sights were worth seeing! I had only ever set foot in Canberra once, in 1968, when I caught a bus from Melbourne to Sydney, overnight. At about midnight they stopped, briefly, so we could all wake up and go to the toilet. And this time – what did I most want to do when I got to Canberra! Yes indeed!!

Pete had been to Canberra in his youth, for more than a toilet stop, but he hadn’t seen the new parliament house, so we went there first. And wow – what a beautiful building… Very imposing, and very lovely, with highly polished wooden floors (jarrah?) or long expanses of pale grey carpet. Marble staircases and majestic columns in pale pink and green; beautiful art work, tapestries, embroideries, delicate marquetry. Just stunning!

I didn’t expect to see anyone I knew in Canberra, but ofcourse the first people we saw, poring over the King James Bible exhibition, were John Thompson and his wife Karen. We all laughed and they asked what we were doing in Canberra – they were visiting family. “Umm well…’ I said. “Contrary to appearances, we are actually sailing to the Pacific Islands. Yes…via Canberra…”

We went up onto the roof to look at the views over Canberra, and found a poor freezing security guard, standing in the whistling icy wind, who said, “Thank goodness for Gore-tex!” It is very cold in Canberra. Not too cold today – around 7. The security guard told us it only got to 2.5 yesterday. BRRR!!
We only had half an hour or so at the War Memorial Museum and that was quite enough for me. I found it so overwhelmingly sad… Great displays, and all very interesting. But on one wall was a big inscription, which said that with all of the conflicts world-wide since 1945, peace is still elusive. And that is the only message I took away with me… We were there for the closing ceremony, which was a lone piper playing a Scottish lament. Very appropriate.

And how big is Bankstown? We seemed to be in it forever, coming and going... Miles of traffic lights!

So now we are back on 2XS, exhausted but very pleased with our (non-sailing) adventure.

Sydney - Richard Neville – gastro – Navman – cars – satphone – spinnaker – shopping malls - TV

I forgot to mention that yesterday I had a very small brush with CELEBRITY – yes I do love a bit of this ( Kate Headlam, Claire Cook – you will be on the same page, I am sure…) At Central Station I bought a newspaper next to – Richard Neville! I was thrilled to bits, but when I told Pete, I drew a blank. Not a clue, never heard of Richard Neville…

I wanted to say to Richard, “Well, hi, how are you! I’ve just been reading about you in the Australian Women’s Weekly! Lovely article about you and your daughter Lucy! How are things? The Life and Crimes of Charles Sobraj made a lasting impression on me!” But…I didn’t – I thought I would look SO uncool…(If you haven’t read this article, in the AWW, it was very interesting – Richard, in the avant garde in the 60s with respect to sex, drugs, rock and roll, free love, the whole shebang, has turned into a VERY strict parent, much to his daughter’s annoyance.

I spoke to Michael, my (VERY cynical) ArmyBoy yesterday, when were on the train to the Blue Mountains. He is doing a transport course in Puckapunyal. Can’t wait to get back to Townsville and HEAT. He was complaining bitterly about having a bad cold so I told him about the people in Europe with very bad gastro, and that he should be glad he just had a 7-day snottycold. He asked about the gastro and I said, “lots of people have died.” “How many, Ma?” “Well…22, last I heard.” He sighed deeply and said, “22 white people, Ma. It wouldn’t be news otherwise. How many people die in Third World countries every day, of gastro and the like?” Too true…

