Seal you later, Montague Island
And this is one for the next newsletter (slightly edited to remove names and identifying features):
Seal you later, Montague Island!
Friday 22 October 2010. At 3.45pm I packed up my desk, turned off my computer and ascended from the dark underground space of the workplace to the blustery outside carpark on (main road). It was 4pm before S from Sweden, oh wait there, no Norway, oh whoops, I mean Denmark arrived, bearing a gorgeous accent, sunny good looks and a trusty smile. We were soon joined by T, whose shirt came with the handy reminder of his name, and who was revealed to have a sly and funny sense of humour. S and T sadly will return to their European homes in the New Year, and whoa, we will definitely miss them.
The old work van, complete with no logo (which is probably a good thing considering M’s driving, no, not really – only joking M) trundled its way onto the campus, complete with M, his navigator sunglasses (rendering him somewhat Top Gun like) and N, the amazing hollow-legged man. The 5 of us packed the gear, and were swiftly onto Cleveland St, and from there, nothing was swift.
Oh man, the traffic! The trusty Eastern-suburbs passenger (let the reader understand: ME) didn’t guide Mr M et al the back way through the east. Instead, we trusted in the M5 to get us down to the Brighton, Wollongong, to Narooma and beyond (ok, that was a Toy Story reference, sorry!). So it took us about 1.5 hours to get out of Sydney.
Once clear of the city, and almost heading to Sutherland except for a last minute manoeuvre by M, we speedily (but completely legally, of course) headed southwards, heading straight for Kiama, the green grasses of home, and L.
Much discussion was had over the eating ability (and seemingly hollow legged) N, who constantly kept us in supplies ranging from carrots to wonderful chocolate wafer cigarette type things (delish!), before we arrived at L’s house, to give his dog a pat, use the loo, and say hi to the wife (or was that give the wife a pat, and say hi to the dog? Hmm, let me think about that).
L sparked up conversation, and it was soon clear that the author (that would be me) was surrounded by 5 handsome European men (which sounds much more seedy than it was). We headed southwards, ever southwards, and stopped in Nowra for what was going to be McDonalds, but ended up being the wonderfully superior Oporto (is there even a contest?).
We headed further south, and it got later and later. A sad sms revealed that the sleeping arrangements were going to be interesting, with not one, but two double beds, but our main goal was just to get there, preferably before midnight.
That target was reached with late night wonder-driving from Mr M, with the drone of 3 snoozing men, and L and I trying to entertain M with our scintillating conversation. Let the reader understand that the only reason I am writing this epistle to the wonders of Narooma is because L is a “published” author (go L) and me being an incredibly competitive creature, I need to write a better article about our trip.
Needless to say, neither L nor I is lost for words, and while Mr M might have been bored, at least he wasn’t asleep.
Finally we arrived at our destination. The caravan park cabin, which is totally inaccurate because it was a beautiful little house, had been lit up by the final 2 conspirators in the Narooma trip: the wonderful and ever so lovely R and MA. Being of South African descent (as the author is) of course they were extremely hospitable, oh, and they were asleep when we got there.
We unpacked the van, got our stuff out, and sorted out the sleeping arrangements. Let’s just say – they were, um, interesting. The author decided to try the couch – which in retrospect wasn’t the best decision. 2 hours later, finally sorting out the third iteration of the arrangement of couch cushions, I trundled off into dreamland. (Let the reader understand that the gentlemanly M did offer to sleep on the couch instead, but I could not accept).
Saturday 23 October. I awoke to the sad sounds of a six am start (whoa, go the alliteration, and take that L). There was much yawning, and very little concentration, because once we got down to the wharf, it was speedily revealed that we were minus some crucial pieces of equipment.
The three musketeers (that would be Mr M, The German T-meister T, and the author) trundled our way back to the site and the dive shop to retrieve said equipment, and I was reminded once again of the absolute necessity of writing lists when one goes diving.
Despite this short setback, we were soon on the boat, and heading out into the deep and splendid waters beyond the Narooma bar. Whales soon greeted us in the distance, to the heady delights of everyone on board, and they were followed by a pod of dolphins that played with us and the boat, while seemingly avoiding the hull of the boat in a dextrous display of swimming way beyond any human capability (even me, and hey, I’m a good swimmer).
Several of my European men (again, sounds much seedier than reality) lost their breakfasts over the side, while I remained smugly non-nauseous due to the partaking of sea sickness pills (though my smugness was probably a bit nauseating, but let’s not go there).
