Tuesday, 19 March 2013
Sydney > Hamilton Island > Bowen
With the concert action out of the way there wasn't much on the agenda apart from getting myself back into the deep North and hunkered down in the Little House of Concrete where the results of a fortnight's tapping need to be edited, polished, published and uploaded.
The main issue in getting back from Sydney revolves, of course, round the relative dearth of flights into Whitsunday Coast, which explains the decision to fly back to Townsville after Neil and direct into Hamilton Island this time around. I was showered and packed by eight, downstairs for the prepaid breakfast and back by nine and from there it was a mere matter of booking out, heading for the Airport train at Central and checking in at the Jetstar facilities, which had been accomplished by ten-fifteen.
That left about an hour to kill, which isn't difficult to do with free WiFi and a substantial backlog of email, but I was getting toey when the notional boarding time passed without a sign of significant activity. Now, you might be inclined to say flight delays are an almost inevitable part of the Jetstar experience and anther example of the little glitches that get thrown up as you make your way through life’s rich pageant, but when the excitement’s over and it’s a matter of getting home to tackle the backlog, you’re bound to get toey, aren’t you?
Still, the boarding call came as they inevitably and eventually do, and having made my way aboard the aircraft I was invited to move from my aisle seat to any of the three vacant ones on the other side, which was a nice gesture, and one that was repeated in a number of other cases. The flight was nowhere near brimming to capacity.
Two and a bit hours’ flying time didn’t exactly pass in the blink of an eye, but didn’t drag past either, and while we were late leaving it wasn’t that far past the scheduled time when we disembarked and made our way to the ferry terminal.
Having collected the ticket/boarding pass I found a convenient seat and sat, tapping away at the backlog until a mother and daughter combo arrived nearby, announcing they were glad they’d opted for Jetstar since the earlier Virgin flight had been unable to land and had returned to Sydney. That prompted a bit of conversation until ferry time.
Given the forecast chop and likelihood of a rough passage when boarding time came I chose to seat myself in the downstairs cabin rather than the upper deck, working on the assumption that the closer you are to the water line the smaller the angle of movement in rough weather.
As it turned out, while there was a bit of chop there wasn’t a great deal of movement, and the crossing from Hammo to Daydream and on to the marina at Abel Point went reasonably smoothly.
A short wait at the car park, a diversion into Bunnings and a bit under an hour’s drive got us back to beautiful downtown Bowen just after four-thirty, and within half an hour or so we were back to what passes for normal in this neck of the woods.
That wasn’t, of course, the end of the story. There was a fortnight’s worth of travelogue, a Neil Young concert review (working both shows into the one piece on the basis that if it’s all one song it may well be all one concert review) and three pieces on Bruce shows, reviews to be linked to, and all the other odds and ends that go with part time website writer territory.
And, of course, the reflection on a couple of wonderful experiences. Next time, I promised myself, when either of these fine artists and long time favourites visit our shores, I’m going to the lot...