Arrrrr, Finding our Sea Legs: Aboard The Enterprize

Last week we were on a horse. Look down, back up, where are we? We’re on a BOAT. It seems I may actually be doing the classic Old Spice Commercial in reverse. In which case, next weeks blog will be about me having a shower and discussing my preferred brand of body wash. For now though, cast that image from your mind, I said CAST IT–that’s better, back to the sailboat… Jarrod, I have to say, I’m really drawn to the concept of sailing. You see, I’m a big fan of the following: fresh air, sunshine, sea breezes, being surrounded by water. Sailing involves all of those things, but for a supposed ‘leisure activity’ it also involves lurching, vomiting, crippling nausea, vomiting, frantic rushing about deck, vomiting, hardwork, vomiting, shouting, and vomiting. Frankly, the prospect of being concussed and knocked overboard by a wayward boom sounds like sweet relief. Imagine my delight then, when I came across the option of doing a Tall Ships sailing experience on The Enterprize! Sailing in a bay = minimal side to side lurching = almost no chance of seasickness, hurrah! And on top of the non vomiting, you have crew who do all the work for you, so you can just luxuriate in the sunshine and reflect upon how you’re winning at life.

100% confident about keeping our lunches down.

Enterprize is a replica tall ship which runs a range of sail charters from Docklands, Port Melbourne, Williamstown and Geelong. All the information you need can be found on this link: http://www.enterprize.org.au/ We elected to do the one hour sail from North Wharf at The Docklands on a Saturday afternoon ($35 per adult). My partner in crime this week was my lovely friend Lynda. (I owed her either the cost of her therapy, or a really nice day out after the trauma of our last blog-scursion to the haunted Ararat Asylum).

Guaranteed Ghost Free Experience for Lynda

I kept an eagle on on the weather forecast during the week preceding our sail, half expecting that a freak Perfect Storm would whip up on the Saturday, transforming the calm waters of the bay into a churning, vessel-overturning monster, but the day dawned sunny and mild. The city streets were crammed but as always, The Docklands precinct was a veritable ghostland. I don’t know what it is about that place, it doesn’t even make my hackles go up, they just cringe as though they’re embarrassed for it as a vicinity. Maybe it’s the concentration of grotesque, flashy white boats all in the one spot. It’s as though people’s taste and spending habits stopped evolving in Miami Vice era. We make our way to North Wharf and are greeted by the very friendly crew, all decked out in period costume and sipping raspberry cordial from ye olde plastic cups.

Dress Code: breeches, bustiers and bonnets.

My absolute boating ineptitude reveals itself almost immediately when I suggest to Lynda upon boarding (pointing in that direction) that we move to the front of the boat and grab a seat. She asks “sorry, move where?” I assume she hasn’t heard me and repeat the suggestion a little more loudly. She asks again, more bemused this time “sorry, move where?” and I sigh, thinking she wants me to tell her in bloody boating terms like port/starboard etc. I confess that I don’t know the boating word for front, at which point she laughs, points in the complete opposite direction and, as though explaining to a particularly dim four year old, says “THAT’s the front of the boat…” Fortunately, I’m not captaining the boat. This very capable guy is:

He knows which end is the front so he can steer one handed.

We set off in the direction of The Docklands, towards Etihad Stadium. I’m silently willing the ship to just keep going and cleave a massive hole in The Docklands, like those ships that carve up the ice in The Antarctic region. Possibly overestimating the size and capability of our vessel, granted. In any case, we do a big U Turn and head out away from Docklands towards the Bolte Bridge. The crew dart about shouting directives at one another, hoisting sails, pulling on ropes and securing things with big ropey knots. Lynda and I do our best to keep out of their way but as it turns out we have an uncanny knack of moving out of the way of one crew member, smack bang into the way of another. Ten minutes ensues of us saying ‘sorry!’ (shuffle to one side) ‘sorry’ (shuffle across another few feet) ‘sorry’ (shuffle back to the original spot). The crew get the kids on board to help with some of the rope pulling to hoist the sails. On the one hand the kids seem pretty proud and excited to be involved, but on the other hand, I’d wager that’s how dodgy sweat shop operators overseas justify child labour… With the sails all hoisted, we make it under the Bolte Bridge cleanly. I’m half worried that we might be sitting too high in the water, and brainstorming tactics like everyone jumping to land heavily on deck at the same time so that we push the boat DOWN to make it under, but crisis averted.

Oooooh, there’s not much in it.

Then the most awesome question of day the is asked by the crew: “who wants to climb the rigging?” I abandon all pretense of being polite and shove towards the front (fortunately the front of a queue is easier to spot than the front of a boat), because they’re only sending people up one at a time and we’re already about 30mins into the trip. I wind up being second in line. Future warning for anyone who might wish to do the climb: you must be over 16, you can’t be intoxicated, you must be in closed toe shoes, no sandals or thongs (flip flops, overseas people), and you must be in pants (that’s trousers if you’re English), no skirts or dresses–for modesty reasons. Here I am in my safety harness, looking far more confident than I’m feeling–

Trying to ignore the men beside me saying “you wouldn’t get me up there”

When my turn comes I’m clipped onto the side of the rigging–with a metal fastener smaller than my hand which, I am assured, will take my weight and hold me should I fall. Then it’s time to clamber up onto the side and swing around so I’m on the outside of the rigging. (I guess that way, if the metal fastener fails you’re falling into water, rather than splattering onto the deck and ruining peoples afternoon tea).

Here we go

The instructor recommends using the 3 point climbing technique so that I always have at least three points of contact with the rigging. Only 3???? She obviously hasn’t read my blog about caving. 3 points of contact is being cavalier, my friend. I like to have at least 70% body surface area in contact at any one time. I would use my TONGUE as an anchor were it more muscular. I start to make my way up and if I’m honest, I actually dart up the ropes like a frigging spider monkey. A very slow, deliberate, super-cautious spider monkey. And then I’m at the top, as high as you can get on the rigging climb. Luckily my camera has excellent shutter speed so Lynda is able to capture the millisecond where I let go with my left hand to wave triumphantly at her.

Whatever, Rose from The Titanic. You stood at the front of a boat, that’s all.

Right hand is literally white knuckled.

I make my way down (almost scarier than going up) and after a few more people have their go, it’s Lynda’s turn to climb and my shot at being photographer. The sails are down by this point so I can get a great angle of her climb. After what looks to be a hesitant start:

Hmmm, which grip to go for?

She emerges as a TOTAL RIGGING CLIMBING PRO!

Four points of contact: count ’em. I like it.

Look at her up top, casual as hell…

We go from happy little wave….

… to inexplicable ‘rolling with ma homies!’ gesture

The hour positively flew by, and had us wishing that we’d opted for a trip that went a bit longer. They informed us that they DO take people on journeys all the way to Hobart. We thanked them, but stressed we just wanted a little longer, not enduring-heaving-waters-of-Bass-Strait-on-a-multi=day-journey-longer. We had a gorgeous afternoon and the rigging climb made it even more memorable, but as always Jarrod, and any other readers for that matter–I’ll throw the big question to you. Sailing on the Enterprize: Jarrod, would you go there?

Added bonus: best opportunity for shadow puppets ever.