A parting shot

Sunday, and my last morning in Sydney. After an exhausting battle to fit everything in my suitcase and a last glance around the hotel suite for lost socks, I turned my attention to the dilemma of how to spend my last two hours.

Working on the principle that I should do the things I have never done or am unlikely to do again, I bought a ticket to board the star vessels of the Australian National Maritime Museum. The great grey destroyer HMAS Vampire, in service from 1959 to 1986, already has the feel of a historic artefact with its huge Bakelite telephones and manual typewriters, the padded captain's chair (complete with ashtray) and the huge lightbox chart tables. The tiny kitchen, impossibly small to cater for the necessary crew for this size vessel, demonstrated all the essential for small space living but even this seemed vast in comparison to the facilities on the submarine HMAS Onslow which consists of one corridor with bunks and lockers either side, torpedoes at one end. periscopes in the middle and and an eating area at the other end.
I learnt that submariners offer themselves voluntarily for service below the waves and a full eight months of the preparatory training is devoted to the psychology of small space living. Although there are currently six Australian submarines there are only trained volunteer crew for four. Up to 90 people co-exist in this cramped space for many months at a time. I expected to feel claustrophobic, instead I felt cosy. But that was without another 90 people alongside me.

So it was relief that I climbed back into the sunshine to explore the replica of The Captain Cook's "Endeavour", a working duplicate that will soon be circumnavigating Australia with a lucky crew of hand-picked sailors who will pay for the pleasure. Surely there will be a TV reality show about the year together onboard such a magnificent magnificent sailing ship, but hopefully never from the unimaginable world within a submarine.