Here I Go Again (with any luck)

It's been a long while since I've had any adventures worth writing about, but with any luck that's about to change. I am heading off to sea on Halloween(October 31) for a sail to the Virgin Islands by way of Bermuda (though tropical depression Noelle thinks maybe not).
In any event you can catch all the news about the trip on the captain's web site at sailingallover.com. Stay tuned to this blog too. I'll provide details about this adventure later on.

"...If You Try Sometimes, You Just Might Find You Get What You Need" -- Rolling Stones

(continued from previous post) The hotel clerk arrived at 7 a.m. I was nearing the end of my minutes and wits as well. I explained the evening's drama, then had to do it all over again when the manager came in. So, out came the $4o, the unprocessed credit slip for the 2nd room, and a refund for my room that I didn't get to sleep in. Did I actually make money on that deal? Just then my phone died. I had half an hour to get to the airport. The manager said he'd keep a lookout for the taxi, then let me into my original room. I shoved everything into my duffels as best I could given the time I had, then hopped in the taxi that was already waiting for me. (I sat in front. You're meant to do that in Australia.)
The coach class queue at the Qantas desk was dismally long, so I went to the customer service desk to see about a seat in business class. Also, that line was much shorter. I started explaining the situation about having booked business with award miles when the agent looked at me like I was nuts, then asked me, "You do know that that flight has been canceled, don't you?"That would certainly explain why I'd been on hold for a half hour or more on my cell phone. As a result of the cancellation, all passengers on my flight were booked on the next flight, so there was barely a coach seat left for me, let alone one in business class. Oh, and by the way, my flight was canceled due to mechanical problems. A car hit the wing of the aircraft. I'm thinking both vehicles were on the ground at the time of impact.
Back in the coach queue I received a call from Russ. He started in telling me all about his misadventures with getting on the wrong ferry, having to back-track to the quay, and so forth. I'm afraid I won the "guess what happened last night after we left the restaurant" contest. Hands down, in fact. All that waiting in line for a boarding pass got me thinking. I figured that if I'd booked business class, they ought to allow me entry to the Qantas Lounge. So, back at the Customer Service desk, the same agent asked, "You again? What now"? Remember the bit about being at wits end? I served up my logic and won a pass to the lounge. Things were looking up. I had coffee and some sort of muffin before taking a long shower. When I emerged, I got online, replenished my phone card, downed two mimosas, and emerged from the lounge just in time to board. The best thing about being on board was not having to rush off anywhere for at least 13 hours.

Little Hotel of Horrors

After the Big Hit in Hamilton Island, I flew to Sydney and took the airport train to Central Station, where I caught another train to St. Peters Station, where I set off on foot to find the little hotel, Formule 1, that Alan had recommended that was "just a few blocks" from the train station. I kept walking and walking in what I felt should be the right direction (according to my little map). Sure enough, just as I was about to give up hope, there was the motel, sandwiched, as promised, between a McDonald's and KFC. A blind person could find this joint. Can't miss the smell of french fries and the colonel's oh-so-special secret recipe!
By the time I checked in, it was about 7 p.m. The hotel clerk gave me a key code for the key pad lock on the room, and told me to use the same code on the hotel door if I came back after 10 p.m. (after which time there would be no one on the desk). So off I went, back to the train station, to meet Russ (that's him above) for dinner in Kirribilli. We ate at an Indian restaurant and I must say that it was the best meal I'd had in 10 days. (After the bowl of frozen prawns I sent back to the kitchen on Hamilton Is., anything would have tasted great! But I digress.) A bottle of wine and a few stories later I was on the train again heading back to the hotel. I use the term hotel rather loosely. It was more like a dorm room hybridized with a port-a-pottie. (See the photo of the room and the bathroom below.) But it was all I really needed--just somewhere to shower and sleep for the last 2 nights in Sydney. I returned to my room to sleep off my goose egg.
In the morning I woke up slowly, showered, and had some muesli I'd brought along from Hamilton Is. Then I prepared for my last outing in Sydney. That included camera, sunglasses, book, maps, sweater, etc. etc. I'd be out all day and well into the evening. I did a lot: hopped on a ferry to the Maritime museum in Darling Harbor (see photo of Capt. Cook's Beagle replica below); walked to the Art Museum of NSW; walked back to the Quay via the botanical gardens (where I got a bit lost as the sun set...and the hordes of bats took to the air...and a park "ranger" told me the park closed at dark, but didn't offer to guide me to the gate!); walked to the Rocks and found a good ole pub where I had a pint and waited for Russ to join me for dinner on my last night in Sydney. We ate some sort of hybrid middle-eastern and Italian meal--a pizza with cous-cous and lamb? Anyway, the beer was good! And I was very happy to have company.
Russ had to rise early for a tennis match. I had to rise early to catch a plane. So I walked Russ to the Quay to catch a ferry back to Kirribilli, then I boarded a train back to the hotel. Except that I went the wrong way when I transferred, so had to back-track to Central Station and try again. It was sort of late and the trains weren't in any hurry to get me home. Then there was that walk from St. Peters station. By the time I arrived it was probably around 10:30. I was beat. I entered the code to get into the hotel "lobby." Hmm...that didn't seem to work. So I tried again. And again. Still no joy. Some other "guests" walked in, so I finally gained entry that way. Walked to my room, entered the key code, and hmm...that didn't seem to work either. So I tried again. And again. Still no joy. I was tired and was not enjoying this little challenge. I walked outside, wedged my knapsack in the door so I wouldn't me caught out again, and tried to retrieve my internet reservation from the ATM-like reservation kiosk. It kept refusing my information. I tried another credit card. No joy. In desperation I made an on-the-spot reservation for another room, thinking that at least I could sleep somewhere and then get things straightened out when the clerk returned to the desk at 7 a.m. So, the machine spat out a new room number and a new code, which actually worked to get me inside the hotel. With renewed confidence, I found the new room, entered the code (which worked!), opened the door, and found that the room was not made up. In fact it looked so recently-abandoned that I wasn't sure if the guests were coming back or not. The room spelled like smoke. There was an empty bottle of Moet on the counter and several other items of merriment strewn about. I've slept in some unsavory places before, but I wasn't about to sleep in that room...not even on the floor. Back to square 1. By now a few people had figured out that I was having a great deal of trouble. One of the "regulars" offered me his room for $4o AUD. He didn't need it and could stay with his friends in their room. $4o was all I had left in my wallet. I'd need some of it to get to the airport in the morning. Still, I really needed to sleep, so I took him up on his offer. He took me to the room and gave me the code. It was smoky, but the bed was made, so I felt like things were looking up! (No towels, or anything, and of course all my luggage was in a locked room--my room.) So then it was about midnight. There was but a flimsy latch on the inside of the door that served as a lock. That wouldn't offer much protection against someone breaking in, especially if that someone had the key code! So I slept fully dressed with all the lights on. I didn't have my Swiss Army knife, because I'd forgotten to remove it from my carry-on pack at the airport and had to hand it over to Mark in Canberra.
I set a cell phone alarm for 6 a.m. I wanted to call Qantas to see about getting a business class seat. After waiting on hold till almost 7 a.m., my phone ran out of minutes. (to be continued in the next post)

