On the water again

The captain - in his favourite place ... lounging in the bunk with a magazine just before passing out for an
afternoon nap!

Before I begin this blog I just want to take a quick second to acknowledge that today marks the 1 year anniversary of our departure from Yorkey's Knob on the way to the Louisiades Rally.  What a magic trip and time and group of people that was!!!  In some ways it seems like it happened long ago and in other ways it seems like it was just last month.  To our lovely friend and crew Catherine and to all the friends we made along the way - HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!  I know I'll remember September 14, 2013 for the rest of my life.  It was a life changing and beautiful month.  Thank you to Guy Chester for being the ultimate organiser and for introducing us to what must be some of the most beautiful islands in the Pacific as well as beautiful people.

Right now - as of yesterday at 10:30am we're finally on the water again.  It seems like it's been forever since we committed to sail down to Jervis Bay. 

The last 2 weeks have been a whirlwind of "things" ... work, social events, work again, cleaning the boat and yard work.  Life takes over when you least expect it ... knowing our departure for the 2 week cruise to JB was getting closer and closer there were so many things both of us wanted to do or finish before leaving.   We just went into busy mode.  Unfortunately the hard thing is knowing how and when to the limit the 'to-do' list.   So as we approached the departure date it seemed like we were running around like headless chooks.

The yard at home was the worst I think it's ever been.  In fact when Stephanie (she and Bladen stayed in the house and took care of Molly when we went away last year) came over last week and saw the yard and her first words were, "Wow, this is worse than when we lived here!"  Yes, it was.  So George promptly mowed the grass and we manically trimmed and fed everything.  There is now (probably) more dynamic lifter (chicken poo) on our yard than in most commercial chicken yards!  Hopefully on our return things will have picked up.

I went into provision mode.  The boat freezer is now stocked with cryovac  chicken breasts, salmon pieces, casseroles and frozen prawns.  At least I know we won't starve on the trip.

Trusty cryovac machine.  It really keeps frozen things tasting fresh and close to normal.
Apologies to my vegan friends .. I've not eaten any mammals for a long long time but being a Southerner I find it hard to give up chicken. 
At least I only buy certified free range organic and that way the poor animals have a good life first .. I hope.

We took the life raft in for its two year service ... that's mandatory, every two years the raft must be serviced.  We were expecting it to cost around $600-$700 ... but George and I both got a shock when the bill was over $1,400!  Shit!  I guess you absolutely want it to be perfect if, God forbid, you have to use it but that was a shock!

George picking up the raft after bill shock.

We're now, finally, on our way to Jervis bay, on the boat, and back into cruising mode.  The weather has been a bit flukey ... from the south, then north, then east .. and all at 10 to 15 knots.  The trip from Broken Bay to Jervis Bay is 100 nautical miles so its best to get a weather window that allows for sailing most of the way. 

Yesterday we moved from the RPAYC club down to Sydney Harbour.  A distance of 34 nautical miles.  The trip down to the Harbour was great.  We motored at first because the wind was right smack bang on the nose.  About a third of the way there the wind moved around to about 60 degrees and we sailed the rest of the way down doing about 5-6 knots speed.  Magic.  We rounded North Head at Sydney about 3:00 and moved around to Quarantine Bay where we pulled up a mooring.  There was a wedding on the beach so we had our lunch and a beer and watched the ceremony and then went below for a beautiful nap.  We woke to an annoying rolling at that mooring so, at 6:10 with the sky darkening George decided to move way down the harbour, past the bridge and into Balls Head Bay.

Not a great shot ... but you can just get the idea how wonderful the sight is when you turn to run toward the harbour bridge in the night.  The city skyline and Opera house are more than fabulous!  Always magic being on the harbour.
 

Ships in the night.  Being overtaken by the Manly ferry coming up to Circular Quay next to the Opera House.
Dodging ferries is one thing I don't miss about being on the Harbour!

We had a peaceful night last night.  This morning we upped anchor and moved to Blackwattle Bay where the fish market is and where the other boats from the yacht club were meeting for lunch.  We had a good time catching up at Doyles Restaurant - the food isn't exactly top or even medium notch but the company more than made up for the food.

