We took our leave of my new favourite place before 6am on 17 November 2018. Conditions were clear and calm. I photographed everything as we departed our mooring on North Passage. The light was ethereal.
There was no wind. The sky was clear. The swell was low and M was able to hold the mooring and undo all three bowlines keeping us tethered. It took us until midday until we were able to turn toward Sydney in one metre swell, one metre sea, and a south wind.
After a day or so at sea, our passage had taken more of an uncomfortable shape. Small DB had thrown up into a handy container. I was unable to eat a thing. But then…
We’d pinned our hopes on Manly. The sail wasn’t ideal – it brought me near to wondering why I hadn’t just hidden in the cargo hold of one of the Qantas flights that seemed to be zipping back and forth between the island and the mainland a few times a day. It was pretty bleugh – to the point where we did consider taking the shorter route to Camden Haven or somewhere similar.
Thankfully, we kept our eyes on the prize and, at about 9pm or so, entered the significantly calmer waters of Sydney Harbour. As anyone who has spent any extended time on a boat (or indeed has read this blog for any length of time) – the actual GOING FROM ONE PLACE TO ANOTHER stuff is almost a 50/50 thing. It’s either going to suck the big one, or alternatively, be generally tolerable. Glerg. I was so happy to see Manly.
Manly, however, was not overjoyed to see us, because her five moorings between the aquarium and the ferry terminal were full. GAAAAAH. We did a u-turn and motored back to the old Quarantine Station and spent a reasonable chunk of time trying to figure out where and if there was a mooring about – lots of flailing about with the torch etc. Finally, we were sorted. It was 1am.
Did we go to bed like reasonable adults dead on their feet? No, we stayed up and binged on internet and tea until 3am. BOOM!