The departure was re-scheduled at the last moment to leave a day early: yesterday. Expeditioners' flights and accommodation plans were changed accordingly. At 5 pm we all boarded the Aurora Australis and were given garlands and streamers by the crew. We threw the ends of the streamers down to our family and friends until the ship was linked to the wharf by a hundred colourful ribbons. The engines started, the ship moved away slowly, the streamers stretched taut and then broke, and we stood on the heledeck waving until we were well out into the mouth of the harbour. Someone was playing the bagpipes to send us off, and a helecopter and a plane came over and waggled and buzzed at us. That was it. We were on our way to a great adventure.

The Aurora Australis

The big goodbye. So we thought.

It took about five minutes for the mobile phones to start ringing. That was something I hadn't anticipated. Marty and Mum sent me a message. So we said goodbye all over again. It was a little awkward. A friend from uni sent me a few messages. I stood on the heledeck texting Marty. So much for the big dramatic final goodbye.

It is hard being an Antarctic expeditioner. Clare and Peter brave the inhospitable weather on the raging seas.

Then the ship started doing strange things. We turned back towards the wharf, then did a three-sixty, then did a figure eight, and then we stopped dead. We floated around for a bit. The engines re-started and the ship squiggled back towards the ocean, then did a loop-the-loop. Mum and Dad and Marty, who had raced to the top of Mt Wellington to see the ship disappearing over the horizon, called me on the mobile and asked why we were still buzzing around in the harbour like the captain was drunk. I told them what I'd heard - that they were testing out a new clutch and that there was nothing to worry about; we'd be on our way in a few minutes. In the meantime, we ate dinner - fresh oysters and mussels in shell, salmon, pasta and salads. People went up to the higher decks and tried out their new cameras. The sun went down slowly.

An announcement over the intercom: the ship's clutch is busted, and we're going back to Hobart. After some negotiations with Customs we were allowed off the ship at 10 pm, to be back by 2 a.m. in case things would be fixed by then. I met up with Mum and Dad and Marty again and had a late coffee and said a (much easier, this time) goodbye. Again. Somehow, some of the finality had been stripped away.

It's now midday on Thursday and the word is that we'll be sailing at 5 pm this afternoon. If we do - then there's no internet access (except for limited emailing) until we arrive in Antarctica (and where we're headed is hazy, too - perhaps Casey, perhaps Davis, perhaps Mawson - the schedule has been stuffed up by some fixed-wing CASA aircraft that aren't ready yet, leaving people stranded at various bases in Antarctica) so Slush may be dormant for a week or two.