Swimming in a Woad Sea to Port Macquarie

Three red heads and a grey,
made their way,
to the bay.
Where the dust sandy road,
was lying overboard,
in a sea of woad.

Now raftless, we swam the dust sandy path, leading us north up the coast. It was good to be back on the ground, even if we were in the sea.

We were going to stop for a rest when we reached Crowdy Head, but a quick headcount suggested it was overcrowded. So we continued swimming through afternoon into the evening.

Pour Macawry in Port Macquarie

When the bright lights of Port Macquarie lit up the western horizon we decided to call it a day. It’d been quite some swim, no nonsense.

After drying off we popped into a beachside establishment called Two Cans Irish Pub. We walked up to the bar and a toucan asked us what we’d like to drink.

I knew toucans advertise Guiness, so we all asked for a pint of it. It started pouring one, while holding another pint in its other wing; and asked a macaw standing farther down the bar to pour the other two. The toucan and macaw had different styles of pouring, which could perhaps be called pour toucany and pour macawry.

Spirit Lifts, Mind Plans, Body Gives Us Hope

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I was getting sick of the sight of Boomerang Beach and Green Point by the twenty-ninth return journey, and told Cathy I was losing hope. She said, ‘That’s not the spirit.’ That was the lift I needed; mentally I might add, as I certainly didn’t need more physical lifting!

Angry Acts to our Advantage

After Cathy had raised my spirit, I wondered if Angry might have a solution to our situation, as he’d been using his mind well recently. So I asked him if he could think of any way out of our repetitive return rebounding.

He thought for a few minutes, before suggesting we’d been playing into the boomerang’s hands; or wings to be more precise.

As we listened attentively through the whistling wind, Angry explained his rationale: it was because the four of us had been keeping to a straight two-two formation, and this kept the boomerang on its intended trajectory.

Come Elle or Eye Water

Angry suggested that Elle might be the key to changing our course, as she’d been using her body well recently. If she pulled in one direction, and we kept an eye on her, whether they were watery or not, then we could all lean over to one side, and that would hopefully release us from our eternal boomeranging.

You know what, it didn’t sound nonsense at all, and I had high hopes that it would ground us. We agreed to attempt it on our next journey north.

Sirens Sound Sweet to Me, but not Cathy

Image by Christopher Chan via Flickr

We awoke on the sand
between sea and land
of the rising sun
I have much to learn.

We had a quick brekkie before setting off.  A swirling wind picked up off Mona Vale port, sounding like Vale Park when the Valiants are losing.

At the end of the morning we passed Dolphin Bay, and I thought of Barry and family.  I wished they were with us to see it.

I was cheered somewhat by Cheero Point and a little more by Little Wobby.

The Tug Under Norah Jones Siren

The going got tough as we passed parallel to Tuggerah Lake, as the current tugged us towards the coast as if trying to tie us together; which is a tad tongue-twister.  I was beginning to weaken, and Elle took up most of the strain, which I thought was a great use of her body.

We’d just recovered from that when we heard some beautiful music lilting over to us from Norah Head.  The songs seemed to be saying sweet nothings like: ‘Love Me Tender’, ‘Thinking About You’, ‘Come Away With Me’ and ‘Until The End’.

I started swimming towards them, and Elle followed my lead.  The next thing, Cathy had dived in and was putting ear-plugs in our ears.  The spell was broken; it had all been nonsense, and when Cathy whispered Siren in my left ear I knew what had happened.  I was extremely grateful that Cathy had been on the same spirit level.

Bongin Bongin Bay ends where Curl Curl began

Image via Wikipedia

We thanked Captain ’roo from ’roo for a pleasant voyage back to Bronte, and said farewell to the Carruthers siblings when they headed inland. Our raft was still there, so it was back on the ocean waves for us.

Dee Why? Curl Curl Curl

Elle and I put our harnesses on, and were just about to set off, when I looked behind me and thought I could see a commotion in the Tasman sea,

I wondered what it could be.

