Pan Pacific Hotel, Rm 1214 (Melbourne)

Sunday 3 May 2020

It’s kind on an ironic title today … being Sunday, and in quarantine, I suppose you would call this a rest day, among rest days

I was going to run with the title “Food Rustling”, because the sound of paper bags rustling outside the door three times a day, has definitely heightened my sense of hearing and perception.

Even in my sleepy dark slumber at 7:38am this morning, having only been in bed 5 hours, after completing a batch of video editing till the wee hours, my subconscious could instantly detect the sound of paper, well before the trademark … knock, knock, knock … on the door.

The paper noise had me bouncing out of bed, but in retrospect, I needn’t have been so swift to the door; given that this morning’s offering was a bit of a culinary low-point, if I’m going to be honest. But still, I suppose there was some exercise-value in the 10-or-so strides to the door. This isn’t intended to be a complaint, but I’m rather thankful I now have my own reserves of breakfast cereal and fruit juice to fall back on in moments like this.

The photo tells the story, with the strategically placed dried banana slices in the corner of the plastic container, doing little to enhance the look, or the taste for that matter. The muffin on the other hand was probably even cuter this morning than the one from the other day, and maybe smaller too, if that’s possible.

Following on from watching, A United Kingdom, on Friday night, or was that Saturday morning … based largely in Botswana … last night, I watched another David Oyelowo movie, this time featuring Uganda … so I suppose my movie choice is developing a particular “type”.

But I think for anyone old enough to remember anything from the 1970s, just the mention of the word “Uganda”, brings back horrific memories of violence, military coups, hijacking, massacres and corruption. So it was nice to finally see something positive and uplifting from the place.

It’s a Disney movie after all, but still, it presents the reality of slum life, then overlays the most unlikely story of an eleven year old girl, forced to drop out of school at the age of 9 to support her mother and siblings by selling maze on the streets, who miraculously becomes an international chess champion. Well worth checking out, and again, remarkably close to the truth … at least 90% if the word of the (now 24 year old) real life, main character is to be believed.

With the rising sun casting a shimmer of golden light over the ripples … the Yarra River looked slightly less brown this morning, so I thought I’d take a photo to capture the moment …

To see a truly BLUE Yarra River, however, you have to travel back in time … back to 1956 … to the 16th Olympiad … now would I lie to you??

Well, I don’t have to lie, because the Post Master General’s Department, (the forerunner to Australia Post) has done it for me … and here’s a postage stamp from the day, to prove it. I think the “misleading and deceptive conduct” laws hadn’t been fully developed at that time, although it’s obvious the term “marketing” was alive and well back then, as it is now.

Figuring the above image needed a bit of an update, I took a snapshot from my 12th floor window and found that if you get the light … just right, the water is indeed blue. Not the Harpic Blue of the 1950s, of course, but more the Pastel Blue of the modern skinny latte times … now would I lie to you??

Maybe tomorrow I’ll have something to write about…

It’s now around 9:00pm, my dinner-bag has come and gone, and it’s interesting to reflect on just how strange it is to open my hotel door just three times a day, poke my arm out just far enough to loop my fingers through the raffia handles of the large brown paper bag, then retreat again to my room. Each time I call out … “thank you”… mostly into the ether, because I tend not to advance far enough to look fully left and right down the halls.

My door is opposite the lifts, and occasionally there’s a security person sitting on a chair nearby. If there are smiles on the faces, they’re hidden behind the mask of course and there’s not a lot you can say, or rapport you can build, in the 5-7 seconds that it takes to complete the bag-grabbing manoeuvre.

You get the sense, that if it was possible to slip the bag under the door, or through a well-sized flap, then they would. “They”, being the delivery person, who I’ve never actually seen, but also all those others further up the line of command.

I keep telling myself … this is just for a few days, I’m not being tortured or coerced into making a false confession, I’m not in a foreign land with unjust laws and officials corrupt to the core … But tragically there are plenty of people who are in those situations.

I suppose it comes down to there being a difference between choosing your OWN form of isolation – sailing, bush walking, meditation-retreat, road-trip … you name it – and having the isolation imposed. Freedom is that rare commodity you only truly appreciate when it’s taken away, and when it is, there needs to be a very good reason.

I suppose trying to stop people dying, kind of fits into the category of, “a very good reason” … as my agreement states … Section 1 (6) DIRECTION AND DETENTION NOTICE … “You must comply with the directions in clause 3 below because they are reasonably necessary to protect public health, in accordance with section 200(1)(d) of the Act”

Maybe I’m thinking too much … time to watch another movie …

Simples !

Smooth seas, fair breeze and day of rest 

Rob Latimer

Pan Pacific Hotel, Rm 1214 (Melbourne)

Saturday 2 May 2020

We all know the saying … “a watched pot never boils”?  Certainly, there’s a sense in which the more you think about being locked up in a room – even if the lock is on the inside – the slower time goes and the more the walls appear closer together with each passing day.

Like the other day when my friend was waving from the bridge down below, and asked me on the phone … “What’s it like NOT being able to open a window and get fresh air?” … to which I jokingly answered … “Well I never really thought about it until you mentioned it just then…!”

There’s a sense in which you become what you think about … or put another way, you move towards those things that occupy your mind.  Think “confinement” and you’ll feel confined … Think “hungry” and you’ll feel hungry. 

Obviously “Mind over Matter” only goes so far, as I saw today in a news clip concerning other “overseas returnee folk”, confined in a hotel room for 14 days.    

Funny how I seemed to stumble across an online story that directly relates to me. Like you buy a Volvo and suddenly you notice how many other Volvos there are on the road.

Well, I suppose a bad experience makes better news, but there’s no doubt the whole “Direction and Detention” experience affects some people more than others … for a whole range of reason.  And of course we ARE talking “Western Australia” … say no more?!

Here’s a link to the article…

People placed in coronavirus hotel quarantine in Perth call for changes to ‘dehumanising’ experience

In normal circumstances, many of us would jump at the offer of being put up for free in a five-star hotel for two weeks, with all your meals provided.

But for some people, the experience of being locked in a hotel room for 14 days of coronavirus quarantine has been traumatic and “dehumanising”.

As the coronavirus pandemic continues to force thousands into mandatory quarantine on their return to Australia, Perth man Chris Johnson is among those calling for a more compassionate system.

His wife, Denise, was still grieving when the couple flew back home to Western Australia from the UK on April 2 after attending a family funeral.

Instead of being able to come to terms with her grief in the familiar surrounds of their Perth home, Ms Johnson and her husband were diverted to two weeks of lockdown at a city hotel. The Article Continues …

https://www.abc.net.au/news/2020-05-02/the-cost-of-coronavirus-hotel-quarantine/12198708

The perspective of one security guard is also included here … (possibly an ex-security guard if his identity becomes known)

‘We were like their jailers’

While WA authorities said many people had positive experiences during hotel quarantine, Mr Johnson’s sentiments were shared by a security guard, one of about 1,000 employed at Perth hotels to ensure that passengers do not come out of their rooms.

The guard, who the ABC has chosen not to name to protect their employment, said they were disgusted by the lack of empathy shown to people in quarantine, many of whom were elderly.

“Our instructions were just to not engage in conversation with anybody, don’t tell them any information, don’t promise them anything,” the guard said.

“We were like their jailers. “I was like oh my God, these people aren’t prisoners.

“They aren’t detainees from another country. They aren’t here illegally. “They are our elderly people … why are you treating them like this?”

The guard claimed there was a doctor and nurse stationed at the hotel, but that they had no equipment to carry out medical checks in person.

Not sure I can agree with some media articles that suggest being 60 years of age is considered “elderly” … but meanwhile, back in Room 1214, just for fun, I read again the “Mandatory Quarantine” paperwork I received on arrival.

I still feel so thankful that I’m at the … “5-Star Hotel” end of the allowable-detention-accommodation-spectrum … rather than the “student dormitory” end.  Not that there’s anything wrong with student dormitories per se … after all, I spent a year in “halls” when I was at university … but we do get a bit picky as we get older … or, “elderly” – better get used to it I suppose?! 

Section 4 (1) (a) (ii) of my “DIRECTION AND DETENTION” notice, states that I can only leave this room … “Where it is reasonably necessary for your physical or mental health”  … Other reasons include … Compassionate grounds (that’s compassionate, NOT passionate) Receiving medical care, or an Emergency. 

I’m guessing a fire in the building might qualify as an “Emergency”, but it doesn’t go into detail.  

