[A LONG POST, BUT A GOOD ONE…]
We have been having a great time hanging around in Hobart for the past week or two. Small Brother came over a bit before Christmas and flew me over to Melbourne where we had a celebratory and very fancy family dinner at the Press Club. I got to see the Mothership’s house for the first time in over two years. SB and I had a drink for dad at one of his favourite haunts – Jimmy Watson’s.
Sadly, Melbourne did not set me on fire with nostalgic longing. It was grey and busy; I miss my friends in Victoria, but not so much the place itself. I schlepped back to Hobart the next day laden with grandparent gifts for the Smalls, while SB went back to Sydney in pursuit of his lost laptop. He eventually turned up at Salamanca Market the following day, laptop redeemed.
Small Z did a bit of busking and promptly spent most of her earnings on books and sweets…
We did ALL THE FUN THINGS!! We hit the Cat Cafe, celebrated SB’s birthday with breakfast at the Criterion and a 12km bike ride to MONA – topped off by a totally zippy trip back on the MONA Ferry. There was A LOT of Tasmanian wine drunk…
Christmas Day was a wild paper wrapping festival of yum – smoked salmon and scrambled eggs on amazing GF bread, AMAZING oysters of glory, happy ham, potato salad, chorizo/cherry tomato/chickpea/haloumi salad…
Wild Oats 11 won the Sydney to Hobart Yacht race; we were so close to the finish line that we were in the newspaper photos. Those racing yachts are SO HUGE – watching them jibe in order to switch direction to the finish line was extraordinary.
I developed a serious case of envy: SB has an iPhoneX and the camera on it makes me weep. My only consolation is that it will be run-of-the-mill in a couple of years and that’s when I’ll get my hot little hands on one. Meanwhile, anything he shoots with it looks awesome. Sigh…
We (and everyone else) were kicked out of Sullivan’s Cove in Hobart on 28 January in preparation for the arrival of the yacht race participants. After a night on a mooring at the Royal Yacht Club of Tasmania, we headed out early into the D’Entrecasteaux Channel ostensibly for Peppermint Bay. Wrong. WRONG.
This was just the first of several forecasts that were completely off the mark. We were totally hammered in the strongest winds we have ever been in. It hit 50knots. Our jib ripped, just a little bit. I didn’t realise the extent of the mayhem until things started falling out of the cupboards that /someone/ had neglected to shut properly.
And thus I waded through a salady scented mixture of half a litre of tamari sauce combined with a small bottle of balsamic. Shards of glass decorated the whole thing. Infuriated, I ran up the stairs and shrieked into the cockpit; “What the FUCK is going on? There is GLASS and SAUCE all OVER THE FLOOR!!!”
M got right in my face before I could walk a step further. “I am DEALING with FIFTY KNOTS OF WIND OUT HERE. Don’t start YELLING at me! GO BACK TO BED.”
He slammed the door. Behind me the stainless steel coffee plunger was dripping down on to the couch cushions. I opened the door and threw it into the cockpit where it made a satisfying THUNK. I then made my retreat, leaving M and SB to deal with the weather.
Once M had found the kitchen floor and the glass shards were gone, I regained composure and went out on deck to help. SB was working the jib, M had both motors going – but we weren’t able to get into the harbour at Kettering. At one point, the boat stopped moving – overpowered by the wind. We turned around and found some shelter off Oyster Cove Point, although we could still see the wind smoking up the water about 100m away on either side of us.
We sat it out for an hour or so until conditions subsided and went into Kettering without further drama. The afternoon was in complete contrast to the morning – spectacular weather, windfall plums, drinks at the pub, dinner in the sun…
It was tempting to stay in Kettering, but we headed over to Great Bay, on Bruny Island – having sat and watched a traffic jam of cars trundle by for about three or four hours.
M and I have never been to the more populated areas of Bruny – and SB had his eye on somewhere I have wanted to go forever – Get Shucked.
What a lunch!! A dozen oysters each and a bottle of Willie Smith apple cider. Decadent and divine… We wandered down the road to the cheese factory, where M and SB tried (and admired) their Oxymoron Dark Pale Ale, practiced our stone skimming on the shores of Great Bay, and then sailed around to the Duckpond for a quiet night…
Our New Year’s Eve anchored off Nutgrove Beach in Sandy Bay was notable for the awesomeness of the 9.30pm fireworks… and the 2.30am change in wind direction that had all the adults on deck. The wind was pretty epic – we motored through the night with M at the helm, SB on spotlighting duty and myself on lookout for both other vessels, and our mooring. It was a little bit tricky…
Such was the adrenaline that M and I had to have a cup of tea and stay up for an hour afterward…so the first day of the year was slightly muted by fatigue. Although we did discover the coeliac-friendly Mr Burger in the CBD, and spent some kid free time on the couches in the yacht club.
Then, inevitably, SB had to depart. He does, after all, live on the other side of the world. Sigh. Stupid everything. I am hoping to get over and visit him and his house in the not-too-distant future. We miss you SB, come back soon.
