Whilst we were doing our best not to run back and forth over the island, we made an exception with our return to Hobart after Xmas spent at Rosevears. We were on a mission....well probably three missions if it comes to that (as I have mentioned before)....Constitution Dock post the Sydney-Hobart yacht race, The Taste of Tasmania, also in the dock area, and then a trip across the Derwent to the Bellerive Oval (sorry, the Bundstone Area) for a Big Bash cricket match.
Checking out the Sydney-Hobart boats and watching cricket at Bellerive had been bucket list items from the time we planned our Tassie trip. The Taste of Tasmania festival was a ring-in as far as our forward thinking had been concerned, but one we were happy to embrace.
We were more than pleased that Hobart finally had a 'summer' whilst we were there, and with the depleted Ozone layer which continues to exist across much of the island, we had learnt that 30 degrees in Hobart can feel 5 to 10 degrees hotter. And it burns, as the tops of my ears were quick to tell me after I spent one day wandering about with only a cap on and no sunscreen where it counted. Lesson quickly and painfully learnt!
So, it was off to the docks the day after our arrival back at Margate on a delightlfully warm summer day. Our previous visit to Hobart had left us well informed about convenient and cheap parking right in the heart of the city which made the day much easier all round.
What a sight the dock area was. Needless to say, the camera went into melt-down again, and again I've had to wield the blue editing pen with determination to bring you but a small selection of what we saw rather than endless photos of hulls, masts, spars and rigging.
We began our roam at the Hunter Street end of the docks where this colourful array of ships' dressing greeted us.
As we wandered down the finger where all these yachts were lined up stern in, I noted that they all seemed remarkably similar in size, design and rigging. Surly this can't be mere coincidence, I thought.
One glance at the sail cover on this boat solved the mystery. The intrepid crews of all these yachts were competing in much more than a mere dash down the east coast of Australia and across Bass Strait to Hobart. These lucky sods were racing around the world....the Sydney-Hobart race was but one leg of their challenge.
I can provide no better explanation than the official website:
"The Clipper Race is one of the biggest challenges of the natural world and an endurance test like no other.
With
no previous sailing experience necessary, it’s a record breaking 40,000
nautical mile race around the world on a 70-foot ocean racing yacht.
The
brainchild of Sir Robin Knox-Johnston, the first person to sail solo
non-stop around the world, the event is now on its eleventh edition,
with the twelfth edition starting in 2019-20.
Divided into eight legs and 13 to 16 individual races, you can choose to complete the full circumnavigation or select individual legs.
It is the only race in the world where the
organisers supply a fleet of eleven identical racing yachts, each with a
fully qualified skipper to safely guide the crew.
Normally the
domain of seasoned pros, this supreme challenge is taken on by ordinary,
everyday people. Having completed a rigorous training course,
participants are suited and booted in the latest extreme protection gear
to commence the race of their lives - an unparalleled challenge where
taxi drivers rub shoulders with chief executives, vicars mix with
housewives, students work alongside bankers, and engineers team up with
rugby players.
The sea does not distinguish between Olympians or
novices. There is nowhere to hide - if Mother Nature throws down the
gauntlet, you must be ready to face the same challenges as the pro
racer. Navigate the Doldrums en route to South America, endure epic
Southern Ocean storms, experience South African sunsets, face the
mountainous seas of the North Pacific - and bond with an international
crew creating lifelong memories before returning victorious.
Applications
are now open for the 2019-20 edition of the Clipper Round the World
Yacht Race. Seize the moment, unleash the adventure. Join The Race!"
What a great concept, and what an adventure these crews were having. I could not help but have a chat to a couple of them, and they assured me it was living up to all that they had expected of it. One of the most fascinating aspects of this yarn was the fact that to them the Sydney-Hobart was a bit of a doddle compared to much of what they had experienced getting here from the other side of the globe. Well, this year at least....I wondered how they would have fared in 1998!