We arrived at our destination, and after much fiddling (there is always so much fiddling) we were finally in the water. Of course, the seals made their presence known, being an entirely male colony, they of course were exceedingly stinky. This reminds me of the graffiti on the women’s loo at work which says “Men are delicious. And stinky.” Which to me entirely sums up men (ok, was that sexist? Oops).
We were finally in the water, and those of us without drysuits (N, the amazingly hollow legged man and Mr M both took great delight in their dry suit) were a bit cold (me), quite cold (S) to exceedingly cold (R). The water was 14c. The air not much warmer.
But thankfully, who cared anyway? For there were seals. There were so many seals it appeared the side of the island was actually held together by seals, they were packed in so tight (and did I mention stinkily?) They were wondrous playmates, dancing, and dashing, and prancing – oh wait, whoops that would the reindeer.
But seriously wonderful and joyous creatures – magically dangling upside-down, whiskers a-twitter, eyes watching closely these large, non-seal like creatures (that was us, in case you didn’t get it).
Returning to the boat, the wonderful (and quite hilarious) boat captain and his trusty sidekick had us fed, watered, and rested with yummy stuff, and warm tea and coffee. Then we were back in the water for another go.
Even though the water resembled my mother’s pea and ham soup (never welcomed by her ungrateful children) it was still magical again. Indeed, in addition to the seals, there were beautiful Port Jackson sharks, this crazy looking jellyfish, and wonderful schools of fish (I’ll let L describe their botanical name – suffice for me to say they were awesome).
Finally back on the boat, we turned regretfully towards shore, and finally got back into town around 1pm, having had a wonderful morning of seal-like glee.
Several activities were partaken that afternoon. There was fish and chips for some across the road. Some intrepid African born candidates (that would be me, R and MA) headed out to walk out the headland. MA revealed his meteorology skills, and appeared to almost have a magician like power over the rain, which never fully down-poured until we were safely nestled in our beds (oh, sorry, whoops, another reference – this one’s for the Night Before Christmas).
Some of the European men revealed their soft and fluffy side (when I peeked in the room to see 3 of them all nestled in their beds) while others headed to the supermarket (that would be me, plus Marko, plus… I think it was L) to buy dinner ingredients.
A magical feast was prepared – with so many onions there were references to bodily functions (what did I say? Men are stinky!) and sausages, and lots of salad, and roasted vegetables on the BBQ, with wine, and beer (and boringly I had soft drink because I don’t drink sadly). Then we had cheesecake. Actually we had 2 cheesecakes, which seemed to slide down with no trouble at all. Followed by cheese and crackers. Followed by tim tams and hot chocolate. I fear we all learnt a bit too much from the Man with the Hollow Legs (that’s N, in case you’re not keeping up).
Then with a quick visit to the WW (courtesy of your trusty non-drinking driver – hint, that would be me) we settled down for another night of merriment. The men were banished to the bedroom, where sounds of much hilarity followed by much snoring permeated.
Sunday 24 October
Another 6.15am start, with cries of “Where is the coffee? I NEED coffee?” and we said farewell to L, MA and R, who cleaned up and headed back to Sydney/Kiama early, and then got down to the wharf, this time with no return to sender to collect misbegotten equipment.
The trip out was less eventful, less dolphins, no whales, and much less throwing up (i.e. none), and once upon the island, we then dived down. We discovered so many Port Jacksons down below that not only were our photographers completely captured by them, there were Port Jacksons lying on top of other Port Jacksons (in a completely “there is not enough room here”, not a “let’s get extra friendly” kind of way).
Back on the boat, the crazy author (that’s me), jumped in for a snorkel . Never have so many men been so interested. Sadly, they lacked legs and human qualities, and while I appreciated their calls, I really do not speak seal.
Then we climbed in for a 2nd dive. I spent half the dive with our wonderful Dane and German, but then lost them when I managed to lose 2 weights (found later) and started doing a reverse spin (completely by accident) because I was now under-weighted and off balanced.
Nevertheless, much joy and excitement was still had, with all of us greatly appreciating the delightful seal antics (both of the seals, and our sad emulation of seal-like manoeuvres).
Back at the cabin, we said goodbye to our wonderful home for 2 days, climbed into the van, and resumed the long ride North back to the big smoke.
Many thanks to M for organising it, and everyone for being such delightful company. I’ll seal you all later!
