Carol had baked a banana cake so the deal was that the weather had to behave itself. It excelled beautifully with clear skies and light NE which eventually had a bit more puff to fill the sails homeward.
Ten boats slipped away from Cabbage Tree Point boat ramp including Jeff who always has a good story about his fishing exploits. His latest fun moment was pulling up a four foot shark which leapt onto the ski with the bitey end landing next to his leg. Slight technical hitch as had hooked himself in same leg with the next of the three gang hooks. A bit of a tight spot of bother on the confines of a ski. Rapid rambo tactics required to
free himself before dealing with what I imagine was a shark with attitude.
A pull against the incoming tide to cross Canaipa Passage for morning tea at the sandy beach on North Stradbroke marked 'Anchorage' on the map. It was a leisurely hour with Anzac biscuits and some of Carol's scrummy banana cake doing the rounds. Heading north alongside Straddie with the incoming tide voting preferences were right at the fork for Liberals, left for
Labour and straight ahead into the mangrove for stateless kiwis. A few runs were taken from the wash of the monsters cruising up the channel. Just coming up to RQYS a doozey gave Mark a ride and saw Jeff careering towards a meeting with the rock wall.
Rounding the jetty at RQYS a person in a boat promptly told Dave where to go to which he retorted 'so where is a shotgun when
you need one'. Nice mates. Heading towards the mangroves on the tip of Russell, a divergence of opinion as to whether there was a short cut was settled once and for all when a tinny roared out and disappeared into them again. A couple of loggerhead turtles were seen as we crossed the shallow bay heading for the ferry terminal. There were a lot of car and passenger ferries shuttling around and it is little wonder the dugongs have a hard time.
Lunch was had under the shelter overlooking the boat ramp. Locals provided the focus of attention as they backed their holden ute with its VB sticker down the ramp, submerging the exhaust to retrieve their powerboat which also sounded like it had a red motor. Mt Isa by the sea was Mark's comment.
Patrick coasted in, squeezed into a spot on the beach amongst the jam of boats to retrieve the beach meter money which had jumped
out of Mark's wallet. Having left from Weinam Creek Patrick made good time circumnavigating Russell. Lunch was not as casual and it was back on the water pronto. Some were now on a mission to take priority seating in vantage points high in or on key city
buildings for the Riverfire.
As we rounded the top end, a pair of enormous (well put it this way they made a Brahminy kite look puny) white breasted, white headed birds with dark wings were sitting side by side high in a tree. For their sheer stature they had to be white bellied sea eagles. The real estate on the western side more casual compared to the new homes on the other side of the island. The closer we got to the high tension pylons the more the tidal assistance we were given. Watching the wires as we passed under created a strange illusion of three dimensional space and motion. As the NE puffed a little harder the sails filled and the ramp drew closer.
By the time we had pulled in there was a clutter of powerboats testament to another gorgeous day out on the bay on par with Carol's banana cake. Thank you linesmen and thank you ballboys.