I tried a Cadbury Cherry Ripe and was able to stay up until 830pm last night. I feel confident this will be sufficient for the liveaboard schedule. I’m up at 430am so I can get flu powder and ibuprofen for Caleb since he’s starting to feel worse and a slice of banana bread for me. He was up coughing and didn’t sleep well. We checked our dive insurance, which requires a doctor’s note, and he’s not ill enough for that, so he’s got two days to recover before our first dive. We fly from Sydney to Cairns in 26 hours.
I go downstairs for breakfast alone and bring him a sandwich or two (thinking we would have lunch in the room) and make him a cup of medicinal tea so he can go back to sleep. I look up directions to Beare Park and start my adventure with at least six flights of stairs going up the side of an apartment complex that incorporated the stone wall into the blueprints. There’s a little waterfall and pond between two sidewalks, some suitcases marked for trash pickup, and a car with the plate: WHEATS. Men are sunning in their Speedos, dogs are off-leash, and women are talking in the shade.
I watch two dogs, like a scene from 101 Dalmatians, as they get their owners to let them parallel play in the water. The beach here is blocked off in both directions, so I won’t be exploring that any further. Caleb lets me know that he ate our lunch. I find something to eat at The Bowls, their lemongrass chicken lunch special. I wouldn’t get it again, but I do finish it. Costing almost just as much for dessert will be the deluxe tiramisù affogato from Rivareno Gelato, and I smile at passersby vs offering to buy them one so they can know the joys of coffee and ice cream with a sweet dish included.
I take my time getting back to the room, read about the truth and reconciliation commissions in Canada and Australia, and shower. I pack our bags, leave the four 5-cent coins we found, and make Caleb another tea. I let it cool before I wake him. I look at things to do in Cairns tomorrow between landing at the airport and getting on the catamaran, which should be about six hours. Caleb is still coughing, in the same bed as me, as I prepare to dream about sea turtles, sharks, and stroopwafles.
I wake up at 530am with cramps, and Caleb is feeling competitive this morning, so he rises with a sickness. We won’t know that just yet, though. It presents with a sense of exhaustion, so it could just be jet lag and his common need for a nap since he doesn’t like sleeping much at night. I had a day of ferries and hiking planned, but toned it down to a round-trip ferry and bus ride to help with roadside walking. I’ll have breakfast the Australian way: coffee, Vegemite toast, grilled tomatoes, and a fried egg. The fresh, dainty-sliced watermelon is a nice touch.
I notice my breath in the park and wonder if it’s been as cold on prior visits or if I was focused elsewhere. The marble statue “Girl with Clogs and Musical Instrument” (a hurdy-gurdy) and the bronze Governor Arthur Phillip (unveiled on Queen Victoria’s 60th year of reign and over a century after his death) look great in the sun, especially with a laughing kookaburra perched upon his head. The bright pink Habanera series of English Daisy outshines the pale pink ruffled rose in a garden of buds. I appreciate this exploratory pace until I need the loo.
We stand a few minutes in a spaced-out line at Circular Quay, Wharf 3, waiting for the F1 ferry to deliver us to Manly, Wharf 1. There’s a faster catamaran that costs more and cuts travel time by a third, but we’re not in a hurry. The front is too windy for me, so I head to the back to get photos of the Opera House, Fort Denison, and the cliff faces (which over time lead to a head). The 161 bus leaves every half hour and drops us off at Fairfax Track at the southern end of Sydney Harbour National Park. From the Yiningma Lookout, we witness a whale exhale.
This pressurized air can shoot up to 30 feet in the air at speeds up to 450 km/h (depending on the species). Whales can also replace up to 90% of the air in their lungs in a single breath, whereas simple humans operate below 15%. Toothed whales have one blowhole and use echolocation, and baleen whales have two for faster air exchange. If I could have a superpower, it would be living as different animals for a week. The other couple on the loop comes to the park frequently to escape the city and to be impressed constantly by the sights as we are.
