Lisbon #2

Thanks to the time zone difference and my body's refusal to believe that it was dark outside and the middle of the night, l was wide awake at 3.30 am. I pottered around for a few hours, working out how the coffee machine and the lights operate, the woke up Anne and we went for a walk up the hill to the Gardens then back past the Convent of Sao Pedro de Alcantara, before winding through the Barrio Alto with it's maze of tiny cobbled streets. Lots of bars and lots of empty drink containers and bottles. Party town.  It was rubbish collection morning and we had to squeeze past as the huge rubbish truck and gang of guys came noisesomely past. Rubbish wise the street looked about 85 percent better where they had been.

After breakfast we headed down to Rossio. Lisbon we have found to be a city of surprises, most of them nice ones so far. Without a lot of expectation we visited the church of St James, Sao Domingo, to pay our respects. Walking through the door, expecting just another church, the interior is like nothing I have ever seen. Opened in 1241, the church was damaged in each of the earthquakes in 1531 and 1755, then gutted by fire in 1959 . The restoration has replaced the roof with what looks like pink granite, left completely unadorned, while the walls are blackened chipped stone.  Extraordinarily beautiful and impressive.

Another thing we have noticed about Lisbon is how terrible the available maps are. Every corner seems to have bewildered looking tourists earnestly consulting maps or guide books. Anne's theory is that this is designed the provide some comic relief to the beleaguered locals as compensation for being in undated by hordes of tourists.

Whatever, we joined the ranks of the confused and the lost as we blundered around trying to find the Fado museum. Fado is a unique Portuguese style of music which they are very serious about here.  There are Fado bars everywhere and some of the singers are national heros. Fascinating museum, and almost empty as most people couldn't find it.

After a hot stump back through dusty building works we discovered the Museum of Beer on the Praca Comercio, and sampled some of it's reviving exhibits along with lunch, then threaded our way back home for a jet lag induced nap. And that was about it for us for the day.

Today's pic is a wall of the convent facing a grungy graffitied. Laneway in Barrio Alto, with its 1752 tile work just out there unprotected. It would be in a glass case in a gallery surrounded by security guards in Australia.

Lisbon #1

Around thirty six hours door to door, and we are transplanted to an apartment in the Chiado district of Lisbon, trading the creeping icy grey cold of Melbourne with all its comforting familiarity for the warm sunshine and strangeness of what is for us a whole new place.

Getting here is an epic, a good reminder that the world is a mighty big place. First leg featured an infant who did not enjoy flying and who protested loudly for an extraordinarily long time about it. Second leg got some sleep, enjoyed some great Spanish coffee and boccadillos at Madrid, before climbing into the last plane which creaked, clattered and wheezed it's way to Lisbon. A very dignified older gentleman - who had retired from working on cruise ships and who  knew Melbourne well - drove us in his lovingly  cared for taxi driver to the bottom of the narrow street in which our accommodation is located, and we schleped the last bit past little bars and peeling buildings with balconies festooned with washing and rugs.

While we waited for our place to be ready, we had lunch out one of the outdoor restaurants strategically located on the steep steps leading up to the Bairro Alto, and while we ate off a table sloping down hill at about 10 degrees (which works sort of like a George Foreman grill as all oil runs to one side of the plate) we watched tourists puffing up or creaking down the incline. A lot of arthritic knees in the touring population based on our observations.

Feeling a bit stunned we didn't do much exploring. A swim in the pool, a shuffle down the hill to find a supermarket (don't go near dinner time as it gets really busy in there), a quiet supper of cheese and bread and a nice little bottle of red  watching the swallows swooping across the evening sky, before crashing just as it was getting dark.

Picture shows Anne caught in the act leaving a Pasteleria in a street in Rossio clutching two of the little custard tarts which the Portuguese seem to eat a lot of.  The beginning of the stairs back up the hill are visible at the end of the street. I predict we might be eating a few of those tarts to fuel our hill climbing in the days to come.

Gippsland Lakes Sailing

The last week in March my brother Brian and I lined up a charter yacht on the Gippsland Lakes.

After a long drive down there, we could sleep on the boat for the night, and found that due to a bung heat exchanger and forecast gale, we would not be taking the boat out the next day.  The charter people very kindly refunded us the cost of the day, so we explored the region, searching for a pair of XL pyjamas as somehow this critical piece of kit had been overlooked in the packing.

We arrived back in Metung just in time to see the South Westerly gale sweep in and enjoy a pleasant meal at the pub watching the rain and the wind outside.

Next morning, we sailed for a while, in variable light winds, tacking back and forth, making very slow progress towards Raymond Island.  We had bacon and eggs for lunch while drifting slowly in the sun off Point Scott, possibly the best bacon and eggs ever, then we fired up the diesel and motored through the Aurora Channel and up the Bunga Arm.  We nosed the boat into a deserted beach, walked over to the 90 mile beach, which was deserted for as many of its 90 miles as we could see, then retired to the boat to watch the spectacular sunset, then the brilliant display of the clear night sky.

In the morning, after a swim off the back of the boat, and taking advantage of the nifty shower on the back step, and then more bacon and eggs, we retraced our track then headed into Paynesville, to stock up on a few supplies.  Paynesville looked pretty nice in the morning sun.  Yet another Southwesterly gale was forecast for the evening, so we consulted the book provided on safe spots for gales, and headed over to a swing mooring up Duck Arm.  Picked one up no problems, and spent a peaceful afternoon.  The gale hit about midnight with lots of unidentified sounds of heavy objects thumping on the cabin roof, wind wailing in the rigging, and boat jumping about, but it settled down after a few hours, and we were up in the early dawn to a wonderful clear morning.

