Sydney - back in Freshwater
The good life on a steep street

Sydney... was populated by leisured multitudes all in their shirt-sleeves and all picnicking all the day.
They volunteered that they were new and young, but would do wonderful things some day.
[Rudyard Kipling, Something of Myself (1937) based on visit in 1891]

Our final residence in Sydney is on Waiwera Avenue, which must be among the most steep streets in Australia. Outside our house it has a slope of 17 degrees, which makes it, well interesting, when backing out a car! The place is great, with deck, kids friendly garden, and our own "near infinity" swimming pool. The house is just across from a park, and there are busses to Manly right at the foot of the hill.



Once again we were back at Freshwater Beach, which we all love. It was thus also time for the favorite occupation of Storm and Troels of building dams in front of the storm flood outlet. Our first evening back at the beach was blessed by a beautiful sunset, and somehow Freshwater has become our beach of choice (with Shelly being a close second).



A cloudy/rainy day, we went to the Sydney PowerHouse Science Museum, which turned out to be a blast. There were many things to do for all four of us, and only after an hour and a half did hunger set in. We also visited Paddy's market, which Storm resisted a bit, while Astrid loved, not the least because she got her first (big and pink) watch. Now she just has to learn numbers/time...



Following the first Twilight Race sailing, Troels went for another Wednesday regatta with Skol, this time in the early afternoon. The forecast was for "light storm", and dark clouds were approaching, as we sailed out to the starting line. Sails adjusted, strategy set, countdown running and the great fight in front of the starting line was on. Silence in the boat, yelling elsewhere, narrow eyes trying to make out that imaginary starting line between the Yacht Club flag post and Shark Island, fitting it with the clock running out... 5, 4, 3, 2, 1... canon fire, and the race was on.
We started well, and raced towards Kirribilli, sharply tailed by most of the fleet, while three mega yachts were naturally ahead. The wind increased and turned more towards south, but then suddenly nearly disappeared around us, giving the ships taking a more northern passage than us a great advantage. It was crowded around the marker, and the heavens saluted the change for downwind sailing with a quick shower. Still, the Opera House looked splendid, as it lay there in front of the Sydney skyline, serving as an emblem to an entire continent.
Rounding Bradley's Head, we sailed up towards the Heads, and could feel the swell from this opening to the mighty Pacific Ocean. Manly had disappeared in in rains, and there was thunder and lightning 1-2 kilometer West of us. As we turned the marker up towards the Sow and Pigs reef, a ship just behind us kept a course that blocked us from heading back towards Shark Island. It cost them a little time, but us more, and Skol swore bitterly, as it started raining again. The wind picked up again, as can be seen in this little clip. Shortly after it picked up further, this time ferociously so. In the end it got so rough, that we decided to furl in the head sail - others were not that fast/lucky, and lost their sail (see background of third image!).
However, as the wind calmed just a bit, we put up full sails again, and was now chasing the main fleet. The wind had already changed a few times, and did so again, as we were closing in on the Point Piper marker, but Skol managed to sneak us almost straight against the wind passed the marker, forcing others to tack, as we had the right of way. Then we headed towards the Opera House again, meeting the stranges winds, that would both change direction and pace, sometimes completely dying away. Picking up the small puffs, we rounded the Navy buoy, and the now more steady winds lifted us back towards the finish line, where we were chasing two other boats. As the flag post was 1/3 into the right window in the clubhouse (rule of thumb to define the line), we turned back towards the club house of Crusing Yacht Club Australia, for beers and stories of the race of strange winds.