A wolf whistle greets Adrienne, as she struggles to put on her trousers, by the shops, as she stands by the open car door. Luckily her panties are decent. We are in the country town of Bargara, and she had got her denims wet on the beach when we came ashore, and left them off while we rodes into town. Tony is off to the Police Station to make a report on his dinghy stolen from his other boat, wife Dianne to the laundromat, and then we are about to have a surf and a cold shower.

Let me back up and explain how Adrienne came to be dressing in a busy street, by the cafes and boutiques and hairdressers, and why we had a bacon and egg wrap instead of a surf.

It is morning, the birds are twittering. Tony and Dianne come over to our boat in their dinghy, an inflatable with wheels sticking up at the back like Mickey Mouse ears. Adrienne gets carefully in, then me, and we put-put over to the river bank, near a pod of dinghies, some upside-down and chained, and a couple of long-neglected yachts dragged up to prevent them sinking. Tony is explaining you must choose your tides, and only be away from the beach 4 or 5 hours, otherwise when you come back to the dinghy you will be wading in mud up to your knees. We get out onto sand, carrying our bags and flipflops. Tony has a car and we are going shopping and to the police station - he has discovered his catamaran, which was left here on a mooring while he sailed his new boat back from Mexico, has been broken into, and dinghy, outboard and generator stolen. He is subdued today. Tony is an Aussie we met in a Home Depot hardware in Mexico, and have been bumping into him ever since. He has given us all kinds of help and advice, including charts and cruising guides to the next part of the voyage. He encouraged us to come to Bundaberg - way back in Bora Bora, French Polynesia.

Adrienne walks ahead of me along the beach; I sit on the broad bow of a floating dinghy, so as to put on my thongs, but it dips quickly and nearly throws me in the water - Adrienne is not so lucky. There is a sudden yell and laughter from her and she is on her knees in the water. Trying to step over a drainage ditch she slipped on clay; her denim trousers are wet but not in the bum, she discovers! - maybe she can sit in the car! She is laughing and laughing more. Choosing to leave them off for the drive she gets in and we all whiz off to Bargara Beach, chatting away merrily.

While Tony's at the Police station and Dianne's at the laundry, we wander along and sit at the first cafe we come to. I order two bacon-and-egg wraps and two cappacinos, and borrow a newspaper. You need to remember we haven't done this for years - had breakfast in an Australian cafe, nor read a newspaper. News item: Scientists have replicated the first few nanoseconds of the beginning of the universe, in a mini Big Bang experiment, creating temperatures hotter than hell, and they assure us it is completely safe.

Walking by the electric barbecues, the surf pounding on the rocks, the wind whipping grey seas, rain on the horizon, I decide I won't be swimming. It's cool here in Oz, after being in the tropics. Adrienne agrees, so we walk to the public changing shed and showers. It is deserted, with peeling paint, dead pine needles on the concrete floor, basic plumbing, with every single clothes hook ripped from the walls, sunshine coming down through the no-roof. Alone, I peel off, hang my shorts and underwear on the next shower tap and ignore the fact it is cold water - and I remember times as a kid when these places frightened me, strangers with hairy bodies and penises I dared glimpse, scared of showing my little nakedness, all in the summer heat, hearing the sound of the surf and the swimmers' cries. The beach.


[ photo above ]