Sydney Harbour National Park
It’s possible we saw a humpback whale, which is one of the largest animals on Earth, weighing up to 40 tons. The largest land animal only weighs under 12 tons (10,400 kg). I can’t fathom that size, though I have stood next to an elephant. This moment is made even more special by the next animal I see: an inchworm that weighs only up to 1.4 grams. This is the awe I aspire to live in every day. Then we see an Australian brushturkey, with a bright yellow waddle used for mating, temperature regulation, and territorial disputes. Their tail is upright (for balance and speed), unlike the broad flat tails of domestic turkeys.
The masked plover has yellow face waddles and apparently spurs on the bend of their wings for defense. I will not be adding that altercation to my list of accomplishments. The plant life out here comes with interesting names: cinnabar polypore, pincushion flower, and heath-leaved banksia. We make our way to the North Fort Visitor Centre, where we learn that live firing to sea was stopped in 1984, the Memorial Walk opened in 2002, and volunteers have restored the Plotting Room (2019-20) and two battery observation posts 2022-23).
WWII Memorial
There are weekly tours of the tunnels that connected the 9.2″ calibre guns. They were capable of firing 380lb shells up to 16 miles at a rate of two rounds per minute. They were only used once in 1943 when a Polish vessel approached without clearance. The captain was billed £600 for wasted ammunition. We walk by the Hanging Swamp where two guys are taking photos and by the Barracks Precinct where a man is running laps on the parade grounds. We wait in the shade with a brushturkey for the bus that will return us to downtown Manly.
We take a peek at the beach before finding lunch at Fusion Point. We didn’t know what we were getting ourselves into as we sat on the patio. The pink lemonade seemed innocent enough, and then the tower of food arrived. Caleb got two burgers while I got a BLT (what I thought I ordered) with a chicken sandwich. The Club Deck also comes with guacamole, onion, carrot, beetroot, and aioli. I was glad I didn’t get the chips (fries), and though I ate what I could, there was still enough meat and crust to make a hipster breakfast.
Manly Beach
Caleb says having lunch and dinner together will save his energy later, as he still feels just as exhausted as he did hours ago. The beach has stairs to sit on for those who want to watch the waves and listen to the birds without getting sand in their shoes before going back to work. That leaves us and some random kids rolling in the little pit they just dug. I count 14 people climbing the Sydney Harbour Bridge on our return ferry to Circular Quay. We walk back to the room, and I make a solo trip to the store. Caleb asked for lozenges, and I returned with sour squirms instead. I read for a bit before going back to the store so that Caleb can sleep without coughing as much.
I wake at 1030pm and 230am again, but sleep till 4am while dreaming about eating snacks in an empty house with Zeus (my favorite golden doodle). I read a bit from Behave by R.M. Sapolsky before remembering that writing during traveling makes catching up on the blog so much easier upon return, so I do that until breakfast. I had forgotten the things-to-do list that I made, but the hotel lobby had the same places on the back of a map, so way more convenient.
We walk through another section of the Royal Botanic Garden and see another side of the Opera House. We meander through The Rocks neighborhood, where water has its own steps next to the ones for people. We follow the sidewalk under the Sydney Harbour Bridge with a surprise piece of history – officers’ quarters were built here in 1857. After WWI, the building was used as a Tractor Training School. From 1925 to 1932 it housed the engineering company that constructed the bridge above it before being demolished.
Walking the Sydney Harbour Bridge (or climbing it with a harness) is a popular attraction in the city. There’s also a museum in the South-East Pylon that offers more stairs, some history, and unobstructed views of the harbour for a fee. We’ll use that as our turnaround point to walk by a closed museum (Susannah Place) instead, where historical houses depict life from the 1840s to the 1970s. It’s the oldest neighborhood in Sydney and has fewer people than the non-crowded overwater walkway.
From here, it’s less than a kilometer to the Museum of Sydney, which was built over Australia’s first Government House. For this reason, it displays many artifacts found from the colonial period in different exhibits. There’s even an interactive space (common in museums here) where guests can draw their archaeological find. There are musket balls and brass buttons from the soldiers who were ordered to shoot and hang any Aboriginal who made ‘the smallest show of resistance’. This was 30 years after the First Fleet brought over convicts from Britain and kidnapped First Nations people to forcibly open communications.
