Victoria, the place to be

One day, perhaps, I will tell a story to my grandkids:

Not long after I made land in Australia, I was adopted by the great City of Portland on the rugged SW coast of Victoria. A wet and chilli winter was on its way when this all happened. You have no idea what it means to be adopted unless you become adopted.  How did it happen to me?

Before arriving, I spent long months sailing in the Southern Ocean. It is a place where storms come one ofter another. Seabirds are your friends and icebergs your enemies, the latter being much more powerfull – giants capable to take you down in a few unguarded moments. Well, I should not complain because these scary seas treated me quite gracefully, rolling my boat over only once during the 20 000 NM voyage. I raised my boom as a jurry mast, hoisted some funny little sails and „where the nearest land may be“? I spent 26 days in madly rolling unbalanced boat thinking what the heck the ocean needed my mast, selfsteering and liferaft for.

Well, this is a kind of situation which a man should not make too much fuss around. Nothing which could not be fixed and the trip around the world can continue. Find a job, it won´t take a year and Waterbird will sail again.

The town looked strange from the sea. One large factory and many wind turbines around it. It´s got dark before I rounded Lawrence rocks. The port, the factory and few dim lights. Empty wharf and some fishing boats. No matter how much I was banging on their hulls, not an alived soul around. The streets looked empty. I did not know that at this hour a decent Portlander must be having a party.     

When the customs and quarrantine officer finished their jobs on the most wrecked, messy, moldy, and smelly boat ever visiting Portland (it took more than a day),  I did not mind the unfortunate news: „no work permitted in Australia“. I could WALK ON LAND! Good harbour, town, people, trees, singing birds, delicious food... I did not mind when big guys from a big city payed a visit to make sure that I fully understand what it means: „no work permitted....“. I was immune against all kinds of bad news.

I had many reasons to be immune. So many good news were comming since the first days: „You can dock at our place, use a shower, tools, workshop“. „Come for dinner“ „Do you have any laundry“, „What else do you need“, „Here take some spuds“. (and a whole sheep later!) I think it was about day 3, when I heard something I could not quite believe: „We may have a mast for you“. mast story

The first friday night in the pub... Before I finished a beer, another one landed in front of me. There was no end to it. I could honestly admit that I almost don´t drink. Instead I said that where I come from, only children drink beer out of 0.3l glasses and everybody else is using half a litter. It did not slow down the speed the new glasses were comming.  The only difference was that they were half litters now. I do not remember much. Not sure what kind of impression I left but hopefully nobody noticed the miserable truth: I rarely go to pubs and I never had more than two beers before.       

When the long nights and endless rains came, my visitors permit was getting short and the repair still seemed endless. I may had reasons to be depressed. But I could not. So many people were helping me with things big or small, there was no way to let my mind going down. Not unlike on the ocean: whatever happens to you, do what you have to do and hope that it will all end up well. Perhaps it will bring you to some new horizons. 

„Come with us to watch some orchids and birds“. Here we are, new horizons. Wildlife allways meant a wonderfull excitement on my voyage. I learned form quite a few people in Portland that the same (if not greater) excitment can be found just out of town and sometimes just out of your window. So many remarkable creatures from a blue wren to the blue whale.

  It is true that snakes kept out of my way, but a wallaby did not. (It jumped right in front of the car and soon it was turned into a great stew). A koala was extremelly friendly crawling on my back thinking I was of his kin. ( Not sure if it is a compliment, as people say: „looking cute at first but they are terribly stupid and mean little bastards“)    

  „Come in, we have an exhibition opening tonight“ and that was how I met Portland Art Company. It did not matter that I am not capable of creating any art. Perhaps I looked bohemian enough to fit.

„We give you free tickets if you make a presentation for us“ and that was how I joined the Film Society. It did not matter I already had a free ticket, I had to make the show anyway.

  And of course there was the underground where some sound oppinions can be heard and various substances can be consumed without any limits.

I was always ready when some ballast for the whaleboat was needed.

  I loved it all. I felt I was part of the community. One day I was told:  „Portland likes stories of the sea, you are one of them“. It is possible that if I flew to Australia to travel around in a rented car I wouldn´t know much about Portland. Maybe I´d stop to look at the sea, to have a chat with some people and continue on my way.

  The truth is I did not want to leave. There is a law in Australia for such occasions, making sure that sailors won´t become soft but they will continue with their trip. That was kind of a kick I needed to finish my journey around the world. Otherwise I may be still there.

  Leaving was not easy. When the time came, the boat was far from being ready. I can not remember how many people I made busy with various jobs on Waterbird. But I will never forget the two goodbye parties. (Boats always have at least two departures: the planned and the real one. However the parties were both real). We raised the new mast just a few days before my departure. Friends came to help on the weekend to finish my selfsteering, to bring presents for the trip and wave good bye. I knew I had friends in Portland but it was the moment when I felt it most. 

  Who knows better than me that Australians are friendly mob?