TUESDAY 1 JULY 2014

SOMEWHERE IN BASS STRAIT TO LAKES ENTRANCE

The Prop awoke at about 0300 hrs to find water at every point of the compass. The boisterous seas encountered off Devonport had by now subsided and, as the Prop's wife sagely observed, "Its all plain sailing now."  

And indeed it was.

Disembaking at 0650 hours it was still completely dark.  As the Prop navigated "the Rig" through the darkened shiny-wet  streets of Melbourne he was reminded of his salad days when it was commonplace for him to find himself driving home in the early hours well and truly hammered after a long night on the fizz.  

Happily, the Prop took little or no fizz on board, so everyhtibng was OK.

The Prop dutifully obeyed the instructions barked at him by the brand new giant sized GPS machine on the dashboard and, at length, left the metropolis that is greater Melbourne.  Ass he did so, legion upon legion of commuting motorists poured into the city from the opposite direction, the seemiingly endless traiin of their glittereing headlights resembling some aimless giant serpent that had become lost in the dark.  Little pre-school aged children were dropped off at day-care in the dark, hours before they should even have been out of bed.  But for them, this is presumably everyday life.

Arrived at Lakes Entrance about 1300 hours and booked into the local footy oval which doubles as a rather Bohemian  camping facility.  One star facilities but with 5 star views.

Absolute waterfront address at Lakes Entrance

Resisting the urge to sleep, the Prop undertook some routine Rig maintenance and made some very welcome imrovements in the on-board karsi.  The Prop would have liked to have provided photographic evidence of said improvements but the Prop's wife says that she does not want pics of her thunderbox on the electric internet.  

Who am I to argue?

Ended the day having a few beers with a local Billy Connolly impersonator and his bald agent who revealed to his client that he has been taking an extra 7% for last 15 years.  The client took it suurprisingly well quipping that "17% of fuck all is still fuck all!"

"Billy Connolly" and his bald agent share a lighter moment.

30 JUNE 2014

Campbbell Town to Somewhere in Bass Strait

It turns out that there was a very good reason why no-one except the Prop and his wife camped out in Campbell Town on Sunday night!  Everyone else had evidently read the weather forecast and was aware that the temperature was due to fall to minus three degrees - which it duly did!  Curiously, it was not so much the cold as the persistent dripping of condensation from the roof of the Spinnaker that kept the Prop awake.

Up betimes to set off for Devonport.

Despite making every effort to turn what is, at worst, a 2 hour trip into an 7 hour epic, the Rig arrived at the banks of the Mersey not long after 1400 hours.  No boarding the SoT until well after 6.00pm so tthere was nothing else for it.  Siesta time!

The arrangements for loading the Sprit(s) of Tasnania are elaborate, laborious and pass all understanding.  Check in is said to close at 1815 hours but cars (which are loaded before large vehicles and cars towing caravans) were still arriving and being allowed to board at 1850 hours.  Not surprising then, that we did not sail at 1900 hours as scheduled.

      Spirit of Tasmania II being loaded

At length we were on board and under weigh. 

The Prop dined in the Spirt Rude Food Resaurant and enjoyed a dish the name of which he never learned to pronounce.

            An unnown rude meal

The Captain of the Spirit of Tasmania II is a remarkable lady who eschews traditional naval dress and drinks champagne (or is it Australian Sparkling Wine?) while on the bridge.

   The Capatain of the Spirit Tasmania II

 

THE JOURNEY BEGINS.....

CHAPTER THE THIRD

Being a more or less contemporaneous account of the Prop's perigrinations even unto the uttermost parts of the Great Southern Land.

PROLOGUE

Dolphin Sands to Campbell Town

     Nine Mile Beach - Dolphin Sands

Having blown some hot air on the sharp end of his trusty Biro and scribbled on a bit of scrap paper, the Prop was delighted to find that the ink was still running after nearly four years!

In what must have been a force 6 gale on the Beaufort scale the Prop and his wife spent the early part of the day loading the neccessaries (and, it has to be conceded, quite a few un-neccessaries (4 cameras , 3 computers, 2 short wave radios [who listens to short wave any more?] and a partridge in a pear tree) into the 'Trol and the Spinnaker.  The former being a 1990 Nissan Patrol which the Prop has owned almost since he was a boy, the latter being a rather commodious 16ft caravan complete with shower and karsi.

