Mackay, Australia

It has been far too long since I've written but it's hard to get inspired when you feel like you are living the movie "Groundhog Day" where every morning you awake to find yesterday repeating itself and moreover, in Mckay, Australia.  Three weeks ago we arrived into the coal-mining town and marina of Mckay for what we knew would be probably (hopefully) the least exciting, but very necessary part of the trip-the hauling of the "Brown-Eyed Girl" out of the water for major mechanical and body work.  I could spend a lot of time boring you with the details of every task done, but I will refrain as we have now put Mckay to our stern and are now sailing through the Whitsunday isles on an amazingly beautiful and brisk day (winter here, down-under).  I would be remiss, though, if I didn't delve a little into the major over-haul of the boat, for those of you who don't own or don't have the pleasure to be around boats and think this journey is a pleasant escape from work and reality.  Quite honestly, this is the toughest job I've ever had and the stresses of major breakage wears on a Captain, as well, but with all that said; we have accomplished quite a lot in these last few weeks and the "BEG", I believe, is quite happy with our hard work and loving attention.

Mckay, Australia with a population of just over 100,000 doesn't offer much to the boater except that which we truly needed-an excellent marina with skilled laborers.  From lifting the boat out and placing on dry-stands, cleaning and painting the bottom, treating the exterior of the hull, oiling the bow-thrusters, taking the prop off and lubricating drive-shaft and changing-out seals, inspecting rigging, welding stress-fractures in booms, cutting and wiring for new and old water-makers, sewing cushions, replacing VHF, complete inventory and re-organizing of food and cleaners, preventive maintenance of engine, cleaning exterior and interior of vessel, and sneaking away for great red-throated emperor fish and chips when a break could be found, dropping boat back in water, working out any bugs with any of the aforementioned, re-cleaning the boat after work had been finished; Mckay was the place for us to accomplish our tasks.  The skilled help is here and the city doesn't offer much more than pubs filled with drunken Aussie coal-miners who are getting their fill of schooners of draft-beer and getting "a skin-full."  The Captain and this 1st mate are glad to have closed this chapter of the trip.  Hats off to the Skip who worked diligently alongside the workers putting in 16-hour days, at times, making it happen. So, if it has been a while since I have written to you, my loyal readers, I must confess I haven't been that inspired, nor had the luxury of writing.

That being said, I did manage to weasel my way away from the boat for a couple of days with the original "BEG" for some true out-backing on a 12 hour drive to Daintree National Forest for some outstanding Croc viewing.  I learned to love driving on the left (scary at first and slightly embarrassing when you get in the wrong side of the vehicle with the keys in your hand and grab air reaching for your seat-belt on the wrong side) and it had been six-months since I been able to quench my need for speed.  Flat, straight stretches of road through desolate Aussie outback, fulfilled that desire.  Along the way, we stopped in Cairns to visit a bit more upscale port and then to Port Douglass where we dined on monster prawns served over ice and with a side of creamy dill dipping sauce and honey dijon sauce with a view of mangrove delta, shrimping boats, and mud flats where those heavenly mud-crabs that go for 90 dollars a kilo dwell.  Sublime.  Arriving to the Daintree is spectacular.  We spent the night on a ranch and awoke in the morning over-looking a pasture leading down to the Daintree with Brahman cattle and horses eating just below our porch.  Nice change of scenery from the deep blue.  The Daintree area is unlike interior Australia and most of coastal Australia.  It is a rain forest and quite different than how one may picture Australia.  Bird life is abundant.  Spectacled fruit bats dangling upside down and are three feet long, roost in the thousands painting the mangrove trees as black as night. Did I mention Crocs?  Of course we had to pursue the infamous salt-water crocodile on a two-hour boat cruise on the Daintree river.  The Discovery channel doesn't do them justice as to show how truly terrifying and amazing beasts they are (and I live in Florida-Gators are as common as snow-birds and oranges).  We spotted several 14-foot salties and one 16 footer that is forever etched into my mind.  Swim in Australia?  Never.  Those beasties have been spotted a hundred miles out to sea.  They say in places you aren't even safe in a dinghy.  Everywhere one goes, the river banks are lined with signs warning non-Aussies not to swim.  The Aussies understand.  I love this country.  What about the snakes?  Yes, they are a reality and Australia has the worst ones in the world as far as size, temperament, and venom.  The Skip and I managed to sneak away from our tasks a few mornings and evenings to an abandoned drive-in movie theater where the taipans (deadliest land snake in the world) warm themselves on the asphalt.  Dad had received the information about this place from a guy at a cocktail party who when asked for directions to this locale refused to give them to us as he thought we were nuts to pursue these 12-foot, highly aggressive, and common snakes.  We managed to find the theater but came up empty-handed on this front, however, as I was driving to Daintree, I did manage to get some photographs of a road-kill, red-bellied blacksnake, another deadly cousin to the cobra.  Beautiful snake.  Beautiful land.

I almost forgot to mention our day-trip to Eungalla National Park which is an pretty, hour-long drive through sugar-cane country and up into the rain forest from Mckay.  It is famous for being a refuge to the elusive and greatest oddity of evolution: the duckbill platypus.  Imagine an egg-laying, venomous, mammal that has a bill, well, like a duck's and a bit of a temper.  They aren't very big, at a couple of feet long, but as we watched a male chasing a non-receptive female (sorry, bloke-the sheila doesn't like ya') as they maneuvered in circles biting each other, I thought the great creator must have a sense of humor.  White cockatoos screeched overhead.  Majestic place and a nice escape from the dust-bowl of the being up on the boat-stands in a boat-yard.

So, all's well that ends well and the BEG is slipping through the water nicely after her three-week and very costly makeover.  To Darwin, via the Whitsundays, we go.  Fishing lines are out.  Hopefully the muses, sirens, and mermaids will inspire me to write more.  We love Australia and the Aussies.  They are as you may imagine them. Strong. Independent.  Frontiersman.  Friendly.  I liken them to a slightly different twist of our westerners.  As always, love and miss you all.  Te amo, Merce.

"Brown-Eyed Girl" out...