We have had a funny Sydney day, in Robert’s car, with our Best Friend Forever (BFF) NavMan. And…everyone is so kind! Chris (my brother…) also offered us a car, and today, when Pete asked Alistair, the yacht club manager, which way we should go to get to North Ryde (Pete doesn’t totally trust my relationship with the NavMan,) he said, “Just take my car!” How nice is that?? We could have had three cars on the go…
By the way I am so thrilled with my blog; I can see from my stats that many people are reading it, and I have 25 listed followers (not sure what benefits a follower gets…) I think this is just fabulous. I have a Celebrity (in BlogWorld) Follower, Sarah, who writes a beautiful blog called Ah…the Possibilities, which I have been reading for a year or so. I looked at it yesterday, and idly noted that she too had followers. Oh good…how many does she have? Well…nearly 2,000…oh…so 25 is NOT quite so fabulous! (Anyway, look at Sarah’s blog, it is so nice, so pretty…she obviously knows how to put photos up…And…she too loves dolphins!!)
So what did we do…well we didn’t have lovely hot showers…the water was cold….and Sydney is cold…brrrr… So we were only slightly clean today, as opposed to TOTALLY clean yesterday. First stop, North Ryde, to look at a satellite phone. Addcom; all very schmick… I came in with Pete and sat in a beautifully furnished conference room while he did business with Robert Louis, a very nice man, who let him walk off with a whole system, to test it out. Very funny…it is all state-of-the art technology…and he had to leave us to find – a screwdriver! The only way to get the battery in or out…
Next stop – St Ives. This drive through the leafy backblocks of Sydney was – just beautiful! Yes it is still cold, but the sky was blue, the clouds white, and these suburbs are so very - well there is no word but salubrious… We found our address in St Ives (thank you, NavMan Girl!) and Pete spent a happy hour spreading out second-hand spinnakers on the driveway. I retreated to a sunny garden step and played boggle on my iphone while they negotiated a satisfactory arrangement.
Next – and do you realise how important my role was?? I was in charge of programming NavMan!! – we made our way to Chatswood Westfield shopping mall. Oh no we didn’t…first we went to St Ives Shopping Mall! I was suffering from a great need for COFFEE. This was a very nice little mall. Good coffee but...oh dear, the food wasn’t all that yummy…but never mind! I was re-caffeine-ated! Pete had many long phone calls so I went and talked to the concierge, Michael, who seemed like THE most snooty young man on the planet. While Pete lolled on the Mercedes couches (this is a very Mercedes sort of shopping mall…) I idly asked Michael (Mike!) if he knew of any good computer-fixers in the area (my gmail has gone what I can only describe as - psycho.) I thought Mike would turn up this nose but no! He was on the phone and onto the internet, trying to find a solution for my problem. (My newest BFF!!) I sat on a comfy chair in his territory, and occasionally got up to look at shops. I found a lovely children’s wear shop…50% off! Well great, stylish dresses for the Fairy Princesses, Eva and Jemima… I found two, grey, with lots of pink frills and trimmings, just the thing! 50% off! But…the original price for EACH dress was…$475…so I bought two… OH NO I DIDN’T!!!
Pete came back from PhoneWorld and back on the car, back to Navman. And now off to Chatswood, to a huge Westfield shopping centre. Those who know me well will know that…I get a bit freaky in a big shopping mall…Pete still doesn’t know, although he may or may not have noticed that I had to roll out a few Aspro Clear as soon as we got back to the safety of 2XS… We were after: a TV for the boat, with DVD included, and a new set of scales, to stop ourselves from getting horribly fat…yes we are neurotic…
So now we are back safely on the boat; I have been Aspro-ed back into sanity; we are NOT horribly fat, in spite of not being able to weigh ourselves for four weeks, and…we have TV!!! The system Pete bought looked just tiny on JB HiFi but now on the boat, it looks huge! (21”…)We are watching Catalyst on the ABC; oh the bliss!
Tomorrow- who knows??

Sydney – bus and train – Blue Mountains

Those who are really only interested in the sailing part of this blog (well it IS called sailing2XS…) might want to skip a few days, because although we are living on 2XS, we are firmly tied up at Middle Harbour Yacht Club and not going anywhere till next week.

It is still cold here in Sydney today. But not as wild and snowy as people are reporting to us from Tasmania – very dramatic weather, I gather!

I got up and was all ready for my lovely hot shower and – ahem – quiet time in the facilities this morning. But…the gate was still padlocked and our key absolutely doesn’t work in this lock. Trapped! Pete was still snoozing so I couldn’t clamber over the fence and drop onto his back as I did yesterday so I had to trudge sadly back to the boat and wait until life and work had started on the marina, at which time the gates are all unlocked. And then – oh the joy of being able to use all of this lovely hot water!

Pete spent the morning on his computer, alternately tearing his hair (metaphorically…) and occasionally muttering darkly as he attempted to fill on the huge amount of forms which have to be completed before he is allowed to take 2XS out of Australian waters – registration, insurance, all manner of red tape. I very helpfully lay on the couch reading newspapers and occasionally making soothing humming sounds when his frustration levels got too high. Every now and then I would get up and make a cup of coffee, or a small bowl of food to sustain him through the ordeal.

I also spent a happy amount of time playing with my Tilley hat. What a charming thing it is! It has a reinforced crown, to prevent dire accidents, nifty (unobtrusive) straps to hold it on one’s head in the stiffest of breezes, and a lovely little pocket inside, where one could, if one wanted, stash some cash, or a credit card or two. It has also been designed so that one’s sunglasses can be perched (stylishly!) on top. And the reading matter which accompanies the hat is very amusing – for example, the label reads; “Handcrafted with Canadian persnicketiness.” Cute as could be! Pete loves his too but he hasn’t had as much time as I have to explore its many possibilities.