Speaking of “Emergencies” … One of the Q&A information-sheets posed the question … “What if I have more questions?” … no, I don’t mean that question, I mean this one …“What happens if a person in quarantine sets off the emergency alarms when there is no genuine emergency?   …

The Answer??? … Well, let’s just say, some things are NOT on the Government’s tab … as it clearly states … “you will be liable for the cost of emergency services responding.” Until I read that I never actually considered setting off the Hotel Alarm system …”when there’s no genuine emergency”. (Does an empty bar fridge count?)

As for smoking cigarettes … or anything else for that matter … that’s definitely out.  And what’s more, “the hotel may impose a substantial cleaning charge if you have smoked in the room”   Genuinely, if I was a pack-a-day-man, a fortnight in here could send you in one of two directions – totally over the edge, or 100% reformed.

So today I got to mark off “Day 5” on my de facto prison-wall. That means just 9 more days to go … or, in other words, I’ve served 35% of my time … but I’m not thinking about it.

I mentioned the other day that the choice of movies, on the hotel system, isn’t quite Netflix … (surely a “First World Problem” if ever there was one) … but I did manage to watch a worthwhile film last night called “A United Kingdom”.  About the 1948 marriage of a black African prince-and-heir, (from what was to become Botswana) to a white London secretary. As you can imagine, they faced a considerable number of hurdles but proved conclusively that love truly does conqueror all.  

As I say, it’s well worth a look.  It held a particular interest for me because mum and dad spent the first 5 years of their marriage building a house and clearing a bush-block, nine miles from Lusaka, Northern Rhodesia (what was to become Zambia) in the 1950s.  Not that mum and dad had to cross the “white / black divide”, but many of the images and circumstances portrayed in the film are intertwined into the early narrative and story of our family.   

And one of my favorite sit-com TV shows, is the “Number 1 Ladies Detective Agency”, based on the Alexander McCall Smith books of the same name – which is set in Botswana.  A country that still seems to be a shining light of parliamentary democracy (since 1966) in what you’d have to say, is a pretty challenging neighbourhood.    

You may not have realized it, but as well as being, “International Chernobyl Remembrance Day” the 26^th of April – just a few days ago – was also “Hug an Australian Day”.  This was pointed out to me, a day or so ago, by my Canadian penfriend.  It’s certainly a nice sentiment, and as the “Wellcat.com” website explains … “Hug an Australian Day is a perfect time to show gratitude and appreciation while simultaneously spreading a little love across the world.”

And you thought you’d seen just about everything … well, “Hug an Australian Day” … a day rendered somewhat impotent by the coronavirus (but there’s always next year) was listed alongside other notable “days”, including – “Bathtub Party Day, “Cat Herders Day” and “Show & Tell at Work Day”

Maybe some people have too much time on their hands … pandemic not withstanding …

I mentioned the other day that my mate John took advantage of a slight relaxing in the “Lock down” rules in New Zealand to make his way south to his home in Christchurch. On the way John dropped into Chaffers Marina to say a proper good-bye to Chimere, at least for 9 months or so. And while he was there he attached a Hi-Vis vest to the bow, in the interests of passer-by safety. Can’t be too careful I say! (Thanks John)

In more news from Wellington, my cousin Pearl (Keith’s sister) sent me a photo from the marina next door to Chaffers. It probably doesn’t need a lot of explanation … but it’s the sort of thing that puts a knot in the stomach of any boatie. Keeping the water on the outside, is Rule Number 1 when it comes to sailing … with Rule Number 2 being something like … “Remember Rule Number 1”

Having had Chimere out on the dry recently for scrubbing and painting, I took the time to “map” all the holes through the hull. Why would you put a hole through the hull of your boat? … I hear you ask. Well, after a careful survey, I counted 16 holes through the hull of Chimere, eight on each side … some small, some big. They are for such diverse, and it must be said, pretty important things … as … engine-cooling intake and exhaust, hand basin and bilge outflow, water-maker and toilet valves (not the same one you understand) the list goes on.

And the reality is … if any one of those seacocks was to fail – and they can – then the picture below may well be of your boat. As they say … “you learn the most from accidents … but if it can be someone else’s accident, all the better”

Smooth seas, fair breeze and five down, nine to go    

Rob Latimer

Pan Pacific Hotel, Rm 1214 (Melbourne)

Friday 1 May 2020

In looking at the date today I see it’s the 1^st of May, a holiday in many countries; simply known as May Day.  A time to dance and weave our streamers around a tall pole in the village square, or march in solidarity with our comrades in support of worker’s rights.    

Of course, it also means that four months of the year are now gone, and are not coming back.  Winter, or Summer, (depending on your address) is just 30 days away and there are just 239 shopping days till Christmas; although, hasn’t online shopping and the Coronavirus made a mess of that ol’ one liner.

Now, “May Day” of course, can also mean something completely different.  And it’s here that a small amount of nautical-speak is being inserted back into this blog – despite the distance I am currently from my boat; 1,396 nautical miles, or 2,585 kilometers to be precise.

Because when called three times over a radio, it had better mean something more than just … “we’ve run out of cold beer”… In fact, in the United States, it can land you in jail for up to six years and a fine of up to $250,000 (that’s $US) if your distress call turns out to be a fake.  No doubt similar penalties exist in other countries.

In short, “May Day!” is something you never want to hear, or have to plead, over the radio.  It means you are at the end of the road … or water, or altitude … take your pick … or you will be very soon.   

When it comes to water-born disasters, I’ve heard stories of people abandoning ship and retreating to the “safety” of their life raft, amidst a “May Day Scenario” … only for their distressed and sinking boat to be discovered days, weeks, even months later … still bobbing above the waves.

The dark-humour of the sea has it that … “you never step down into a life raft, you only ever step up.”

But where did the term “May Day” come from, and while we’re at it … those other, less drastic radio messages “Pan Pan Pan” and “Securite, Securite, Securite”.  You learn this stuff when you sit for your radio licence, but it never occurred to be to look up the origins of the terms until today.

And would you believe … and I quote …

Mayday got its start as an international distress call in 1923. It was made official in 1948. It was the idea of Frederick Mockford, who was a senior radio officer at Croydon Airport in London. He came up with the idea for “mayday”  because it sounded like the French word m’aider, which means “help me.”

Now, isn’t that interesting ?!  I never knew that until today.

And while we’re at it …

For situations that are less than life-threatening, one of several other urgent messages can be conveyed. For example, “Pan-Pan” — from the French word panne, which means “breakdown” — can be used to signal an urgent situation involving a mechanical or medical issue.

Another signal is “Securite”—from the French word sécurité, which means “safety.” Securite is often used to convey a message about safety, such as bad weather or navigation hazards. Like mayday, these phrases are usually repeated three times to avoid confusion.

https://www.nationaltrust.org.au/places/polly-woodside/

Relating all that back to my confinement and detention here in room 1214 at the Pan Pacific Hotel … well, there’s no possible way of doing that I’m afraid … unless it was called the … Pan Pan Pan Pacific Hotel … which would be silly really.  Who’d stay at a hotel like that, with a perpetual warning of “breakdown” in its name.  For some reason the words “Fawlty Towers” just popped into my mind, but I digress.

Thank you to everyone for your continued encouragement and best wishes.  My accumulated store of boutique brown paper bags, “used only once” … is getting larger.  I think I counted 14 bags in my neat pile, along with a similar number of plastic takeaway containers; all meticulously washed in my washbasin – they say routines are good for you when in isolation.

Apparently, it was cold in Melbourne today.  It certainly looked a bit on the chilly side, but of course there is only one “season” here in room 1214.  No rain of course and it’s always (exactly) 23 degrees; day and night.

The sun starts the day streaming into my room, once I press the UP button on the electric blind switch of course … which means it goes to bed on the other side of this building.  I’ll have a good look in 10 days maybe.

The low afternoon sun, and there was some this afternoon peering through the clouds, creates reflections in the windows across the Yarra from me that looked bright enough to start a fire.  I took a few photos which tell the story, despite the dirt on the outside of my window – I think they’re having difficulty finding a window cleaner with a ladder long enough to reach?!

Till tomorrow…

Smooth seas, fair breeze and may day today

Rob Latimer

Pan Pacific Hotel, Rm 1214 (Melbourne)

Thursday 30 April 2020

Given that this blog is titled “NZ 2020 – In the Wake of Captain Cook” I must start with an apology for overlooking the commemoration of the famous man’s landing at Botany Bay, NSW, 250 years ago, on April 28, just two days ago.

Having been fortunate enough to explore many of the amazing South Island locations featured on the chart Captain Cook created of New Zealand throughout the best part of 1769, it’s now a time to reflect on Cook’s achievements in charting the east coast of Australia.  Sadly, I won’t be able to do it firsthand from the deck of my own wee ship as originally planned, but there’s always next year!