I was going to get a drink to go when Caleb suggested we grab a snack and a chair too. This gives Caleb time to find us a route to the Australian National Maritime Museum. We decide on the light rail, which supposedly cuts our walking distance in half by taking us to Darling Harbour, instead of the bus, which would leave us on the other side of Pyrmont Bridge. We pay the entrance fee to gain access to the last of 22 identical lighthouses built in Queensland. It’s from 1874, originally located in Cape Bowling Green, dismantled in 1987, and reassembled in 1994.
view from Sydney Harbour Bridge
In front of the museum is the Tu do (Vietnamese for “freedom”) boat that delivered only a lucky few of the tens of thousands of refugees who made it to surrounding countries and didn’t fall prey to pirates or become lost at sea between 1976 and 1988. This boat, one of three left, is being preserved as a significant relic of modern migration and is still in the process of conservation, though it will never allow guests on board. Through the museum, we can climb aboard the replica of the Duyfken, a Dutch ship from 1606, sent to establish trade by the Dutch East India Company.
Museum of Sydney
We are unable to see more of the Steam Yacht Ena as she was under renovation. She was built in 1900 as a luxury boat for government functions, renamed during WWI to hunt for German raiders, and after the war used for transporting apples and commercial fishing in Tasmania. She sank in 1981, was salvaged six years later and restored, and then donated to the museum in 2017. The lighthouse has room for about six visitors and three volunteers who are struggling between entertaining and tracking guests, and communicating amongst themselves.
Invasion I by Gordon Syron, 1999
Before we left for Australia, our friend recommended we dive the SS Yongala Wreck, but that will have to be a separate trip. This lighthouse was shaken violently by a cyclone in 1911 and would be the site of cargo washing up on shore a few days later, confirming the loss of one of the founders of the firm that built the lighthouses, but the wreck wouldn’t be found for 47 years. Aboard the restored James Craig, 1874, we learn that a swinging motion helps people sleep, and I’m sure the captain’s bath was beneficial too. Before we enter the hatch of the Oberon-class submarine HMAS Onslow, we get to see an altered/redadacted film about its time in the 1970s.
view from Pyrmont Bridge
We missed some of the information sitting beside a loud and inquisitive child, while the mom and son next to me whispered without disruption. I moved us to the other side of the theater before leaving altogether. The submarine reminded me of being on a ship, but one that has been squeezed tightly as every surface has a purpose. Through the periscope, we are able to see the Sydney Tower. I could spend a night onboard, but I can’t imagine not seeing the sun or feeling its UV rays for weeks. The last vessel to explore outside is the Daring-class destroyer HMAS Vampire (D11).
aboard James Craigcaptain’s bath
I got to see inside a gun turret and read a posted notice: “Remember, … the more violent your method, the better chance you have of saving the other man’s life…” They still have a Hoovermatic Deluxe, one of the first few companies to create a washer-dryer combo in the 1950s. I have a peach kombucha and passionfruit muffin, and Caleb has a carbonated beverage with carbs while we wait on our large mochas so that we have the energy to explore the inside of the museum. We start with the Treasures of the Viking Age: The Galloway Hoard exhibit.
HMAS Onslowescape hatch
There are over one hundred tiny items on display, so having them enlarged on screens makes it easier to see their details, after being buried in Scotland for over one thousand years. There are Irish glass beads, a stone that rattles, and a British-made bead made prior to 821 CE. I enjoy learning about history, but I am thoroughly delighted to learn more about the present, hence the anatomy classes in school and the Ultimate Depth exhibit at this museum. We get to learn about the exploration of the five primary layers of the world’s oceans.
workcenter on HMAS Vampire (D11)
The midnight zone, 1000 to 4000 meters below the surface, is one of the largest habitats that scientists know very little about. They have sent deep-tow cameras along with CTD (conductivity, temperature, depth) sensors to measure and record life. The hadal zone, everything beyond 6000 meters (3.73 miles), has only been visited by 27 people (who have returned) via three unique submersible vessels. Less than a quarter of Australia’s marine estate, some 14 million km², has been mapped in detail, and less than 10% of its creatures identified.