We left around midday and caught a bus into town – and yes this time we did have pre-paid tickets so the driver didn’t have to nurse us through our novice stages of public transport in Sydney. I bought a Mercury at Wynyard Station – yesterday’s but never mind. We are still, apparently, very caught up in the controversy of the Red Awnings in Murray Street. And oh dear a PIG on the front page of the paper, all panicked and having a dreadful time and Creating Havoc On The Highway (I quote.)

We had plenty of time to get to Central Station and to find the right platform for the Blue Mountains. It took two hours to get to the beautiful little town where Robert, Pete’s friend, has a holiday cottage. A beautiful trip; the mountains are just magnificent, spreading east and west as far as the eye could see. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for the early explorers – Blaxland, Wentworth and Lawson, all commemorated in place names the length and breadth of the Blue Mountains. The bush is so very dense, and just when you think you have got there…oops a huge chasm, a gorge, cliffs…and back you go. Over and again.

When we got off the train, which was all cosy and warm, we were met with an icy blast, which must have whistled straight from the Antarctic, bypassing Tasmania. We didn’t have far to walk but we were chilled to the bone; even the insides of our ears were frozen! BRRRR! As we made our way down the little back roads, we heard such a commotion – a flock of white cockatoos, flying from tree to tree and, it would seem, complaining most bitterly. “AAAGGHHH!!!! It’s SO cold!! AAAAGGGHHH!!” We walked past a stately home and there was a tableau of disbelief – five elegant grey kangaroos (three adults and two teenagers), sitting on their haunches, staring up as if to say, “WHAT is all the fuss about??” Too funny!

Robert’s car was ready and waiting for us; it started most faithfully, although it hasn’t been driven for a month or so. He is very kindly lending it to us; we can leave it near his house in the city and drop off the keys at his workplace. As my Michael would say, too easy!

Pete had very fortunately remembered to bring the NavMan with us so we plugged it in and followed the dulcet tones of our navigator all the way back to the Spit Bridge and 2XS. It was nearly 8.00 and we were cold, tired, hungry…why not go to the lovely little Italian restaurant just near the yacht club, Cala Luna? Yum and yum!

So now we are back on the boat, with the heater going, cups of tea in hand, and nearly ready to go to bed. Tomorrow – another Sydney day, this time with a car and not with public transport. I will miss the buses, they are so warm and speedy! And they know exactly where they are going at all times…

Sydney – city slickers/country bumpkins – Tilley hats – lunch with Roberto – Telstra Shop for many hours - dinner with Sydney Harmsens - Wakefield/Smith connection

So today we aren’t sailors, we are city slickers. Or country bumpkins in the big city….

We started off the day with lovely long hot showers in the beautiful bathroom facilities at the yacht club. Just a teensy bit of a hassle getting off the dock… The gate is padlocked, from 5pm till 8am, and we do have a key. But…we can’t get it to work. And no not just me; PETE can’t get it to work, so it MUST be very dodgy! So to get to the showers we had to climb over the fence and drop quite a long way down onto the little beach. I am very sooky about this sort of thing. Climbing is one thing, dropping from a height another… I had to fall, like a large koala, onto Pete’s shoulders and then to the ground. Not dignified but…never mind!

A bit after midday we set off for the city. We confidently waited at the bus-stop for a swiftly-arriving city bus. Not a problem! But…it was a pre-paid ticket only bus… The bus driver explained this to us, kindly and gently. But…where were we supposed to buy tickets?? At a newsagent or ticket stall… We explained that we had just stepped off a BOAT, and that there were no ticket stalls at the Middle Harbour Yacht Club. This driver was a saintly soul; he stopped at a shop in Neutral Bay so that we could buy pre-paid tickets and put them through his machine, while the whole bus-load of passengers waited patiently.

So what did we do with our Sydney Day? Well… we hung around in JB Hi Fi and in the Telstra Shop, while Pete tried to get his phone fixed. For many hours! I fortunately had my iphone to play with so I didn’t get bored and crabby.

At 2pm we met up with Pete’s glamorous friend Roberto Aurelli, who has a dental practice in Martin Place. There was Pete, in his paint-splattered black jumper, well-worn jeans and work-marked Blundstones; and there was Robert, in a beautiful tailored white shirt, blue zipped puffer vest, tailored trousers, and pale grey suede brogues… Total Antithesis, and such good friends, right back from their school days. Robert took us through a maze of tunnels to a Vietnamese restaurant which made authentic and delicious pho (soup). Lovely to catch up with Robert but…my bowl was never-ending and I only made it half-way through…

Back to the Telstra shop for more waiting… Oh and in between, I found the hat shop, in beautiful Strand Arcade. I had googled where to find Tilley hats in Australia, and this was the mecca for these hats, strongly recommended by one of Pete’s sailing advisors (Hugh Garnham) and by my friend Elsa.

