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.