Given the length of time that we had spent at the Royal SA Yacht Squadron, both on the slip, and at the maintenance berth getting an endless list of marine works completed to ready Calista for this voyage, it had become prudent for us to take out a Country Membership at the RSAYS, to validate our use of Club facilities. We soon discovered that one of the potential benefits of RSAYS membership was reciprocal linkage to interstate Yacht Clubs, in this instance the Royal Sydney Yacht Squadron, possibly the land's most prestigious sailing institution. The RSYS is nestled in the lee of the headland at Kirribilli, just around the corner from The Lodge and Admiralty House, the residences of our PM and the Governor General, when they are not out of town saving the world. The dictionary meaning of Kirribilli is, we think, "possessing class, privilege, status, and standing". It was to this august and elevated postcode that your modest seafarers were now headed. We called into the RSYS dock office and gained authority to tie up, and to immediately present ourselves to the Office to complete the formalities. In the RSYS there are always formalities.
Tied up at visitors pontoon, RSYC. ( In background)
The Royal Sydney Yacht Squadron occupies real estate beyond imagination and you make your way to this epicentre of Sydney Society past lawns that Gillette might be proud to have manicured. Passing through the hallowed portals of this institution one rapidly gains perspective. To starboard is the the heavy panelling depicting the Patrons and Hon Patrons of this institution. The former includes the names Packer and Fairfax, and the latter an assemblage of the Nation's Governors General, way back beyond those we gave idolatrous status when we Honoured the Queen at assemblies under the probing eye of the Head Master back at primary school. Still, we supposed that as they lived just around the corner, it was nothing to pop in to cut the odd ribbon, or perhaps to indulge in a small libation or two if you held the post in the mid 1970's. Through the door and to port is found a tattered flag in a glass frame. A bit daggy we thought until we noted the inscription -"Burgee flown by Sir Francis Chichester on Gypsy Moth Four in his Historic Circumnavigation of the World -1967. Personally presented to the RSYS". The real flag if you please. Then next to it a large pic of a Naval Gentleman in his No 1 Uniform bearing the simple signed title "Philip, 1954". As you do.
Beyond these statement items and salutation registers lay a scattering of encased tropies that might have shamed an Aristocrat returning from an Assam tiger hunt during the Raj. It was past this belittling collection that your Port Elliot seafarers made their way, dutifully, respectfully, and cap in hand to the RSYS office. The inner sanctum.
Chichester's flag
and the Boat Boy to take us to our boat.
The Hon Sec RSYS raised his eyes to assay us as we presented to the desk. We introduced ourselves but he did not do likewise. Saline encrusted, tousled headed, and possibly piquant from our endeavours at sea we strove to easablish our bona fides. He suspected that our lineage did not include a Packer or a Fairfax. "You will need to present a Letter of Introduction to gain entry to the Club" he observed drily, as one who claims Mate in chess. "We believe that you will find a letter from the secretary of the RSAYS in relation to our arrival, in your file" was our dispassionate response. At this, the office lass sprung from her duties claiming "ah, I think that came in yesterday" and produced the said document from the in-tray. Checkmate to us. We were in! In no time we were allocated mooring 56 complete with a Boat Boy to ferry us around, to and from the Club.
Given the absence of slumber that had marked our previous night, you'd have thought a nap would be in order, but with some things on our agenda, we were soon off to catch a train to Boat Books, Sydney where we hoped to access some marine charts for later in our journey. We are fortunate that neither our economic status - the Hon Sec was right - or space on Calista would permit us to splurge on the outstanding marine book offerings available at Boat Books. With a couple of selected volumes and the charts that we needed, it was back into the efficient bustle that is Sydney, and on board to plan our next couple of days in Sydney.
Saturday, we decided, would be a good day to use the $20/head, ride ferry/bus/train deal to check out Sydney. We started by hailing the boat boy (!) and sauntering out of the Royal & Ancient Club, around the corner to the ferry wharf at Kirribilli. What a little gem this proved to be. An enterprising mum and daughter have set up a cafe on the wharf and in between ferries patrons partake in excellent coffees, home baked produce, and graze upon a selection of magazines and dailies. They do pre-packed meals for the office returnees at the end of the day, and from the animated conversations and repartee, it was clear that patrons came for more than the comestibles. It was a comfy place where you could settle in for an hour or two, with the view to the Opera house thrown in. We were a bit sorry to see our ferry chug in and for us to leave Cafe Kirribilli for Greater Sydney.
Playing tourist on the Manly Ferry
For the next few hours we did the Manly Ferry tourist thing, found our way to Whitworth's Brookvale Store (confession here - at home we get his and hers Whitworth's [marine stores] catalogues to avoid nautical disputation), strolled the Manly promenade, ferried our way to the buzz of Darling Harbour, and took in some highly acceptable Indian Cafe fare before harbouring our way back to Kirribilli.
About to go under Sydney Harbour Bridge!Sunday morn saw us depart the Hallowed Club, and set out on an activity that we always thought would be fabulous to do - a harbour cruise on our own yacht! What's more, Sydney turned on a day that would befit any tourist brochure. Whereas two days earlier we regarded Harbour traffic with a bit of trepidation, we found that the boating smorgasboard that is Sydney on a sunday, simply melds and flows with a minimum of anxiety. You almost literally go with the flow. For us we HAD to sweep past Quentin and Kev's on Kirribilli Head, slide past the Opera House, and then gaze up in wonder as the Harbour Bridge pased above. Wow. Then we did Darling Harbour by water before making our way to Sydney's famed Fish Markets in Blackwattle Bay. We were lucky to pinch a tie-up before disappearing into the piscatorial madness that is the Fish Markets at sunday lunch. The Fish Markets is more than a place to buy a mackerel or a prawn: it is seafood cafe heaven , and it seemed that half of Sydney had turned up to check out the action. Tables in the sun groaned under the weight of seafood platters and liquid bon homie. We eventually escaped with some splendid snapper fillets and enough of a fix of people to last us weeks at sea. Our day afloat continued with us circumnavigating Cockatoo Island (a modest feat), checking out the motor cruisers in millionaires row, and, finally by seeking relative peace and quiet in the tree-lined anchorage at Balls Head Bay.
Hoopla at the Sydney Fish Markets.
There, by arrangement we re-connected with Doug and Mary on their yacht Cartref, a WA couple who we had first met a few years ago in Port Lincoln, and who are well known to our good friends Rod and Sal and the gang at SA's Cruising Yacht Club. Nestled alongside, however was a yacht that has for us the warmest and happiest memories. Until recently Tibia (a Swanson 38 - Calista is a Swanson 36) has been owned by many times sailing companions Bill and Pauline Lunn, and to see her here with new owners Pete and Lorraine held a lot of mixed emotions for us both. It was with Bill and Pauline that the idea of this voyage was born, but when opportunities arose in their life, they cruised the East Coast in 2009 before moving to Melbourne. Tibia's nautical charts are here with us on Calista, and have been invaluable to us on our journey.
Anchoring at Balls Head Bay with our dear friend Tibia.
Tomorrow we leave Sydney Harbour for the tranquility of Pittwater and the Hawkesbury waterways.
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