So now we are the proud owners of matching pale green hats which are supposed to be THE BEST, for keeping the sun off, for not blowing off into the sea, everything you can ever want in a hat, really…

After a few more hours in the Telstra shop, it was time to find a bus back to Spit Bridge, and 2XS. It was so cold, around Wyndham Station, with an icy wind. I was very glad I was wearing my Mountain Design puffer jacket but oh dear where were my beanie, my gloves, my scarf?? Dear Tasmanians, do not let anyone tell you it is too cold to bear in Hobart or Launceston! Sydney is just as cold, in winter!

We bought our tickets at a kiosk, and found, to my great joy, a stray Sunday Tasmanian amongst the newspapers. When we (finally) found and clambered onto the correct bus, a lovely man stood up, and said we should have seats. These seats, I pointed out to Pete, were designated for the aged and infirm…and maybe for those clasping to their bosoms …a Sunday Tasmanian newspaper!!

We had a few happy minutes struggling with The Key – no success – had to go to the office to get someone to let us in. Very glad I didn’t have to climb UP Pete’s back to get back onto the pontoons to get to 2XS! We left a few minutes later, armed with a big yellow torch, to walk to Chris and Karen’s house. P ete thought this would only take ten minutes… “We can see their house from here! It’s no distance at all!” he cried, happily. Well…it was a lovely walk…but not so very close at all… More like thirty minutes than the ten he had anticipated.

We had such a nice night with the Sydney Harmsens - delicious food, delightful company. Chris drove us home; very kind; he had been up since 2.30am working… So now we are back on cosy 2XS, with the heater working fill pelt time to go to bed; city life is even more exhausting than sailing life!

Small world… I think I wrote a bit about the nature reserve on Flinder’s Island– Patriarch’s – which was set up by our lovely new friend Margaret (aka Margie)’s father, Derek Smith, to provide a safe haven for Cape Barren geese and other wildlife. Today I received a textmessage from Margie asking if Gavin Wakefield was related to Dr Bill Wakefield. Well yes – Bill is Gavin’s father – what, I asked, was the connection with Margie? I guessed it might be a friendship between Bill and Derek, and I was correct – they were united in their love of wildlife, particularly birds, I should imagine, and they were the best of friends. Margie and I are delighted to have discovered this connection.

Both Derek and Bill would probably be very pleased to hear how much pleasure I am getting from watching the birds along our way up the coast, but maybe they would be dismayed that I am not all that scientific about identifying them… ummm… albatross… ummm… some sort of petrel? One good tern deserves another? I am a very lightweight birdwatcher…

Tomorrow – the Blue Mountains!

Kiama – Sydney – Middle Harbour Yacht Club - brrrr

We left Kiama this morning at a reasonable hour, with no fuss or hassle and – better yet – no spectators… The little harbour, and the complicated mooring, were much easier to get out of than into.

I forgot to say that yesterday we went nearly all the way from Ulladulla to Kiama with no engines, just the sails.

This was, you may be surprised to hear, the first time we have been able to do this.

The wind is always coming from the wrong direction so that, until now, we have had to use the engines as well as, or instead of, the sails. Or the wind starts in the right direction then, capriciously, alters by 180 degrees…

This morning the wind seemed perfect, strong and coming from the correct direction, so we put up the mainsail and pelted along for a few happy hours. Then…something went wrong…an eyebolt pulled out of the boom. Fortunately Pete realised what had happened and we dropped the sail quick smart before any damage (I mean FURTHER damage) was done. So…back to engines, and the smaller headsail.

When we were having a blissful few Whitsunday days last year, with the Wakefields (my daughter Nicky, grandsons Hamish & Angus, son-in-law, Gavin,) Nicky said, with starry eyes, “Gavin, wouldn’t it be great if we could get a boat like this, one day?” Gavin, who had been having a lovely, relaxed time with a beer in his hand and the sun on his back, jumped to attention and looked very alarmed. “God no!” he said. “There is always something breaking, or going wrong, with a boat!” And indeed so there is… If you are going to own a boat, or spend time on one, you really have to be very handy; fortunately Pete is extremely handy and resourceful. Pete and his trusty wrench, or as Claire read it a few blogposts ago, trusty wench.

