Tuesday 4th March

Today’s Tuesday so it must be Brisbane 🙂 . We were to pick up the pilot at 3.15am and due to berth at 8:00am which indicated a tortuous entry into the port. And so it was to be, entering and transiting the North West channel, passing Caloundra Head, Transit the Spitfire Channel, into the Main Channel, passing Cowan Point, then south into the East Channel taking us into Moreton Bay. Crossing Moreton Bay, past Mud Island, transit between Fisherman Islands and Luggage Point before entering the Inner Bar Reach and finding our berth. Phew! Got that? Good cos you have to find your own way out 😉 . Our view from the cabin? A pale blue corrugated iron wall, bearing in mind we are eight decks up that was some wall and once more it is raining. We went up on deck and saw that we were deep in the Industrial docklands of Brisbane, surrounded by acres of cars parked for transit, in or out, we did not know. Huge mountains of what looked like sand but turned out to be sawdust, and what looked like salt but turned out to be sand, and huge mountains of what looked like coal and turned out to be coal.

We were not doing a trip here as the only one on offer was a trip round the central business district, not exactly a life changing experience. To make matters worse we were told that the shuttle bus took 40 minutes to get into Brisbane, but not to worry as there were two, one going in the other coming out! Deep gloom, things can only get better as a politician once had us believe. Still during breakfast the sun started to show its face and we chatted to a couple who knew the place and were quite enthusiastic about things to do. So after giving it a little time for the crowds to clear we left the ship and walked the couple of hundred yards through a tented walkway (so we couldn’t see all the dockside activity) to where the queue was for the shuttle bus.

First surprise there was a queue, but it was moving quite quickly and as the bus filled up another took its place and then another, (two bus myth busted). The journey in did indeed take 45 minutes but traffic did not hold us up and we were dropped right in the centre of town. The centre of Brisbane was a hive of activity and extremely pedestrian friendly. The central mall area was an entirely pedestrian precinct with dozens of street cafés and bars. Large plane trees everywhere provided shade from the sun which by now had decided to show its face and they had suspended large triangles of lattice panels to provide shade at all the central crossroads which made them natural piazzas and a place where the street entertainers entertained and people gathered to chat, creating a lovely bonhomie atmosphere. Brisbane is a delightful mixture of old and new. All the old buildings are pristine and with the modern building towering over them but not oppressively so. We passed the Anzac Gardens noticing that steps led down beneath them to air conditioned shopping malls. The whole effect was one of spaciousness and as we walked slowly up Queen Street (the central mall) enjoying the blasts of cool air from malls leading off left and right, it was easy to see how they have managed to cram over 650 stores along a stretch of less than a kilometre without it being overpowering (Brisbane City Precinct is home to over 1,500 retail stores in total). The top of Queen Street culminates in Brisbane Square, a huge square that is faced on one side by the sandstone Treasury Building which is now a casino (very apt) and on the opposite side the Supreme Law Courts, facing us was the river Brisbane. But as we stood there we realised where all the traffic was. To our left cleverly disguised, was the entrance to a tunnel into which traffic was pouring like water down a plughole and slightly further across traffic was exiting at the same rate, right under the area we had just been strolling. Alongside the river ran the freeway that supplied and received the tunnel traffic the whole system designed to keep pedestrians and traffic well separated. And talking of well separated, all footpaths were strictly organised, a line running down the centre of the path with arrows keeping pedestrians to the left, avoiding people getting in each other’s way. Signs every so often read “Cyclists, Skate Boarders and Segway’s give way to pedestrians”, followed by “Pedestrians do not block the pavements”. It seemed to work quite well, possibly because there were police patrolling on mountain bikes. We crossed the river and wandered through the gardens on the far riverbank before returning to Brisbane Square where Carol spotted a closing down sale and strode purposely towards it as only Carol can when she senses a bargain (and yes I got a photo).

