October 1st 1983

posted in: The way back | 0

Over breakfast, (prepared in a real kitchen, eaten at a real table), we chatted with a few of the current guests, Benny, + John, an English doctor, with Uta, his German girlfriend.  We then strolled with these last 2 into town, splitting with them to visit the town yacht club.  They at least had a noticeboard, so we stuck up our note on that.  The evidence we have suggests we are too late,  but we can still try.  Also obtained directions for the Cruising Yacht Club, a different organisation, but decided to save that for the afternoon, as it was quite a way out.  Spent the rest of the morning shopping + wandering round town.

In the afternoon, we were on our way to the CYC, when John + Uta drove by – they were headed to the same place, so offered us a lift.  They have a Valiant station wagon, even more battered than ours was – it boiled over 5 mins after we got into it.  The CYC also had a noticeboard, so we slapped our note on that too,  but not a mention of a boat heading anywhere, let alone north.  Ah well.

Drove then out to Marriott’s beach.  I don’t know if we took the right turning, but our road ended at a dead halt, + we had to scramble down a bank + across a small river to get to the beach itself.  Fortunately, there was a huge tree trunk to serve as a bridge for most of the way across.  Spent a pleasant hour or 2 swimming, playing, lazing.  The water was incredibly warm, but useless for body-surfing, since the waves broke virtually onto the beach.  All I managed was a grazed stomach.

When the time came to return across the river, it was really quite a task, since the tide had come in  + converted a fairly gentle stream into a very powerful torrent.  We were in no danger to life, but had to get our camera + Walkman across, + keep them dry.  We made it alright, but were thoroughly soaked for our pains – quite a little adventure.

The good news was that we had a double room.  A really nice room too, with our own key.  And for $10 a night.  Unbelievable.  In the evening, there was a barbecue, which was remarkable value, at $1 for sausages, salad, bread + butter.  All washed down with the big bottle of wine I’d bought.  I got rather drunk, I must confess.   But had a very enjoyable chat with Paul + Linda, 2 travelling Scots.  They were very nice.  I could have sworn they were smoking grass – I’ve never known people smoke a tobacco roll-up so far down – they almost needed a roach-clip.  With any luck, we could run into them in Asia.

Still searching, though withpout a great deal of energy, and, it seems, without much in the way of hope, for an alternative way of travelling from Australia. But combining that with some leisure-time too.

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