Having largely been in my own isolation “bubble” for much of the past 5-6 weeks, I’ve also tended to avoid the daily streams of news, from the multiple platforms, that bombards the senses and clouds the horizon.

News headlines are naturally more difficult to avoid, now I’m off the boat and back … if not in the mainstream, then certainly on the edge of the mainstream.  And a name jumped out at me today from a “news feed” that had me scratching my head …

“I know that name” … “now, where do I know that name from?”  I thought … I remember … when I first read the name it stuck in my mind because it’s the old name for one of Australia’s states … the most southern one … the one that’s often left off , (accidentally of course) the map of Australia.  And it’s the island I sailed around last year in Chimere.

Having searched through all the “quarantine paperwork” I received three days ago, I finally spotted the name … right at the bottom of the “Direction and Detention Notice” which I was required to sign on Tuesday … next to an official title … “Name of Authorised Officer” … Dr Annaliese van Diemen … who just happens to be the Deputy Chief Health Officer for our own state of Victoria. 

Now, I’m sure Annaliese has her hands full right now, helping to manage the state’s response to the current crisis, but it didn’t stop her unapologetically expressing the ‘helpful’ view that … and I paraphrase … “the arrival of Captain Cook 250 years ago in 1770  can be equated to the arrival of the COVID-19 virus in 2020.”   Wow!  It’s enough to make you want to go back to sea.  It’s really hard to know where to start with a statement like that, truly.

I’m just hoping that her “Dr” title has something to do with medicine, or public health, because I’m thinking that her attentions would best be served there.  And not engaging in woke revisionist political commentary.  Just say’n!

Focusing now on more useful news … my groceries arrived today, just a day after ordering them online.  Around 10:30 I received a call from the front desk, informing me that Room Service would be dropping them off soon. 

While I was on the phone, I took the opportunity to ask if I might be able to have a bowl and plate, plus some cutlery.  As you can understand, making a cheese and tomato sandwich, or eating a bowl of cereal, is very tricky without that sort of stuff. 

Anyway, after initially agreeing to the delivery of some crockery and eat’n irons, I got a call back a short time later, informing me that … “We can only provide the bowl and plate, and plastic cutlery, according to DHS regulations” … that’s the Department of Health Services for the uninitiated.  And at this point in the discussion you have two choices … and so I chose the “nice” one and said … “no worries, that would great, thank you…”  

Ever tried to slice a tomato with a dinky plastic knife – best found in a child’s play-set … albeit a serrated dinky plastic knife? 

What DHS don’t know, of course … and I’m only telling you this because I trust that you won’t spill the beans, is that this is a 5-Star hotel room, and what 5-Star hotel room isn’t equipped with a multi-tool, corkscrew and sharp knife combo – for opening bottles of expensive bubbly and the like, of course?

As it turns out, bottle-opening-multi-tool-knives aren’t ideal, but they do a reasonable job of slicing tomatoes and cutting cheese.

Section 5 of my Direction and Detention Notice, says that my … “Detention will be reviewed at least once every 24 hours for the period that I am in detention…”  No doubt that’s what lies behind the phone call I receive each day from the resident hotel nurse.  “Hello Mr Latimer … are you exhibiting any COVID-19 symptoms today” she asks in a chirpy, upbeat tone … “No, sorry, not today,” I reply  

Rather than scratch numbers on the wall of my hotel room, I have taken to marking off each day with a pen on Pan Pacific notepaper, which I’ve propped-up on the ledge near the hotel phone.

And I’m already starting to get a little confused with the days … but I figure that if I came in on the 27^th, and it’s now the 30^th, then it means my three vertical lines are correct – I’ve already done three nights, and tonight will be my fourth.  That’s 21% of the total time served, with just 79% to go!  That’s still a few sleeps to go. It’s like being a 5-year-old again, waiting for Christmas day … time travels sooo slowly.

Smooth seas, fair breeze and the groceries came through !

Rob Latimer

Pan Pacific Hotel, Rm 1214 (Melbourne)

Wednesday 29 April 2020

It’s hard to believe that this time last week I was sailing with Keith and Adam around into Wellington Harbour – and in the process, setting a Chimere world speed record of 15.2 knots.

Certainly, a lot of things have happened in the past 7 days.    Each step bringing me closer to my final release time of Midnight on 11^th May.

The electric blinds do an excellent job of cutting out the light, and whilst I knew it must have been close to “getting up time” … you couldn’t tell from the sun’s early light – there was none sneaking past that blind.

It was the rustling of paper that had me jumping down off my monster-soft, king-sized bed with four big spongy pillows, reaching for my Zapp Brannigan super-short dressing gown and running to the door. 

“What treat do they have instore for me today?”, I mused, as I reached into the bag.

Feels kind of warm-ish, and I’m sure IF it could have been presented … sorry, “plated-up” … in an expensive ripple-china bowl, with a sprig of mint on the side, instead of a cheap plastic rice-take-away-tub, with matching thin, white plastic spoon, it may have had me. 

That said, I’m not wanting to appear ungrateful, or uncomplimentary to the cook, sorry again … chef … because I started out with the attitude of … “go ahead … surprise me … I’ll eat whatever is dished up” … just like my dear mother taught me, all those years ago.

Fortunately, in keeping with the old saying, “don’t judge a book by its cover” …  this morning’s breakfast-offering tasted a lot better than the “boutique gruel” it was disguised as.  On further analysis, it looked to comprise a combination of oats and strawberry yoghurt, interspersed with soft “real” strawberries, plus small … I can only describe them as … “fruits of the forest” … some red and some black.

I gotta say, I ate most of it … and now it sounds like I’m complaining … which I’m not, but the big surprise was reserved for the nano-sized muffin, hiding down in the corner of the bag.  It was the cutest, smallest wee muffin I have ever seen. It was the kitten-muffin amongst cat-muffins and if it was a sardine, you’d have to throw it back.    It was tasty, no question, but once it and the small tub of fruit had gone, it was back to wondering … this time, “what’s for lunch”

Late morning, I received a email reply from the Government Support Service regarding how I might be able to order Woolworths groceries online, through the issuing of a “Kindness Card”.  It even had a colour attachment of the 16 Step process, which I managed to work through, without resorting to “phoning a friend” … which in my case would have been asking my son, Matt for help.

My ongoing “wellness” was checked again, via a phone call from the resident nurse, and I was able to confirm “No” to each of the infection-related symptoms.   So far, so good

Looking back through my “Posts” of the past few days, it was interesting to see that Monday’s message, titled … “Won’t Forget This Day in a Hurry” has received 62 views, with the previous day’s blog recording 37.  May not sound much to the likes of Justin Bieber, or Taylor Swift … but as a mere grasshopper in this cyber-world space, with average daily Views in the 15-20 per Post, it’s a lot for me.

My New Zealand sailing buddy, John Land has grabbed the opportunity to relocate from the top of the North Island, where he’s been in isolation for 5 weeks following his father’s funeral, (on the very day the Alert Level 4 Lockdown was introduced) to Christchurch, where he normally lives with his wife and youngest daughter. 

Accommodation for his brief stop-off in Wellington was all sorted … “just stay on the boat” says I, of course unaware that the marina management was NOT going to let anyone enter the liveaboard “bubble” … despite yesterday’s slackening of the restrictions to Level 3.  They had obviously only made the concession for me, and me alone. And here I was innocently thinking that since I was permitted to stay for a few days, that it would be fine for John to prop for the night. 

Fortunately, John was at least allowed to spend a few hours aboard Chimere, soaking up the “vibe” of the big city just a few metres off the bow, and picking up his coffee plunger and a few other things.  Having left the boat so quickly a month ago, as John related, “It’s kind of surreal to be back on board again”

As recorded in the earlier Post …  “Decision Time”, covering 22, 23, 24 and 25 March, John’s father passed away suddenly, the night before we were all set to head off for a few day’s sailing.  We were sitting down in the saloon for dinner, everything was packed and ready for sailing out the next morning and John got a call from his sister to say … “dad had just died”. 

Naturally, John headed off within a couple of hours, Annette, Martyn and Gary left soon after and the “adventure” came to a grinding halt … confirming beyond any doubt, given everything else that was going on, that it was indeed time for everyone to return to their respective homes. For some, it’s clearly taken longer than others!

John was able to send me a photo of Chimere, which was nice to see.  And although he’ll be staying with his niece tonight in Wellington (and not on the boat as originally planned) he IS able to make use of all the remaining frozen food aboard, and other fresh stuff, to support a local community-pantry that is helping families in the area who are finding it tough to get by at the moment.

