Windeward Bound.

One of us turned 21 (and a bit) so we took a trip on a sailing ship to celebrate.  Along with a collection of other tall ship aficionados we jumped on the Windeward Bound for an afternoon cruise out and back along the Derwent River.

Despite being a sailing ship the Windeward may have cheated just a teeny-tiny bit, relying on diesel powered propulsion to take us out of the fiddly harbour bits around Brookes Pier and into the wind down the river. Along the way we were served snacks and got to know our crew who were adamant that had the sailors of old had access to diesel engines they would have used them for the fiddly bits too.

From the river it became obvious that Hobart, in an effort to avoid hills, spread along the banks of the Derwent as far as the eye could see or the Windeward could motor/sail.  Sail boats puttered past houses stacked in tidy tiers up the hillsides and lined neatly along cliff tops. Other tourist boats came over to wave to us and take photos.

At the limit of our outward journey the engine was cut, the sails rigged, and we started the homeward leg. Our volunteers demonstrated the physical nature of tall shop sailing, and shouted instructions to each other in incomprehensible tall-ship lingo. Our captain, a wizened lady of indeterminate age, displayed a powerful voice totally out of proportion to her size.

Just kidding! Only a fool would put me in charge of a ship.

Of course all good things, even on a tall ship, must come to an end. The wind blew us all the way back to the pier with a little bit of engine-powered cheating for the final maneuvers. We all said our goodbyes to the crew and our fellow cruisers, and stepped back on to dry land.  The volunteers, some of whom had lived on the boat for a number of years, went back to do all the tedious physical labour of putting the Windeward to bed for the night.

Feeling slightly battered by three hours of cold wind, and very happy that we didn't have to put any tall ships to bed, we went home ourselves.