One Hit; One Myth

Finally got to circumnavigate something! So what if I had to pay for it, and it lasted only an hour. The boat was a 36' Catamaran called Adrenalin Rush. The breeze was slight, so hanging off in the trapeze was not that thrilling; my adrenalin strolled if anything. Needed bigger wind, so I called the skipper/owner, Keith Logan, the next morning for a weather forecast. He said that the winds were filling in, he'd take me from the harbour to Catseye Beach, and get me back in time to catch my flight to Sydney that afternoon, all for the low, low price of $AUD50.00 cash.
Keith picked me up from the Reef View hotel, where I'd stored my gear. We boarded the boat, along with the deckie (deck hand). Headed to windward and hoisted sail, then turned off the wind, toward the lee shore. Keith went forward to help the deckie with the centerboard; I was sitting amid ship on the trampoline. Seemed to me that we were awfully close to shore. Just as I had the impulse to run aft and grab the helm, the boat slammed into a coral head. The boat stopped dead, hurling the deckie overboard and into the net between the hulls. The momentum shot me forward where the rigid boom vang had a go at my head as the sail gybed. I was knocked down on my back. There was an awful lot of swearing coming from the skipper. A rather humongous goose egg was lain on my head. I marveled at how tough titanium must be to have held my neck together through the impact. Quite a hit!
The deckie checked for water intake, then was ordered into the dink (dingy) to push the boat off the reef and to turn it to head for a tack away from shore. Looked like the centerboard took a bit of a beating but the hull seemed sound. The deckie was ordered to survey the hull from the dink but could see nothing amiss. He took the dink around to Catseye Beach while Keith and I continued our little cruise as if nothing had ever happened.

So much for the hit. Here's the myth:
The myth: you can never go back. The reality: You can go back, but you may never figure out why you wanted to in the first place!

How to Make Enough Bread to Keep a Roof Over Your Head

There's nothing like travelling to make you aware of just how far a buck will get you. I stopped into a Technical Writing agency in Sydney to see about the chances of getting some work there. Unfortunately I'd need to be sponsored by a company in order to work in Australia, so the contractor thing is right out.

I was discussing the situation with the Georgelins when I stayed with them in Canberra. (Yes, I stayed with friends again, free-loader that I am.) Because my skills are not exactly in short supply, and because really I think an Australian could do my job, my chances of getting a company to sponsor me are nearly nil. I went on to say that although my work is somewhat mundane, and certainly not as creative as the special effects animation I was doing here before (and let's just throw in the fact that nobody ever reads the manuals I write), it does keep a roof over my head. Without missing a beat, the kids chimed in, "Yeah, someone else's roof!" Good on ya, mates.

To compensate in part for sharing their roofs, I made bread for the Rays and Georgelins. I think the recipe comes from the Silver Palate cookbook, published sometime last century. Here's how to make some bread (challah) to keep the roof over your head:

What you'll need:

2 c. milk

8 T. unsalted butter

1/2 c. sugar

2 pkgs. active dry yeast

4 eggs at room temp.