The Jervis Bay cruise crew at lunch - two boat's crew are missing, Hypnotic and Celay.  We'll be catching up with them today or later in the cruise.  A good time on our first day out ... many more to come I'm sure!!!

The plan is to stay here tonight at the Rozelle/Blackwattle Bay anchorage and leave early in the morning for Jibbon Beach in Port Hacking ... about 20 nautical miles from here.  There we'll wait for the big North-easterly blow that's supposed to happen on Tuesday which should get us down to Jervis Bay by 4pm that day.  The wind on Tuesday is forecast to blow pretty hard so I'm not particularly looking forward to that trip but George is and the boat is more than ready and capable so I'll just hang on for the ride.

We're anchored near the spectacular Anzac Bridge.

The harbour foreshore around here used to have classic home after home along the edge....now there's apartment block after apartment block ... everyone after that magic harbour view.  I guess I don't blame them one bit but it is hard to see so much history torn down to make way for the masses.  I guess that's life in the 21st century.

It is good to be out on the water again!

Bluewater Dinner - A Unique Group of Boaties

The view from our little room - looking out over Lake Macquarie.
The almost indistinguishable black dots in the water - to the left and right of centre -
are very large black swans. 

Our 'dream come true' sailing boat, Southern Belle, is unique with only a handful (less than 20) ever made.  She was built right here in New South Wales, only 2 hours from Sydney, by a small boat builder who's business I would describe as more artisan than manufacturer. 

Each yacht like ours is exclusive, a one of a kind commissioned by couples like us who dreamed and saved and scraped and generally stretched themselves financially - and every which way - to build and own one of these special boats.   And because this boat is so rare we've been able to meet and, in some cases, become good friends with other owners.  We only get to see many of them once in a while and generally it's only one or two boats & owners at a time.  Invariably each time there's a get together someone suggests we have a Bluewater dinner or raft up or something to bring more owners together.  Finally last night the builder David and his family did just that.  They invited the Bluewater crew up to a dinner at the Lake Macquarie Yacht Club.

Now all this sounds very high-flutin' (great word, must be said with a regional twang!).  But the reality is nothing like that.

Certainly with our (mine and George's) background and upbringing there was never an expectation, or to be honest, a drive to be a custom made yacht owner.  I mean, George is a carpenter and I was a little hippy secretary when I started out.  In fact my parents and most of my uncles and aunts expected me to end up barefoot and pregnant by the time I was 20 .. in my early life I was hell bent on having a good time and "doing it all".  But George and I have been well blessed.  We found each other along with jobs and careers that gave us a good living and we found a way to join this Bluewater bunch.  All of the other owners are like us as well ... hard working people who dreamed of something special and were able to see it through. 

So yesterday we drove the 2 hours up to the Lake for the first Bluewater dinner. 

We stayed at a little motel right on the Lake not far from the little LM Yacht Club.  Our room was tiny and a bit old fashion but it had a terrific view of the lake.  George had worked on a big job Friday and was still tired so he crashed out as soon as we checked in and got settled.

As we moved into our room some people in the rooms just down from us were already well into celebrating their Saturday night with loudish talking.  I guess we should have been a bit concerned when the owner asked us if we would be "alright" as she showed us to our room but the view was nice and we just wanted to relax a bit before going to the dinner.   So, unconcerned, we said, "we're fine!".

The dinner was fun.  We know three of the owner couples well and, as usual, it was great to be in their company.  There were couples there that we had met maybe once or twice before and it was great to share some good times with them over a glass or two of wine and hear their stories. One couple spent 6 years sailing around the world in their boat just like ours! 

Me with our good friends Peter and Sue and Kevin and Francis. 
Kevin and Frances had sailed to the Louisiades years ago and shared so much of their
knowledge with us before we made the trip last year.

David Bradburn, the owner of Bluewater Yachts, presented each boat owning couple with a certificate and little trophy in recognition of, in most cases, their less than noble adventures.  In our case it was for George's unplanned dive/fall off the side of the boat while coming alongside at our club.  I wrote about that in this blog awhile back (click here to read the SPLASH story).  Each award meant hearing all the adventures, or misadventures, all over again.  It was a good night.

Certificates and our little trophies.