Georgina, intrepid female explorer, and all round crazy animal person, signing off.
Seal you later, Montague Island!
Friday 22 October 2010. At 3.45pm I packed up my desk, turned off my computer and ascended from the dark underground space of the workplace to the blustery outside carpark on (main road). It was 4pm before S from Sweden, oh wait there, no Norway, oh whoops, I mean Denmark arrived, bearing a gorgeous accent, sunny good looks and a trusty smile. We were soon joined by T, whose shirt came with the handy reminder of his name, and who was revealed to have a sly and funny sense of humour. S and T sadly will return to their European homes in the New Year, and whoa, we will definitely miss them.
The old work van, complete with no logo (which is probably a good thing considering M’s driving, no, not really – only joking M) trundled its way onto the campus, complete with M, his navigator sunglasses (rendering him somewhat Top Gun like) and N, the amazing hollow-legged man. The 5 of us packed the gear, and were swiftly onto Cleveland St, and from there, nothing was swift.
Oh man, the traffic! The trusty Eastern-suburbs passenger (let the reader understand: ME) didn’t guide Mr M et al the back way through the east. Instead, we trusted in the M5 to get us down to the Brighton, Wollongong, to Narooma and beyond (ok, that was a Toy Story reference, sorry!). So it took us about 1.5 hours to get out of Sydney.
Once clear of the city, and almost heading to Sutherland except for a last minute manoeuvre by M, we speedily (but completely legally, of course) headed southwards, heading straight for Kiama, the green grasses of home, and L.
Much discussion was had over the eating ability (and seemingly hollow legged) N, who constantly kept us in supplies ranging from carrots to wonderful chocolate wafer cigarette type things (delish!), before we arrived at L’s house, to give his dog a pat, use the loo, and say hi to the wife (or was that give the wife a pat, and say hi to the dog? Hmm, let me think about that).
L sparked up conversation, and it was soon clear that the author (that would be me) was surrounded by 5 handsome European men (which sounds much more seedy than it was). We headed southwards, ever southwards, and stopped in Nowra for what was going to be McDonalds, but ended up being the wonderfully superior Oporto (is there even a contest?).
We headed further south, and it got later and later. A sad sms revealed that the sleeping arrangements were going to be interesting, with not one, but two double beds, but our main goal was just to get there, preferably before midnight.
That target was reached with late night wonder-driving from Mr M, with the drone of 3 snoozing men, and L and I trying to entertain M with our scintillating conversation. Let the reader understand that the only reason I am writing this epistle to the wonders of Narooma is because L is a “published” author (go L) and me being an incredibly competitive creature, I need to write a better article about our trip.
Needless to say, neither L nor I is lost for words, and while Mr M might have been bored, at least he wasn’t asleep.
Finally we arrived at our destination. The caravan park cabin, which is totally inaccurate because it was a beautiful little house, had been lit up by the final 2 conspirators in the Narooma trip: the wonderful and ever so lovely R and MA. Being of South African descent (as the author is) of course they were extremely hospitable, oh, and they were asleep when we got there.
We unpacked the van, got our stuff out, and sorted out the sleeping arrangements. Let’s just say – they were, um, interesting. The author decided to try the couch – which in retrospect wasn’t the best decision. 2 hours later, finally sorting out the third iteration of the arrangement of couch cushions, I trundled off into dreamland. (Let the reader understand that the gentlemanly M did offer to sleep on the couch instead, but I could not accept).
Saturday 23 October. I awoke to the sad sounds of a six am start (whoa, go the alliteration, and take that L). There was much yawning, and very little concentration, because once we got down to the wharf, it was speedily revealed that we were minus some crucial pieces of equipment.
The three musketeers (that would be Mr M, The German T-meister T, and the author) trundled our way back to the site and the dive shop to retrieve said equipment, and I was reminded once again of the absolute necessity of writing lists when one goes diving.
Despite this short setback, we were soon on the boat, and heading out into the deep and splendid waters beyond the Narooma bar. Whales soon greeted us in the distance, to the heady delights of everyone on board, and they were followed by a pod of dolphins that played with us and the boat, while seemingly avoiding the hull of the boat in a dextrous display of swimming way beyond any human capability (even me, and hey, I’m a good swimmer).
Several of my European men (again, sounds much seedier than reality) lost their breakfasts over the side, while I remained smugly non-nauseous due to the partaking of sea sickness pills (though my smugness was probably a bit nauseating, but let’s not go there).
