The power goes down with a sweep of the controls and we’re floating across Sydney harbour , an arrow head skimming the waves. Each one presents a challenge to the bow. The forward motion of the vessel minutely impeded, our bodies traveling forward at velocity ‘X’ are stumped momentarily at velocity ‘X’ minus the height of the wave. Low thumps echo up from the hull as we sift through the swells.
We skim on a dark night of sea, we are an annoying insect engines buzzing and straining at high pitch. Conversation has to be shaped like icing over the gargling noise. The edgy wind filters over the windscreen and blows our tentacled hair all over the place, ears are buffeted in sea shell echo dullness until we reach the other side . The play ground for the rich, it’s busy today and finding an appropriate moor is difficult. The anchor chain grumbles its way out of the bow and holds, but the boat does not, a tongue of the rocks seems to be licking nearer with each moment and sensibility makes the engines cough and bark back to life. Anchors up we pass embarrassingly the two storied tigers who got here earlier , each adorned with ‘bonnet babes’ in bright bikinis sipping martinis and looking out with weather girl smiles and Game show waves – ah the life!