The 'Trol and the Spinnaker - a.k.a. "the Rig"

On departure, a rather portly gentleman appeared with a glass of champagne and a top hat and insisted on making a long, but well-intentioned farewell speech. Although it delayed our departure by some hours, it was much appreciated - and quite moving in an odd sort of way.

The aforesaid portly but genial gentleman

The journey from Dolphin Sands to Campbell Town was scenic but uneventful.  The Prop feared that "the Rig" might buffeted by high winds or that there may be ice on the Lake Leake Road (or even leak on the Lake Ice Road!) but none of these things came to pass.

After the rousing farewell from Dolphin Sands our arrival in Campbell Town was marked by....well, it was not marked at all.  The Prop wasn't expecting a ticker-tape parade but it would have been nice if the Mayor (or even an ordinary councillor) had turned out to greet us.  As it was we headed straight to the municipal "RV Friendly" reserve to find that we were the only happy campers taking advantage of generosity of the ratepayers of the Northern Midlands Council that night.

Beautiful Campbell Town and the Elizabeth River.

8 September 2011

PIAZZA SAN MARCO BY NIGHT

Alas! The Prop has been less than assiduous in keeping his readers informed of progress. A case of too much to do, too little time and not really giving a tinker's cuss one way or the other.

But to recapitulate.

Arrived in Venice last Sunday at the height of the Regatta Storica which has been running since 1300 and something - so they have pretty well worked out how to run the show by now. This involves closing the Grand Canal to all traffic. If you thought that this would probably cause a bit of chaos navigation-wise then you'd be right on the money.

The Prop had to pay 80 Euros for a water taxi from Marco Polo Airport because the public transport system was more or less out of action due to the closure of the Grand Canal.

We were dropped off by the taxi driver/captain/pilot at Santa Maria Formosa - which is four bridges and several hundred metres from the Prop's lodgings. It was 31 degrees and about 98% humidity and  the man who was supposed to meet us was 40 minutes late. Still, eventually we were conducted to our apartment which was, as promised, modest yet stylish and about 170 m from St Mark's Square and so, very convenient.

The Prop was immediately accosted by street vendors who, presumably having heard of the Prop's great powers of negotiation, were keen to pit their meagre skills against him!

The Prop purchased a solar-powered rocking gondola (to go with the much-admired Elvis Clock) and a strange elastic ball which when thrown to the ground sticks like s/#t to a blanket before gradually regaining its original form. In truth the Prop paid about 3 times what each of these articles was truly worth. On the positive side, the Prop did manage to resist purchasing a strange illuminated slingshot/ helicopter device (which device would have amused "Fudgy" no end) and a handbag which was offered as a once in a lifetime bargain at 50 Euros before being progressively reduced in price to the point where the Prop (who has no use for a handbag) was able triumphantly, to reject the hawker's final offer of 15 Euros!

7th September

After a short break, the Prop is back in business! Unlike most other cities in the western world, Venice has only 2 mobile phone shops - and the Prop only ever managed to find one. Whether the second one exists at all is a matter of conjecture. Anyway after a brief but confusing lesson on the idiosyncrasies of Italian telecommunications the Prop is up and running - or at any rate, walking quite quickly.

Venice! Remarkable. All the tourist brochures say that the first thing you should do in Venice is get lost in the back streets. In the Prop's experience this is something that one does not need to try to do. Indeed, the art of staying in Venice is working out how NOT to get lost!

Dined last night at a Trattoria which is directly beneath the Prop's apartment. (snap - note the washing).

Off to the islands today (Wed). Would have gone yesterday but the water buses (vaporetti) were on strike. Nit sure why. Something to do with Italy being broke I think. Not sure how not going to work will fix the problem - but what would the Prop know about Italian economics

Ciao!

3 September 8.45 pm AESTHETIC

Sitting at Gate11 at Tullamarine having spent the best part of two hours getting through security, customs and various Asian tour groups, it occurs to me that these damned terrorists have a lot to answer for - 10 years from "9.11" (or 11/9 more correctly)

The problem with modern travel is that the journey is complete rubbish and must be endured as a necessary means of arriving at the destination, whereas once upon a time the journey was an end in itself. Voyage by packet steamer or on the Orient Express. Where has the romance gone?

Perhaps these Emirates hosties may know the answer!

Ciao

It is the eve of the Prop's departure and he is testing out the email post facility. If this works the Prop will be able to post to this Blog via email complete with pictures!