A month of sailing The Ship

Captains Log - 0005/ 17th of March 2024 / 1129hrs (sorry - slept in a bit today)

The daylight is getting shorter at -41.261488090232284, 148.28411585096197. The wind vane regularly changes to point to the south and the breeze regularly has a “marine weather warning” attached to the app that tells us what’s to come. The Tasman sea visible from the deck changes colour daily, but grey is a regular colour we have come to accept as the planet tilts and the clouds obscure the heating tubes for our hot showers in the morning - a flip of the switch allows us to tap into the hyrdo powered grid without much guilt to get that extra bit of steam. Nights and mornings see us exchange Hawaiian shirts and linen shorts to hoodies and jeans (still fighting the urge for socks though). Our fire has had a few runs in the cooler evenings and the cast iron warms with wood to take the chill away. Curries have entered our menus. Goodbye Summer, it has been a great season for us and we will miss you, but we are excited to watch how your cousins, Autumn and Winter change the horizon and the beautiful landscape we are blessed to call home.

For those that don’t know, not only are we crewing and sailing The Ship in Binalong Bay, we are also both involved in the actual shipping world with day jobs coordinating the trading community of Tasmania to send their produce and creations to the ports and airports of the planet - on the flip side, we also work in the reverse to get a library of things we don’t make here to come to our island at the bottom of the planet.

This vocation that we have both been involved in for the duration of our working lives (some 33 odd years) presents us with an interesting perspective of the world. Snippets on “X - formerly known as Twitter” about a missile in Red Sea resonate differently for us as that snippet that you may read is extended upon on with countless reports and analysis papers about how that impacts the world trade routes. For the record, the Suez Canal is now effectively closed and ships are all transiting via the Cape of Good Hope. That in itself is significant, but the butterfly wings of far away places also resonate to our little island with delays, longer transit times, lack of equipment to ship things and the ever present “it costs more because…” statement being rolled out constantly.

So whilst the digital perception of our reality is bare footed beach, G&T’s overlooking the ocean is easily conjured, the reality is that most days we are perched in front of a computer or on the phone ensuring that what needs to get from A to B happens in a way that allows our island to prosper and ensure that jobs for those in places that rely on trade are secure. Our conversations in the evenings (admittedly perhaps with a G&T overlooking the ocean) often turn to philosophical musing of the state of our planet and species and the unnecessary confusion and chaos that it seems to have managed to get itself tangled in (much like the box of cables I wished I had first untangled at time of packing for moving before spending an hour yesterday unwinding each one for easy access when needed….there is a saying that gets said in our house often - the seven “P’s” - proper planning and preparation prevents piss poor performance - this should be the foreword in every decision ever made, and also should be heeded by myself more often - especially with cables).

It is easy to get comfortable on The Ship. Fire, food, view and relaxation mixed with the challenges of the above paragraph can take hold of the day to day existence if you allow it. One minute you are making some toast and the next you are falling asleep in the recliner in front of the fire as the sun turns into stars. So with this in mind we decided the other day to go exploring. This meant walking two hundred meters to the boundary of of the maintained land around The Ship to enter the walking track into the twenty seven hectares of amazingness that makes up the majority of the property.

One day some years ago someone woke up in Launceston and walked down St John Street to go get their morning coffee or the paper. Wandering along, they glanced up and noticed that where there was once a steel sign that declared that indeed they were on the right street, there was just a bare pole. Perhaps they thought they were lost but more than likely they had a brief conversation in their mind that went like “oh, there used to be street sign there, I wonder where it went” and thought nothing more about it. Well, I know the answer to the missing St John St sign.

Not far from the trail into the forest on The Ship is a road. It is a great road. Not dirt, but a carpet of bonsai trees and grasses that have been maintained over the years to be a passage of entry into the far reaches of the twenty seven hectares. If I had to guess it was for practical reasons should a spark from the sky hit some dry leaves and start the process that the tress in these lands have evolved to expect and indeed require to keep the DNA continuing. Nailed to one of these tress, a towering ancient Peppermint Gum is a sign. That sign says St John St. Don’t follow this road to get a coffee or a paper though, in that regard you would be disappointed. But in other ways you will be inspired by the diversity and resilience of nature.

Entering this world can be overwhelming. You are reminded that you are a visitor here and whilst you are the custodian on paper (and practically - after all, we really want to ensure if a spark does come that it can be acted upon quickly), you are really just a guest. Every ten steps the landscape changes from due to where water flows or the geology under our feet we cannot see or a thousand other reasons. Towering Peppermint gums are mixed with their babies competing with vegetation of many varieties for the sun. Ten steps further grasslands present themselves, ten more steps and there are towering Blue Gums white and majestic with tree ferns in the shadows. Native pine like trees (I should be giving you the correct names - that will come one day) create tunnels over pathways in the gully that feeds the water into Grants lagoon and give a sponge like carpet on the ground for an ecosystem of whatever lies below - I didn’t want to disturb a thing to find out. Every step is matched by a bird call telling all that can hear that those upright folk with thumbs are out and about - but the message is told in a song that begs to be recorded as a soundtrack that sits in the back of my mind to come to life at some point. A turn to the left and we see the passage of the storm waters three weeks ago that have carved a foot deep channel through the forest to reach the destination of Grants Lagoon and eventually evaporate to come back again - leaving some behind to nourish all that needs it.

Two and a half hours of exploring a beautiful world that we are so privileged to call home. We feel responsible for this land, we feel a deep respect for those that had this task before us. We channel the people who lived here two hundred years ago for millenniums and did so without any need for street signs or machines to carve roads for potential sparks. We are honoured and humbled in this next step of our lives and moments like the walk we both undertook remind us of this.

I had to drive to Hobart the other day. I left just before the sun rose and arrived three and a half hours later. I call it my new “commute”. As most would know, I have completed two rallies through the desert of Australia raising money for the Cancer Council. It is a challenge called the “Shitbox Rally” where you take a car worth under A$1000.00 through some of the back roads of the Australian outback for seven days - it does make you a better driver and I am thankful for this experience that I channeled as around fourteen large wallabies and one huge meandering wombat randomly chose various times to cross the road - other than some startling moments for our furry friends, no one was harmed at all - nor was my trusty tank (volvo) that was my chariot for the day.

What a beautiful drive - surely one of the best drives on the planet. The road hugs the coastline with the Tasman sea as its border and waves come to shore with white tips and pure blue for miles. Past Freycinet National Park with the ranges silhouetted with “fingers of God” from the clouds at sunrise in the distance. Mountains and landscapes majestic in every way. If you have not done this “commute” before, I can only suggest you do it soon - but if you have not done a rally through the Australian desert, you may like to wait and hour or so until after sunrise to avoid the challenges of meandering wombats!

Thank you for reading my ramblings again – keep safe and see you next week.

The Captain.