Hop on Hop off - Sydney

Sydney Harbour provides the perfect backdrop to reflect on our travels.  As we slowly ease into life in a western world, we are missing the strangest things.  We’ve decided that public transport and buses in particular are a window on a nation. 

Panamanian Bus

Of course there have been plenty of places with no buses and walking is the go.  Apart from the exercise it’s a great way to meet the locals as you wander passed their houses or greet them on the road.  It took a while to get used to greeting everyone you pass.  In fact they regard it as a huge insult if you don’t greet everyone when you enter a shop or get on a bus.  Of course we are now back in the ‘head down, I’m not  here/your not here land’. 

Public transport barely exists in French Polynesia except in Tahiti.  So walking and hitching is how you get about.  It rarely takes long to get a lift with colourful locals.  Some islands it would be Polynesians who stopped and others only the French – we never worked out why.  It was an act of faith getting into their vehicles which were rust buckets.  One car had no floor under my seat - alarming to see the road flashing past.  But the drivers were always generous to a fault often getting involved in the project we were undertaking – ferrying us around to various shops or repair businesses for good old Zenna. 

But back to the subject of buses.  Most places have a privatised system which in my book is a real positive.  The buses are colourful and personal.  The drivers are local and know their passengers.  And of course most of the passengers know each other – even if they don’t conversations soon strike up.  That’s if you can be heard above the music.  We had some ear splitting moments on Panama buses when we were crowded through the back door and jammed up against the back wall of the bus right next to the head height speakers which were blasting music that would have been deafening even at the front of the bus. 

 

More time was spent on Panama buses than we would have wished.  It was an hour and a half to the nearest supermarket and another hour and a half to Panama City if you needed to get anything important.   The buses are old US school buses pensioned off to Central America where they are given a Latin makeover.  Religious icons fight with Christmas decorations, football memorabilia and fluffy feather boas.  Working windows are a novelty and most of the doors are long gone.  But everyone is happy and friendly as you bunch 3 to a seat and children are passed around to sit on laps. 

Ian and Kirsty not too impressed with the bus??

 

Santa Monica, Colombia has the same US variety of buses and makeover, but the passengers are less sophisticated.  In both countries the buses are known as chicken buses, but in Colombia we found out why.  A couple of rows ahead of us someone had a bag full of chicks being taken home for rearing.  They were even handing them out to other passengers.  The chicks were not happy as we discovered when we moved seats only to find a damp mess from an over excited bird.  A little further along the road, the bus knocked down a fully grown hen.  The conductor quickly got down and threw it into the luggage compartment.  Never sure if he was hiding the evidence or taking it home for dinner. 

 

How do they stay so clean?

Fiji has a similar vintage of buses but their country of origin was never established.  They didn’t have to worry about windows not working – there were none.  Just large spaces – if it rained they could let down tarps to keep the worst of the rain out.  These open windows proved very useful when we had to get a bean bag on the bus.  Mark simply passed it through the gap and the passengers had a fun few moments passing it around until it reached me.  I was always amazed at how pristine the school kids were in their uniforms despite the clouds of dust that would envelope us. 

Bit breezy Mark

But our favourite place for buses has to be Grenada.  They use mini-buses with a driver and conductor who opens the sliding door.  I really missed their reggae/soca soundtracks when we got to Latin America with their moody salsas.  Grenadian buses have routes they ply and there are so many of them you rarely have to wait for one to come along.  Then if you want them to take you closer to home you can pay a bit more and they drop you off.   That’s another factor all these buses have in common – they are dirt cheap.   

We had 21 in one of these once

Grenada buses also act as an escort service.  People hand their kids over to them (some only a couple of years old) and the conductor will make sure they are looked after on the bus and handed over to someone at their destination.  Try that in London or Sydney.  We also heard that a German Cruiser who became the worse for wear during Carnival and was found by the roadside was put on a bus to where most of the cruisers are moored.  He woke up the next day near his dingy (they must have had to carry him quite a way) with his wallet in his pocket intact. 

This one's called Spit it Out

 

VIP comfort - cruiser night out to Fish Friday

That’s not to say they were perfect.  Many a time you could see the driver of the bus with his bottle of beer in the door pocket which he would discreetly swig from time to time.  This may explain why some of the locals would only get on certain buses - although they were all going the same way and charged the same fares.  Overcrowding was another factor and you could get pretty cramped during peak periods.  The most we experienced was 21 in a 12 seater.  A child on every lap and more.  How can you not get to know people in those situations. 