Along with my breakfast, I received the latest “Coronavirus (COVID-19) mandatory quarantine – Keeping you undated, 28 April 2020” newsletter this morning.  Not the catchiest of titles I must admit.  Maybe they could have gone with something shorter, punchier, more hip … like, perhaps … “Going Viral – Not”  or “Quarantimes” or
“My Darling Quarantine” … I’m on a roll …

The title … “My Corona”, could possibly be confused with a Toyota model of old … a bigger version of the Corolla … or perhaps a beer appreciation society, or even personal accounts of past solar eclipses … but I digress …  that’s just silly …  

The two-sided newsletter really didn’t have much new information, as it turns out … unless you weren’t aware, or needed reminding, that we should … “Respect Our Workers”. 

Apparently, hotel staff, nurses, security, transport and call centre staff are working hard to respond to our needs and requests, and therefore should not be threatened or abused.   Mmmmm, say no more!  

The newsletter also reminded me that I have a $40 laundry allowance … which will be handy when my 14-day underpants-cycle rolls around in a few days.  Plus, there was a national hotline number for interstate travellers to call for details of what they can expect when they finally get home … to their state. (and I thought we were a COMMONwealth?!)  

It reminded me of a guy on the bus yesterday – was it really just yesterday??? – who’d flown in to Melbourne from Auckland, but was actually trying to get home to Perth.  He’s in the same building as me doing his 14 days … and when he flies to Perth at the end of that (assuming there are planes flying at that time) he’ll do another 14 days isolation there.

Must go, I think I can here the sound of voices outside the door … and more importantly, rustling paper … it can only mean one thing … dinner!!  Surprise me!!

Smooth seas, fair breeze and doing my time

Rob Latimer

Pan Pacific Hotel, Rm 1214 (Melbourne)

Tuesday 28 April 2020

Like a lab-rat in a new enclosure, I’ve checked out every cupboard, draw, shelf, ledge and complimentary soap in the place.   The whole “studio-apartment” is 10 metres by 5 metres… there’s an iron, an ironing board, lots of towels and pillows, TWO spare rolls of toilet paper, plus a spare box of tissues, a combination safe, but strangely no Gideon’s Bible, which is most disappointing, I thought all hotel rooms had one of them?! Just like the Beatles song, Rocky Raccoon.

On expensive-looking, wooden coat hangers there are two dressing gowns, both of a rather small size.  In an attempt to excuse this in some way, they are labelled … “100% Cotton, One Size Fits Most”.   I suppose that claim COULD be true.  It just depends on your target demographic, or sampling method. But after all, “Most” really only has to be 51% of a given population when you think about it.  After trying one on, I suspect I’m in the remaining 49% – “NOT-most”.

Mid-morning, I was wearing one of these dressing gowns – thinking its tightness was something I could get used to – when longtime friend, Vicky called on the phone.  Vicky lives around the corner in Docklands and given she was out on her morning walk she said … “give me five minutes and I’ll wave to you from the bridge”.  I briefly thought about changing out of the dressing gown, because, being so short, it left two inches of my boxer shorts protruding, (making me look a little like Captain Zapp Brannigan, for those familiar with Futurama),  but I really only had time to pull the curtains and press the button to raise the blind.

“I’m on the bridge now, with my friend … can you see us?” Vicky called through the phone. 

“Yes, I see you … can you see me?  I’ll raise the blinds.  I’m waving.  I’m in a white dressing gown”, I called into the phone.  It was a bit like those “Where’s Wally” books

Just then a group of four police officers walked across the bridge behind Vicky, (from memory they didn’t look like they were “social distancing” very well) no doubt wondering what she was up to.   But as you can see, we took a picture of each other … and tell me honestly, can you see a fringe of blue around the bottom edge of the dressing gown, can you?

The rest of my day was mostly centred around the computer, plus of course my desk and ergonomic chair, as I continued the work on the Chimere Operations Manual” … plus mucked about on Facebook; no more crew-finding-sailing-forums for me!

Breakfast arrived, as the Pan Pacific Hotel Information Sheet stipulated, between 7:30am – 8:30am with a knock on the door.  Probably in a kind of a … knock-drop-and-run routine … because no one’s there when I open the door.  And it doesn’t take me that long to get to the door. There’s just a boutique brown paper bag.   I’m starting to build up a nice collection of classy brown paper bags with raffia handles – all neatly folded in the corner, under the cabinet, on which sits a very large flatscreen TV … or, it’s probably called something like an “Entertainment & Communications Hub”   

It’s now after 6:00pm and my information sheet tells me that I can expect my “Dinner Delivery” between 6:00pm and 7:00pm … in fact, I can hear the sound of voices and rustling paper in the hall outside.  So, feeding time must be close, and my salivary glands agree.

Last night I mistook next door’s dinner-door-knock for mine.  I opened the door, but there was no brown bag of goodies on my doorstep.  It was then that I realized there’s a man sitting on a chair, all night, in the hallway by the lift, just outside my door.  Talk about standing watch – at least he doesn’t have to attend to the sails, monitor the chart plotter and scan the horizon for lights on a regular basis.  But really?  I ask you?  Although I have it from a reliable source that one detained traveller has forfeited a 14-day stay in a classy hotel room, for a 30-day stay in a not-so-classy jail cell, for wandering off after dark.  Not once, but several times, after being warned.

My, duly signed “Direction and Detention Notice”, says in Clause 6 (2) that noncompliance can incur a penalty of  $19,826.40 … which is rather a lot really.   Someone asked whether they could send me a “parcel of goodies” … maybe some ANZAC biscuits, tin of baked beans, a fruit cake concealing a file, or knitted socks for the winter perhaps … and after reading the mandatory quarantine paperwork a little more, the answer is both Yes and No.  It turns out that only “Authorised Drivers” can deliver to my accommodation – and that does not include family and friends.  But “Care Parcels” can be assembled by loved ones, “on the outside”, weighing no more than 12kg, which the Government Support Service will pick up and deliver, using authorized drivers. 

Like most things, there’s always a catch … the parcels cannot contain refrigerated, frozen or cooked food … oh, and no cigarettes, alcohol or illicit drugs … doh!!

The Government Support Service sounds like a pretty amazing outfit.  They’ll also arrange care for my pets … if I had any (sorry Linda, that’s not you) and will send me details of a supermarket ordering website-link which Woolworths calls a “Kindness Card”.  Not so “kind” that you don’t still have to pay for what you order?!  It’s all fully explained in a 16-Step full page flow diagram … Simples!   I’ve emailed my request to the relevant department and I’ll report back on progress. 

I was right about the rustling at the door.  It was a beef stew in one container and a salad in the other, plus an individually wrapped Tim Tam – that’s going straight to the pool room … or at least to what has become my designated “treats ledge” … to be consumed a little later with a cappuccino-sachet coffee.

Being on a “medical watch list” of potentially high risk, virally infected folk … I received my daily call from the resident nurse … she’s not resident in my room you understand … she’s somewhere in the hotel.  I’m becoming familiar with the questions now, but I sense it’s still a humour-free zone, so I play a straight bat … “Sore throat?” … No  … “Fever?” … No … “Congestion?  Runny nose?  Tiredness?  Aches and Pains?”  … No, No, No, No … which is certainly a relief all round and keeps the paperwork and cost down to be sure.

But just like going to the supermarket in New Zealand, all those weeks ago, having put it off so long, and then being surrounded by potential carriers and viral basket cases … the sense of uncertainty and your almost obsessive focus on the potential symptoms, can have you doubting yourself, as you make your way up and down the aisles.  

“Mmm, maybe my throat IS feeling a bit sore.  I blew my nose earlier today, perhaps that’s the start of a runny nose.  And my joints were feeling a little stiff this morning, maybe I’m coming down with something?”      Psychosomatic is it??

Having got myself onto the Australian Government’s “Travel Advice” mailing list, I received an informative directive today …

Travel advice update – New Zealand

If you’re in New Zealand and want to leave we recommend you do so now while commercial options are available. Follow the Australian High Commission New Zealand on social media for regular updates.
If you’re an Australian normally resident in New Zealand you can return but you’ll be required to isolate for 14 days in either quarantine or a managed isolation facility.

If you’re in New Zealand, minimise your risk of exposure to COVID-19. Follow the advice of local authorities including observing the lockdown period and stay in touch with family and friends so they know you’re safe and well.

Our level of advice has not changed:  Do not travel to New Zealand.

Smooth seas, fair breeze and where’s the wally

Rob Latimer

Pan Pacific Hotel, Rm 1214 (Melbourne)

Monday 27 April 2020

If the past 30 days of self-isolation in New Zealand aboard Chimere had each day kind-of blurring into the next, then today was one of those days that, how shall we say … really stood out.