My troublesome foot was a pain though.  While standing around talking, drinking and sitting it swelled right out of the "good" shoes I took and I almost couldn't get my crappy old sneakers on either at the end of the night it had grown so big.  To deal with the hassle of my hurting foot I'm drinking more these days when out along with taking a few pain relievers.  By the end of the night I felt a good ole buzz.  I remember talking quite a bit (which I never have trouble with anyway) and loudly and hugging a good deal.  God I hope I'm not becoming a bore at parties and a pain in the ass for others!  George hasn't given me the morning frown and cold shoulder yet so I must not be too bad. 

When we got back to our little room all was quiet.  Peter and Sue gave us a ride back, bless their hearts.  I was in pain so took a sleeping pill along with 2 more pain tablets and promptly passed out into snoring oblivion.  Unfortunately the people down the way from us returned to continue their Saturday night celebrations with growing intensity.  George was left to try to sleep through the racket.  They were certifiable pains in the ass according to him this morning.  The owner/manager of the motel had to move them in the early hours of the morning way down the block under threat of the police.  I never heard a thing.

I love our life right now in spite of the foot.  Thank you Universe.

Bootless & Walking (just), Anniversary and back on the Boat

Nothing like a snooze in the sun on a beautiful sunny day at the end of winter.

After 3 months of foot misery - operation, cast, walking boot - I finally became a "whole" woman again last Wednesday.  Hooray!!  I admit I went to the doctor appointment with a great deal of anticipation .. not sure if he was going to say I needed another boot - or more - or if I'd be finally set free.  But free it was.   The doctor had a look at the foot, ordered another round of x-rays and then told me it was fine.  "Just go back to doing what you normally do", he said.

"Shouldn't I go to a physio for awhile?",  I replied.   At this point I must say I was thrilled to be free of the boot but after not walking on my foot for 3 months I wasn't quite sure if I could trust it to work perfectly just yet.

"No, just get back to doing everything you normally do."

So I walked out of his office, drove the car home and started to walk again ... and it's been pretty trying.  My foot still hurts like hell and, frankly, it doesn't really feel like MY foot.  Where he straightened the bunion it feels like my big toe was cut off, thrown away and they stuck someone else's toe on in its place. 

It would be pointless to sit around and continue to do nothing (and I've gained 4 kilos in the 3 months I've been sitting on my ass) so this week I set myself the goal of walking 3 blocks and back.  I thought it would take most of the week to achieve but I did the 3 blocks on Monday.

The foot revealed.  See how straight my left foot is now ... you should have seen the bunion when it was there! 
It stuck out at a good right angle from the bottom of my big toe.
Amazing what doctors can do now. 
Sorry about the graphic nature of the pic (naked, bluish and scarred foot) but I had to show it some time!

Yesterday George wasn't working and he decided - for me - that I should walk the whole 3 & 1/2 kilometres to Lane Cove.  He does that.  He pushes me to do more than I think I could all the time.  I did it, walked the whole way and back with a coffee stop in LC for a break in the middle.  It didn't kill me, although I needed some pain killers afterward, so we did it again today.  I'm well and truly on the road back now.

And speaking of George, we had another wedding anniversary on Monday of this week.  35 Years together and married!!!!  Wow, talk about an achievement!  We've had such a great year, full of the usual ups and downs of any life or relationship but it's been on the whole sensationally happy.  Last year we were just about to depart on the Louisiades Rally and I wrote in the blog then about George's ability to push me out of my comfort zone again and again.  Have a look at last year's blog if you haven't read it (click here). 

This year we celebrated with a long weekend with friends while the boat was tied up to the yacht club marina.  Friday night we attended a meeting with our good friends Ian & Sharon (who were there to see us off from Cairns last year)  and Peter and Sue.  The meeting was held to discuss plans for another club cruise down to Tasmania this time for the summer months. 

After the meeting we all went back to Southern Belle for drinks, talks and laughs.  Unfortunately the evening ended with Ian catching his hand on the boat's lifelines while falling down the last rung in the side ladder.  He badly dislocated his shoulder and spent 20 minutes lying on the cold dock while we waited for an ambulance.  And we weren't even drunk!  We phoned early the next morning to find they were back from the hospital and on their boat so we all had to do it again - drinking, talking and laughing - the next night on Ian & Sharon's boat. 