We, well I was getting a bit thirsty by this time so we found a café/bar in the main thoroughfare and plonked ourselves down, idly watching the crowds walk by when I became aware of the longest pair of legs culminating in the skimpiest pair of shorts standing right in front of me. As I tore my eyes away and up to see who the owner of this delightful pair of pins was, it dawned on me that it was Anna, ashore with a friend. She had spotted us and came over to chat. Remember Anna? Our waitress? She who got the other red rose on valentine’s night? Anyway it was her and I shall be requesting she dresses like that at the table in future. And no I didn’t get a photo.

Anyway we had to go as Carol wanted some hairspray, so off we went passing a street artist dressed as a statue and sitting in mid-air (or so it seemed) not sure how he did that, but he was getting a lot of dollars for sitting around doing nothing. Back passed the Anzac gardens where there was live music, so we found ourselves a couple of deckchairs and sat in the sun for a while listening to a young girl singing (cut your wrist music) to an acoustic guitar. After about half an hour when the wails began to echo off the skyscraper walls we decided that others would be more appreciative of our deck chairs (that and the fact that our last bus left at 4:30pm) so we moved on.

All things considered I think I marginally preferred Brisbane over Sydney, take away the bridge and the Opera House there is little to choose between them. Brisbane due to lack of traffic is definitely kinder to those who want to wander around without constantly watching out crossing roads and for some reason Brisbane felt more friendly. Oh and Brisbane definitely had the best WiFi, I didn’t need to look for it, it found me. Every time I took a picture it was uploaded without me needing to do anything.

Monday 3rd March

Woke to another day at sea with the sun now shining. Up to breakfast later than usual for a sea day, but what does it matter when you have the whole day ahead of you? We went to another of Diane Simpson’s talks, this time on mindfulness. Not as interesting as the others, in fact as she was teaching techniques to explore the mind, I fell asleep and only woke up when Carol nudged me to tell me I was snoring. Still they can’t all be fascinating. Dinner table now empty apart from us. I suppose they can’t put Japanese speakers on as there would not be much to talk about. Let’s see what happens after Brisbane. Clocks go back tonight so we will be ten hours ahead from tomorrow. That’s about it for today, off for a pint now.

Thursday 6th March

We woke shortly before anchoring in Pioneer Bay on what was Queen Elizabeth’s maiden call to Whitsunday Island some 700 miles to the north of Brisbane and, contrary to what we had been told, we found ourselves 6 nautical miles off Airlie Beach, quite a trip ashore. Not to worry, instead of the ships tenders (holding about eighty people and travelling at about 7 knots) we had local catamarans holding some three hundred plus and travelling at 22 knots. We waited for the initial rush to subside which in 300 tranches took no time at all. Airlie Beach is a small town (population 4,000) with no building older than 35 years but it is the gateway to the 74 Whitsunday Islands and the Great Barrier Reef so is an important tourist town with all the facilities of such. It is a major yachting and boating centre as well as having many hotels, back-packers accommodation, holiday apartments and camping sites. The town has a very new look about it with pristine facilities, a bathing lagoon just above the beach which at first sight seems superfluous as it was immediately adjacent was a very attractive beach, until that is, we read the notice about the dangers of stingers (or jelly fish as we know them) some of their stings can be fatal and the season for them stretches from November to May. Incredibly there were people swimming. But for all its superficial attractions there was the odd sinister hint that conditions were not always as tranquil. Passing along a boardwalk through some mangroves we spotted the bow section of what was once a very expensive catamaran or a very sleek yacht and not very old as the glass fibre broken edges were pure white and the metalwork was still gleaming. It would have taken some powerful waves to get it embedded as far into the mangrove as it was and once our attention was drawn to it we began to notice other storm detritus that they had not been able to clear away. It would appear that there is a price to pay for living in paradise and in this part of the world that price is set and levied by the forces of nature.