It started out ordinary enough.  Retracing my steps from the Ibis Budget Hotel to the Auckland airport – the International Terminal this time – towing my suitcase and loaded down with a backpack and computer bag.  At this point, special thanks should go to Google Maps, because although it was light at 6:45am, I did start this morning’s trek by heading across a car park that didn’t seem to be there yesterday.    Obviously, my sense of direction on land is still somewhat impaired.  There was definitely no sound of jet engines, or aircraft in the distance to help lead the way, that’s for sure.

Finally, at the terminal and it was quiet, very quiet … too quiet.  But then, so was Wellington yesterday.  Except this time there was a fully kitted-up man in a Hi-Vis vest checking I actually had details of an international flight – before he’d let me in.

“Section C” … he said in a helpful voice, pointing to the small queue lined up at the Check-In desk, away in the distance.

The queue in Section C – actually it was the only queue – may have been relatively short, but it didn’t mean it was quick.  These are unusual times, and everyone fronting the desk had a story to tell and a reason for flying.  Sadly, not everyone had a legitimate reason for flying, even if they thought it was, and in turn thought they were going to get on a plane today.

From a distance I could hear the uniformed-woman at the desk trying to explain to an Asian couple who were hoping to get a boarding pass, that they couldn’t go to Australia today.   “Do you live in Australia?”,  “Do you have permanent Australian residency”, “Have you applied for a visa to go to Australia”, “How long are you going to Australia?”, “Do you have a return ticket?” … the questions went on, and clearly the answers weren’t sufficient for the couple’s bags to be weighed, tagged and dispatched.     

It cast me back 4 weeks to when I was trying to find crew to help me sail back to Australia.  Initially thinking I had two crew.  Then losing one guy because he didn’t have Australian residency as promised; or even a visa to be in New Zealand as it turned out.  Then losing the other guy when Australian Border Force and Immigration informed me that he didn’t have permanent Australian residency either. Better to find out at the start of the journey, than at the end

By now I’d been in the queue for maybe 40 minutes and an airport staff member walked down the aisle calling in a very muffled tone through her mask  …  “Anyone on NZ123 to Melbourne.  Anyone going to Melbourne on NZ123?”. 

A minute or so later it clicked that I thought she’d said Melbourne,  “Yes, I’m going to Melbourne” I called out.  And I thought we were ALL going to Melbourne.  Apparently, there must be a second plane going somewhere this morning. 

Obviously the time was ticking on my flight and so me and a few others were called up a short time later … “Do you have an Australian Passport, or New Zealand?”  the lady asked … “Australian … Australian Passport” I replied.

You could feel the relief in her body as she directed me to the next available desk, calling out behind me, “Australian Passport here!”.  Once finally at the desk, it was business as usual … “Good morning, how are you today?” the nice lady said from behind the mask; clearly smiling.  Thirty seconds later, tops, the bag was away and my passport was handed back with … “OK, you’re good to go, Gate 10, have a nice flight” – just like old times

Next stop was the usual security check where I nearly lost my pants when my belt was surrendered for scanning.  Just a wee travel tip for the unwary, always make sure the top button is done up when removing the belt from your trousers.  Not that there were many people to see … the on-duty staff far outnumbering the customers … at least while I was there, and they’ve probably seen everything before.  It was then onto International Departures and Immigration, where again, there were many more people in uniform than there were travelers.  

After that, it was a lonely walk, through a boarded up, once-glitzy-Duty-Free mall, followed by store after store of high-end fashion brands and labels, each expensive boutique shop looking like a life-sized diorama, in a museum to a past world and civilization, inhabited by our near-cousin on the human evolutionary tree, Homo-consumerist.

Gate 10 was easily identified, and not just because it came after Gate 9, but because it was the only place where I found other fellow-travelers – all, no doubt equally screened, questioned and approved to be issued with a Boarding Pass.

Again, masks and gloves were standard fashion accessories, denoting a certain surgical-ward-motif, which naturally extended to all cabin staff onboard. 

In chatting with one of the air stewards, as I was lifting my backpack into the overhead locker, he observed that there were only a few people on the plane and yet four people were allocated to seats within three rows of each other around me – all individual travellers. This was clearly a thinking, problem-solving kind of man, and his solution …  “Sit anywhere you like.  We’ll put you in each corner, do you want this side, or that side of the cabin”

A few minutes later he came around offering … something …  “Sorry, I missed that” I said, “It must be the mask” … “Do you want a drink?” he said ”What have you got?” I inquired; a bit surprised by the attentive service … “Well, we’ve got water, beer, wine …”   “Ok, how about some water, AND a cold beer too?!”  I suggested. 

When the drinks arrived, I suggested there wouldn’t be more than 30 people on board … “Yes, we normally have over 300 passengers, last Monday there were 7 in economy”

Once in the air, it was soon time for the designated meal, and by now I’d developed something of a rapport with …  a guy that was turning out to be more like my personal butler … “Would you like the hot breakfast of scrambled eggs and sausages, OR would you like the cold breakfast of cereal, fruit and yoghurt?”    

“Don’t suppose I could have both?” I replied with a cheeky grin.  “Sure, no problems”

After finishing the breakfasts, it occurred to me that I’d just had a beer, and I hadn’t even had breakfast … if that’s not a bad sign, then I don’t know what is?!  I confessed this to “my man”, and he came back a short time later with another can of Stella, while pointing to his watch … “see, it’s after 12 o’clock”  Rest assured, that can of beer remained un-opened and on the plane.

The landing in Melbourne was smooth, and I even thought ahead and changed the SIM card in my phone, before we touched down. This time it was another helpful flight attendant who came to the rescue. “Don’t suppose you have a paperclip to remove the SIM card from my phone?” I asked “No, but maybe a sewing needle will do it?” she volunteered as she went of to get a sewing kit. After all, who carries a paperclip to poke into the tiny hole on the side of the unit?  Come to think of it, who carries a sewing kit and scissors into the cabin of a plane these days?  But this was not a time for such questions.

After landing, Mike Clarke informed me (via text through my old faithful Telstra SIM card) that he and wife Robyn had seen us fly over their house in the suburb of Warranwood on the eastern side of Melbourne and had given me a wave.  With so few planes flying these days, it wasn’t hard for them to pick that this was an Air New Zealand plane and could only have come from Auckland – with me on it.

After landing we received an extended “Welcome to Melbourne” announcement, which included … “stay in your seats until we are cleared by authorities” message from the cabin manager, followed by three further announcements from – Border Force, Health Department and Immigration I think – informing us of what was going to happen, where we were going to be taken, and the penalties for non compliance etc etc.

It was a bit like picking up the “Go To Jail” card in Monopoly, with the instructions … “Go to jail, go directly to jail, do not pass GO, do NOT collect $200…” Because from here it was close to two hours of being directed, questioned, assessed, shepherded and transported by a multitude of uniformed officers, including Borderforce, Immigration, Federal Police, Quarantine, Health Department, plus airport and hotel security, oh, did I mention Victoria Police …   

After all of this, I was starting to feel a bit like a lab-rat, or hampster … or maybe an unwitting actor in a re-make of the Truman Show.

But everyone was doing the best they could to keep us and themselves safe, plus of course the rest of the community. Although, as you’ll see from the photo, maintaining adequate “social distancing” on a bus would seem the biggest challenge of the day?!

And how good is this!! Two weeks in 5-Star accommodation at the Pan Pacific Hotel, on the 12th floor overlooking the city .. OK, I can’t leave my room, but I have free meals delivered in a paper bags three times a day, free wifi and free unlimited movies on the hotel network.

Just a quick thank you and cheerio to all those taxpayers out there (and those in the years to come) who are making this possible.

I couldn’t resist photographing a sign at Auckland airport which will no doubt sum me up after nearly 5 weeks self-isolation in New Zealand and a further 2 weeks here in Melbourne … “Oversized & Fragile”

Reading through all the paperwork involved in being “quarantined”, one form was a “DIRECTION AND DETENTION NOTICE” under the Public Health and Wellbeing Act 2008 (Vic) Sec. 200 – this form I was required to sign, in order to accept the terms of the compulsory detention.  Not sure anyone was in the mood for me to ask … “mind if I run this by my solicitor…?”

Anyway, under “Place and time of detention” the form details the hotel and room number and states that my time of release will be midnight on 11 May 2020 … so I might need to clarify whether I get woken up at this time and put out on the pavement with a cardboard sleeping bag, or perhaps the cost of the stay is on MY tab from 12:01am on the 12 May 2020 … but there’s plenty of time to sort that one out.

