Cruising to Peppermint Bay
So I was lucky enough to be a groomsman in a wedding of a pair of amazing people recently. It seemed to be filled with fun, laughter and affection right from the first minute of the day. But one of the highlights- which I had not anticipated enjoying as much as I did- was the cruise to Kettering on the Peppermint Bay 2.
After a short service and some photos at the TMAG, we made our way down to Brooke St Pier and onto Peppermint Bay 2 for a cruise down the river to Kettering for the reception. I won't lie. I had a few concerns. “I ain't getting on no boat,” I said, cheerfully plagiarising Mr T and paraphrasing for my own ends as happily as Nicky Minaj did to Sir Mixalot. I even considered the possibility of chartering a private helicopter (previously known as the Bronwyn Bishop method but now updated to the Barnaby Joyce strategy) but realised it might be quite expensive without taxpayer funded entitlements. In the end I decided I'd best just suck it up and try to control my weak stomach.
And that was a very good decision. Peppermint Bay 2 was a wide catamaran that sat calmly in the water with little rocking motion. When I first boarded and walked into the main cabin, I could have easily forgotten I was afloat at all. After a quick stop at the well-tended bar I headed outside to the prow (I hope I got that right but I'm about as familiar with nautical terminology as Joe Hockey is with the difficulties of poverty) and thought the only way I would happier with this boat would be if they renamed it Boaty McBoatface.
I stood outside with a few friends as we slowly made our way out from the harbour. You get real sense of why Sullivan's Cove was originally chosen as a settlement site (after Risdon Cove failed) as you leave because you quickly realise how protected you were in the harbour. The wind increased quicker than stupidity at an anti-immigration rally, as did the swell, but it was still warm and pleasant. The odd extra strong gust of wind came as a surprise, but the boat itself stayed pretty steady under our feet. We picked up speed after leaving the harbour. The hills of Dynnyrne and Sandy Bay looked down on us as smugly comfortable as Malcolm Turnbull. The eastern shore was a distant landmass on our left, while the beaches of Sandy Bay stretched away to our right. Wrest Point Casino stood as a point of punctuation, standing white and tall with the mountain behind it.
After a short service and some photos at the TMAG, we made our way down to Brooke St Pier and onto Peppermint Bay 2 for a cruise down the river to Kettering for the reception. I won't lie. I had a few concerns. “I ain't getting on no boat,” I said, cheerfully plagiarising Mr T and paraphrasing for my own ends as happily as Nicky Minaj did to Sir Mixalot. I even considered the possibility of chartering a private helicopter (previously known as the Bronwyn Bishop method but now updated to the Barnaby Joyce strategy) but realised it might be quite expensive without taxpayer funded entitlements. In the end I decided I'd best just suck it up and try to control my weak stomach.
And that was a very good decision. Peppermint Bay 2 was a wide catamaran that sat calmly in the water with little rocking motion. When I first boarded and walked into the main cabin, I could have easily forgotten I was afloat at all. After a quick stop at the well-tended bar I headed outside to the prow (I hope I got that right but I'm about as familiar with nautical terminology as Joe Hockey is with the difficulties of poverty) and thought the only way I would happier with this boat would be if they renamed it Boaty McBoatface.
I stood outside with a few friends as we slowly made our way out from the harbour. You get real sense of why Sullivan's Cove was originally chosen as a settlement site (after Risdon Cove failed) as you leave because you quickly realise how protected you were in the harbour. The wind increased quicker than stupidity at an anti-immigration rally, as did the swell, but it was still warm and pleasant. The odd extra strong gust of wind came as a surprise, but the boat itself stayed pretty steady under our feet. We picked up speed after leaving the harbour. The hills of Dynnyrne and Sandy Bay looked down on us as smugly comfortable as Malcolm Turnbull. The eastern shore was a distant landmass on our left, while the beaches of Sandy Bay stretched away to our right. Wrest Point Casino stood as a point of punctuation, standing white and tall with the mountain behind it.
Taroona, Kingston and the Alum Cliffs
Once past the casino we continued on and turned at the edge of Long Beach under the once watchful gaze of Alexandra Battery, which now stand as out of date and useless as Tony Abbott. From here, we really began to accelerate further- soon passing my old high school in Taroona with its grounds extending right down to the water.
Between Taroona and Kingston are the Alum Cliffs, which stand magnificently above the water line and stretch for several kilometres. We paused for a stop just after passing the shot tower and the bride and groom took some special photos with the cliffs behind. As I know as much about photography as Robert Deniro knows about the science of vaccination, this obviously meant that I had to get out of the way for their photos. Not to worry though. There was plenty of space on the boat. I took the chance to go up to the top deck, which was thankfully not high enough to get in a fight with Grant Hackett. Photos taken (not in the Liam Neeson way) we set off again, soon passing the end of the cliffs where the bays of Kingston and Blackman’s Bay scalloped away from us. The wind had been strengthening as we got further south and when the estuary widened as rapidly as coral bleaching on the (becoming less) Great Barrier Reef, it went up another notch or two. |
The D'entrecasteux Channel
The sun receded behind the clouds as a light spray of rain struck. It wasn’t enough to make us cold so we stayed up and enjoyed the sensation of speed and rushing air. The wind was now constant, pushing against me as if it was Sophie Mirabella. You had to lean right into it to maintain your balance. I would say that my calves did more work on this trip than a weightlifter’s calves do in a full training session, but that is because most weightlifters I know barely train their legs, let alone their calves.
I turned towards a sudden flash of colour I had seen in my peripheral vision and saw a gull drop from the sky to disappear under the water for a few moments and then reappear with nothing to show for the fishing effort, which is about the same as when most of my friends try to go fishing. The northern tip of Bruny Island loomed before us and we rounded the point of Tinderbox and turned into the D’entrecasteux Channel. I had thought this little strait between Bruny and the mainland (in case your geography rivals George W. Bush, I am talking about Tasmanian mainland not mainland Australia) would be a bit more protected, but the White caps ahead of us told a different story. But even in the choppy, windy sea, the last part of our passage to Kettering was still pretty smooth. One of my other fears about getting in a boat is approaching land. Peter Dutton might realise I wasn’t born here and send his overly-militarised Borderforce to stop me reaching shore and lock me up on Manus Island where I will be subjected to systemic abuse. Luckily this proved unfounded for me this time (shame it has happened to so many others) and we stopped gently and uneventfully on to the Kettering jetty. There was a light drizzle as we disembarked, which might have been enough for some photographers to scuttle away like Matthew Groom asked a question about Basslink or our hydroelectric dam levels. Instead our photographer stood in the rain for a few minutes until she found the perfect shot of our married couple perfectly framed by a vivid rainbow in the background. |
Peppermint Bay Reception Centre
The rain lasted for less time than Conor McGregor’s retirement, so by the time the bridal party had been announced and we were sitting down with a glass of champagne, the afternoon sunshine was streaming in through the glass wall that faces the water. The reception itself was fantastic, with Peppermint Bay Reception Centre providing an outstanding venue, meals and staff. There were great speeches and epic dance moves to celebrate the marriage of two wonderful people. Too soon we were getting back on the boat for the trip back to Hobart.
Even after the trip from town had been so pleasant, I was still a bit concerned I may find myself prone to 'seasickness' on the way back. As it was dark by now, there was little to be seen outside, so this time I stayed in the main part of the boat and the wide central aisle became a dance floor. We reached town around midnight and I exited as reluctantly as Bronwyn Bishop. Right from the first minute, the day had been truly epic. |