It takes about half an hour to walk from our anchorage in Blackwattle Bay, in the shadows of Sydney’s ANZAC Bridge, to the four story Broadway Mall which has just about anything a human could need. Farm markets, supermarkets, food courts, theaters, clothing of every conceivable style except half-off sailor stuff, and a genuine Apple Store. I have a collapsible wheeled cart that makes it possible to lug it all back to the dinghy and home, but I never relax until I see Escape Velocity bobbing at anchor right where we left her. Generally Blackwattle has good holding in mud but there are areas where there’s nothing but silt, and a cubic foot of silt over your anchor means that it’s only a matter of time until you come around that last corner to find nothing where your home used to be.
We’ve really enjoyed the buzz of Sydney and charm of Glebe Point and the convenience of the fish market but we’re both getting that restless feeling. I guess what I’m trying to say is that the dead pig just drifted past the boat.
I’ve been hard at work scraping the hull and props which requires a lot of free diving in Blackwattle’s water which can only be described as a kind of seafood chowder with periodic infestations of jellyfish and whatever this effing thing is.
The pull of many pleasures, including good friends, has kept us here but moving day is upon us and we’ve decided to try the other end of Sydney Harbor, past The Sound, around Middle Head into Hunters Bay if things go well.
My efforts seem to have earned us an extra knot or two so when we raise Hunters Bay it’s still early enough that we decide to keep moving across The Bar looking for something…homey. At Middle Harbour we had to slow down to accommodate the bascule bridge at the spit for their 10:15 opening.
I couldn’t describe what we’re looking for but I know we haven’t seen it yet.
Quakers Hat Bay, Sugarloaf Bay…maybe on the way back down. Finally beautiful Bantry Bay nestled like a fiord cleaving a wooded mountainous national park with one last mooring ball #079 open and waiting just for us. Engines off, strange bird calls, breeze rustling the nearby trees, gentle lapping of clear bay water. Home.
One Response to Escape from Blackwattle
Great architecture, lovely scenes. You have almost seen it all so to speak. Pittsburgh would love to see you-we miss your efferesence and creativity.
Love, Nancy b.