But for overcrowding, Dominican Republic claims the crown.  They don’t have buses just taxis and scooters.  Mark got the front seat in one taxi and was pretty pleased with himself until 2 or was it 3 very large ladies got in the front as well.  As they say there ‘How many can you fit in a taxi?’  Answer ‘One more’.

 

So now we are getting used to the sterile system.  Cards that have to be purchased before you can get on the bus, swiping so no need to bother the driver – no conductor of course.  Then sitting in pristine conditions with the aircon up high enough to freeze your groceries.  Your fellow passengers are thumbing away at their ‘social media’ sites, ears blocked by their huge headphones.  Welcome to Western civilisation.

Australia Bound!

 Now I know I said sailing Fiji to New Caledonia was a pleasant and uneventful crossing, but we were truly blessed by the fair weather fairy (thanks Aunty Jenny) coming into Australia.

We came out of the lagoon at New Cal with another yacht ‘Perla Alba’ and took the rhum (straight) line. We knew when we got close to Aus that we would have to alter course due to currents, and the storms off Coffs Harbour might require us to divert to Brisbane.

The wind was steady, and as it was our last leg to Aus, we kept plenty of sail out to keep us going along with the swell. Now the wind built over the next couple of days, as did the seas,……and then, the wind disappeared. This was unfortunate; the boat was going well, we were making good time, but we were forced to down sails and motor for 10 hours.

This turned out to be good! There was a noticeable decrease in the swell, and we took the time to rest and have some good meals.

The wind came back, steady, so we got the sail out again to keep going with the swell as before. And as before, the wind built over the next couple of days, as did the seas,……and then, the wind disappeared. This was unfortunate, the boat was going well, we were making good time, but we were forced to down sails and motor for another 10 hours.

However, this was good! We couldn’t believe our luck, the swell decreased, and we rested.

Yep, the wind came back…..etc, etc, until we reached the coast of Aus, just North of Coffs.

Marion woke me when the sun rose and she could see the land. Up I rushed, eyes welled, and I took a deep breath, “can you smell it, can you smell it?” I yelled, “take a deep breath”. Marion’s eyes lit up in amazement like a young girl in a candy store, “I can smell it!”. On the last deep breath you could smell the eucalyptus oils being carried east down off the Great Dividing Range and across the ocean to where we were gently sailing, almost ghosting, along. The fresh cool mist was amazing. Tunes of being ‘home among the gum trees’ were sung and we settled into breakfast while being in awe of where we actually were, on the other side of the Pacific at last.

Our last couple of hours saw the wind decrease, seas becalmed, and us wondering how it was all going to be. Would Marion be allowed into the country following all her bother with Visas….other tunes came to mind like Jimmy Barnes ‘Cryin like a refugee’.

What a journey!

Now THAT was a long way.....

We arrived safely in the harbour, dropped anchor, and ate all we could that we knew was not allowed into Aus. Formalities done and the marina informed us we could stay at our berth. Boat cleaned up, walk ashore, and shopping to replenish our supplies. Where we could not manage to eat everything the customs guys relieved us of the rest.

We spent a couple of weeks in Coffs; shopping, phones, IT, banks, walking, bike rides, restaurants & pubs. I think we were in a bit of shock of being there, but we were not yet at our destination of sailing through Sydney Heads. The weather had not been nice along the coast and by all accounts no one could believe the great crossing we had. Perla Alba came in 24 hours after us.

The trip down the coast to Sydney was awful; confused seas and no wind brought on feelings of seasickness. But as we approached the heads we got a feisty wind from the stern quarter that picked us up and shot us to the entrance of Port Jackson, Sydney Harbour.

The phone rang, it was ‘Marine Rescue Sydney’ as they had been trying to radio us to see if we were okay….we told them we were nearly there. Then another phone call, brother David, to see where we were and to tell us that Sydney was in ‘lock down’. Now we are not used to getting so many phone calls, and were not sure what this ‘lock down’ was all about. (this was the morning of the devastating Lindt café siege)

How calm the Pacific all seems now!

Despite the awful passage and terrible news our spirits rose as we entered through the heads. Here we were, journeys end……or journeys beginning! What will be next.

and through the heads we go! 

time to raise our colours

Australian Pride

There was no fanfare. We motored through a calm and eerie Sydney Harbour with the sun only glancing off the Sydney Opera House at one stage. There certainly was not a lot of activity going on anywhere. We continued up the river and took a berth at Gladesville Bridge Marina.

the only sun, on the Opera House

........we can only guess what is happening in town.

The next week we got our bearings, all before Christmas shopping and enjoying events on the harbour.  Its good to spend some time with family after our 6 year trip and wondering what, or where we will be next……….