We bade Launceston a sorrowful goodbye…
Goodbye to it’s wool shops, thylacine statues, free buses… the lovely Chris from Lady Launceston who let us use the Sea Scout’s pontoon. We moved over the main jetty just to fill up our water and then we were away, heading back down the brown river toward the sea.
We docked at George Town, did yet another shop at the supermarket, and left the following morning – early. Conditions were pretty sucky – it was a pity Ford St Clair wasn’t there to get a dose of what he would call ‘proper sailing’. Small DB spewed twice, I held her hair out of the way, but otherwise both of us lay flat and unhappy. M steered. Small Z watched shows on her iPad. Gah.
Things didn’t settle down until about an hour before we made it into Wineglass Bay. There’s always a hope that you’ll be the only boat there, but of course, there were a couple in there already. Mono’s, which require more depth, so we were able to winkle in close to the shore right in the corner where we’ve anchored several times before.
On other occasions in that location I haven’t been too blown away by my surroundings. This time was different. Maybe it was because of the week spent in urban surrounds… maybe it’s been too long since I’ve seen mountains. Whatever it was, Wineglass Bay looked superlatively beautiful – and I finally understood how it came to have some kind of fancy accolade like ‘most beautiful beach in the world’ a few years back.
Despite the beautiful surroundings, the wind kind of detracted from the experience. It was completely epic. To the point where getting off the boat was an exercise in willpower – just because the wind was strong and arctic. We went on a couple of walks and clambers on the rocks, but the rest of the time I stayed on the boat.
It’s not only the constant wind that I find intolerable for it’s sand whipping and cold air, it’s THE NOISE. Argh!!! Living on a boat does not mean that I am accustomed to constant shrieking wind – the past few weeks have been an anomaly – up in NSW it is these same winds that have been contributing to the catastrophic bushfire conditions.
It was tempting to stay longer to try and enjoy the area minus the constant blow, but we needed to use the change in the weather to continue down the east coast. M got us going at about 4am and, like magical magic, the Smalls and I arose after 9am and found that we were about to arrive in Orford!! Hello Orford – ye of the tiny library with no return slot and crazy opening hours… ye of the sandbagged mouth of the Prosser River…
The fucking wind kicked in again, just after our arrival. M had nerded up on where would be the most sheltered spot to anchor, so we were just off the beach, with some shelter from trees, in shallow water on the town side of the river-mouth. It was a good spot. Luckily. Because we had to stay there for about four days as the wind blew on and one and on. That awesome exfoliating feeling of sand getting blown into the zinc cream that is all over your face… Gah.