Reasons for coming home

There are many reasons for coming home to Perth. But when it all boils down it is family that attracts you back to your roots and of course SAUSAGE ROLLS!!!!

The original and the best Thanks Mum!

Sausage roll table of fame - Update June 2015

The Bloke here,

Well New South Wales is turning it ON!

Firstly, we have the wide selection of magnificent sausage rolls from the Artisan Bakery in Cronulla. Their Pork Sausage Roll was most enjoyable, however, I could not go past their Beef Sausage Roll and had to sample them many times. A great effort here from a small bakery coming in at number 5 on the table of fame.

Artisan beef sausage roll!

Then up steps an amateur and a virgin in the production of the Sausage Roll. An absolute outstanding effort in producing a roll full of flavour with a hint of chili. Peter, from the Royal Prince Alfred Yacht Club and owner of MyWay2,  has come in at number 6. The first amateur to appear on the table of fame. He will be pleased!!!

An amateur makes the top 10!!!

 Tasmania will still be hard to beat with the Jackman and McRoss Sausage Rolls. New South Wales has , however, made a great start with two Top Ten rolls and still more chances to move up the ladder.  The blog mistress and I are home in Perth for some R&R with the family and a opportunity to reset my taste barometer by sampling the sausage rolls that started it all. Yes, I will be feasting on Mum's home made Sausage Rolls for a couple of weeks and then it will be back to work searching for the best Sausage Roll in Australia.


Table of Fame

 

Leg 55 - Sydney to Pittwater

As much as we dread deadlines, our timing for arrival to Pittwater was prescribed by an invitation from Debbie and Peter, the crew of My Way2. They had most generously offered to mind Zofia on their mooring while we return home to Perth for a couple of weeks of family time. We first met in Tasmania  during the summer and they even helped christen the new BBQ. Their delayed arrival for the Tassie season had left a lot of 'unfinished business' in the 'Cruise Tasmania' department and they'd decided that by wintering their boat in Tassie they could enjoy a second go at the delights of the D'Entrecasteaux Channel etc without another strenuous return trip across Bass Strait.

A wee house in Watsons Bay

Debbie is one of the organisers of a monthly dinner for cruisers at her yacht club and asked if we'd be willing to make a presentation to their June, 'First Friday' event. Oh my, a deadline!  With that now looming and wishing to have enough time to rehearse and resolve any technical issues, we needed to arrive a couple of days early. The wind lords were compliant, so a near stupid o'clock start had us chasing some of the early morning ferries down the harbour before slipping out of Sydney Heads and sailing northwards to Broken Bay and Pittwater.

Bridgetop flags indicating a favourable wind angle

We had a delightful run up the coast in a loping swell and all too quickly vanishing breeze, close enough to the coast to appreciate some of Sydney's northern beach locations. The Barenjoey lighthouse was on the horizon before we knew it. Having been spared from destruction in a bushfire, it looked strangely naked out on it's headland.

A stampede of Riviera's roaring up behind us as we entered Broken Bay

Once we turned into Broken Bay and southwards into Pittwater we were staggered by the number of yacht masts all along the shores. Some on moorings, others in marinas. This is without question a sailing Mecca.

 

Taking in our new surroundings

 

Peter and Debbie came out to their mooring to greet us and commence our Pittwater Time in their vast water garden.WOW!

When the AMP lines up with the Intercontinental - Part 2

Being in an area with poor internet bandwidth while trying to add this post - yes, even not far from Australia's biggest city, made it necessary to split up the view from this particular evening. It was such a stellar day with so much eye candy, we just had to share it.

 

Dusk descending on the Sydney CBD

 

Clearly not dragging the anchor.

AMP still lines up with the Intercontinental - CHECK!

Loosing vertical hold? Not at all! 

The ferries carrying spectators for the Sydney Vivid festival were creating wake in Farm Cove.

When the AMP lines up with the Intercontinental - Part 1

Our last day in Sydney Harbour/Port Jackson ... a bit of a geographical catch-all, was to have been in Manley. The weather lords had other plans for us. We initially headed out from our courtesy mooring at Sugar Loaf Bay to be ready for the 10:15 raising of the Spit Bridge. We were one of 3 yachts mustering for release from the Middle Harbour. Mid-week and so early, there was no-one seeking entry, only to escape.

Smarty Pants boat name.

We headed round the headland avoiding the Manley ferries to explore the mooring possibilities in the coves around Manley. We made a rapid tour, assessing anchoring possibilities with the SW swell gushing headlong into the bay. We considered the only viable option if we were to go ashore to do some laundry and shopping, was to collect one of 5 pink public moorings near the ferry terminal. Not really ideal, but in the scheme of things they didn't look like providing the trampolining experience that Kiama had offered us. Alas, the 2 vacant moorings were vacant for a reason: the lines were chewed - probably propeller strike.