As you can see from the photos, it’s a step up from last night at the Ibis Budget Hotel at the Auckland airport, and I had to pay for that. 

I was given a Q&A form in relation to the mandatory quarantine and under the heading … ”What type of accommodation is being provided…”  it says:

Returned travellers will be housed in hotels, motels, caravan parks and student accommodation for their 14-day self-isolation period.

So, I’m just hoping that my 12^th floor luxury 5-Star room at the Pan Pacific isn’t simply the first night of mandatory detention, and tomorrow night it’s going to be in an outer-suburban motel, followed by a regional caravan park, concluding with a week spent in a Footscray West student dorm??!! 

Rest assured, if I get a whiff of a potential relocation, I’ll be pulling out my signed “Direction and Detention Notice” and pointing to Section 2 … Hotel Pan Pacific, Room No. 1214 …

I’ve been in my room a good 10 hours now.  In that time I’ve had an afternoon nap, used the kettle to make a coffee, (two coffees) eaten all the “Welcome Pack Treats”, enjoyed dinner-in-a-bag comprising macaroni & salad, fielded a phone call and a dozen questions from the resident hotel nurse about my “Wellbeing” and whether I had any conditions, medication or special needs (apparently chocolate ice-cream doesn’t count,  although she said I could call reception and they could probably arrange it … ohh-kay…), caught up with lots of well-wishers, family and friends on multiple communication platforms and did my best to write a few words for tonight’s blog.  Just 13 days to go, and I’m free.  

In closing, thank you again to everyone for your constant interest and encouragement.  As I discovered today, in my brief interactions with the other bus-bound-lab-rats … every stranded traveller has their unique story, some far more challenging than mine.  I just feel so fortunate to have a Government here in Australia (and a reliable tax-base to fund them) that is able and willing to deliver such a comprehensive level of care.  

Smooth seas, fair breeze and won’t forget this day in a hurry

Rob Latimer

Ibis Budget Hotel (Auckland Airport)

Sunday 26 April 2020

It’s been a big day, with one thing and another.  Up at 6:00 … taxi at 9:30 … plane at 10:45 … hotel at 12:30 … supermarket at 5:00 … now I’m starting to fade. 

The weather has been glorious, with my window seat on the 50-minute Wellington to Auckland flight giving me a Google-Earth perspective on the various landforms – all the way to the east coast.  That’s probably an exaggeration, but Lake Taupo was clearly visible, along with snow-covered mountains to the south … Tongariro National Park, no doubt.  

Whilst most final things aboard Chimere had been done over the past few days, there was always going to be the absolute, final clean-up, folding of blankets, doing of dishes, cleaning the fridge, throwing out of perishable-near-death dairy goods and even some vacuuming. 

Getting up three and a half hours before the arrival of the taxi, seemed a little excessive, but in the end, it allowed me to be a little more relaxed about everything.  I even had time to sand-back some epoxy-patching I did last night on a few dints at the bow.  The results from a lesson I learnt, or should I say, re-learnt, about (not) fully attaching – with chain and rope – the anchor when underway. 

As you can imagine, when you’re sinking the bow into a steep sea, the anchor takes it right on the nose, and can move around a bit if not secured.  Due to an oversight, and some unexpectedly rough water, somewhere between Wellington and Stewart Island, the anchor slipped off its roller and went dong, dong, dong, plus a few clunk, clunk, clunks … with the sharpish tip of the anchor leaving a few pock marks.  Anyway, I thought I’d patch them, while they are still fresh.  All they need now is a lick of paint … or a touch of spray, and no one will be the wiser.

It was agreed that I would leave the swipe-card for the marina gate on the saloon table, for Adam to give to Keith for safekeeping.  Who knows, some of my kiwi friends and relations might also like to use the boat as a downtown Wellington “apartment” from time to time and both Keith and Adam will be the custodians of the card. 

Of course, once I’d lifted my bags onto the dock, walked for the last time to the end of the pier and shut the gate behind me … for the last time … there was no turning back.  

It’s funny how something so final and unforgiving as a locked gate can cause you to triple check everything you knew to be certain just a few minutes before.  Phone? Yes, it’s in the right pocket.  Passport, wallet, backpack, computer?  Yes, they’re all where they should be. 

Clunk !!! … there it is.  The gate’s shut.  It’s too late, and anyway, the taxi driver has just texted me.  It’s 9:28 and he’s almost here.  Onwards and don’t look back.

The “airport experience” was routine in some ways, but anything but, in others.   Definitely a lot of masks and gloves in evidence, and security was at the sliding door making sure only legitimate travelers entered.  Not that I was questioned, or asked to produce documents, like an international booking, or evidence of being an emergency worker or the like.   

The self-check-in machines were the same as ever … just not many people to use them. And everytime I touched the sreeen I was envisaging bugs and nasties attaching themselves to my naked fingers – quick, more sanitizer hand gel!! My biggest concern though, was the weight of my suitcase.  (Well, Adam’s suitcase really, thanks again for a lend of that.  I don’t know what I would have done without that?!)  I know the case felt heavy, definitely more than 20 kilos, and probably very close to the allowed 23 kilos.  Fortunately, they had those “test scales” nearby and I lumped it on … 22.6 kilos … YES!!    Just hope the official scales around the corner weigh the same.

From there, each passenger, wheeled their case to a separate area where the bags were individually scanned through a machine before disappearing out of sight – hopefully to miraculously reappear again in Auckland. 

The sight of no people was probably the biggest shock, particularly when all memories of the place – any airport, are of frenetic activity and noise, people coming and going, food being served, coffee being made at a dozen stalls and announcements calling out this and that.  Today, there was nothing.  Just a roped off area where we each kept our required 2 metres from each other before having our small bags and belongings checked as normal.

The plane was, maybe 30-40% full,  or if you like, 60-70% empty … and each row was individually called and because I was at the back, I got to go on first.  The reverse occurred after landing in Auckland of course. And it’s amazing just how long it takes for each row to exit, before the next makes a move … but now I’m just starting to whinge.

There was no obvious, additional security at Auckland, checking that everyone was a legitimate traveler.  I suppose they figure, no one is entering confined aeroplanes and risking exposure to “foreigners” in airport transit lounges, just for the fun of it.

The cabin staff were making the most of it, as best they could, and assured us that they were wearing their “ … trademark Air New Zealand smiles under our masks …”  

The Ibis Hotel was a short walk from the terminal … 900 metres actually, to quote from the website, which sounds a lot shorter that 1 kilometre.  Anyone can wheel their bags 900 metres … but to do it for one kilometre, now, I’d have to re-consider that one. 

So, I followed the signs and after maybe 5 minutes I came to a useful sign that said “Ibis Budget Hotel 750 m, 15mins” and after walking on for maybe another 5 minutes I came to the next sign, which said  … “Ibis Budget Hotel 750 m, 15mins”

In the end it was good to get to the reception desk, and all my details were in order … “Could I get you to just complete this short form please?”  the nice lady said as she handed me a clipboard across the 2 metre gulf between us. 

“Name?”  “Nationality?” “Date of entry into New Zealand?” … at this point I was on a roll and pushing for top marks … “Means of arrival – plane or cruise?”  Ah, right, so there’s only two ways to enter New Zealand – by plane or on a cruise ship?   Well I definitely WAS NOT going to tick Cruise Ship … unless I wanted to spontaneously clear the lobby … so I used my initiative and created my own category “YACHT” … which seemed acceptable. Phew!! Although in retrospect, I don’t think she really cared, she just had to get the form filled out for every customer, although she did confirm “and when are you leaving”, which was just short of the required 24 hour maximum stopover requirement.

My room is 318 … which naturally means I’ve got to make my way to the third floor.  Have you ever tried social-distancing in an elevator?    As it turned out, the woman who’d been waiting for some time, when the doors opened, said I’m happy if you want to share the lift with me. 

So here we were, just the two of us … “sharing an elevator between consenting adults” … and when she pressed Level 4, I pressed Level 3, not noticing that she had also inserted her door-card into the lift console … which naturally meant the door opened at Level 4.  Me, on the other hand, rode the lift back down to ground floor before I realized it had no intention of stopping at 3 until I’d done the right thing and also poked my card in the slot.

Finally, I made myself comfortable in Cell 318, sorry, Room 318 … and took a photo on both normal and panoramic setting to see if it made any difference … it didn’t … so if I want to get into real estate any time soon I suppose I need a new camera and lens.

