Mocktails* (Melbourne Frocktails)

*Do not fear.  Alcohol was indeed imbibed at this event.

The Melbourne Frocktails event – Mocktails – went off with lots of sparkle** and laughter at Brunswick Mess Hall on Saturday night just past.  

** Actually, all the sparkle was courtesy of Lara.

All up, there were 17 attendees.  I had a large post-it note to do a roll-call*, but I handed that over to our waitress, Rosie, because I had also written dietary requirements upon it!  So, no roll-call.  (*not really; but I did need reminding of who was coming, in case anyone got lost.  I’m a bit of a mother hen. No one got lost.  I handed over my post-it note with nary a thought.)  We had a few drop-outs for various very understandable reasons, and missed those who could not make it – next time! There will be multiple next times!  

It is such a lot of fun to meet with like-minded folks and talk a wee bit of sewing, a wee bit travel, some politics (that happens if you ask me certain questions) and lots of tales of sewing mishaps (also, yeah, maybe just me).  Obviously I can only report on the conversations that I was party to, though clearly everyone was having a great time because I attempted to move about and join other conversations but found many already in full flow, so I slunk off until there was a conversation I could interrupt with tales of pinning my partner into his Jedediah trousers.  Hilarity all round.

I find utterly fascinating and heartwarming that we all get along so enthusiastically, united by this ostensibly solo hobby of ours.  And it never fails to delight me when we turn up our hems for each other.  
Brunswick Mess Hall did a sterling job, including having a big picture of a puffin up, just for me (this last might or might not be true).  My only criticism of BMH was that it was too noisy for conversation.  That is why my idea for a future event is a picnic.  Also, I am pathetic and getting home at midnight is much too late for me.  

Everyone looked, unsurprisinly, utterly fabulous.  Fabulous enough to elicit quite a few unsolicitations.  The BMH staff, in particular, really wanted to know who we all were and why we all looked so great. (“Just because we’re fabulous, darling,” seemed to be an insufficiently informative response.  I love channelling Patsy, although I am Patsy’s diametric opposite.)  

There was a wee bit of that favourite game of seamstresses everywhere – Spot the Pattern!

Here’s who attended and what we all wore (I’ll update with links to blog posts as they come in, if they come in.  No blogging pressure being applied here.)  I did not take any decent photos to speak of.  Because, you know, that’s not the point.

Abby wore Simplicity 2444 made up in stunning floral fabric with carnations, geraniums and bell-flowers (I love playing Spot Whether the Flower was Accurately Drawn on the Fabric game. I’ve accumulated many points.)  

Alison wore a dramatic, floor sweeping Mission Maxi (I think! Correct me if I’m wrong!)

Belle was stunning in a gorgeous Sew Liberated Clara dress

Carita astounded us with her red wool Anna, although no thigh high split shenanigans occurred…

Claire was also in an Anna, but not in red wool.  I must admit to being unsure of the colour (I blame the lighting, Claire!)

Helen wore her Ballan Collection “Go Anywhere” dress –  It will go anywhere as long as that place is fabulous enough.  

Jackie dazzled in her licorice all sorts colourful stripey skirt.

Jenny snuck in wearing a collarless polka dotty Alder dress. 

Lara was sparkly!  I think if there were prizes, Lara should have won all of them.  Especially when the lights went down.  I could still read my menu as I was sitting beside Lara.

Laura in a sweet cherry Cambie with matching cherry brooch.  

Liz was another Franken-patterned in her Emery / Elisalex hybrid. 

Nee wore a lovely & beautifully fitted Flora

Nichola joined the fancy knit dress crew in a royally purple Moneta. 

Renee shone in geometric voile Staple dress. 

Ros joined us landlocked lubbers in arrrr Pirate Washi dress me hearties. 

Sasky wore something very sassy indeed.  I don’t have the spunk to describe it with words. 

 And I, despite threats of Hudson pants, wore my red knit pattern smooshed Renfrew Day to Skate-done Night dress.

It appears that By Hand London have won this round of “What did the Seamstresses Wear?” and that the Indies still have it over the Big 3/4/5.  We shall see how it pans out at the next meet up.

{Life is always a game and/or a competition.  Everyone’s a winner.  That’s the truth.}

Trouser Saga

Oh the vexed matter of making one’s own trousers (or pants.  tee hee.)