No room in this Manley line-up.

 Manley locals take salt water pools to a new level.

What the heck, we'd become accustomed to going up and down the channels in the Harbour, we'd have a look at Rose Bay. We had always intended to drop anchor there in homage to our crazy golfing days and the 7th hole at RSGC where we'd made our counter-offer to purchase Zofia. On approach, we didn't like the look of Rose Bay either and opted for somewhere still further upstream that might be rolly but sheltered from a freshening SW wind and somewhat iconic - Farm Cove.

The iconic sails of the Opera House.

The holding was excellent and the outlook as full of interest as one could script. Waves of people in different pursuits depending on the time of day. Lunch time corporate boot camp. A Wedding in the botanic garden. Black headed tour groups from SE Asia. Ambling tourists. Photographers snapping away at the twin marvels of the Sydney Harbour Bridge and Sydney Opera House. Lovers. We had ringside seats to all this splendour and through the kaleidoscope of, at first, a glorious blue winter sky, through sunset and then the glitz of neon and LED illumination (see Part 2).

 

When the AMP Lines up with the Intercontinental

 - we know we haven't dragged anchor!

The Spit Bridge

Being in the 'Big Smoke' was tiring us out. All the movement and chaos. We are no longer accustomed to it all. Staying around the iconic and central locations of Sydney was fabulous in it's way but we felt we needed to retreat so we set off for that other area of waterways - The Middle Harbour. To get there we needed to turn back out towards Manley and Sydney Heads before turning in again at Middle Head. Being a Thursday and mid-week, water traffic was low in the general scheme of things.

We reached the opening to the ocean in no time, motoring again of course. A couple of yachts tried sailing but conditions we pretty light until they were beyond South Head. A long loping swell of around 2m was breaking through.

 

We couldn't believe the number of anglers fishing from Middle Head, which sits full-frontal to the ocean swells. Some appeared to be lashed on which is sensible in it's way, although still very foolhardy.

 A lone stand-up paddle board rider was riding the nice waves off Middle Head.

We picked up a courtesy mooring and had lunch while we waited for the Spit Bridge to open.

A 50' ketch was the first vessel to pass through.

 Next a large launch went through on the green light.

Traffic halted and waiting for our 3 boats to transit. 

 

 

2 men supervise the opening and closing.

This property overlooking the Spit Bridge is inspired by a ships bow.

The steep cliffs and slopes inside Middle Harbour are clung to by all manner of constructions -  mostly mansions but a sprinkling of shacks; remnants of more relaxed times and eventual targets for the wrecking ball. Every turn of the waterway revealed another anchoring area or marina.

The remarkable thing was the frequency of the the bridge openings and that road traffic has to come to a complete standstill to let 1 or more boats pass through. A surprising obstruction in a city of this size. In the Netherlands the roads go beneath the waterways as a solution. In all probability, this route was probably serviced by a barge in days gone by. Once the path is established it's a bit hard to re-route it in this terrain of valleys, ridges and waterways. In any instance, we found the transit fascinating and were thankful for the traffic coming to a halt just for us.

Turning Purple.

Our conundrum of where to leave Zofia when we went out for dinner at Martin and Carolyn's was resolved by the prospect of 'half a berth' at the Cammeray Marina. This in fact turned out to be a pen because the half berth was unavailable at the last moment - an unexpected bonus. An additional bonus was the opportunity for a proper 'stand under' shower. A simple and guilty pleasure as compared to our 'bird baths' on board. We are clean of course, but miserly with the water and it's a bit of a treat to be a bit more profligate with the water. Since Martin would not be collecting us until 16:30 I'd even have time to 'do' my hair, which in this instance meant putting a colour through. No problemo, we were not going to be looking like scruffy sailor folk. We'd be spruced up!

Running short of my usual colour meant winging it a bit with a purchase made in Cronulla and I'd re-stocked with an unknown brand and shade. This is never going to happen again by the way because I should have guessed straight away when mixing up the goo, that the colour was far from normal. What to do? Abort the attempt and miss the chance to limit the break-through grey? Vanity said 'keep going' when sanity said 'stop'!

There is an 108 step ascent to the entrance of the Cammeray Marina at the roadway. It's just a small gap between 2 mansions. I think it's been many years since the inclinator stopped working judging from it's rusted and abandoned remains. The Bloke, who'd gone on ahead, was apologising to the waiting Martin for my tardiness and must have thought that he was starting to see stars after the effort of his ascent.

 This was not a play with the light. I'd gone punk purple and The Bloke was lost for words.

 Ever the gentleman, even Martin struggled to suppress his dismay.