Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Sailing North: Just Bloody Whales

28th June 2011
The Wharf Marina, Mooloolaba

What is so bloody special about Whales?

Everyone wants to Save the Whales. The question is, Why? Why them? They are hardly cute and cuddly are they? They make crap pets. So they can spit out of the top of their heads. Is that it? Is that all they've got? A cool way to spit? Oh, and they have to travel to the other side of the world to find a mate. Well so did I. No one is feeling sorry for me. And they eat tons of plankton each day. Who worries about the plankton?  No one, that’s who.

Whales are the talk of the marina at the moment. Recent events have painted whales in a rather poor light. Firstly one got hit by a Coast Guard vessel, admittedly travelling at 30 knots. (The boat, not the whale). It took the front out of the boat which nearly sank. Then a couple fishing with their son off New South Wales got mashed by a whale tail and the kid broke his arm, (and wet his pants). Add TV news of a yachtsman who has fallen off his boat while his wife was asleep and is now lost (and I’ll bet that was the bloody whales again) and suddenly everyone is concerned about hitting one of the 13000 or so coming up the coast.

Rona has admitted that she has some concerns about whales. In fact I also had a poor experience once when I was 19.

In England a friend of mine and I decided to drive there for a weekend in my MGB. Anyway a long story but to say the locals were not friendly was an understatement. Whether it was my accent, the car, or the fact that the local girls were impressed by anyone who could finish a sentence without the word boyo, I came home with a broken nose from huge Hugh, and a vote of thanks from his rather gorgeous and suddenly ex, Megan, who told me that while she was Welsh she did wish she had some English in her, or something like that. I also almost bought home a criminal conviction for breaking an entry into a public house until in one of the more lucid moments of that evening I realised what a new chum of ours was attempting as he disappeared through a recently opened window and beckond us inside.  Oh, and I witnessed the same fellow set fire to his hands deliberately with cigarettes. (suprisingly, I used a be a bit of a tearaway. It was therefore a natural progression to Yachtie.) Anyway, no wonder we should be nervous of the Welsh.

So to be on the safe side we have upped the safety level of Dreamagic to Defcon Red, or should that be Green.  Whatever, the following precautions are now in place.

One never uses the words YACHT and LEAK in the same sentence without incorporating the word DOESN”T. However I have hung leaks from the pulpit of Dreamagic. (And I thought bananas were  bad luck? ) Leeks are the national vegetable of Whales so we should be alright.

I am wearing a daffodil. Well I would look stupid wearing a leak wouldn’t i?

I have learned all the words to Men of Harlot. Harlem. Harlech.

Men of Harlech! In the Hollow,
Do ye hear like rushing billow
Wave on wave that surging follow
Battle's distant sound?

I have no idea what it means, (It’s bloody Welsh, Boyo!) but it worked for Michael Cain against the Zulus at Rorke’s Drift.

I have bought every Harry Secombe album I can find in Mooloolaba.

I have also bought a copy of Tom Jones’ Greatest Hits.

It’s not unusual.

So there you have it. Dreamagic is now ready for her midnight sortie with the leviathans. I am led to believe I just have to listen for the sound of them blowing their spouts, and not confuse it with any involuntary wind emissions of my own.

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