2 t. salt

6 c. unbleached all purpose flour

1/3 c. cornmeal (palenta will do)

1 T. cold water

poppy seeds

What to do:

1. Bring milk, 6 T. butter, and sugar to a boil. Remove from heat, pour into a large mixing bowl, and let cool till lukewarm (105-115F.)

2. Stir in yeast and let stand 10 min.

3. Beat 3 eggs in a small bowl, then stir them into the milk mixture

4. Stir in 5 c. flour, 1 c. at a time (add salt to flour). Flour a work surface and turn the dough onto it. Wash and dry the bowl

5. Sprinkle additional flour over the dough and begin kneading, adding more flour till dough is smooth and elastic.

6. Smear reserved butter around the inside of the bowl and add ball of dough, turning to coat it with butter. Cover with a towel and set aside to let dough rise until tripled in size (approx. 1 1/2 - 2 hours, though it may take longer in the cooler climes such as Bermagui, NSW)

7. Turn dough onto lightly floured surface and cut into halves. Cut each half into 3 pieces. Roll the pieces out into long snakes about 18" long. Braid 3 snakes and tuck ends under. Repeat for the other 3 snakes

8. Sprinkle a large baking sheet with cornmeal, and transfer the loaves to the sheet. Leave enough room between the loaves for them to rise. Cover with a towel and let rise till nearly double (approx 1 hr.)

9. Preheat oven to 350F.

10. Beat remaining egg and 1 T cold water in a small bowl. Brush evenly over loaves and sprinkle on poppy seeds

11. Set baking sheet in middle rack of oven. Bake for 30-35 min. or until loaves are golden brown and sound hollow when tapped

12. Cool completely on rack

Makes 2 large loafs, but don't expect them to last long!

Life on Land and Sea

The constant cackle of cockies (cockatoos), crows, and kookaburras may rival that of wayward roosters in the Micronesian islands, who never seemed to know what time of day it was, and so crowed constantly. I guess, like sailors, they know that the sun must be over the yard(arm) somewhere in the world. Just as well they woke me early--I left my bungalow and found that a wallaby and her joey were foraging right in front of my room. Nice way to spend the day. Here's what my bungalow looks like:

Now, to continue from the last post: I did get to do some snorkeling the following day, but must say that I've had better. I think the problem is that I'm rather spoiled, having dived at Jacques Cousteau's favorite reef in Palau. Anyway, the islands are lovely and the water warm.

I did get another offer for a ride, this time to Perth, on board a 46' catamaran. I could get off it anywhere along the way, say Canberra, for instance. Two things scuttled that adventure: a) the owner didn't know how to sail, being a new convert from power boats, and b) there are no flights available from anywhere in Australia back to D.C. any time soon. Oh yes, a Swedish woman was teaching the skipper how to sail along the way. Never did receive any calls from the New Caledonian, Richard, who Bottle Shop-Debbie thought would love to take me out for a sail.

So, the only thing left to do was to try my hand at windsurfing. I gave it my best for a good hour and a half, half of which I spent in the water rather than on top of it. After a short break I sailed a small Hobie Cat for an hour to make me feel better. Here's why I need to be at sea:

Time to go.

...And a Bottle of Rum, continued

Where was I? Oh yes: just as I was getting ready to board a bus back to Schute Harbour to catch the ferry back to Hamilton Island, I received a call from a yachtie, Craig, who saw my notice in the Whitsunday Sailing Club. He lured me from the bus stop back to the club by suggesting that perhaps I would like to join him for the Dent to Dunk rally--a sailing voyage from Dent Is., near Hamilton Is., to Dunk Is., near Cairns. And so we met and chatted (long enough that I almost missed the last ferry back to Hamilton Is.) and decided that I would go along if a) Craig's other crew approved, and b) I could change my flight back to Washington.

Because you are reading this, you have probably guessed by now that that ride fell through. The following day I found out that Craig's boat suffered a grand mal cutlass bearing failure and that the trip was cancelled. But that's not all that was cancelled that day. First it was the sea kayak adventure I'd signed up for in the morning, due to wind and waves. Given the wind part of that cancellation notice, I signed on to the Banjo Paterson, a yacht built originally for the Sydney to Hobart race long ago. I scrambled to get to the pier on time; everyone was waiting for me. And off we went. We even got the sails up. But then came the notice that there was a crack in the heat exchanger and we were taking on water a bit faster than the pumps could handle. So we turned back. The crew was apologetic and offered us free drinks. I had a glass of champagne while sitting on the bow pulpit. I understand that they drank champagne on the Titanic too. Back on shore; back to the tour desk. I booked onto an afternoon snorkel safari in the Coral Gardens in the Great Barrier Reef. So off I went--back to the harbour and into the dive shop, only to find that there were not enough people for the trip. They needed a minimum of 6 people and had but 3. You'd think I'd know when to quit. But no; I signed up for the next day's excursion.

And now you'll have to wait for the next installment because the masses are staring me down as they circle for computer time.

The weather has been spectacular. Just lacking wind.