We Tried. We Really Tried.

We did. We really tried to make a life ashore.

We started looking for an apartment to rent. (In Mooloolaba you say that you're going to "rent a unit", but that sounded too ambiguous to us.)

We bought an HD TV and got pre-approved for a loan to buy a new sofa set so we'd be all ready to move in when the right "unit" came along.

But there weren't many smiles to be seen among the crew. We were going through the motions.

Today at lunch we were reading through the classifieds of the local tabloid (headline, and I am NOT making this up: "School Girls in Mobile Phone Porn Snaps Strife, Mum Alleges"), considering our qualifications for the local job market.

It was another perfect winter day. Blue sky, fluffy trade wind-looking clouds, lovely southern breeze.

Alisa looked up from the classifieds.

"What are we doing?" she asked.

I stared at her for a minute, willing my soggy synapses to fire.

"Yeah," I said. "What are we doing?"

So we went through the old routine. We got the cover off the mainsail, and the dingher on deck. The oil has been checked, the decks cleared. We're going sailing!

By the time you read this, we'll once again be happy at sea.

The Atlantic may have the Bermuda Triangle.

But we on Pelagic know that Mooloolaba is really the place for sailors to fear, the place where you might anchor up for the night, and spend a month.