We drop our museum access wristbands into a bin to be composted on our way out. We cross the Pyrmont Bridge and admire the neatness of bedding and belongings seen against shop windows (and other places around the city) awaiting their owner’s return. We take the light rail to Circular Quay and walk to the Fortune of War, Sydney’s oldest pub, to have a drink. I order a palm tree passion as rum and passion fruit are popular here, and then we stay for dinner after meeting a director of niche fame known for her equestrian advocacy, visiting Australia in the new wave of the decades-long debate over culling brumbies (feral horses introduced in 1788).
She’s with her husband of 14 years and thinks that we’re too young to have celebrated our 18th year of marriage four months ago. I thought that was sweet, but even more so when I found out (later online) she’s a few months younger than me. There are still tents being taken down from the Bastille Festival (a four-day annual event) that focuses on French culture while allowing others to participate (so Sydney-like). This is our latest night out yet, but there’s no photo proof of our walk back to the room under the waxing crescent moonlight.
The good thing about being up before the sun is the ability to watch it light up the sky and transform the landscape. I’m not sure there was a temperature difference between walking to Mrs Macquarie’s Chair and leaving the view of the Opera House behind, but we came prepared for winter weather (54°F) in the southern hemisphere. I’ve got a long-sleeved wool shirt on under my blood donor top (more on that later).
We’re up at 230am, yay for jet lag, and ready to take on the day, even though nothing (that we can find besides the gas station) opens before 7am. Caleb brings me coffee, and we stop by the mini-market, since it’s on the way, and I’m saddened by the donut display. Perhaps I should have tried one for journalistic purposes, but I forwent that to be on the water’s edge along with a plethora of runners and three photographers.
sulphur-crested cockatoos
The birds are loud, especially when closer to brighter street lights. There are a few homeless people who seem dressed for warmth, and even more women running alone (something that makes me feel safer), though I wouldn’t have gone out alone in the dark in a new neighborhood or country. There are some steps carved into rocks that lead to a place to sit. It feels magical, but Caleb points out that it doesn’t face the sun.
penny peach jump up pansybread palms
I might be hungry, but I’m also on vacation, so I’m more tolerant of discomfort. Caleb knows this and leads us on a different route through the Royal Botanic Garden, so we can watch the sulphur-crested cockatoos start their day and then cross the highway via a pedestrian bridge to get breakfast that is now being served. Of course, I grab the Vegemite, even if I don’t toast the bread hard enough, and try it alone before adding butter.
The combination is delicious, but I won’t be ordering any back home (as there’s still plenty of peanut butter). Full, but wanting to eat more toast, I tell Caleb it’s time to go. We pass a very accessible toilet stall (if you can find it), and I’m impressed with all the buttons (to open the door, dispense toilet paper, and the two flush options), and it’s free. St Mary’s Cathedral opens the earliest, so we walk that way, passing many running groups.
St Mary’s Cathedral
I’m not sure if I’m more excited because I’m somewhere new or because I don’t see those groups living in a retirement community in a humid environment, “with air you can wear!” The church doesn’t have a service for a while, but I feel like we’re encroaching on people sitting on benches. We have a look around, at the longest church in Australia (351 feet), but more like searching for something quickly before getting caught. We can come back, as the outside is stunning too, and doesn’t have constraints.
We wander into Hyde Park looking for a place to rest our butts, as we have already covered five miles of exploration. Caleb forgot he was on vacation as well, and there are too many things vying for our attention: the little girl splashing in the fountain, the man playing saxophone, and the dog with his blue coat unleashed (common here). There is a statue at the edge of the park, and instead of tearing down the ol’ governor, there is a sign informing passersby of his crimes.