The weather here is trying to turn from winter into spring.  We've had a few sunny and warm days but then it forgets itself and goes back to winter again. 

In the few sunny days we had at the end of July George planted lettuce and we're
already harvesting tasty leaves for fresh salads!

Right now there's another 'east coast low' off the coast which is causing gale force winds and cold conditions again but hopefully things will settle down soon.  George's fireplace work has all but dried up now and he's aching to sail somewhere again.  Molly is happier with me being more mobile now and she's loving our walks again - all three of them so far.

Wet & exhausted dog returning from a run on the beach a few weeks ago. 
I was still in "the boot" so George and Molly had to find their fun without me.

Grand Funk Railroad

 

At the end of the 60's one of the bands I liked a lot was Grand Funk Railroad.  They played both Atlanta Pop Festivals in '69 and early 1970's and their music was primarily the kind of hard driving, guitar lead blues/rock that spoke to my rebellious & young southern soul.

 

I'm pretty sure I went to both of the Atlanta Pop Festivals but, like much of the 70's, I can't exactly remember.  What's the saying, "if you can remember the 70's you weren't trying hard enough", or something like that.  Actually I was trying just about as hard as most to have a really good time which means now I have significant black holes in my memory.  I think my friend in Atlanta, Amy Munn, went with me to one or both of them.  Amy?

 

The reason I liked GFR wasn't necessarily their music.  My infatuation had a lot to do with the lead singer.  He had the most beautiful (in my 20 year old mind) long hair and bulging biceps and he always performed naked from the waist up.  I certainly enjoyed that part of their "music"!

 

Anyway they are long gone I guess, and actually that's not the reason for this post.  I'm simply using their name as a segue into the state of my mind over the past weeks ... I've been in a grand funk mood.   I haven't wanted to do anything or move off the sofa.  Tenuous link?  Maybe, but better than taking the whole blog post up with my blah state of mind which is driven by my ongoing foot operation and the weather.

 

About the foot.  It's better but the healing has a long, long way to go yet.   A friend in Georgia, Donna D., told me that foot surgery is serious business.  I didn't think that at the time I went into the operation.  In my mind it would take 6-8 weeks to heal and then I'd be as good as new again.  Wrong.  Even when the cast came off mid July I thought I would be well on the way to normality.  Wrong again.  I've been in a 'moon boot' now for 4 weeks with another 3 to go, I'm still in a lot of pain and I can't walk very well yet.  George, who has been the absolute perfect husband and carer, is over it completely and can't help letting that little bit of frustration seep into current conversations.

 

And the weather.  It's been beautiful but very cold.  The days have been unseasonably warm with non-stop sunshine but once the sun gets low on the horizon the cold starts leaving the nights and  mornings bone chillingly cold.  I'm akin to a reptile in this weather ... I don't want to move or venture out until I know the sun can warm my blood enough to move which means I stay inside most of the time doing very little but reading.  Jae turned me on to a terrific writer and I've just about devoured all of his books.  If you like crime novels with a touch of film noir atmosphere then you'll love Denis Lehane!

 

With both the foot and the weather to use as excuses I move from the warmth of the bed to the living room where the heater is and then I can't seem to get motivated to do much of anything else.  My BFF in Atlanta suggested I was depressed but I think I've been suffering from plain laziness with a rather large dose of self pity thrown into the mix.  Nevertheless this week I've officially moved on from that self defeating mind set.  Hence this blog post, the 4 loads of washing on the line and the big pot of soup cooking on the stove!

 

The great winter weather means the flowers and the backyard are lovely .....

The camellia in the front is bursting with blood red flowers!

And the lime tree is covered in fruit ready for picking.  Molly loves sitting under it in the sun.

 

FOOTBALL!!!!

The scene from the sofa at night and early in the morning.

I don't suffer a lot of the "issues" many women have to face from their husbands when it comes to sport. 

Me, I couldn't really care less about sport.  I'd much rather watch a good movie or sit outside reading a book. 

George doesn't care for many sports either with the exception of sailing - which he would rather do a lot of than watch - and football (soccer).   And even with football he doesn't follow a team or side with any consistency and usually could take it or leave it .. unless he gets the opportunity to participate as he did in the Louisiades.