Fortunately, there’s a supermarket a short distance away, and so I was able to buy enough to cover me for dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow.  And I noticed there are a few takeaway joints nearby as well, which I’m sure will be anxious to open – at 12:01am on Tuesday morning no doubt, when New Zealand goes from Level 4 down to Level 3. At the moment you can’t even get a coffee

Right now, I’m just grateful I have a place to perch while I wait for my 8:50am flight to Melbourne tomorrow.   Maybe check it out here tomorrow – that’s 6:50am Melbourne time …  https://www.flightradar24.com/   

In the end I did turn on my Satellite GPS Modem when I got into my hotel room, and so the Chimere Tracker on the website might need a little explanation in years to come.

Smooth seas, fair breeze and taking flight – finally

Rob Latimer

Chaffers Marina (Wellington, NZ)

Saturday 25 April 2020

It’ll be a short blog tonight, I promise.  ‘Cos as John Denver sang all those years ago … “all my bags are packed, I’m ready to go …” and I really do need to get a reasonable night’s sleep.

The ban on community gatherings meant that Anzac Day was unlike any before.  In a way, every individual was their own mini commemoration service, as people were encouraged to stand in silence at 6:00am.

The official instructions were summarized as follows:   

Anzac Day public events cancelled

In response to COVID-19, there will be no public events to commemorate Anzac Day this Saturday 25 April.

Instead the nation will mark the anniversary by standing together apart with virtual services and online events.

Here in the marina, the Last Post played out from nearby loud speakers and there was a surprising number of folk standing in the half-light of their apartment balconies, or on the nearby pavement.  It was definitely a low-key affair, without the activity and focus of a parade, or formal Dawn Service.  So, if you didn’t get a chance to hear the Last Post today, here’s a link to a story of a chap who reckons he’s played it maybe 400 time …

https://www.newshub.co.nz/home/new-zealand/2020/04/auckland-bugler-performs-last-post-on-anzac-day-to-dead.html

I didn’t take this photo, but it’s representative of many places around the country.

The wind got up in the night and by 5:30am it was playing havoc with the halyards high up on the mast – bang, bang, bang …

It was on my list of tasks, along with a range of other things, to make sure, as best I can, that Chimere will be well behaved over the next 9 months.  In the case of the halyards, I loosened them right off and attached the loose end to the foredeck near the dinghies. Then tightened them up with the winch.  They are now well away from the mast!

The mainsail halyard I completely removed from the top of the sail and then attached it down on the deck before tightening it up as well.

The tarps on the dinghies were lashed down more securely.  Additional tarps were wrapped around the winch and halyard brakes at the base of the mast, as well as the anchor winch up front.  The zip on the mainsail bag along the boom gave up the ghost some time ago, but it was never a problem when we were using the sail everyday.  So I spent an hour stitching up the bag, making sure there is no way the wind can rip it apart. 

There’s also the problem of birds.   Much an’ all as I like our feathered friends, as much as the next person, when a boat is a bit quiet for a time, they notice. Particularly as winter leads into spring for some reason.  And from experience, I’ve found that any opening into the sails, or under tarps, becomes a prime nesting target.  Now, if it was an albatross that needed a place to raise its young, I’d probably consider stepping aside for the duration, but seagulls, mynas, sparrows and the like, are not welcome. I don’t roost in their trees, so I don’t think they should nest on my boat.

Keith and Christine popped by this afternoon to say farewell and we also went for a walk around town … the bits I didn’t see yesterday.  I must confess, my feet were starting to feel a little tender after my treks of the past two days. Keith also dropped off the suitcase Adam kindly lent to me, which was great. Thank You!!

Good news on the travel front is that I’ve had no phone calls from Air New Zealand in Auckland … so it looks like I’m go for launch, at 10:45 tomorrow morning.

A New Zealand man I’ve got to know, after first meeting him at a Rotary International function in Port Vila several years ago, sent me a link to a plane-tracking website.  Here it is here …  https://www.flightradar24.com/

I had a look a short time ago and I could see just two planes currently flying in New Zealand airspace.  One on its way to Los Angeles, the other to Shanghai; but still on the ground

So if you have a look at 10:45am NZ time tomorrow, you will hopefully see NZ420 heading from Wellington to Auckland – with me on it, although that won’t show up on the website.  If I carried my gps transmitter in my pocket, you’d be able to see me, but I don’t think they like that sort of thing.

Just in case there are “issues” with the flight, I’m aiming to get to the airport early tomorrow, to give me enough time to hire a car and drive to Auckland, if necessary.

I’ve just checked the status of the flight and it is displaying the word “Scheduled”, which is definitely better than “Cancelled” … so lets hope it stays that way.   

As promised, it’s a short blog tonight.  And thank-you to those who’ve pass on encouraging comments about the daily blog – or at least, mostly daily – over the past three months.   I’m imagining that the further from the boat I get, the less I’ll have to write about, but we’ll see,  or sea … si?

Of course “boats” come in all shapes and sizes, fulfilling a range of purposes … some purely pleasure, others at the commercial end of the spectrum

Here are two such examples, moored on the same Row as me. And yes, the first one is a hot tub, with an electric motor … and it’s not what you’d call an “all-weather” craft, really …

This craft, on the other hand is a piece of New Zealand history, dating back to 1892 and a testament to the resilience of Kauri

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rona_(1892)

Smooth seas, fair breeze and ANZAC Day in Wellington

Rob Latimer

Chaffers Marina (Wellington, NZ)

Friday 24 April 2020

My phone doesn’t ring that often.  When it does, it’s usually Keith, Gary, Theresa, or maybe Adam.  But late this morning it rang and before answering I noticed it said “Auckland” … now who do I know in Auckland, I thought.

Quickly, my mind scanned all it’s available files for a previous call from Auckland, or someone I might know up that way, but before I could match the “correct data-set” I was greeted with  … “Hello, it’s Kelly from Air New Zealand here …”  

Oh … that’s right … the last time I received a call like this, it was to tell me that my Wellington to Auckland flight on the 25^th of April had been cancelled. 

Back then, it seemed a pretty simple matter of re-booking on the Monday morning flight, (the 27^th) which also connected with an Auckland to Melbourne flight; one of only two per week that are operating at the moment  

So, straight away I suspected where the conversation was leading … “… I’m just calling to inform you that your Wellington to Auckland flight has been cancelled…”

“What about the Auckland to Melbourne flight?”, I inquired

“That service is still operating currently”, Kelly confirmed.

“But how am I going to connect with it?”, I continued.

“I’m really sorry about this, I know it’s a real inconvenience.  We can schedule you on a later connecting flight, but that’s not going to be until well into May”, said Kelly, trying to be as helpful as she could in what you’d have to say was a difficult “customer service situation”.

My understanding of domestic travel and connecting flights for foreigners leaving the country, was that you only had a window of 3 hours between flights.  And in trying to think of possible solutions, I continued the conversation as best I could – and in retrospect it was going to lead nowhere – but I asked anyway … “what’s the reason for the cancellation?”

Poor Kelly did the best she could, with something like … “There’s been a necessary re-scheduling of services to match demand and …”  she continued on like this for a bit and then finished up with, “… it’s really a complete mess, honestly”

“Are there any other flights going to Auckland from Wellington” I asked … “, because I saw a plane fly out this morning – the first one for about two weeks?”

“Let me see … yes, there’s one on Sunday, at 10:50am, but it’s not a connecting flight, and you’d have to stay overnight in Auckland.  Would you like me to re-book you on that one?”

“Yes please … I’ll take it”

Pretty soon I received the standard confirmation-email, detailing my new flight details, but uppermost in my mind was … “how am I going to fill in 21 hour at the Auckland airport – between the domestic and international flights – when 3 hours is the limit” … it’s not as if you can go un-noticed in a near-on-empty terminal.

On the bright side, I had a flight to Auckland.  I just wasn’t sure how arrivals to Auckland would be screened or “interrogated” in relation to with the 3-hour flight-connection limit. 

I then started checking out nearby hotels.  Because if I could make my way directly from the airport to a hotel room, it wouldn’t be hard to sit it out and no one would be the wiser.  But even there, the hotel websites talked about potentially NOT being able to make a booking if I didn’t qualify …     

To quote: “We understand your travel plans may be affected by Coronavirus (COVID-19). Please check for travel restrictions before booking and travelling to an accommodation. Travel may be permitted only for certain purposes…”

My cousin Keith called around this time – while I was half-way through drafting an email to the NZ Health Department to request an extension to the 3-hour limit – and after chatting for a while, Keith suggested I call the Australian High Commission; which seemed like a good idea. 