We arrived at our destination, and after much fiddling (there is always so much fiddling) we were finally in the water. Of course, the seals made their presence known, being an entirely male colony, they of course were exceedingly stinky. This reminds me of the graffiti on the women’s loo at work which says “Men are delicious. And stinky.” Which to me entirely sums up men (ok, was that sexist? Oops).
We were finally in the water, and those of us without drysuits (N, the amazingly hollow legged man and Mr M both took great delight in their dry suit) were a bit cold (me), quite cold (S) to exceedingly cold (R). The water was 14c. The air not much warmer.
But thankfully, who cared anyway? For there were seals. There were so many seals it appeared the side of the island was actually held together by seals, they were packed in so tight (and did I mention stinkily?) They were wondrous playmates, dancing, and dashing, and prancing – oh wait, whoops that would the reindeer.
But seriously wonderful and joyous creatures – magically dangling upside-down, whiskers a-twitter, eyes watching closely these large, non-seal like creatures (that was us, in case you didn’t get it).
Returning to the boat, the wonderful (and quite hilarious) boat captain and his trusty sidekick had us fed, watered, and rested with yummy stuff, and warm tea and coffee. Then we were back in the water for another go.
Even though the water resembled my mother’s pea and ham soup (never welcomed by her ungrateful children) it was still magical again. Indeed, in addition to the seals, there were beautiful Port Jackson sharks, this crazy looking jellyfish, and wonderful schools of fish (I’ll let L describe their botanical name – suffice for me to say they were awesome).
Finally back on the boat, we turned regretfully towards shore, and finally got back into town around 1pm, having had a wonderful morning of seal-like glee.
Several activities were partaken that afternoon. There was fish and chips for some across the road. Some intrepid African born candidates (that would be me, R and MA) headed out to walk out the headland. MA revealed his meteorology skills, and appeared to almost have a magician like power over the rain, which never fully down-poured until we were safely nestled in our beds (oh, sorry, whoops, another reference – this one’s for the Night Before Christmas).
Some of the European men revealed their soft and fluffy side (when I peeked in the room to see 3 of them all nestled in their beds) while others headed to the supermarket (that would be me, plus Marko, plus… I think it was L) to buy dinner ingredients.
A magical feast was prepared – with so many onions there were references to bodily functions (what did I say? Men are stinky!) and sausages, and lots of salad, and roasted vegetables on the BBQ, with wine, and beer (and boringly I had soft drink because I don’t drink sadly). Then we had cheesecake. Actually we had 2 cheesecakes, which seemed to slide down with no trouble at all. Followed by cheese and crackers. Followed by tim tams and hot chocolate. I fear we all learnt a bit too much from the Man with the Hollow Legs (that’s N, in case you’re not keeping up).
Then with a quick visit to the WW (courtesy of your trusty non-drinking driver – hint, that would be me) we settled down for another night of merriment. The men were banished to the bedroom, where sounds of much hilarity followed by much snoring permeated.
Sunday 24 October
Another 6.15am start, with cries of “Where is the coffee? I NEED coffee?” and we said farewell to L, MA and R, who cleaned up and headed back to Sydney/Kiama early, and then got down to the wharf, this time with no return to sender to collect misbegotten equipment.
The trip out was less eventful, less dolphins, no whales, and much less throwing up (i.e. none), and once upon the island, we then dived down. We discovered so many Port Jacksons down below that not only were our photographers completely captured by them, there were Port Jacksons lying on top of other Port Jacksons (in a completely “there is not enough room here”, not a “let’s get extra friendly” kind of way).
Back on the boat, the crazy author (that’s me), jumped in for a snorkel . Never have so many men been so interested. Sadly, they lacked legs and human qualities, and while I appreciated their calls, I really do not speak seal.
Then we climbed in for a 2nd dive. I spent half the dive with our wonderful Dane and German, but then lost them when I managed to lose 2 weights (found later) and started doing a reverse spin (completely by accident) because I was now under-weighted and off balanced.
Nevertheless, much joy and excitement was still had, with all of us greatly appreciating the delightful seal antics (both of the seals, and our sad emulation of seal-like manoeuvres).
Back at the cabin, we said goodbye to our wonderful home for 2 days, climbed into the van, and resumed the long ride North back to the big smoke.
Many thanks to M for organising it, and everyone for being such delightful company. I’ll seal you all later!
Georgina, intrepid female explorer, and all round crazy animal person, signing off.
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