Splish Splash

Last week Sydney got hit with massive south-east swell with high winds and pelting rains which made the commute to work more like a thrill ride on the high seas. The ferry captain, when passing by the harbour heads, steers the ferry into the incoming waves, out towards the open ocean, makes a quick crossing across the gap while the waves hit broadside and then turns the ship in again to ride the crests back in towards the city. As the ferry plows through the waves, it hits the troughs of the swell and massive amounts of spray cover the deck. The boat shudders when it lands at the bottom of these troughs, and creaks and leans.

During the day it is all very exciting and thrilling and some foolhardy individuals like to go out on the foredeck, watching the swell and pretending they are pirate captains of yore, on the way to plunder and pillage some unsuspecting village. A few men (of course they were men) went out on the deck last week, feeling quite macho, when a giant plume of spray rose up and soaked them all, causing the rest of the ferry to laugh at them. This video is from that morning, although you can't see the men all huddled in the doorway.

During the night however, the crossing feels dangerous and eerie. The night before I took this video I came home in a wild swell. Dense cloud cover meant the night was utterly black by five-thirty. On the ferry, the door to the foredeck was banging open, and there was just enough light to see massive waves, not plumes of spray but white walls of water smashing across the deck. The passengers were strangely quiet, as though listening for the next big one. We landed at the bottom of a deep trough with a giant shudder and the boat began to lean very far to the side, causing people to gasp and shout. And these people are Aussies, remember, they don't gasp easily. The girl next to me sputtered out that she'd never been on a ferry ride this bad in her life. Faces were grim. The possibility of capsizing crossed more than a few minds. Her and I held on tight to our seats, otherwise we'd have been thrown across the floor. There were nervous smiles exchanged. I began to realize what it feels like to be stuck at sea in a storm and how difficult it was to get to Australia when ships were the only option. And then it was over. Once we passed the headland, the rolling eased and our hands began to unclench. We arrived at Manly as though nothing much had happened, but I had to wait a bit of time for my stomach to catch up.