Devonport – Melbourne
After a couple of days in Penguin, getting lost on mountain trails and watching fire-twirlers at my camp site, I headed back to Devonport.
I’d promised Alex’s parents a feast for dinner to thank them for their hospitality, so I spent most of the afternoon flipping through the Moroccan Soup Bar cookbook. Anyone who knows me well knows that I think cookbooks are just for ideas and inspiration, but for the famous Soup Bar Chickpea Bake, I followed every instruction to the tee and it came out deliciously! Huh, who knew that listening to the experts would work out? Jules insisted on cracking a bottle of bubbles (and by insisted I mean, gently asked if I wanted a glass to which I nodded happily), and the three of us toasted to the many exciting adventures that lay ahead for us all. Of course, we also had to take a photo of the feast and send it to Basil since he was stuck in Hobart for the night. Later in the evening, we sat outside by the chiminea eating a delicious Biscoff and citrus tart made by Alex, and chatted while tiny stars started to blink their way into the sky.
Chickpea bake, cous cous, and lemoney potatoey chickeney something.
The following morning, I hopped on the ferry with a belly full of seasickness tablets and waved goodbye to Alex and Jules. This was a real treat because, as she had promised, instead of waving her arms, Alex and I agreed to wave our arses. At first, I couldn’t find her on the horizon and thought she must have been running late – but then I realised there she was with her head between her knees, butt in the air, happily twerking at everyone on the boat much to the confusion of the old man standing beside me. A glorious send off! I joined in.
The Spirit of Tasmania takes anywhere between 9 and 11 hours, so here are a handful of ways to kill the time when you’re travelling budget like me and think it’s a good idea to not book a cabin:
- Listen to the Taylor Swift Era’s Tour playlist 3 times.
- Gaze out the window and consider what would happen if pirates boarded.
- Befriend the on-deck face painter.
- Read.
- Eat the leftover citrus and Biscoff tart which has completely melted and curdled and looks like vomit but tastes, curiously, delicious still.
- Go to the toilet to stretch your legs and then get anxious that someone will steal your laptop which is ridiculous because, honestly, where the hell are they going to run to?
When the bow of the ship opened, light flooded into the creaking, metal deck and I was itching to get out. I drove straight to Niamh and Pat’s house where they cooked a taco dinner and promptly fixed my broken roof rack (thanks Pat!). Niamh and I spent the next morning at the beach with the dog, Reggie, bouncing and playing and shitting in the waves – Reggie, not me – as the day grew hotter.
Niamh and Reggie at the beach.
From there, I drove to Melbourne where Sam and I lazed about, avoiding the heat and getting ready for our friends’ engagement party. It began to hit me that this adventure has actually, kind of, really begun now. I’m in Victoria, it’s the weekend before I start work, and all the things I’d planned for the beginning of the year were starting to unfold. Yikes.
The engagement party was beautiful made hilarious by a rowdy soccer game playing on the big screen downstairs. While the party was punctured by sporadic “ohhhh!”s and “come on!”s, nothing could take the smile off the happy couple’s faces, and it was truly warming to see so many people there to celebrate their love.
By Sunday morning, I was exhausted. The day was predicted to hit 38 degrees, so I knew the masses would be heading to the coast and I was eager to not get stuck in a hot car on the freeway. I made a quick coffee while Deloraine was parked at Yarra River, and could already feel the day heating up before 8am. After breakfast with the Sams (Boy Sam and Girl Sam, Sam squared, etc), I made the trek to the beach where I would set up camp for the next month at my parents’ house.
… and that’s where I’ve been for the past few days! It’s a slow launch into the relief teaching and van travelling lifestyle, but it’s nice to have a base where I don’t have to worry about whether or not I have enough water, or where I can find my next hot shower. On my first day of relief teaching just yesterday, I could feel my shoulders stiffening and heart starting to race. I remember what we were like to relief teachers when I was a student – always pulling stupid pranks and generally being smart-arses – so I had some anxiety around what these students would be like, especially in a school where I know no other teachers or the students’ names, and generally have no way to follow through when things turn to shit and they inevitably start setting fire to their pencil cases. But surprisingly, everything has gone well and I’m really enjoying the work. … so far.