We didn’t go as close to land today as usual, but it all looked very interesting; Port Kembla, with big belching smoke stacks, Wollongong, and then, beautiful Sydney. As we came towards the South Head there were whales, quite close to land. And…my faithful albatross…

Lovely coming in through the Heads…Manly ferries crossing left to right, a few small yachts and dinghies darting about, one or two sightseeing boats.

It is still cold but we are cosy and happy in the cabin; we can run the electric heater because we have power at the marina. Big Bertha (the bigger of the two gas heaters) can have a rest.

Middle Harbour Yacht Club feels like home. We are moored on a nice, safe pontoon, and there are beautiful toilets and showers and power points for hairdryers close at hand. I went ahead of Pete to the marina office, and said, “Hello, Alistair, to the manager.” He beamed and said, “Well sorry – I don’t remember your name but…I saw 2XS coming in!” It is such a nice, welcoming place to be.

We will be here for about a week. We can see my brother Chris’s house just across the water – easy to get there in the tender… (Not just Chris, there is also my lovely sister-in-law Karen, and their delightful children Kate and Max! Treats yet to come…)

Ulladulla – Kiama –Pete does an interpretative dance

We left Ulladulla in sparkling sunshine…it did look pretty, but I didn’t set foot onshore. We were on a mission to get to Kiama! No trouble getting out of the gap; the waves were every sedate and we cruised out with nary a horrified glance sideways…. As we headed up the coast, I saw what looked like a reef, with waves breaking splashily just near us. Pete was in the cabin, working on his computer, so I called him, a bit anxiously – “Is this a reef or WHAT!” It was “what”, ie not a reef but a big pod of dolphins very energetically out hunting. WEE and HEE!!!

Yes sunshine…but brrr…still so cold… I had to go and huddle in the cabin again, lying on the couch under my mohair blanket, listening to my ipod and eating one of my very last chocolate elephants (thank you Claire) to stave off hypothermia. Pete kindly turned the gas heater on for me, but it took me ages to thaw out; I still had to wear gloves, beanie, Stormy Seas, the whole lot, on deck when eventually I came out to watch the headlands of Jervis Bay as we went by. So very beautiful! “Not beautiful!” says Pete. “Spectacular!” nd indeed yes, spectacular! Perpendicular cliffs, not all that high, but very steep and dramatic. Every so often, there is a big square or pyramid-shaped target on a cliff top – Jervis Bay is a naval training area. We could see where they had occasionally blasted away big bits of cliff. Pete was very happy with this concept; I think he wanted a great big rocket launcher, to have a go for himself. I imagine that the days of being away to blast away bits of Australian landscape are in the past…poor Pete has missed his chance.
Birds? Whales? Yes and yes…a few last remaining albatross(es), a lone sea eagle soaring above the cliffs of Jervis Bay, and – whales! Not very close to the boat, but quite a few of them, spouting, and making their way quite swiftly up the cost.
Lots of very pretty (from the sea) coastal towns, and then – Kiama! Two (and I only have two…) of my brothers have lived in and around Kiama over the years gone by. I had no idea it was so very beautiful. Chris worked here; Pete surfed here and worked nearby. It took us a very long time to get moored in the small sheltered area, full of fishing boats. We are very conspicuous, the only boat with a big tall mast… No wonder we attracted – ahem – such a big crowd of onlookers…
The trouble was, they have a strange way of mooring in this little sheltered area. No jetty to tie up on, no anchorage… We had to pick up a buoy at the front of the boat and attach two ropes to the wharf at the back. Some men off a fishing boat appointed themselves our Helpers. They had Pete and me scampering back and forth around and across the boat, hooking up the buoy, attaching ropes (Pete), acting as a human fender (me…) … At one stage I found myself kneeling below the interested crowd (the tide was low) with my bottom in the air as I attempted to fend off the smaller boat next to us…SUCH a good look. I managed to manoeuvre into a more elegant position, and found myself sitting fending off the mussel-infested wharf with my legs. A husband and wife from Wollongong stayed to chat for quite a long time. The husband was entranced, gazing at me, and 2XS, with dewy eyes. When he went back to the car, the wife looked at me with narrowed eyes, shuddering faintly, and saying, “Paul would LOVE to get a catamaran and do what you are doing. But I,’ she said firmly, “do NOT want to!”
Once we were – finally – in place, we found that we couldn’t get off the boat at all, let alone get our darling bikes off. So – no riding! We got the tender down and tootled off to a jetty around the corner, so we could go for a walk around this very lovely little town. So prosperous, picturesque, with steep streets rising from the bay, shops, cafes, a post office with a pink bell tower. And an inordinate number of well-appointed public toilets – “More than you could poke a stick at!” said Pete, happily.
We walked up to the supermarket and bought a few veggies; just enough to fill the backpack. On the way back we were, apparently, PARCHED, so we stopped at the Kiama Leagues Club for a quiet beer or two. I haven’t actually spent much time in leagues clubs… It was very orderly, huge, with lots of pokies, and tables full of men intently watching the rugby. And a nicer man with a guitar and a synthesiser in the front dining room, crooning, “and then I went and spoilt it all by saying something stupid…” to…nobody at all…
Yesterday the wind changed over the course of the day, from East, Slouch, North, West (approximately…) As we were coming into Ulladulla, I was at the wheel, idly watching Pete in the cabin. He had an intent, concentrating expression and was standing with his left arm outstretched. He would mutter something, then turn gently to face another way, once again with his arm outstretched. Then I realised…he was doing an interpretative dance for The Wind!

