Erik Skye Travel Diary

17 Jan 2012

For the map, click here: Google Maps – Wizard of Oz

Car’s trip odometer: 7,320 clicks (km)

She’s enormous but beautiful, and, I think, middle-aged. I’ve been anxiously waiting all day, for I know of her wild reputation. She wears a pretty white blouse above a clean red dress, and even though we’ve never met before, we’ve agreed to spend the night together. Her price isn’t too bad, all things considered, and I’ve been assured of professional service. Benefits include dinner and drinks (accepted) and a movie (which I considered unnecessary given the nature of our affair). Perhaps the best part of all is that I’ll leave her in the morning - no strings attached.

“She”, of course, is M/V Spirit of Tasmania (“II”, to be exact; she has a sister - “I”, whom we’ll pass in the night). Uh huh, we’re headed to Van Diemen’s Land (a.k.a. Tassie, a.k.a. Tasmania), which lay across the infamous Bass Strait from Melbourne.

I spent the first few hours on board feeling like a caged animal. I walked about incessantly, looking to define the extent of my boundaries, perhaps unconvinced of my total captivity. Some limits were obvious (i.e. locked doors, “Keep Out” signs, the shell of the vessel herself) while others were not (i.e. ladders and stairs leading to yet other levels and concealed spaces, a ships diagram showing a mysterious 11^th deck - denied by crew when asked about, and the confusion caused by the general maze of hallways, exterior decks, similar looking doorways, levels, and facilities such as pokie rooms and restaurants that all seemed to bleed together such that I never really knew where I was or where I had been).

I finally settled down, to beer.

Anecdote: They ran out of beer on tap, and I was quite dismayed. I walked away, but finally came back and declared ‘I’ll stop being a wimp and have a bottled beer‘. ‘What will you have?’ she asked. ‘What do you have?’ I replied, to which I received a “Vanna White”-like wave of the hand towards the pretty bottle display. Not recognizing any of the bottles I declared “VB”, but received a whimper of disapproval from the patron behind me. Vanna agreed too (with the patron). I looked like a beer novice; it was out now. ‘Okay, what do you suggest?’ I interjected, trying to fall into good graces again. The patron volunteered two suggestions, to which I approved, letting Vanna provide the final pick of the two. She chose one and as she handed it to me declared ‘you can try the other when you come back’. ‘What, are you trying to get me drunk?!’ I retorted. An older couple had been sitting behind us, tuned-in the whole time, and started laughing. I took the beer, turned to them, and stated so that everyone could hear ‘she wants to take advantage of me.’ More laughs ensued and I walked away the beer and a little smile. (Hey, I’m stuck on a big ferry – I had to go with something…)

I was smitten by a German lass. I could tell we liked each other but knew not how to progress our interest. Perhaps this was due to the ever-present influence of she who got there first – my Spirit of Tasmania.

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