Entry from Captain Catnap's log (alias Glenn "Uncle Whingy' Love)
We were thinking of strategies to try and cut down on our ever increasing record time to be the slowest boat to ever finish. (You may recall that due to unfavourable weather patterns in 2009 and despite our best intentions we made our start much later than all of the other competitors).
Now you may call Jen competitive, perhaps, but I don't have a sporting competitive bone in my body. Today she came up with a cunning plan to cut down our expanding record time.
Boredom will drive her to many things.
After studying charts, cruising guides and chatting to other "WAFIs"=. Wind Assisted F#@k*n Idiots, (the Tasmanian Water Police told me that one) Jen told me about the Marion Narrows and the Dennison Canal= the best kept secret outside of Tasmania. Most importantly the short cut would involve both smooth and protected inland waters.
Jen continues the story:
How bizarre:
Today we sailed directly towards the shallow end of a dead-end bay looking for the obscured entrance to the Marion Narrows. The closer we sailed, the less we trusted the chart-plotter and the paper guides. Birds were beginning to flap and fluff as we glided past their sand-level roosts.
Just in time, the opening revealed itself with the orange leads lining up in the scrub as predicted. We began a long and shallow motor trip towards the "man with the bucket" who guarded the draw bridge at the exit of the canal.
Have you ever been out on a tinny on a reservoir or inland lake; perhaps Warragamba Dam or even Lake Burley Griffin? That weird feeling of being on a big dam on someone elses property surrounded by gently sloping paddocks. I took 100's of pics but none could capture the feeling.
It was all fairly well signposted with the red and green indicators but somewhat inaccurate in places. We chose to sail only over the green-blue water path and not the bright yellow-green areas which were obviously sand. Sounds obvious but required constant vigilance. (not much room for error). This just went on quietly for an hour or so with absolutely no inclination by us to rush
Eventually we came to the next apparent dead-end of this "mysterious inland waterway".
After radio contact (Ch 16) with Tony "Dennison Canal" we crept forward towards some old sheds and decrepit machinery. We trusted a series of weathered port and starboard markers and we were lead to a laneway!! (yes, a water version of the lane behind our old house at Parkes.) An actual laneway that somehow became a narrow watery canal just the right size for Crazy to slip through.
The local traffic was stopped and school children began to wave and cheer.
We felt rather regal.
(Not sure how the bridge opened or closed though)..
But all of the fun was tainted by one major disappointment:
We had looked forward to a special moment for days leading up to the planning of this passage. The highlight would be the partaking of a time-honoured Tasmanian tradition: the dropping of a few dollars and a beer into the Bridge Keepers "bucket on a stick".
The bucket is traditionally poked out as a boat passes by, not at all legal and always done very surreptitiously. Unfortunately a bridge maintenance crew were present and actively painting during our passage. The Keeper reluctantly kept his stick out of sight.
Within minutes of passing out of the canal the passage entrance was once again undetectable to the casual eye.
It was all very "Lord of the Rings": Hobbits into the "heart of the mountain" style journey.
Love to all
Jen
ps: Glenn now suspects I'm mad, but right now he's outside arguing with a seagull about a sausage!!!.
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