The Mothership and T go sailing

We sailed Bella Luna from Hobart down the channel to Cygnet on a Thursday and arrived just before dinner time. It’s a difficult spot to anchor securely, and this was a problem that dogged us throughout our stay there. (M says it was because we didn’t do our motors-in-full-reverse anchor check…) However, the conditions calmed down over night.

In anticipation of a midday arrival, M and I cleaned Bella Luna like demons in the morning. Then just before midday we walked with the Smalls into town – the walk along the water is a good one – past old apple sheds and boatbuilding sheds built out of old-school hardwood.

Cygnet. Boat shed and shafts of light.

Obviously it would have been vastly more enjoyable if the Smalls hadn’t whimpered about the heeeeeat…and the dissssstance….and when are we theeeeeere. In any event, we got to Cygney…and oh! My heart! What a great day to arrive! It was buzzing with day-before-the-festival activity – there were cafes, op-shops, a pub, a bookshop, a health food shop – the whole place had been yarn-bombed to within an inch of its life.

Yarnbomb Cygnet. Yes!

M’s soul was soothed by a coffee. My soul remained unsoothed, having been charged $7 for a cup of black chai.

Cygnet Main Street.

I was waiting for the Mothership and T to arrive at any moment – their flight having landed at 10.30am in Hobart. The day went on and the Smalls were growing restive. We bought them stupid-expensive chips at a place called The Red Velvet Lounge – luckily they accidentally delivered two milkshakes to our table, which the Smalls promptly drank. They didn’t charge us, which made me feel better about the chips.

Zoe and M. Lotus Cafe.

The day was quite warm. I bought a navy linen long-sleeved shirt from a garage sale. The main-street of awesomeness had a library – which was a great place to cool down and soothe the savage Smalls. I was beginning to wonder where the hell my mother had got to. Nevertheless, we spent a few hours reading and borrowed some books.

“Oh where is nana?” wailed Small DB, for about the 57th time.

I was starting to hope that the nana and T had not over-corrected on a hairpin turn in Monaco, cutting short their film careers and glamourous lifestyle.

I called them. No answer.

Grace Kelly, I thought. This is no good at all….

My phone rang. It was T. [relief]

“Hi!” I said casually. “How’s it going?”

“Fine!” he answered. “You’re lucky you caught us – we’re just in line for our flight and I was about to turn my phone off…”

“You’re in a line? At WHAT airport?”

“Uh. Tullamarine.”

“Tullamarine in Melbourne?”

“Tullamarine in Melbourne.”

“But…but… I thought you were getting here at… Ohhhhhhhh….

It hit me. They had emailed me weeks back saying that TigerAir had changed their flight. When I had checked their ETA that morning, I must have checked the original booking, not the new one. Bugger.

I relayed this information to T. Then the Mothership. Then Small DB. Then M and Small Z. They weren’t arriving until about 7pm. I am George Costanza, King of the Idiots.

On the way back down the main street before we turned the corner to follow the river back down to Bella Luna M told us he was going to duck into the pub to wee and would catch us up. We were just about to turn the corner when he whistled at us to come back. There was a grin smeared all over his face.

“Come in here,” he said. “I have just found you guys a Holy Grail.” He dragged us in to the side bar of the pub where the kitchen was. “Sorry,” he said to a woman waiting there, “I forgot to ask your name?”

“It’s Jenny,” she said.

I waited.

“Jenny has coeliac disease,” explained M. “And she has made the kitchen glutard friendly.”

Jenny smiled. “Come with me,” she said – and proceeded to show me the GF cakes, the GF menu, the fact that their chip cooker was GF and that there was a separate GLUTEN FREE PIZZA OVEN. I goggled. And quick as I could, I ordered two bowls of chips and booked a table for Small Z’s birthday dinner in two days time. M = #ftw

Cygnet. Commercial Hotel. Holy grail of coeliacs everywhere.

The walk back to the boat was prolonged. We saw a lovely little caravan…

Little caravan. Cygnet.

Small DB was so hot she was crying actual tears. God knows what she will do if we venture to tropical climes – this was about 26 degrees. *eyeroll* On the upside, getting back to a showroom-clean boat was quite thrilling.

The Mothership and T arrived right on time and M motored out to pick them up from the Cygnet Sailing Club. Woo hoo!! They came bearing wine, beer and treats. Because I only ever see them at their home the majority of the time, I forget…I forget they are both uber-seasoned travellers – who didn’t blink at the water restrictions, lack of showering opportunities or constant kid white noise….


  1. Jan Proudley

    It was a great trip???⛵️️⛵️️⛵️️⛵️️and we loved every minute of it!! We hope to do it again some time when you sail up north.
    Mum xxxx????

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