Archibald Memorial Fountain, 1932
The cafe at the library opens a half hour before the rest of the building. This allows us to use the loo and learn that almost 26% of Sydney is covered by trees. That’s impressive. We wait in the queue outside to visit the Australian Museum, where the permanent exhibits are free, so they have a person at a kiosk for that exhibit who can provide ticketed entry without blocking the main entrance. There is so much to see and learn here.
view from Australian Museum
Mostly what catches my eye are shells (collected for food, jewelry, toys, and science), ceremonial masks, commemorative figures, and the celebration of 100 people (architect, doctor, professor, farmer, minister, etc.) contributing to their present issues against the barriers of -isms, laws, and current beliefs, and improving the future for humanity, or at least the locals in the outback.
Javanese shadow pupetCanadian Raven head mask
Even the gem exhibit takes the opportunity to teach about recycling, because we need these materials to engage with the environment on a friendlier level (within our society’s wants), but we don’t need to totally destroy the planet to do so. There are also the skeletons and taxidermied animals from around the world. We don’t stay long with the dinosaurs, as that’s where the children were concentrated.
body masks from Papua New Guinea
After a few hours, we go to the top floor to peek at the outside view, among the diners, before setting off to learn more at the Hyde Park Barracks about the cruelties that humans inflict on each other, whether for conquering land, enforcing religion, or literally shipping convicts to another continent, where they can suffer a multitude of new pains (floggings, heavy chains, rats) as someone else’s problem.
The St James Church across the street was meant to be a courthouse but was converted and constructed with convict labor between 1820 and 1824. After a hard day’s work, these crews slept cramped in hammocks, with some on the floor, but all with the hungry vermin that visited nightly. In the gift shop, the woman notices my shirt, and though she’s grateful for the socks and blankets that she gets for donating blood, she wouldn’t mind sporting a cool top.
St James Church
We get lost in the Westfield Sydney Mall (that consists of six floors and could fit nearly 13 soccer fields inside), finding Morris and Sons, a yarn store with wool from Australia, Ireland, Uruguay, and Japan. We’re not back in the room long before it’s time to look for food, past the two dead rats in the street, to try Tiger Pie (minced beef topped with mashed potatoes, mushy peas, and gravy) from Harry’s Café de Wheels (because city council regulations required food vans to move at least 12 inches every day).
This late-night food option cart started serving pies in 1936 to sailors and dockworkers, and reopened in 1945, on the wharf, after Harry was wounded and discharged from the AIF (a volunteer force). The original cart is preserved in the Powerhouse Museum, and though no famous singers join us for a pre-dinner snack, a guy is singing along with his boombox while other diners keep an eye on the hungry crew of birds. The Finger Wharf is the longest timber-piled wharf in the world, completed in 1915.
inside St James Church
This being our first time on this side of the equator together, we celebrate by dining at the same place twice (not something done while traveling), but we’re too exhausted and don’t ever preplan meals, so back at the Woolly Bay Hotel we get the fried wings again, and try the grilled miso eggplant (that Caleb thinks is okra), and the tomato gnocchi. We lasted a few more hours than yesterday. That’s progress.
I had practiced for this trip with a flight to Japan (roughly over 5,000 miles) being the longest distance covered between stops, as I’ve been to Guam (the farthest place from home at the time). I paid for the liveaboard (a boat with beds, snacks, and diving) so that passengers can stay on a reef or near other sites without worrying about land, for a week!
Caleb with our dive gear
I planned a few days in Sydney before we fly up to Cairns, so that we could adjust our sleep schedule to accommodate up to four dives a day, with the possibility of a night dive or two. We booked a room and forwent the rental car, even though pushing through a road trip sounded enticing (we can do that next time). I found numerous national parks within a three-hour drive of the city.
St Mary’s Cathedral, Sydney
We had an evening flight out on Thursday, and had planned to arrive at the airport four hours before (the earliest the airline will accept checked bags for an international flight) and take advantage of the lounge (that doesn’t exist). Our Uber driver kept us entertained, talking about his leaky boat and the health issues he’s overcome at 70. We visited the USO for half an hour instead.