Time to move on......envious as all get out! This is something I would have dearly loved to have done (as a much younger man, that is).
All the references to the finish of this epic blue water classic talk of the arrival at Constitution Dock, but as my previous missives have explained, that particular wharf is but one of several here at the foot of Hobart City, and every possible mooring was taken in every one of them.
The entire area was a forest of masts (and I was not about to lose Liz amongst all this, dressed as she was!).
As we meandered along this section of the walkway between the docks, the grey hull of this particular boat just seemed to blend in with all the others,
but I knew better.....this was 'Ichi Ban'. So what? The overall handicap winner of the 2017 race....that's what!
Not too much further along this same walkway a tiny little wooden yacht lay alongside, hand tiller and all. 'Maluka', or to give it its full title, 'Maluka of Kermandie', which was skippered by Sean Langman, a famous name in this sport, was the smallest boat in the fleet.
What a contrast to what lay just beyond, where this towering mast complete with its five spreaders rose high above the huge 100 ft. hull of one of the most well known of all the competing yachts.
Yep, this was Wild Oats Xl, one of the seriously 'big boys', a previous line honours winner which was expected to do the same again this year. And I suspect it may well have done if not for the inexplicable blue made by its skipper as the fleet tussled for advantage in the dash down Sydney Harbour. I was watching the race start on TV as it unfolded. I'll not bore all the land-lubbers among you with technical bumf....suffice to say Mark Richards had a brain fade at the wheel and nearly steered his boat into a collision with his main rival, Comanche, only a few minutes after the starting gun had been fired.
I remember saying to Liz at the time that this could end in tears, and for the crew of Wild Oats Xl it did. Although they crossed the line first (just), Comanche protested the near miss at the start. The International Jury upheld the protest and the time penalty handed down resulted in Comanche being declared the line honours winner. Richards was publicly both gracious and philosophical, but I'd have loved to have been a fly on the wall below decks when the decision was announced!
And here she was, Comanche, the winner, lying in splendid isolation alongside Elizabeth Street Pier,
And here she was, Comanche, the winner, lying in splendid isolation alongside Elizabeth Street Pier,
the sleek red and black hull of this 100 foot super-maxi which had taken the honours.
This was 'maxi corner'. Across the basin the equally sleek black hulls of the super-maxis 'Black Jack'
and 'InfoTrack' (previously 'Perpetual Loyal') contrasted with the gleaming white hull of 'Wild Oats' (at the left of the shot). We were looking at serious money here. The cost of these boats is counted in the millions and they are staggeringly fast in the right conditions....up to 30 knots......you could easily water ski behind them, easily.
With one last glance back at 'Oats Xl' and the massed masts in the background
we meandered on to the Elizabeth Street Pier
where all the apartments, which were obviously well occupied, gave those lucky enough to be in residence a bird's eye view over the resting fleet.
And speaking of birds, I had to chuckle at the sign we spotted at the dockside Fish Frenzy Cafe. I'm still puzzled by the 'accent', but the message was clear....let the bloody seagulls fend for themselves!
Out at the end of this pier, where at least one upstairs guest was enjoying both the sun and the view,
we came across another example of the fact that yachts of all sizes and speeds line up to contest this race. And, on handicap, all have a chance of winning if nothing breaks and the crews are good enough. 'Little and large' are all equally in it once the starting gun is fired.
As we were marvelling at the incredible difference between the size and riggings of these boats, one which was entirely differently rigged and considerably slower, hove into view. The crew of the sail training vessel 'Young Endeavour' were not going to miss out on all the New Year festivities even if it meant motoring in under bare poles.
And she was not the only square rigged ship to be gracing the Hobart docks.
What a mecca for all those who love sail the Constitution Dock area and its surrounds are at this time of the year.
But for some, no matter the comings and goings of all things sail, life and work must go on. The crew of the scientific vessel 'Investigator' were hard at it, preparing for another voyage of discovery.