This I did, but after working my way through the … recorded COVID-19 Health information, Privacy Statement, Standard travel advisories and press 1 for this, 2 for that 3, 4 and 5 for other things, I got through to the right area, only to have it ring out after maybe 3 minutes.  Mmmm, no one home?!

More searching online, and after a few clicks I came across a link to … “Domestic flights for foreign nationals returning home” … hey, that’s me.  A bit more clicking and then I read the following …

There are several criteria that foreign nationals must meet in order to drive or take land transport to an international airport, or take a domestic flight within New Zealand while we are under Alert Level 4:

• You must hold a ticket for an international flight
• If you are taking a domestic flight, you must have a ticket booked for an international flight leaving Auckland or Christchurch scheduled to depart no more than 24 hours from the scheduled departure time of your connecting domestic flight
• You must have the right to transit through all countries on your itinerary
• You must be able to drive, take public or private land transport, or a taxi or ride-share service
• You must travel by the most direct route possible

So, it was with a great sigh of relief that I read the words … “no more than 24 hours” …NOT 3 hours!!  Not sure where I got the idea of  3 hours from, but there you go.  It was then a simple task to book a night’s accommodation at the Ibis Auckland Airport Hotel, before relaxing to have lunch.

Then, the phone rang again … “not from Auckland this time … that’s a good thing” …

“Hello, it’s (and I forget his name) from the Australian Consulate … I’ve got a re-dial number here, did you call earlier…?”

“Yes, thanks for calling”, I confirmed … “yes, I rang about connecting flights back to Australia when I thought I was going to breach the 3-hour connection time limit, but I realise now that it’s 24 hours…”    

We chatted away for a while, and he apologised for the delay in getting back in touch, because he was the only one on duty, and yes, the cancellation of the domestic flights (for commercial reasons) was creating problems for Aussies trying to get home, and yes, I’d be happy for him to add me to his contact-list of fellow Australians who are trying to get home …

As the afternoon wore on, my relaxed state of mind then began to ponder my predicament if Air New Zealand cancelled my Wellington to Auckland service – for the third time?!   That would never happen, surely!? … And you reply … “Yes it could, but don’t call me Shirley”     

So, my next batch of web-searching and phone-calling, had me checking out car hire companies, because as everyone knows … “you’ve got to have an exit strategy” … and if my third attempt at a domestic flight to Auckland didn’t work out, then I’ll be driving there … after all, it’s only 9 hours!   So, stay tuned for the next exciting episode. 

Wow, that’s two pages of writing … just about a cancelled flight. 

But it was something of an emotional rollercoaster today.  Particularly when I thought there’d be strife over exceeding the connecting-flight-time-limit.  But at the time, I consoled myself with the knowledge that, at least “I would be in Auckland”; albeit 21 hours before my next flight.  And to once again quote from Captain Jack Aubrey, of Master & Commander fame … “That seemed the lesser of two weevils” …

Speaking of the COVID-19, Alert Level 4 “compliance regime” … my blog yesterday talked briefly about the “other yacht” that entered the harbour on Wednesday.  And I mentioned that, from what I’d been told … the police were at the Seaview Marina to meet them on their arrival … well, the Maritime Police did better than that, and I quote from the following “Stuff” article …

Coronavirus: Yachtie sails from Marlborough Sounds to Wellington during Covid-19 lockdown

Bridie Witton12:24, Apr 24 2020

https://www.stuff.co.nz/national/crime/121245710/coronavirus-yachtie-sails-from-marlborough-sounds-to-wellington-during-covid19-lockdown

A yachtie who sailed from the Marlborough Sounds to Wellington breaking lockdown rules was met by police boat Lady Elizabeth.

Police are gathering further information while considering next steps over the incident, which took place on Wednesday. 

“We can confirm that the Lady Liz IV [Police launch] went out from Wellington to meet a yachtie in the harbour on Wednesday and were advised he had come from the Marlborough Sounds.” Police are still considering whether to lay any charges or issue any fines, she added. 

As the following image from the Stuff Facebook page shows, the story attracted the usual outburst of Comments, Replies and Posts – all 178 of them at last count … ranging from … “outraged – sell-his-boat-and-give-the-money-to-the-poor – indignation, oh and also throw him in jail”, to … “the boat’s his home and it’s just like driving to the supermarket” …  

The comment I liked was … “What about the 2^nd yacht?  There was 2 about 20-30 minutes apart”   Fortunately, no one picked up on his Comment with a Reply … probably because of his poor grammar.  Everyone knows he should have used a “were” instead of a “was” … and they didn’t want to be associated with him …

Late in the day, Keith and I had another chat on the phone and all being well, he and Christine will drop in tomorrow afternoon for a good-bye, real-time, face-to-face … at a respectable distance of course.  He’ll even bring in a suitcase which Adam kindly offered to lend me.  A suitcase isn’t something I ever expected to need, and they’re a real challenge to store on a boat.

With just a couple of sleeps before I head away, I thought I should have a look at downtown Wellington. So after saying good-bye to Keith I headed off, this time turning right along the waterfront.  This took me right around to the Bluebridge inter-island ferry terminal, then uptown to parliament house. 

It was here that I saw a couple of blokes putting up three flags for tomorrow’s Anzac Day Commemorations.  Certainly a reminder, if ever we needed one, that despite the constant ribbing we give each other (and I know I was guilty of it in last night’s blog) Aussies and Kiwis share a common foundation and value-system, plus a deep love and respect for each other.

Wandering the Wellington streets, it was spooky just how few vehicles there were.  And this was Friday night.  It reminded me of Melbourne on a Sunday, or even a Saturday afternoon, back in the early 1970s as a kid.  Barely a soul and hardly a car.

As I passed the war memorial there were a couple of guys in Hi-Vis vests fiddling with the flags, I noticed the fellow up the ladder was attaching the large Australian flag, having already connected-up the New Zealand and UK flags.  So I called out to him …

“Make sure you look after THAT flag, bro…”

They looked up sharply, given how quiet it was, and as I laughed, they quickly got the joke and laughed back.

Being in Wellington, the last couple of days I’ve included photos of when my father Bill, and Keith’s father Ted were growing up here in the 1930s. Well, with Anzac Day tomorrow, I’m reminded of a story dad told of HIS dad’s older brother, Arthur, known as Midge – Dad and Ted’s uncle, and great uncle to me and Keith. 

Like many on dad’s side of the family, Uncle Midge loved the sea and had served his time aboard the training ship, the Amokura.  When war broke he naturally intended to join the Navy, but his mother finally convinced him to instead join the army, where she reasoned it would be safer.   

As you can guess, Midge was killed on the Somme in 1916.  Something that broke his mother’s heart and tormented her for the rest of her relatively short life.  She could never get over the fact that she felt responsible for encouraging her son to leave the sea and join the army.

Further to the story, when dad was a young apprentice in the 1940s, an old man, Mr Reginald Rice, who’d spent barely two years out of hospital since returning from the war injured in 1917, said to dad …

“I knew your Uncle Midge.  We were in the same regiment together and I was there when he got killed.”  He continued, “We were in the same trench, and there was a bloke out in the barbed wire, in no man’s land, injured and moaning for water.  So your uncle Midge and another bloke took some water out to him.  Just then a bomb came over, what we called a Rum Jar, and exploded right on top of them. There was nothing left of them”

So, dad’s Uncle Arthur, a member of the 2^nd Battalion Otago Regiment, became one of New Zealand’s Unknown Soldiers, buried in the Caterpillar Valley Cemetery at the Somme (France) and remembered in the Tomb of the Unknown Warrior on Buckle Street, here in Wellington

As the historical notes of the Tomb of the Unknown Warrior describe:

“On 6 November 2004, the remains of an unknown New Zealand soldier were exhumed from the (CWGC) Caterpillar Valley Cemetery, and laid to rest in the Tomb of the Unknown Warrior in Wellington, New Zealand. He represents over 18,000 members of New Zealand forces who lost their lives during the First World War. A special headstone marks his original resting place in Plot 14, Row A, Grave 27.”

The Warrior is one of more than 1500 New Zealanders killed on the Somme. Most of them, 1272, remained unidentified and are buried in unmarked graves or remembered on memorial walls. The remains are thought to include an almost complete skeleton, and other belongings that established beyond doubt the Warrior’s nationality.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tomb_of_the_Unknown_Warrior_(New_Zealand)

https://www.odt.co.nz/lifestyle/travel/visit-remember

It was dark by the time I returned to Chimere – my Wellington home for the next two nights

Smooth seas, fair breeze and cancelled again

Rob Latimer

https://www.stuff.co.nz/environment/114961075/persistent-penguins-return-to-wellington-cbd-this-time-theyre-at-the-train-station