After security, dinner. Our flight is delayed by half an hour. Our 90-year-old neighbor’s son, both of whom we’ve never met, came to our door looking to borrow ketchup. I’m not sure who sent them, but they don’t know us that well. If you need ingredients from us, they shall pertain to baking, peanut butter, or spices. We’re not as saucy as we used to be.
Finger Wharf, Woolloomooloo
When we arrive in San Francisco, I’m getting alerts that our flight to Sydney is boarding. The internet says that if 20 people on the same plane are late, then the airline can wait for up to 15 minutes. We’re on the back of the plane, and the airport map says it’s 28 minutes between gates. I thought the crew would make an announcement, but when they didn’t, I did. Another passenger also asked people to be nice and get out of our way.
Art Gallery of NSW
I wasn’t the only one running through the airport to catch this flight, unconcerned with whether our bags would make it. I almost took out a kid, and the mom scolded him for being in our way. I arrive at the gate, panting and reaching for our passports, which we didn’t need as the machine can just verify with a picture of our faces. I would’ve been fine with this scenario had we taken off immediately.
Betungi, 2026
The plane looks like we could get upgraded to First Class or stretch out in the rows in economy, but that’s only because this is a full flight, one that will wait over 80 minutes after the scheduled departure time to ensure all passengers are onboard, as there’s a standby list as well. We will sit next to an active duty Army guy who plans on retiring in two years and finishing up 35 years of service.
Yirawala, 1970Boxer Milner Tjampitjin, 1998
I read, and Caleb knits between meals, and we struggle to sleep, as usual. The kid behind us is starving but also complaining loudly about how disgusting everything is (without trying it first). I was grateful they slept through most of the flight. We declare our dive knives through customs and enjoy the train ride, talking with locals, into the city of Sydney. Caleb takes us on a scenic route to the hotel.
Trevor Nickolls, 1982
The 50-pound bags rolling over uneven sidewalks are so much fun, but at least I didn’t heft them up the stairs out of the train station with a lift nearby. Caleb notices how green their capital is, and that’s from the city planting trees and the neighbors’ gardens, with the friendly residents who acknowledge us as we pass by. The hotel manager wins the best check-in.
We had been soaking wet, dripping all over the lobby in the Midwest, and had to wait for the hotel’s restaurant to open to find some relief. This guy offers us coffee and breakfast upstairs, while giving us a queen bed (twin mattresses together), and then the keys hours early so we can shower, put our feet up to reduce the swelling, and enjoy the afternoon.
Billy Bain’s “By The River”
We start with a walk by the base, as Caleb is hoping I can see the same view he was afforded here years ago, when he still worked. Then we visit the Art Gallery of NSW (New South Wales) with free access to the permanent exhibits. We are escorted to the man giving his 45-minute tour to one woman, and I last only a few minutes before I wander off. We can return when I’m not worried about passing out while not being able to pay attention.
Caleb thought lunch on the water would be nice, but the meal for two, starting at $100+, along with the fine dining aesthetic, is enough for us to settle for a table across the street, with the water still in view, at the Woolly Bay Hotel. We order a few things from the tasting menu, and I’m delighted with the burrata surrounded by peas and stone fruit. Sodas are listed as post-mix. I get a lemon-lime bitters (a carbonated lemonade).
Royal Botanic Garden
Being so close to the Royal Botanic Garden, we walk there next. Here, the locals refer to their white ibis as (trash) bin chickens. Lots of bees, some blooming flowers, and fun birds, like the noisy miner near a man without shoes and his pile of bananas. There’s a beautiful public fountain with drinking spots for people and baths for those with wings: rainbow lorikeet, Australian magpie, and sulphur-crested cockatoo.
noisy minerwhite ibismagpie
Mentally, I want to watch the sunset at the Opera House, but physically, we were exhausted before we got off the plane. We’ve got stairs and streets to maneuver back to the room with an adorable balcony and a warm bed waiting. I climb in.
TheJessicaness 