Catamarans and Cockatoos

 No sleep in for these yachting enthusiasts who were under extraordinary pressure to get the beach by 10 to 8 in order to understand the intricacies of the craft. We made it just on time to pay 25 bucks for a dude to run through jibes, tacks, ropes, tackle, wind direction, limits of travel and probably most importantly that if it all goes wrong they have a rescue craft to rescue those that got the craft wrong. It was very funny when he flipped the whole thing over whilst on the sand – it was a very salient point proven.

We got the craft right though - whilst non-blogger almost got her head knocked off on the first poorly communicated jibe, we were quick to show the rest of the fleet how this is done properly. Buried memory skills resurfaced as we skimmed backwards and forwards across the course, sometimes needing to pump the sail to get going and other times performing the lean out over the rushing surface in order to keep the rig tight and the Hobycat continuing to effortlessly slice through the turquoise waters. Now we’ve had our lessons we can use these anytime we like – just so long as the tide is in. When it’s out - the course is a shallow puddle where the only possible activity is wandering a sodden landscape appreciating the fact that in 12 hours, you’d be a meter below the surface (big tides here).

Giving ourselves a pat on the back, we navigated precisely back in to shore and then full of confidence grabbed one of the kayaks and paddled back out into the waters, got turned around by the border patrol (same guy as before, now in a motor boat telling us we had to stay away from the expensive mansions on the shore line) and thus we headed back in, realising on the way that it may take a bit of preparation to enter an Iron-man event. Back on shore we considered heading off to the gym (which is apparently very well fitted out) and then running a half marathon around the Island before lunch. Instead, we mounted the jalopy, went back to abode, and performed wellness exercises for a couple of hours (aka sleep).

Interestingly we found on the balcony a chewed tube of moisturiser obviously the attention of one the cockatoos who spend their time loitering on the railings. There are two outcomes here (picture options in previous posts) suspect the handsome dude with nice shining soft feathers will not be the answer.

Having an activity free afternoon we did our own loitering – this place seems to insist that it happens. Blogger rigged contraptions to capture a buggy view of the island whilst the other half kept the currawongs and cockatoos from loitering on the balcony by loitering on the balcony. The view is simply awesome and loitering in its presence is time well spent.

We headed back to the sailing club terrace for pre’s  - the place had come alive in the 3 days since last visited. Now full of beautiful people, sun streaming in, fish swarming below and sea eagles above (not that BP’s notice that stuff) it was all very salubrious. Thanks to the canny skills of Non Blogger we got into our restaurant earlier than booked and thus timely watched the sunset over the harbor whilst consuming and experiencing one of the most delightful meals ever had.

9:05pm – Booming waves of sound from across the valley from the wedding below (they seem to have a lot of these here) “we have 24 minutes of partying left folks – let’s get up on the dance floor and BOOGIE” – unsaid and not contemplated by those in the throng but understood by the the poor old folks throughout the echo chamber of the valley that are suffering through yet another repeat of Nutbush are thinking “Now we can all get some sleep”.... Good one Jack.

Epilogue – Of course the music stayed loud for hours – after all - this is Australia (maaate!)