Travelling Back

The eagle has landed: docked in Devonport

Apart from all the sorting out, organising and packing, I take a walk down the driveway to check the eucalypt trees for koalas, with no results. But I do see a pair of crimson rosellas, which are beautiful.

I can afford the time not to rush and when I do leave it's a little bit sad because it's been a beautiful place to stay and I think I'd like to come back. I would certainly like to explore more of Wilson's Prom. 

It's raining intermittently all morning and as I drive, the state of my rear windscreen tells me my hopes of arriving in Hobart with a clean car are thwarted. Road spatter from passing vehicles is seeing to that. Bother. 

It was clean yesterday afternoon...

The South Gibson Highway is pleasant enough driving and I resist the temptation and invitation of the brown signs to explore their delights and mysteries. Another time maybe. 

2 hours driving and I'm onto freeway and at a roadside service centre. It offers me the opportunity for a much-needed break and somewhere to eat my lunch even though it's not the most pleasant place in the world. 

I had filled up with petrol very close to Foster at 165 per litre and while I did see it cheaper - down to 161 at a couple of service stations, prices were all over the place and then at Werribee. It was up to 209c/l which is crazy. Half an hour down the road I topped up for 163c/l.

The freeways were as mad as usual and at one stage a truck was tailgating me when I needed to brake suddenly, because the traffic in front had done so. He wasn't going to quite make it and ended up going into the left lane that was finishing and partly onto the hard shoulder then pulling up just level with me. I'm glad there was space there otherwise he'd have rear-ended me!

Once on the M1 I do manage to stay on it all the way through and over the Westgate bridge but not without my stress levels going sky high, as left lanes diverted off to all sorts of other places and I needed a couple of last minute lanes changes to be heading in the right direction. Fortunately those times I had a car in the other lane that gave me plenty of space. The trucks make me nervous, and there were lots of them.

I have plenty of time so I divert into Werribee for a session at Keiser and it's a delightful setup; spacious and at this particular time of day virtually nobody there.

The Werribee diversion should have been a quicker one than going into Geelong, but maps took me all over the place getting out of Werribee and then dumped me via a very complicated roundabout at a service centre. Then maps wanted to navigate me to cross the Princess Highway and I decided that wasn't on. So I did my own version of getting to head in the right direction and eventually got back on the mmotorway I wanted to be on. 

Check in at the spirit terminal was the usual okay and then a long wait while they shuffled our queues and everybody else seemed to be loaded onto the boat before I was, but that always seems the way. 

5:20pm and I'm finally in my cabin via rather a long trek to get there on deck 8. I'm not sure I'd want to be sharing it with three other people as is clearly the intent, but I had to upgrade because there were no more two berth cabins left when I changed my booking date.

Those corners are lethal

After hitting my head twice, I realise that the top bunks must fold up. I investigate that concept further and I managed to get both of the top bunks out of my way.  Bonus.

Hazards tucked away!

I think I have a cabin right up overlooking the bow.  Wonder if that makes a difference to the sailing experience.

And I have looked at the weather maps and it won't be a completely smooth sailing. 

7pm and we're away. It's rather quiet and peaceful and the water 100m from the jetty is very calm, As was most of Port Phillip Bay. I presume it was going through the Heads when the fun started and there was a few hours of rockin', rollin', ridin' until around 2:00 when I woke to just a gentle rocking motion.

During the more 'interesting'section of the crossing, there were times when I could hear and feel the bow slapping against the water, a bit like a speedboat does, and I guess the swell must have been particularly big at that point.