A Floating Palace

Friday, 9 May 2003 at 2:33:16 PM (EST)

woff: Want to wash away the tension and stresses of a busy week? Look no

further than the majestic and magical Hawkesbury River.

Houseboat - Weekend Away

by Sacha Molitorisz

Rating: 18 out of 20

How did The Rime of the Ancient Mariner go again? Something about a tetchy sailor, a doomed journey and an albatross kebab?

I'm struggling to remember as we pull into the car park at Luxury Afloat at Friday lunchtime.

I had absolutely no idea we were coming here. It's a surprise birthday present. My wife explains as we approach the marina that she has organised a weekend aboard a houseboat with four of our friends. And enough booze to supply the captain of the Exxon Valdez for a year.

Stocking the kitchen and icebox with edibles, beverages and more beverages, we realise that each couple has catered for six. We will be eating and drinking like royalty. Tongan royalty.

Beverage in hand, I observe that the houseboat is lavishly appointed. Having previously spent stints on cruisers, yachts and dinghies, I am all too familiar with the smell of bilge water and the vexatious rattle of generators. No nasty pongs or clunks here, though. In fact, the adventurously-named Douglas Mawson, our home until Sunday evening, is a floating palace.

At 45 foot, ``Dougie'' could sleep 10 and will easily accommodate six. It boasts a carpeted interior, cool decor, an ample top deck with banana lounge and two speakers connected to the CD player downstairs, spacious front and rear decks, and a bathroom with shower and toilet that, while small, is functional and clean.

There are also helpful, ubiquitous signs. My favourite: ``Only three things are to be dropped in the toilet: 1. Toilet paper 2. ... 3. ...''

To teach us how to operate Dougie, Bill steps aboard. He has tattoos, so obviously knows what he's doing. Bill is also relaxed and affable, explaining succinctly how to use the toilet, the BBQ, the TV, the video, the stove, the outboard motors, the depth equipment and the navigational sounder. Or was that depth sounder and navigational equipment? Not to worry.

Bill and Dougie obviously understand each other, so Bill steers us out into the Hawkesbury River. Then a speedboat pulls up alongside, and Bill, with a wave, leaves us to our own devices. ``You'll be fine,'' he says, gracefully speeding off into the sunset.

Fifteen minutes later, I am gracefully doing doughnuts off Dangar Island. Not on purpose, mind you. The steering just takes a little while to master. Hopefully this isn't a portent of a fateful trip. I hum the tune to Gilligan's Island as we fishtail down the Hawkesbury, slowly. As aerodynamic as an office block, Dougie does not go fast. His top speed is a gentle, soporific putter that's a nautical expression which we soon realise is a perfect speed for unwinding.

For our first night we make for Refuge Bay, a scenic cove not too distant that takes roughly an hour to reach. It has two attractions: a scenic waterfall and a garbage barge.

So we continue on and attach ourselves instead to a mooring tucked into the quiet reaches of America Bay.

As the birds sing, the sun sets and the BBQ sizzles, I smile. This is serene and spectacular. And the water is still warm enough to swim, so we do. After too many glasses of wine and many more tall stories, we retire to the sound of waves slapping against the hull.

The following day we venture further from Broken Bay to the beautiful, quiet reaches of Smiths Creek. We have even fewer floating neighbours here than we had at America Bay. In summer it can get busy but we are here in April, and it isn't. At Smiths Creek there are sandy beaches and inviting nooks aplenty. We drop anchor and, in the twilight, we fish. We have hand reels and a rod and no clue, and soon we are pulling in a bream. Or a flathead. Or a deep sea bass I wouldn't know but unfortunately it's too small. Even more unfortunately, it has swallowed the hook. We have no choice but to cut the line and throw it back.

When our catch swims off, we cheer. When he floats to the surface, we sigh. And when one of the majestic birds of prey we have been marvelling at swoops down and plucks him from the water, we groan. After a minute's silence, we turn our attention to dinner. We eat, we drink, we laugh, we collapse into our bunks, and on Sunday morning again we wake clear-headed, not exactly where we anchored, but not dashed against the rocks, either. That was lucky. Sunday is perfect. We swim and eat and lounge and, in the late afternoon while singing sea shanties and making a pact to get tattoos of anchors on our forearms, we return to Brooklyn. It is 30 minutes past the 5pm deadline but the folks at Luxury Afloat just smile and waive the surcharge sensing that, in just over the 48 hours, the Hawkesbury has washed away most of our stresses and worries. This has been one of our favourite weekends ever. I simply cannot recommend it highly enough. (Hiring a houseboat, that is, not killing the fish.)

update boats

they now have DVD Players on board ...now thats comfort

the boats almost drive themselves. Hey where are we off to now

Thanks Guys