We slipped the mooring and ghosted out, and began the nicest sail of the trip, which turned into a rollicking good broad reach and run down to Shaving Point, as the wind built up.  We went back to the Riviera Nautic dock for a refill of water, a shower and a coffee, then sailed over to Boxes Creek nearby, nosing into the beach there.

The boat makes a fantastic bird hide.  While we were sitting in the cockpit, a small hawk swooped down and attempted to carry off one of the neighbouring ducks.  A huge amount of sqwarking and flapping ensued, with outraged swans flapping and hissing and ducks scattering in all directions, before one rather bedraggled but very lucky duck escaped and one hungry hawk flew off to look for lunch elsewhere. In the early morning, I discovered that the beach is phosphorescent, with a light like a torch appearing in an outline around your foot with each step.

We managed not to hit anything, not to run aground.  We didn't go that far - about 64 nautical miles, and we didn't go that fast - max about 6 knots - but it was a really relaxing and enjoyable trip.  The Lakes are a beautiful place to sail - good Mirror exploring territory if I can wangle it somehow.

I learned - through many omissions and mistakes - a few things about recording a trip like this on video.  I will do better next time.

A three Mirror Morning.

A lovely warm light wind Sunday morning, so I got up early and schlepped the Mirror down to the launching spot by Altona YC. When I got down there, a chap with a Mirror on a road trailer plus two young sons was already there.  The Mirror had been sitting in a garage for many years, and had arrived from his brother the day before.  The kids were so keen to go sailing they were up at 5.00.  You have to admire that sort of enthusiasm.

I helped get their boat in the water, then managed to get a few photos before they sailed off.

I headed off eastwards, then when I was away from the madding crowds, I dropped the sails and anchored in about two metre deep water.  I have put a stirrup on the back of Peregrina as I remember even twenty years ago I was pretty hopeless at getting back into a Mirror from the water.  Took a bit of adjusting, but if I tie the stirrup so my foot goes against the rudder, I can get back in.  Not elegant, and I would really not like to be doing it in a chop, but I can do it, with a few scrapes and bruises.

I sat in the sun with the boat bobbing at anchor and had early lunch and a thermos of tea while I dried off a bit, then I pulled in the anchor (how did I manage to get the line so tangled so quickly ?) then headed off to explore the shallow waters at the entrance to Koroit Creek.  Tide was falling so I didnt get too far before I was aground, even with the centre board up. Headed back, and as I approached the Altona boat ramp, yet another Mirror bravely sailed and paddled out of the sheltered harbour mouth.  Almost no wind so I rowed while he paddled, then the wind came back and I chased him but could not make any ground on him. We were sailing at pretty much the same speed, about 3.5 knots according to my GPS.  I gave up, headed back home, and as I was putting the boat back on the trolley I saw the sails heading back into the marina.  Another young dad with a young son and daughter.  A crack crew, I sure couldn't catch them.  The sail number was 57 thousand and something - a close relative of Peregrina 57868 - but in much better condition.

I resolved today to simplify things a bit, less sundry stuff in the boat, and take off the bits of string that I don't need. When I took the boat apart, I saw that one of the "P" rings that secure the rudder had bent almost straight - probably when I was reboarding. I small price to pay to get back in the boat, but annoying non the less.

Camino Anniversary ...

This time two years ago I was gearing up to walk the Camino, from St Jean Pied de Port to Santiago de Compostella.

It was a grand and completely unique experience, and I hope I learned a few things from it.  I often think about it.

Cape Conran Camping March 2017

The week before the Labour Day holiday weekend here, so we thought it would be a good time to get the teardrop back into action, and head off down to one of our favourite places, Cape Conran down in East Gippsland.  We stayed first night in Marlo CP, and had a lovely dinner in the pub, which must have one of the best views of any pub anywhere, looking out over the Snowy River estuary.

Great food and friendly locals as well - we formed a very good opinion of the Marlo pub.

Next day we drove to Bemm River to check it out but somehow it looked a bit cheerless, so we drove back to Cape Conran, checked in for three nights and found a nice camp site, which was pretty easy as the place was almost deserted.

Over the next few days we went for some lovely walks, both along the beach and through the bush, canoeing with our trusty inflatable Tahiti canoe on Yeerung River, swimming (carefully) in the sea, and spent a fair bit of time sitting round reading, as well as cooking, eating and meditatively staring into the camp fire.

The most excitement was the visit from three large goannas, who each investigated the campsite, before settling down for a brief nap.  It was quite companionable really and we were touched by their trust in us, that we were not going to eat them or do them harm.

All in all, a really nice trip and a good encouragement to get the teardrop out more often.

A two hour cruise

This morning, the first day of Autumn here, was clear, warm and just a breath of wind first thing, so I loaded Peregrina up - carefully referring to my check list given my recent predeliction for forgetting key bits - and headed off down to the launch spot.  A beautiful morning, and two people asked wistfully if they could come out with me as I made my way down to the launch spot.  I should be getting fit just from dragging the boat down and back - apparently they have things in gyms that people pay to use that deliver much the same workout.

There was just enough wind to ghost past the marina and off down past the dog beach, much to the amazement of the dogs bounding happily through the shallows.  The water was crystal clear, and gave me a very sharp view the boulders I narrowly missed by leaving a tack a little late.

Here is my course this morning.

 I picked up a few bits of flotsam and jetsam along the way, and managed to score a nice straw hat that was bobbing away far from anyone.

A propitious start to the season - I hope I get a lot of sailing done before it is over.