But all this changes with the World Cup.  Every 4 years suddenly George needs to see the games, regardless of the match play time zones, and shout and groan as the ball moves rapidly from one of end of the field to the other ... being at one with the action from the stadium no matter how far away it is.

It's the same right now with the World Cup in Brazil.  The  live matches are starting around 1:30am and 6:30am so sleep can be interrupted a lot or a little depending on who's playing.  Each morning my obsessed husband wakes early with only the words, "the football is on!" and he's away to the TV.  The other night, when Germany and France were playing, I woke when an icy cold body climbed into bed in the near dawn hour of the morning. 

"Why are you so cold?" 

"I was watching the football", was all he said before falling fast asleep.

We've been married for 35 years this coming September and I can trace so many of our movements and changes through the memories of where we were and what was happening when the world cup played.   I remember us living in a share house when I first arrived in Australia, watching the games and being a green American completely unschooled in the game of soccer, much less the big deal of the World Cup.  Watching back then it was very new, the excitement of the games so different, the stadium scenes electrifying and experiencing them with my, soon to be, husband was very romantic!

Weirdly one of my favourite memories is watching the games lying on a mattress on the floor in our "worst little house on the best street" and smelling the fresh floor varnish from polishing the 60 year old floor boards.  We had saved and searched for a house in our dream suburb forever and we finally found this little old 4 room house that was in bad need of either renovating or knocking down.  George assured me we would renovate soon but the mortgage took just about all we had so we ended up doing the fix-up a room or so at a time.  I remember we had moved everything we had at the time - which wasn't much - into the back room of the house and lived there and slept there on the floor while George brought the other 3 rooms up to a livable state.  That was over twenty years ago but, for some reason, the memory of watching the excitement of the World Cup, living in our dream house, and smelling the floor varnish is held firmly in my memory as one of the very best times of our life together.

I still don't know a lot about football.  But the excitement of the World Cup is so appealing and addictive its something that just has to be followed live .. I get that! 

Not much longer to go now before the finals and then sleep will be back to normal.  I'm going to enjoy what's left ... in a lot of ways I don't have much choice.

GRITS!!! - Southern Home Comfort

Piping hot American Grits with a nice pat of butter.  Yummmm.

When I was a week away from my foot operation my BFF in Atlanta, Jae, asked if she could do anything ... send a book, call, anything.  The very best I could think of, which I'd been craving since the weather turned cooler here, was a nice bag of southern Grits.  So she sent me a big bag, bless her.  It took forever to arrive - about 5 or 6 weeks.  I was convinced the Australian authorities had confiscated it wondering what matter of food stuff this white meal could actually be.

If you haven't tasted the glorious warmth of a bowl of grits or, like most of Australians, have never heard of them let me fill you in on why they're so special.  First of all when you come from the southern states of the USA grits are THE breakfast food.  Hot and steamy on a cold winter's morning they're sure to fill you up and keep you going well into the day.  Grits are just a hot corn mush - much like polenta.  Not only do Southerners eat grits for breakfast with eggs or bacon or with grated cheese ... I had a bowl of cheese grits this morning, lovely! ... but they also have them as a side dish with shrimp or ham or really, you name it.

Unfortunately, like porridge, one has to be raised on grits from an early age to truly "get" the deliciousness.  Here in this house George and I have a battle for our own "ethinic" foods.  He LOVES his porridge.  I HATE porridge.  To me it taste like slime, no matter what you add to it to hide the taste.  George in equal measure HATES grits.  The one time I browbeat him into just trying it he bolted out the back door and spit it out.  Which means breakfast during the week is a solitary affair. 

Thank you Jae for the big bag of Southern Comfort!  I'm loving it.

In other news the foot is healing very slowly and very painfully.  When I had the stitches out I expected to go into a boot for another 5 weeks and be able to walk a bit.  But the doctor disappointed me by putting my foot in another cast for 5 weeks!  The cast means I'm very immobile with the exception of the knee walker - great invention.   The time is passing slowly.  I've already read 2 books and watched a good bit of pay TV movies.  I can't stand daytime TV .. it is mind numbing.