On the southern side of the Elizabeth Street Pier we came to yet another mass of masts,
this time belonging to the stallions of the sea which had borne competitors south in the Melbourne-Hobart race.
Of course, with all these sailors and envious sticky beaks (like us) in town, the dock area was well set up for various celebrations
and invitations to part with the coins jingling in overheated pockets.
This was the 'festive season' after all, and believe me
all the waterfront pubs, like my favourite The Custom House (centre shot), were raging, even at ten in the morning. Thirsty buggers these sailors!
To the enduring and grateful amazement of my nearest and dearest, I resisted all temptations to mingle among the salty throng, with pint in hand and yarns tall and (sometimes) true on the tip of my tongue.
Mind you this all brought back startlingly clear memories of the cheerful mayhem which was the Port Lincoln Yacht Club on an Adelaide-Lincoln post race Sunday, when all injuries, gear failures and disappointments of crew mistakes made in the bleak chill of the previous night were forgotten as the beer flowed, the bands struck up and more skites were told than at the Liars' Convention. With crew mates in tow, pints in hand, and all the yelling and pain over, these were just the best times......I loved them!
But this had not been my race. I had no tales to tell nor crew mates with whom to spin them. It was time to wistfully move on, rejoicing in the fact that at last I had actually been here at this time of the year. That was (almost) enough and the bride, bless her, was struggling to conceal her boredom!!
we meandered on to the Elizabeth Street Pier
where all the apartments, which were obviously well occupied, gave those lucky enough to be in residence a bird's eye view over the resting fleet.
And speaking of birds, I had to chuckle at the sign we spotted at the dockside Fish Frenzy Cafe. I'm still puzzled by the 'accent', but the message was clear....let the bloody seagulls fend for themselves!
Out at the end of this pier, where at least one upstairs guest was enjoying both the sun and the view,
we came across another example of the fact that yachts of all sizes and speeds line up to contest this race. And, on handicap, all have a chance of winning if nothing breaks and the crews are good enough. 'Little and large' are all equally in it once the starting gun is fired.
As we were marvelling at the incredible difference between the size and riggings of these boats, one which was entirely differently rigged and considerably slower, hove into view. The crew of the sail training vessel 'Young Endeavour' were not going to miss out on all the New Year festivities even if it meant motoring in under bare poles.
And she was not the only square rigged ship to be gracing the Hobart docks.
What a mecca for all those who love sail the Constitution Dock area and its surrounds are at this time of the year.
But for some, no matter the comings and goings of all things sail, life and work must go on. The crew of the scientific vessel 'Investigator' were hard at it, preparing for another voyage of discovery.
On the southern side of the Elizabeth Street Pier we came to yet another mass of masts,
this time belonging to the stallions of the sea which had borne competitors south in the Melbourne-Hobart race.
Of course, with all these sailors and envious sticky beaks (like us) in town, the dock area was well set up for various celebrations
and invitations to part with the coins jingling in overheated pockets.
This was the 'festive season' after all, and believe me
all the waterfront pubs, like my favourite The Custom House (centre shot), were raging, even at ten in the morning. Thirsty buggers these sailors!
To the enduring and grateful amazement of my nearest and dearest, I resisted all temptations to mingle among the salty throng, with pint in hand and yarns tall and (sometimes) true on the tip of my tongue.
Mind you this all brought back startlingly clear memories of the cheerful mayhem which was the Port Lincoln Yacht Club on an Adelaide-Lincoln post race Sunday, when all injuries, gear failures and disappointments of crew mistakes made in the bleak chill of the previous night were forgotten as the beer flowed, the bands struck up and more skites were told than at the Liars' Convention. With crew mates in tow, pints in hand, and all the yelling and pain over, these were just the best times......I loved them!
But this had not been my race. I had no tales to tell nor crew mates with whom to spin them. It was time to wistfully move on, rejoicing in the fact that at last I had actually been here at this time of the year. That was (almost) enough and the bride, bless her, was struggling to conceal her boredom!!
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