I looked at the others but nobody seemed to have seen it; and when I looked back out to sea there was nothing to see.

So we set off north, curling far and wide around Curl Curl. Our curl was obviously quite a spectacular one, as it was noticed faraway. How do I know that? Because when we reached Dee Why, a deer called Dee asked why we’d curled around Curl Curl. I said it was a natural curl.

Bongin Bongin Bay is a Nice Place to Stay

We reached Bongin Bongin Bay by midnight, after Cathy had guided our way by the moonlight silverline.

Silverlining sea
lunar symmetry
sunlight rhapsody
projecting harmony.

Once settled on the beach, we started a fire with washed up dry wood, and enjoyed a few hours before falling asleep under a starry sky.

I dreamt of a commotion out at sea
and wondered what it might be.

The Barangaroo Kangaroo is Just a Short Hop or Two

Image via Wikipedia

It was getting late,
and I didn’t want to wait,
but the others were deep,
in conversation of sleep,
so I had forty winks,
and fourteen thinks.

The Barangaroo Kangaroo 

I was awoken by the others,
who said a lady named Carruthers,
and her five brothers,
were heading to Bronte‘s Wuthers,
and we could go along,
if we didn’t take too long.

So I jumped up, leaving twelve intellectual thoughts behind, and taking two nonsense ones along.  We ran to the beach, and got picked up soon after by a ferry taxi.

The captain was a kangaroo
who said it lived in Barangaroo.
Down on Darling Harbour,
south of Goat Island’s ardour.
Above Sydney aquarium’s
somewhat fishy delirium.

I thought, how convenient; and said that it must be nice living just a short hop or two from so many interesting places.

Dr. Watson and the Case of a Greycliffe House Mouse

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We didn’t like the sound of Hunters Bay, so we headed over to the Sydney Harbour National Park, where I really liked the name of the headquarters and visitor centre: Greycliffe House.

Dr. Watson of Watsons Bay

Arriving at Greycliffe House, I was surprised to see that it was neither particularly grey nor built on a cliff.

I introduced myself to a gentleman there, and he told me his name was Dr. Watson of Watsons Bay.

I asked him why the house was called Greycliffe when it wasn’t a very good description. He apologised for not knowing, and said a man who probably would know, called Holmes, was off visiting some other homes for another inquiry at the moment.

The Greycliffe House Mouse

Not long after I’d thanked Dr. Watson and turned away,
in a triangular hall containing a square ball,
I was accosted by a small mouse of my colour grey.

It said its name was Cliff and the house was named after him,
I replied it was built in 1852 so how could that be true,
It said it was on a special diet and low-fat cheese kept it quiet.

I thought, Now, that’s nonsense.

Australia’s Greytest Travellers Reach the Capital

Image by KLW NFC via Flickr

We left Smiggin Holes where it was, and headed east on the dust sandy road.  I thought we’d left the Lord of the Rings influence behind, but that was nonsense, because I was reminded of it again when we stopped for supper: a berry dal in Berridale.

Can Berryer in Canberra

We were berry impressed with the amount of berries in the dal, and it made us all feel much berrter after our Smiggin Holes ordeal.

So we thought we’d try to go through the pain berryer; making a long endurance journey just for another type of berry.  Angry suggested trying Canberra, as he thought we could berryer there.

And you know what, he was right, you can berryer in Canberra; I thought it was a great use of Angry’s mind.

It didn’t take long before we were berrying an incrediberryble Canberra can of berries down into our bellies.  I don’t know what type the Canberra berries were, maybe cranberries with the r left out, but they sure did taste good.

Missing Dairymans Plains Makes me Complains

We headed back down south once our berry ballooned bellies had settled down, but we made slow progress, and it was getting late as we approached Cooma.

I’d been regretting our decision not to sidetrack a little to Dairymans Plains, as it sounded good for a  pint of milk, piece of cheese, creamy yoghurt or raspberry ripple.  And there’d probably be more berries in the raspberry ripple?