I booked the caravan park in Ballan several weeks in advance. The reasoning behind it was;
1. a convenient base to board the Spirit of Tasmania being just an 1 hour's drive to Port Melbourne
2. sits on the rail line so I can sneak in to watch the footy on Saturday night &
3. a quiet spot to spend the Anzac Day long weekend.
As it turns out, with Anzac Day falling on a Saturday, there was no long weekend this year. However, as I knew in advance we were staying here, I took the opportunity to get a few items sent from home in preparation for our little sojourn to Tassie - namely ugg boots & thermal undies. We used the 'Post Restante' system where a parcel is addressed to you, care of a post office & they hold it for you for 1 month. Anyway, I rocked up at the Ballan Post Office & mentioned to the bloke behind the counter that I should have a package waiting for me to collect. Well...he gave me the evil eye & proceeded with a line of questioning that wouldn't have been out of place in Guantanamo. 'What's your address?...this system is for people passing through only'...etc, etc. 'Yeah mate thats me' I replied with narrowing eyes. He begrudgingly tottered off to grab the parcel & on returning asked me again what my address was. Standard procedure in these matters is to simply show your ID so I just handed that to him. "Oh...that is your name" came his wide eyed response. Seeing "Pickup" as my surname, I can only assume he thought someone was playing him for a fool (he succeeded on doing that all by himself) & I was finally given my parcel with a somewhat apologetic nature.
The weather in Ballan was pretty bleak – cold & damp with a persistent drizzle, the sun rarely able to peak through a blanket of cloud. Anzac day came & I travelled into Melbourne by train to see my under siege Sea Eagles take on the Melbourne Storm, or as we Sea Eagle fans like to refer to them as, the very apt ‘Drizzle’. I could once again explain how it was highly fortuitous that we were in the vicinity of Melbourne when the game was on but we all know from the moment I first glimpsed the NRL draw, machinations were occurring deep in my mind as to how I could attend as many games as possible. This was to be my fourth & final live match for the year. My expectations were low after already seeing our injury ravaged side towelled up on the previous 3 occasions. With the Storm in good form on top of the table & us languishing by 4 points at the opposite end, a victory seemed unlikely. Coupled with the fact we have never won a game at AAMI park, the result was almost a foregone conclusion on this wet and windy night. Still...where there’s life, there's hope & I was in good spirits as I arrived at Southern Cross station.
I walked a short distance to the Vibe Savoy Hotel for a Manly Warringah Travelling Supportahs pre-game function. There were 15 or so diehard fans coming together for a few hours of talking all things ‘Manly’. Problem was, no one on staff seemed to know we had booked a function & after much confusion we ended up simply staying at the bar. The poor bartender who seemed new to the job (& the English language) was a modern day Chinese version of ‘Manuel’ from the sitcom ‘Faulty Towers’ – customers were given different beers to the ones ordered & when he attempted to pull a beer, 90% of the glass was filled with a foamy head, prompting the customer to say ‘on second thoughts I’ll just have water’.
I travelled to the ground with Paul, a Manly fan from the eastern suburbs of Sydney. He seemed to know the way & we hopped on a tram bound for the ground. There was little maroon & white among the dour purple & navy of the opposition fans & we were pleased when we were settled in our seats & among friends in the away supporters bay. The news of the team changes came through & the mood of the crowd was buoyed as we learned of the late inclusion of Brett Stewart, Kieran Foran & Jorge Taufua. Who knows...we might even be competitive in this one. My only wish for the game was that the men have a good old fashioned dig & from the kick off it looked like we had turned up to play. We still didn’t look too flash but our defense had some starch to it. We repelled their attack on several occasions where earlier, tries would have been scored against us with apparent ease. At 10 – 2 down at half time I reckon most of our fans would have been pretty pleased.
We scored a try through T-Red about 10 minutes into the second half & for the first time this year I thought – ‘bloody hell…we are in this one up to our eyeballs’. When DCE threw a superb cutout pass for a flying Wolf Man to score in the corner, we hit the lead & it was a nail biting final seven minutes. Thankfully we managed to hold off several of their attacking raids to get away with a much deserved 12 -10 victory. We celebrated it like a premiership & I have to say it was the most enthralling of victories. My chest was bursting with pride & I felt 10 feet tall parading around the city in my Manly jersey as I made my way back to the train station.
Safely seated in the train awaiting departure, I witnessed a fight break out between 2 drunken AFL supporters on the platform. It was a good bit of entertainment & a few others joined in on the action before security officers eventually arrived to settle things down. Tomoko & Shaka greeted the train on my return to Ballan about 11pm. It had been an exhausting but enjoyable day & I soon fell into a satisfied slumber.
I awoke in good spirits, still flush with the afterglow of our unexpected win & ready to embark on our 5 week trip to Tasmania. The morning was spent preparing the van & we left mid afternoon, early enough to give us an hour or two leeway should something unexpected occur on the way. The cost of the ferry was in excess of $1600 & the last thing we wanted to do was miss the boat. I had read online there are limited parking opportunities around the terminal so we stopped at a service centre about 20 minutes out, to kill some time. We had about an hour up our sleeve & it took all of that for Shaka to physically prepare himself for the voyage. We walked him relentlessly in the hope that the exercise would encourage him to empty his bowels. Just as it seemed he would have to hold on in the ship, right on cue he arched his back, lifted his tail & Tomoko & I both exhaled in relief as he squeezed out a well deserved number 2.
The rest of the journey to the port was uneventful & I was relieved to arrive at the quarantine checkpoint at Station Pier. You aren’t allowed to carry fresh fruit and veg into Tasmania & as Tomoko had cleared out all the illegal items the day before, I showed the quarantine officer through the van with confidence. Shaka met with another quarantine officer with papers confirming he had recently been wormed & it wasn’t long till we were queued up to board. It was a straight forward drive into the bowels of the ship & time to say goodbye to Shaka. Carrying his bedding, we led him to his less than opulent accommodations for the evening, coaxing him into one of the kennels. He didn’t look too pleased with his new surroundings & we rushed off before he could offer up any protestations.
Humming the theme to the ‘Love Boat”, I accompanied Tomoko to Deck 7 and our home for the evening. It had the vibe of a hotel – reception, several bars, tourist information centre, gift shop, restaurants & even a movie theatre. We had a pre dinner drink at the bar before dining in our cabin on some tasty food prepared by Tomoko. It had been a big day & we decided to go to sleep about 10pm just as the ship passed through the Port Phillip heads. The roll & sway of the ship increased dramatically as we made our way into Bass Strait. We both awoke about midnight in a sweat, having turned up the thermostat too far. At this stage there was a noticeable rhythmic rolling of the ship & not usually prone to seasickness I'll admit to feeling a little queasy. The sounds of someone in an adjacent room retching out a technicolor yawn didn't help to quell the discomfort either. The motion of the ship disturbed my ability to get back to sleep & I had barely slept a wink when a loud speaker announcement informed us of our impending arrival in ½ hour & politely encouraged us to get our shit together.
Throughout my sleepless night I had visions of Shaka being sick as a dog & we were among the first onto the lower decks to check on him. As we approached the kennel we could hear his tell tale barking & he was understandably relieved to reunite with us. He was super excited, wide eyed & panting & only when he was safely in the car, did he begin to settle. In no time at all the car in front of us took off and we disembarked onto the pre-dawn streets of Devonport. Until next time...reporting from Tasmania...adios amigos.