21 February 2019
So. There we were. Ben Afleck had just been exposed. Exposed in the conspiracy way, not the ooh la la way. Russel Crowe, all long hair and unshaven, investigative reporter had done the exposing and was about to walk into the gunsights of the hired killer when, BANG. No, not Russel getting his just desserts for Les Miserables, but a wave whacking the cabin sole from below. In minutes, our pleasant little anchorage at Bryan's Corner had turned into a wild, thirty knot, big waves, lee shore.
Time to go. We hit "Pause" and, as these things always happen when it's dark, we switched on all the deck lights, scurrying around in the luxury of bright lights like moths. This was our first "emergency" anchor lift / lee shore exit on the new boat so there was a lot of quick learning went on.
First. It's a lot safer on a foredeck the size of half a tennis court compared to the pointy end of a monohull.
Second. It's safer right up until you open the metre square trap door on the deck. Then it's just a gaping black hole and two metres down to the sea. Or in fact, no metres when the sea comes up to meet you. The bridle system on the catamaran anchor chain means that whoever is doing the anchor work has to lay down on the trampoline, reach down through the trap door, cause right now the chain hook won't fit through the bow roller, and unhook the bridle from the chain. So, when it's blowing like it was, you can be assured of getting your belly button well rinsed in salt water. Drama over, we headed out for a moonlit sail around to the lee, east side of the Freycinet peninsula arriving at midnight and anchoring just off the crescent shaped beach. But wait! The drama wasn't over.
In coming round the headland we lost the phone signal. Did Ben get his comeuppance? Did the paper go out on time? Did Russel get whacked? Did he learn to sing?
Who knows. I guess we'll have to wait for the next strong signal and there's not much of them in wild and woolly north east Tassie.