Travel Reference
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The train finally slowed and rumbled in to Bundaberg and squealed to a jerky stop late
in the afternoon. I caught another taxi down to the Burnett River mouth where I had left
Déjà vu on the yard. The yard owner was nowhere to be seen. Fortunately, I always kept a
spare set of keys in one of the vent boxes on deck, and I reached through the cowling and
found the string attached to the padlock key. I was surprised to see the port holes open. I re-
membered locking them myself but figured the yard owner must have opened them. When
I clambered down the companionway stairs, I could see the layers of dust that had built-up
inside. All the surfaces were thick with boatyard dust, grindings, and grime; the bunks and
soles were no better. I was very tired, and my tooth was throbbing. I was in no mood to
start cleaning.
I dragged my suitcases into the cabin, locked the door, and scrambled down the makeshift
ladder to the Burnett Heads Lighthouse Bar and Grill. I ordered a plate of the special; it
happened to be a home cooked meatloaf with juicy, green cabbage and ladles of hot gravy;
it hit the spot and then some. Some young kids were playing the jukebox and a favorite
Eagles song was playing, New Kid In Town, I believe it was. I smiled at the coincidence.
The sad departure with Dylan, the long flight and humiliating search at the airport, and my
tooth woes melted away into the young night as I ordered another glass of ruby red wine
and forked in another mouthful of hot meatloaf and gravy. Fatigue hit me like a freight
train when I had finished. I walked briskly back to Déjà vu and into the welcoming arms of
Morpheus.
I awoke early and, feeling great but grimy from the boat's filthy interior, I went off to the
little shower in the yard and luxuriated in the scalding water. Later, I went over to the office
and saw the owner who smiled broadly, laying down his morning paper, “Good 'ay mate!
Been wonderin' when we'd spot you's agin?” he said, in true Aussie lingo.
I grinned back at him, “Yeah, I decided to come out and close my port holes before any
dust got in the boat.”
He duly apologized for that but felt that it was too hot for the boat's interior to be locked
up.
“Never mind, I was going to give it a spring clean anyway,” I replied. I told him I would
need a couple of gallons of antifouling and topside paint. She was looking scruffy, and
while she was out on the hard, it was a good idea to paint her bottom and check her skin
fittings, propeller locking nuts, etc.
I took a deep breath and began the big clean up. First, I took a long, hard look at the weather
and figured it wouldn't rain; hell, it never rains here, I thought. I then took every single
item that was in the boat outside and laid them all down on spread sails and tarps: all my
bunk cushions, books, bedding, charts, equipment from the navigation station to the galley
