Bass Strait

Three months on a jack up barge towed from Singapore in the choppy seas of Bass Strait.

To lay oil pipes to the ends of the earth Tasmania.

In the galley of the barge I worked twelve on twelve off, sleep, work, sleep. At night as the stinger at the stern beat out a metallic rhythm feeding pipe to the sea floor, I walked the yellow line up top as riggers went about their tasks.

Choppered in and choppered out I was a farm boy out on the briny sea.

Finally I was choppered to Essendon Airport to take a tram home after all that time.

Tram, taxi, and by foot I walked up the long driveway to my family triumphant at the job done.

Three months at sea and finally home.