Yellow Wellies

Refreshed by a few days of Hedonism dearest Dottie and I settle up the bar bill and catch the free golf buggy ride from the Beach Club to Hamilton Island Marina for the last major blast of our visit to the southern hemisphere. Here we join our fifty foot charter yacht to spend a week cruising the Whitsundays. There is a bit of a tale about the boat as dearest Dottie is unwilling to let just the two of us loose on anything much bigger than thirty nine feet for safety reasons, however only the fifty footer was available. DD constantly gave the monster suspicious glances whilst I was forced to emulate that prat M Winner on telly, the one who endorses e-sure and witter "calm down dear its only thirty nine feet". We had been warned that the northern part of the islands could be crowded as they are within easy striking distance of mainland Queensland for day trippers, divers and fishermen etc, so we head south to visit Shaw Island and Thomas Island which we had more or less to ourselves apart from swarms of mossies when we made the mistake of anchoring too close to a mangrove swamp. After the initial adrenalin rush of joining ship, provisioning at staggering prices and setting sail (venturing too close to the airstrip and upsetting a light aircraft on final approach with our rather tall rig), we had a fabulous time, it was windy however we were surrounded by blue seas and skies with huge turtles and manta rays for company, with the added joy of navigating to new anchorages in spectacular sunsets with the independence of our own vessel. It was inevitable that one must adopt a Master and Commander roll but we rubbed along pretty well, eating lightly and sleeping under the stars in the commodious cockpit.

After a few days we returned to Hamilton Island to ship two guests aboard for the rest of our voyage, we took the chance to moan to the owner of our rather tired charter yacht, who was able with a cheery disposition to sort out some bits and bobs that were particularly knackered. This time when we slipped the berth we did head north to lovely anchorages, bays, reefs and sand bars. We had to abandon our plan to sail around the north end of the islands because of strong winds and adverse currents thereby missing the famous photo opportunity of Whitehaven Beach, however as I understand that one has to queue up to anchor there, I was not too disappointed. So with the comfort of our three double en-suite cabins (one holding tank blocked) and four showers, we turned into the wind for a fairly long haul back to the southern islands where we spent an idyllic day or two emptying the freezer of wine and beer and the tanks of 1000 litres of fresh water. We finally shot back to Hamilton Island on a fresh reach past Pentecost Island and its dramatic "Indian Head". From there it was but another free golf buggy ride to the Brizze Boeing and our hols were over bar a final day or so with family on the range.

What was there not to like about the antipodes? Well it takes a man even more foolish than I to think that our holiday trip was a true reflection of life in Oz, however the cost of living and the friendliness of one and all including anyone who serves you anywhere makes it hardly surprising that the Brizvegas city fathers are planning for an extra half a million inhabitants over the next few years, why would any sensible soul not thoroughly enjoy this cosmopolitan city with glorious lifestyle opportunities surrounding it. Our return by Emirates flying carpet took a worthy 27 hours from check-in at the sumptuous Brizzie Business Lounge to banging on the Great Door of The Tower of Glen Trollaigh in the early hours. Could we follow the increasing number of wrinklies who spend a month or two of northern hemisphere winter on the Great Dividing Range within a fart of Point Cartwright and the restaurants of Mooloolaba? Watch this space! Yours aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.