George has been good to get me out of the house as much as possible.  Last weekend was a hoot.  I knew he was getting desperate to get on the boat so we decided to take Southern Belle along side at the yacht club and have dinner there on Friday night with our friends Peter and Sue.  Getting on the boat from the marina dock was tricky - and at one point as I was struggling off Peter asked if it was worth it!  But we had a good time with good friends and it was wonderful to be out of the house.

Me on the knee scooter headed down the long deck at the yacht club to our boat.

George and Molly way ahead of me.  Our boat was tied up at the very end of this arm and even with the knee scooter it was a long trip down to the end!

Then on Sunday we went to the Sydney Fish Market to grab some seafood for a few night's dinner.  The crowd there made getting around a bit challenging but it was worth it.  You can really see from the pictures that Australia is very much a part of Asia.    The Fish Market is always a good morning out for coffee, people watching and buying some spectacular fish!

The view from the café while waiting for our coffee.

Just one of the many stacks of fresh seafood.

George not too happy about having his picture taken!

And a run in a Harbour side park for Molly before heading home.
Life is good.

This week has been slow.  The weather which has been unseasonably warm and sunny turned very cold and windy yesterday which means Molly and I spend our house bound hours in front of the fire with multiple cups of tea and a good book.  George has been working most mornings but makes it back home around lunch time to take Molly out for her run. 

I'm looking for a day when George has an all day job for my friend and hairdresser, Robin, to come over.  She's offered to take Molly for a walk and I'm looking forward to sharing some champagne and good conversation.  I've also got lunch with Jenny on Friday.  So all in all this foot repair is not too bad.

Back on that familiar road - To Recovery

The road pictured here isn't exactly the road to recovery mentioned in the heading, it just happens to be a better picture to start out with than one of my leg in a cast - again.   I took this photo almost a month ago and hoped to get a good shot of the flaming amber tree in its full red and yellow glory.  It didn't come out like I'd hoped but you can use your imagination to recreate how spectacular it looked against the deep blue of the sky!

This is more what my current road to recovery surroundings look like.....

The accoutrements of major foot surgery ... knee scooter (fabulous invention!), bag of pills, book, Foxtel cable TV, glasses, phones, and loyal dog. 

Oh, and the syringe container and loaded needles are the yellow bits on the table as well.  They represented the biggest shock of my hospital discharge!  As I was getting ready to leave the hospital - George had been phoned and was on the way to pick me up -  this lovely young nurse with an even younger trainee nurse in tow came in to my room and asked me to sit down on the bed.  She had a tray with her, and I could see a needle in it - cue ominous thoughts. 

With a smile on her face she began by saying, "I understand your doctor has informed you that you will need to administer an injection into your stomach every morning for the next 2 weeks".

"WHAT??  No, sorry no one told me about this and I can't give myself a shot in my stomach!  Can't someone else do it or can I just take a pill?"

Both were looking a little surprised and a bit rattled .. and then she replied, "Oh, I'm sorry no one told you but the doctor has prescribed it to prevent blood clots and you'll have to do it - or get someone else at home to administer for you."

Suddenly I pictured George sitting beside me in our Sea Safety and First Aid course practicing giving an injection to an orange.  Instead of a steady even approach he gleefully stabbed at it with force.  That picture in my mind convinced me if it had to be done then it was going to have to be me.  So far I've managed.  9:30 am every morning I get myself ready and get it done but I still haven't gotten over the sense of dread before the deed.  Eck.  

Now, almost a year to the date I'm home with my foot immobile again.  My foot is encased in a three quarter back slab cast with lots of gauzy wrapping tight .. all the way up to my knee.  The surgery was pretty major, and I won't even get a look at the foot until June 11 when I go to get the stitches out.  There hasn't been too much pain but my foot and leg feel really weird ... sort of a half feeling and half tingling ... like its swelling inside the cast with no where to go.

Tomorrow it will have been a week since the operation.  I was told no weight bearing for 6 weeks and now - as of tomorrow - that's one week down and 5 more to go.  I'm grateful for the doctor and the hospital ... so far it seems like they did a good job.  But day to day I'm very very grateful for the friends who've called, Facebooked (is that a word?), sent texts and come to see me.  And most importantly for my lovely George.  He's being an excellent care giver!  And for Molly who is with me constantly, wherever I go she's there making sure I get from one place to the other and then just laying down near me to keep watch.  I'm a blessed woman.