Please be aware the dates on this blog are not always accurate...my gmail blogpsot host is sometimes tardy.. Today is Saturday, not Friday...
And tomorrow - Kiama!

Bermagui – Ulladulla – rain

Today the sea wasn’t pink and smooth, gleaming like satin in the sparkling sunlight. Today there was a big swell topped with choppy little waves. And no sunshine at all. It was cold. Not cold enough to drive us inside, huddling by the heater, but enough to have us wearing beanies, gloves, thermals, Stormy Seas jackets, the whole kit and caboodle.

No whales, no dolphins, just one lone albatross, some very cute terns, and some very beautiful gannets.

Last night I asked Pete if he would like me to play him some Stephen Fry Chronicles on the ipod, on loudspeaker. Why yes, he thought that was a lovely idea. He lay back on the couch and within not too many minutes of Stephen Fry’s decidedly dulcet tones – well yes OF COURSE, snore, snore…

Once again a beautiful coastline – a few dear little towns on the edge of the water, or on clifftops, and, mostly, endless miles of thick bush and blue hills stretching out in the distance. It must be completely different, driving on roads, and going inland. We are getting a very different and very wonderful, perspective, from the sea.

I am having an interesting time on this trip in that…I am absolutely living in the moment. Most unusual; I am usually either worrying about the future or fretting about the past. None of that on the boat…I just look out at the sea, the scenery, the birds etc etc, listen to music or Stephen Fry, and…no fretting forwards or backwards! I can’t even bring myself to worry more than a tiny bit about my poor neglected unrented house…apparently there are no people in Hobart needing properties to rent, just at the moment… Pete’s beautifully renovated apartment in South Hobart is also unrented. We both have agents looking on our behalf, and Pete also has James, who is highly efficient, on his case. Nada… I suppose if my house isn’t rented by the time my pay stops coming in (mid-July) I will have to rev myself back into a state of anxiety… And…a fat lot of use that will be!

We came into Ulladulla at 3.30. No I can’t give any sort of description at all of this little fishing port; it is raining quite heavily and we are tied up to a big wharf. Access on and off the boat is even more daunting than usual (a big, high, rocking gap.) I can’t find my umbrella, it is too wet to ride my beloved bike, so I am sitting very happily inside, with a very nice cup of tea and some Flinders Island meat defrosting in the sink.

Coming into the wharf area, once again between rocky shore and rock wall, was - ahem - slightly hair-raising. But at least this time the (BIG) waves were behind us so we could sort of surf in, unlike Bermagui where the waves were coming across the entrance.

Eden – albatross – dolphins – whales – Bermagui – bike ride

This morning we left at a relatively civilised hour and cruised up the coast, leaving behind beautiful Eden and coming into equally beautiful Bermagui.

Pete spent the whole day in the cabin, trying to get all the paper work completed to register the boat so it can leave Australian waters. An amazing maze of red tape… I was very happy, up on deck away from the amazing maze… The sea was calm and silky, with a big swell (so maybe calm wasn’t the word…) No waves, no wind, just a big, rhythmic swell, with a pink sheen on the water from the sunlight. Albatross with us, many of them, nearly all the way… I can’t describe how much I love these birds; they swoop and glide, and then sit cutely bobbing about upon the water before gliding off again, seemingly without any effort at all.