We spent a very enjoyable few hours in Airlie Beach culminating in a pint or two in a Bar overlooking Pioneer Bay which was where I first noticed something odd about the ship. It was still very much in the same position as when we disembarked, not I hasten to add, that I expected it to have sailed or anything, but the tide had clearly turned whilst we were ashore and the ship hadn’t. Furthermore the wind was on the port beam so even if the tide was not sufficient to shift her the stiff breeze should have, very odd, especially as when we returned on board it was clear that not only was there a strong tide but the wind on the port beam was causing a list of a degree or so to starboard. So I wandered down to deck 3 to see if they had a stern anchor set that could account for this. But it was simpler than that. The ships engines were running, the starboard pod was pointing to starboard countering the pressure bought by the wind, and the port pod was countering the pressure bought by the tide. I have never been on a ship that kept her engines running whilst anchored before, but it is probably to avoid the destruction of sea bed coral, I’ll let you know if I find out. One very disappointing aspect of this part of Australia is the sea. I had expected it to be crystal clear, but it is opaque, almost milky in appearance so no chance of seeing the coral (even in a glass bottomed boat) again I’m not quite sure what the reason for this is but if I find out I’ll let you know.

Wednesday 5th March

Navigation in this part of Australia is tricky to say the least. Most of the sea bed is covered in protected coral where is even illegal to drop anchor due to the damage it inflicts on the sea bed, not so much the anchor itself but the long length of chain that is laid out on the sea bed after the anchor is dropped. As the tide turns and the ship swings round into its new position, it drags this chain round, crushing and damaging a huge circle of coral that’s taken hundreds of years to grow. When you get hundreds of ships dropping anchor, you begin to realise the scale of damage this creates. So for all the smaller boats that want to spend the night in a particular anchorage the reef authorities have provided buoys to moor to free of charge. The majority of people here are extremely careful about the reef so it tends to be self-policing. Last night we retraced our wiggly course out of Brisbane, re-entering the Pacific Ocean and turning North then North West into the Capricorn Channel which led us into the Great Barrier Reef (not the sort of place you want to wander without a pilot) and so for the whole time we are in the GBR we will have a pilot on board.

We went to the first of a series of talks by a forensic dentist on some of the cases she has been called to help solve from bite mark evidence. More gruesome crimes and fascinating switches in cases brought about by bite marks or not (as in the case where the marks turned out to be crayfish bites as the body had been in water for 24 hours). Not really a job I’d relish doing, looking forward to her other talks.

Towards the end of the day we were heading into Whitsunday Passage which leads us to Pioneer Bay where we will anchor off. Yes I know! but more about that tomorrow.

Sunday 9th March

Not exactly the ideal way to be woken up in the morning, but it was a first for me. In response to my shoulder being vigorously shaken, I opened my eyes and saw an arm extended over my head pointing to the patio doors. My eyes slowly followed the direction of the pointed finger and focussed on, of all things, a volcano with a plume of smoke and ash pouring out of it on the far side of a small bay. OMG! (as I believe modern vernacular would have it), what are we doing so close to such a menacing looking vent? Has the Captain gone mad? It would appear so, as we are in the process of mooring alongside in Rabaul, Papua New Guinea. The town and port of Rabaul is built would you believe, inside the remains of a volcano or caldera as those who know about these things call it. Not only that, but the caldera is surrounded by active volcanoes one of which is sitting right on the edge of the very same caldera in which we are floating, looking like an angry black boil, belching all sorts of nasty’s into the sky. A bit too close for comfort if you ask me, but nobody was so I got up took a photo of Mr Nasty or Mt Tavurvur as it prefers to be called, had a shower and a shave and went to breakfast. By this time Mr Nasty had calmed down and only a couple of wisps of steam could be seen around the rim, I took another photo, so I had a before and after if you get my drift.

