The whole reason I went to Tassie last weekend was because my friend bought a boat and has been absolutely dying to show me. She's been dreaming about it for years, and with the sale of the land they'd leased next to the meditation centre they'd been attached to for years, they could jsut afford it - a little 38 foot motor sailer, made of huon pine and with some history to tell.

It definitely wasn't one of those glossy, sun-bleached brochure boats. This one’s a bit tired, and needs some TLC, but you get what you get for your pennies, and for Tam, it's a stepping stone to a bigger boat, maybe, if she gets an inheritance.

^{The boat needed painting and recaulking and sanding etc.}

They scraped the money together for it. Properly scraped. But it's seaworthy. Her husband used to be a skipper over in NZ running ferries, so he's capable and knows how to sail.

It floats. And it’s theirs.

^{Sausage dog transportation to the marina}

In summer, they’ve already had it out—around Bruny Island and down along the southern parts where the coves are quiet and you can pull in and be on your own in these incredible calm and turquoise waters - the kind of places where you can jump overboard and paddle over to a surfbreak or just chill and watch the water slap against the boat, and knit, which she is more than happy to do.

^{Her bed is tiny!}

^{Kitchen area looking toward the wheelhouse.}

There’s also a sauna boat tied up not far away. Proper wood-fired thing on a pontoon. You sit in the heat and then jump straight into the water for a icey contrast - brr. It actually features on Tassie tourism ads. They must rake in the cash for that one.

^{Her favourite part - the sunny wheelhouse.}

Tam is so, so thrilled with her little boat, like over the moon in the same way I'm over excited about my new little house, so it felt important to make a fuss.

Truth is, I wasn’t that keen. I don’t really like boats. I tried to convince myself I would, but being on it made me restless - even if I've lived, like her, in buses and trucks and caravans and cars. I like being onland, thanks very much. But I don't exactly say that to her - it's her story, not mine.

It’s was even smaller inside than I expected and I could feel that tight, boxed-in feeling pretty quickly. I was already thinking about getting back onto land and couldnt' wait to leave, but reined it in for her sake.

She loves it so much. She could sit there for hours just looking out at the water and be completely content, maybe going for a kayak or just listening to the halliards slapping in the wind or watch seals and seagulls and passing boats. I'd get bored I think.

Still, we’ve landed in a similar place in life. We are silly happy for each other. We’ve known each other since we were eleven. Both lost our dads in the last couple of years. Both in our mid-fifties. And somehow we’re probably happier now than we’ve ever been - and happy for each other, for moving as close to the sea as we could possibly get, her actually on it!

She knows I’d never live on a boat, but I do get it. Completely. I'll just be happier when she buys a bigger one, that I can actually stay on, and maybe appreciate it more than way.

With Love,

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