The wind blew and brought with it some showers. With the jazz festival not starting until later in the morning we headed through the back of the camping ground and across the road to a substantial flying fox colony. Here a small squelchy loop track passes through the understorey. After hooding it through we headed along the back street. Some made a beeline for the bakery while we came across a fire break. This went up to the water tanks and the first road along the hillside where the houses had a magnificent view. Looking at Google Earth on return we missed out on a couple of Km walk to Brown Lake.
Graham rang in to say he had arrived. Back at camp Carol produced a soft smooth textured white chocolate and macadamia nut like tort - you know, the kind of delicate rich desert you get served on a fine white plate with a smudge of sauce. Wickedly good stuff. After seeing Bruce and Cheryl off on the ferry we wandered across to the Jazz Festival which by now was now in full swing.
The numbers were a bit thin but then again the weather was dodgy and it sounded like many people were not aware that the festival was on. Mind you, it would have been hard to miss - some of the best acoustics might have been had out on the bay kicking back in a moored vessel. The Caxton Jazz Club were superb. From here the
jazz progressively morphed into rock with the night concluding with the in house band Shag Rock. Certainly our neighbours had morphed as well. Seemed like they had acquired some company with an ever dwindling vocabulary, focussed around foul abuse and threats to anything and everyone. I wished it would have poured at this stage as at least then they could have been encouraged to
confine themselves to their tent. No such luck and a resolve if ever to camp here again choose the place at the southern end of the camp ground or go to Adams Beach.
It did rain closer to the morning but the 30Kn wind was yet to eventuate. After two long hard nights our neighbours were somehow capable of bundling all but their tent into the van. Their rationale was why bother - it had only cost them $50.00, so they
drove off and left it. By the time we were on the water it was pretty much close to low tide. We made good time sailing to Peel, so good it was not worth stopping. A rain squall passed over but did not bring any gusts with it. One person took an unexpected
swim, and while they were quick to launch onto the back of their boat, they wobbled off to test the water again.
Aside birds, the only marine creature I saw all weekend was a solitary dolphin off Horseshoe Bay. I thought I might have been in the water by the forecast, however we would have been lucky to have hit 15Kn on the way back and there was only a small swell to ride. So while the jazz morphed to rock, a quiet weekend one with a bunch of yobs at least the 30Kn only made it to fifteen.
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