Rabaul has not had a happy history since its foundation in 1910. In 1937 there was a catastrophic volcanic eruption which killed 507 people and left large areas in ruin. During WWII it was home to over 100,000 Japanese troops and thus attracted a large number of American air raids. Having rebuilt it into a popular commercial and recreational centre of prominence it was again destroyed and buried under several feet of ash when in 1994 Mr Nasty (Mt Tavurvur) blew his top big style, closely followed by Mt Vulcan on the opposite side of the harbour. We didn’t need reminding that Rabaul lies on the Pacific ring of fire as the last eruption that closed the airport was in 2008 and Mr Nasty remains extremely active. Whilst we were ashore he had a big belch and we watched as a cloud of ash rose up over the ship (Paul will post the photo’s when we get them uploaded, but we are at sea for five days now).

The town from the ship looked a very sad affair following its various misfortunes. The harbour was home to quite a few semi sunken ships (victims of the heavy ash clouds) and the area in front of the ship had an oil terminal to the left an empty car park and a container park with a dozen or so containers. Right in front of the ship was an empty corrugated iron warehouse with no doors. Someone had placed a container in front of the opening to prevent theft of the non-existent goods within. A line of ramshackle minibuses queued to take passengers on some of the organised trips, missing windows covered up with polythene and tape. You have to hand it to the inhabitants of this devastated area for persevering in the face of continuing aggression from the likes of Mr Nasty.

After breakfast as we made our way ashore we encountered Graham and Janet who were ‘also exploring’ and as we left the dockyard gates we sort of followed the “ant trail” of returning passengers. As you have probably gathered, the town is not too big and it seemed like every inhabitant had turned out with a stall selling various tourist souvenirs etc. Up the road we walked turned left still following the ant trail, Graham asked one of the returning ants, “is the forage worth it?” and got the answer “keep foraging” (or words to that effect). So we ploughed on through the turgid humidity (temperatures now hitting 36°C) and by now the pool back on board was becoming almost irresistible to Janet, but she persevered and we wandered into a local supermarket. Now I know a lot of people knock Tesco, but I think the looks I exchanged with Janet said something along the lines of “phew! we don’t know how lucky we are”. For all the problems these people have, we couldn’t help but notice how they were all smiling and we were not pestered by anyone, the stall holders, the children, or the people selling trips. All we got on our walk was “good morning, hello, and other welcoming messages. As we were retuning past the stalls near the gates, one of the passengers with a young son (5 or 6) was talking to a stall holder about a necklace her son had picked up was holding and we overheard the mother saying how much? and the ladies behind the stall were saying “no no it’s ok, you take”. I have never seen that, in all the places I have visited, as we walked on I heard the mother thanking them, saying you are so nice. In the local market some of the stalls only had a bunch of sad looking bananas or a few shrivelled sweet potatoes but everywhere people were smiling.

We didn’t stay there long, we were due to sail at 15:30 but were delayed by a tour that was late returning. It was 16:00 by the time we let go and inched away from the wharf, through all the little boats with families out for a days fishing, all of them waving up and giggling when we waved back. We performed a 180° turn very gingerly before picking up a bit of speed and headed for the gap in the caldera, past the old airport now under a metre or two of ash, past Mr Nasty still puffing yellow smoke and ash and grumbling away, out through the gap and turning left we felt the engines pick up to increase speed as we sailed through Mr Nasty’s plume smelling very strongly of sulphur. I really don’t know how those people can live so peacefully and happily inside what is effectively a very live and feisty volcano. The big caldera of the first volcano has within its walls two smaller active volcanoes one of which is continuously venting. This means that the chimney that fed the original eruption is still wide open and liable to blow at the drop of a hat with little or no warning. Now that’s either very very brave or very very stupid or perhaps both.

That’s about it for today folks, oh! Except for one thing. Thanks to Ruth for spotting that I was reliving February. Days here drift by like the ports and the countries, one day merges into another, I don’t know what day of the week it is let alone what date, so I follow the auto text suggestion when I start the next days blog little realising that it was still suggesting February.

That’s how I managed to forget my 21st birthday, but an even sadder side to this is, it looks like only Ruth is reading this :’-( .