Parsons Bay

Where Next?
Bob Williams
Wed 17 Jan 2024 05:30

Position: 43 06.14 S 147 44.34 E
Moored off Nubeena, Parsons Bay
Wind: NE, F4-5
Sea: calm Swell: nil
Weather: rain, cool
Day's Run: 2.5 nm

This morning, after an early morning dip and breakfast, we let go the mooring off White Beach and motored past some large fish farms, two and a half miles into Parsons Bay to pick up another public mooring off the township of Nubeena. I wondered whether the mooring would be free or whether we would have to go to anchor, but as we approached the spot where the mooring was supposed to be I was delighted to see a large orange buoy, the same shape as the one I had just left.

I picked it up with minimal difficulty despite the windy conditions but was disappointed to see that the mooring was marked private, owned by the Derwent Sailing Squadron. Looking a short distance to the north I could see that the public mooring I had been aiming for was in fact occupied by a rather solid looking green-hulled cruising boat that gave the impression of having been there for sometime. I procrastinated, wondering what to do. In the end my conscience got the better of me and I rang the number on the buoy to see if the Derwent Sailing Squadron would mind me using their buoy for one night. My request made it to the general manager but the relayed reply was a firm no, which brought to mind the adage "if you don't want to be told no, don't ask".

Now a further and arguably more stark moral dilemma to consider. It is a bleak grey rainy day. What is the likelihood of a DSS member wanting to use the mooring, I ask myself, and answer, very near zero. My intention was to paddle ashore and buy a few extra supplies, in particular more cat food, as I cannot afford to have Oli, the celebrity cat, go hungry if we ended up having to shelter in some remote location for an extended period of time due to inclement weather.

So here we still are, and as the day grows longer and bleaker, the likelihood of a red-faced DSS sailor shouting across the grey water, demanding that I leave the mooring at once, seems ever more remote.

All is well (so far).