And yes, a small pod of dolphins gave us a fleeting visit. Pete did emerge from the cabin for a few minutes to go down and examine the engines and the bilges – he gets all the fun… While he was down in the port hatch, I waited for him to come up so I could take the torch etc. And there, right behind us, was a very big black whale, catching up! I made all sorts of excited sounds; Pete said, from below, “Yes, yes I will come up and see, very soon! But…I am busy!” By the time he came up, it was right upon us, so he was totally convinced that I hadn’t been WOO-HOO-ing for nothing… It was right next to the boat and then disappeared… We thought, for a few minutes, that maybe it was coming up UNDER us, between the hulls…this would maybe not be so very wonderful… But no, it had veered off towards the shore, and we could see it powering up, towards the north. With its friends and family!

The coastline along this bit of NSW is just beautiful. Thick bushland down to the shore; a few little towns; a bit, here and there, of green farmland; but mostly…bush, little beaches, cliffs, waves crashing on the rocks.

We arrived at Bermagui in the early afternoon – perfect time! But…oh dear and oh no… To get into Bermagui itself we had to go through a narrow passage between a sea wall and the rocky shore. Easypeasy I don’t think…because the waves were crashing, fiercely, ACROSS the inlet! Not a matter of surging in, scarily, but forwards, as we do over a bar! We held our collective breath and Pete very cleverly manoeuvered the boat so that we darted in between big thundering waves… He said his heart was beating 1100 per minute; I think mine was too and all I was doing was clinging on and staring aghast at the waves about to bear down upon us…(I am, as always, SUCH a great help!)

We are now happily tied up alongside an unused big black fishing boat called, punnily, Devocean. We unloaded the faithful bikes, plus Pete’s shiny new helmet, and cycled cheerily around this lovely little town. We had jobs to do – Pete had to register his mail (to register his boat) and we had to find a Justice of the Peace to witness his Stat Dec re the above matter. The JP worked at a local motel. She was very efficient, with the witnessing and signing etc, so we asked her – she seemed to have lived in Bermagui for many years - if we could ride our bikes to the beach on the other side of town. “No. Well I suppose you can TRY to ride them up a VERY steep hill past the HORRIBLE rock garden. Then you can go to the Blue Pool but you won’t be able to ride to the other beach.”

Well…she was more than a bit wrong. We were able to ride our bikes perfectly well up the steep hill, past the perfect nice big rocks set along the roadside (horrible rock garden??) and down to the Blue Pool, but NOT back up (push push…) The Blue Pool was wonderful. Built in 1939, with the steps resurrected recently (large and concrete), right down to the wildly surging sea, these pools (not just one Blue Pool!) – paddling and swimming – enable swimmers to splash about in great safety right next to violently thrashing waves. Wonderful!

The next beach was Beare’s Beach, which demonstrated another sort of garden – feral pests; don’t plant these! Mirror plants, groundsel, agapanthus etc etc. Fully informed, we were able to ride back around into the town centre without having to go up or down and more steep hills or past any more horrible Rock Gardens.

Before going back to the boat, we rode up to the pub and sat on the verandah having beer (guess who) and sparkling (guess who.) Right next to the pub was a huge and thriving…mirror bush… Landcare needs to get more active in Bermagui!

We unloaded the bikes back across Devocean and onto 2XS, and then went back to look at a beautiful art exhibition of bird paintings: Greg Postle. Pete thought we should take advantage of Bermagui, so we had some dips and another drink on the upstairs outside terrace, looking out over the boats. All very idyllic. We talked to some very nice people -Annie and Alan, who have lived in Bermagui for quite a long time – seachangers from Sydney. They said, “Next time you are here you can stay with us!” Well how nice is that! Alan’s brother John lives in Woodbridge (Tas) and is at present sailing on much the same course as we are, on his way to Canada…to sail the North West Passage… BRRRR!!

Tomorrow – Ulladullah, once we have got back through the surf waves at the entrance to Bermagui…

Eden – Eden - Eden

We are still in our lovely sheltered anchorage, within the big naval jetties, right outside a beautiful big old house (probably 1930s – gabled, orange tiles, columns, like a big California bungalow.) It has its own private little beach and is surrounded by thick green bush. And I THINK, or hope, for their sake, that a fortuitously placed little headland hides from their view the enormous woodchip pile and operating machinery associated with this industry…

Tomorrow Bermagui, but today was all Eden.

And what an appropriate name for this beautiful little town. Who knew? Not me! I knew it was a place where Sydney-Hobart yachtsmen blow in, ignominiously…and that the main industries are fishing and forestry, and that it used to be a centre for whaling. But I didn’t know how very beautiful it is. The big bay, Quarantine Bay, has many lovely little beaches, with rocky headlands, and thick, green bushland right down to the sea. Eden itself is very small, and not suitable for bike riding…because it is steep, and Pete and I are flatcountry riders.

