We awoke in Queenscliff, me with a stiff neck due to my freakish and regrettable decision not to bring a pillow. Sleeping on my left side instead of my right (shoulder sore) is bad enough, but then sleeping on a rolled up jumper? Horror.
M got up first, and when I rolled over on to his pillow (which he never travels without) it was so blissful that I almost wailed in frustration at my pathetic effort to tough it.
We had a cup of tea and then hit the supermarket – no, my provisions were not in question, but we needed a dustpan and brush. Then weventured to the gourmet delicatessen place in search of kangaroo sausages. I have decided, after much pondering, to extend my vegeaquarian diet to include jumpmeat. However, they had none. M bought some red wine and garlic ones that were so lean, they barely spat in the pan.
Just as he’d finished cooking them, M took a look at the tide and became Action Man.
“We have to leave. Leave now! Or we’ll get stuck here! Help me…”
With a small degree of panic and one singed beach towel, we extracted Boat from her mooring and motored away down the channel, ducking our heads as we passed the boat we’d hit yesterday.
The anchor went down right near Queenslcliff Pier. The water was clear aquamarine. I sat on net with my book, two bits of sour dough bread and some plums. Bliss. M gnawed on his sausages.
Just before the wind really kicked in, we put the sails up and headed across to Portsea/Sorrento via an albatross colony and a seal colony. M fanged Boat up to over 11 knots. We did eight knots to windward. The sailing was exciting, the weather was sunny, but the wind was f-r-e-e-z-i-n-g. I need to learn to wear more layers, even if it ‘looks’ warm.
We reached Portsea, and again took down the sails too near other boats. Muted panic as we extricated ourselves and ended up moored just before Police Point. M swam from the boat. I used the surfski. We then wandered toward the pier, looking somewhat dissolute with our plastic bag of dry undies and a towel. I realised, as I walked through all the dentally enhanced bathing box owners, that we had pulled up on the rich end of the beach. Down near the pier, the difference was obvious. Everyone was a bit fatter, a bit paler, their clothing was less painfully co-ordinated and everyone was a lot louder. We fitted in quite well.