I had to come all the way to Port Adelaide, Australia, to see a beached tug from just north of Toronto.
Fearless was an ocean-going salvage tug built in 1945 in Midland, Ontario. She’s been high and dry for decades. There seem to be vague plans for her preservation.
In far better state is Port Adelaide's deco Harbors Board building with its layered, two-coloured entrance.
At Australia’s National Railway Museum, I ride a miniature railway, the first time since … since my childhood. The locomotive's named 'Ken' in honour of the late Ken Cain, a train engineer who built it.
Enjoy it so much, I want to go around again!
South Australian Railways 930 class loco from the 1950s.
Wonderful old freight car.
(Since returning home, I’ve discovered there is - in effect - a Canadian national railway museum on Montreal’s outskirts. Never knew.
Pier and beach at Semaphore - so-called because of its 19th Century signal station - an Adelaide suburb.
‘Super moon’ over Tasmania, unfortunately with only a strip of land to give some perspective.
In Burnie, Tasmania, I come across this extraordinary deco door, entrance to apartments built in 1937. The design seems, in part, to have been influenced by the sunrise motif, popular in the Thirties. Not at all what you might expect in a place of about 20,000.
(Something else I found more on after getting home: 52 Alexander Street, Burnie, is for sale - $2,300,000. Seems a lot for a small town, but what do I know?
Elsewhere in Burnie, more deco …
… including these - one could almost say - sculpted stairs in a small office building. For those following in my footsteps, the stairs are in Lincoln House on Cattley Street.
In Melbourne, a good friend - Richard - we first met on Route 66 - boards Maasdam for ship tour and lunch. Time’s far too short, but the reunion is marvellous.
(As a parting gift, Richard generously gave me an Australian wool scarf. Since it’s a warmish day, I find myself laughing, doubtless making Richard feel I’m thoroughly ungrateful. Less than a week later, arriving at Toronto airport, the first thing I do is frantically burrow through my luggage for the scarf. It has become one of my favourite winter accoutrements!)
Departing, a view of Melbourne from approximately forty kilometres (about twenty-five miles) away as best as I can calculate.
We leave Port Philip Bay and round ‘The Heads’ into the Bass Strait. This narrow stretch with strong tidal flows can be quite tricky, especially for smaller vessels.
And it was here, just past ‘The Heads’, an Australian prime minister disappeared in 1967. Harold Holt decided to go for a swim in not the safest of waters. His body was never found.
In Melbourne, there’s a Harold Holt Memorial Swimming Centre. Australians have a wry sense of humour.