We went into the bay next to ours, trying to get a look at Boydtown, the original settlement. But this bay was full of bits of wood – hazards to shipping! Not quite as big as the logs Canadian lumberjacks leap on, but large nonetheless, and a real worry. They had been washed into the bay in the recent floods, we later found. So…we didn’t go to Boydtown. We headed straight into Eden. We were led into town by a small pod of enthusiastic dolphins, just a few of them, which darted busily around the bows of the boat until we were nearly at the wharf. I was just delighted, being able to watch them as I attached the mooring lines and fenders. (Yes I do know how to do just one or two useful things, on the boat…)

We tied up to the big solid wharf and organised to fill up with fuel at 3pm. This gave us a few hours to walk up the steep hill to the town centre. Lots of people were fishing along the wharf. They all had to move to make way for 2XS but no complaints; they all had comments, and admiration for the boat. One of them trotted off to his car to bring me his newly acquired digital camera, to show me photos of his grand-daughter (Laura…) sitting in his kayak, then many photos of his kayak (prized possession) on his couch, on his bed, in the water, on a trolley he made himself out of an old wheelchair. I actually couldn’t see anything very clearly in the bright sunshine, but I made appropriate admiring sounds and he was happy.

We walked up a fairly new, beautifully laid-out pathway, called Warren’s Walk. As we wound our way up, we could hear swish swish, then we could see a tall thin woman (older-than-me), sweeping…the grass?? No; when we came around the bend we saw she was meticulously sweeping the pathway clear of grass clippings. She was wearing a bright yellow t-shirt which said, “So many books, so little time.” That sort of woman a-bit-older-than-me… We stopped to chat and to congratulate her on her obviously (voluntary) task. She sighed deeply and said, in a strong German accent, “Ah yes; the council mow the lawns, but they do not keep the path tidy. You can call me the Wicked Witch of Warren’s Walk.” We said she might be the witch, broomstick and all, but she certainly was not wicked! When we walked back down the pathway later in the day, Pete stopped and gasped in horror – “Well!” he shouted. “She hasn’t swept this TWIG off the path! And what about those three leaves over there!!”

At the top of the hill, there was Eden, in all its glory. And no I am not being sarcastic. (Sarcastic, moi???) A whole streetful of lovely old houses, early 1800s, cottages, grand hotels. Lots of new buildings, shops, galleries, cafes. And huge great pubs and clubs just waiting for yachties! The views from the hilltop are simply breath-taking – and this is a lot for a Hobart Girl to say; we have such beautiful views, in Hobart. The whole main street of Eden looks down on two (sometimes three!) sides, out into the bays and the ocean, with waves crashing in. Beautiful!

The first thing we did was to go to the museum, set up in the 1930s, and run entirely by volunteers – it would seem a whole team of very nice ladies a bit—older-than-me… A fabulous little museum! All about…whaling… So a teensy bit gruesome but fascinating. Eden made its early fortune from whales; many people are now making another fortune from whale watching. Much nicer, to our 2011 sensibilities. There are many stories about the early days. The whalers used killer whales to herd the other whales into the bay to be slaughtered. The killer whales acted like sheepdogs, led by Old Tom, a very smart and human-friendly orca, whose skeleton now reposes in a glass case. This is all hard to believe, but it is very well documented. Apparently there are no other recorded cases of killer whales doing this anywhere else in the world… Now all of the whales are cosseted and treasured; no whales have to die and no humans have to go out in tiny wooden boats with harpoons.

We watched a video which gave us all sort of useful information about the birds and mammals we have been seeing all the way up the coast. “Oh look,” said Pete fondly. “There is your very own albatross!”

Pete had left his bike helmet behind in Hobart; we were on A Mission to get him a new one. Bike shops are not all that popular in Eden; it is, as I said, so steep… But we found a small shop which sells this and that in the outdoor-ish mode, and which had about 3 helmets for sale. The man now has 2 left for sale…

We looked in some of the shops and galleries, and had a coffee in the Sign Shed, run by two recent escapees from the Canberra ratrace – sea-changers! If you want a sign made, go there! Or if you are in Eden and you want a REALLY nice cup of coffee – ditto.

Back down on sea level, we went and ordered a fisherman’s platter for two, $20, which we took, back to 2XS. There was more than enough (fried! yummy!) food for both of us. We sat happily on the deck, watching people fishing, with two happy pelicans on the lookout for scraps. And a small cheery seal leaping around making a nuisance of itself beneath the fishing lines.