Although I had wanted to sew clothes for a while, Sewaholic’s Thurlow trousers is what inspired me to properly commit to garment sewing.  I very much have a uniform: trousers and a shirt.  If it’s a workday, a button-up shirt; if it’s non-work, a t-shirt, and the trousers are more likely to be jeans.  I even have a particular style of trousers and jeans that I’ve worn since becoming an adult and which the vagaries of fashion have not moved me from.  Roughly straight legged, mid-rise, slash pockets.  There was a time in the late 90s, when trousers were cut exactly as I liked them.  Alas, that time is past.  I of course wear leggings for legging-relevant activities, and trackie-daks for trackie-dak related activities (like going to the shops in the middle of the night for ice-cream).  But even my preferred hiking trousers fit exactly this mold.

I have occasionally tried to branch out and wear other styles of trousers: higher-waisted, wider legged, harem (lordy, what was I thinking?) and fisherman (dear god why?). Those trousers invariably hung in my wardrobe watching their straight legged, mid-rise counterparts get worn to such an extent that they become threadbare and the knees permanently bag out.   

The Thurlows look exactly like the trouser I have always worn.

I made Thurlow shorts a long, long time ago.  I did a bunch of things wrong, but they were my practise pair, and I thought the fit was alright.  I recently (ish) made a muslin (!!) of the Thurlow trousers and they are huge on me.  Huge all round and especially huge in the derriere department (please read that with a terrible Pepe le Pew faux French accent).  I pinned out excess fabric and thought long and hard and researched longer and harder about the changes I would need to make to the pattern.  I had neglected to consider one key factor: Sewaholic does not design for me.  Tasia designs for the pear-shaped woman, and I am very happy she does. particularly as you with booty who have sewn her patterns appear to think that she does a sterling job.  I love the Alma.  The Cambie is also very sweet.  I am not a pear-shaped woman (mouthy stick with shoulders, remember?) and I decided maybe I needed to find another pattern.

There is no one, that I’m aware of, designing for a mouthy stick with shoulders, but that’s okay.  I’ll just try me some other patterns until something works.  I thought it might be easier to modify a different pattern, rather than work on the Thurlows.  But I do rather like the Thurlows so maybe one day I will return to it when I have more fitting expertise.  My unfinished projects are never discarded.  They visit a lovely resting place until I’m ready for them again.

I put my Thurlow muslin on to take photos for the blogpost, and lo and behold: it is not as bad as I remember.  I can only think magic sewing elves fixed it for me while it hung on my WIP rack.

There is someone designing for the petite woman, and she has designed a pair of trousers that look about right, but I have two issues: (1) I really don’t like the brand name and (2) though I’m short, I’m not sure I actually qualify as petite.  Petite is 5’4″ and under.  I’m just on that, but I’ve never really found RTW petite clothing fits me, so maybe I am proportioned averagely rather than petite-ly?  I’ll keep an eye on the patterns, but I just don’t feel persuaded enough to overcome my dislike of the brand name to purchase a pattern.  

Style Arc has a bunch of patterns that I’ve “pinned” (which being also a sewing term is practically like making them, right?) and I even bought the Audrey trousers, which came with a pair of free Lola trousers.  I’ve made the Lola but I did not like it.  Because it was not a pair of mid-rise, straight-legged trousers!  (I’m really an idiot, sometimes.)  And actually, the Lola trouser is a woven version of True Bias’ Hudson Pants (tee hee), which I have made three times and liked *a lot* but the Hudsons make no pretense of being anything other than fancy trackie-daks.  Woven trackie-daks? Not for me. I just cannot think of any occasion when I would wear them.  If it’s casual, I may as well wear trackie-daks.  If I want to look nice, well, I would not be wearing trackie-daks.  See?

I’ve settled on my next trouser pattern: the Sew Loft Emma pants (tee hee. Oh, you northern Americans.)  They’re like a skinnified Thurlow.

Muslin sewing is fast, though muslin photos are always terrible.  The Emma pants are pretty good! I was right (how gratifying). 

Sew Loft is a new to me pattern company, and I’m keen on these trousers and the Harper blouse, although I feel like a stranger to myself when I want to wear a sleeveless top.  The PDFs are well designed and not at all wasteful of paper or annoying to piece together.  I haven’t sewn anything yet, so I cannot say (nor am I particularly knowledgeable on the matter) whether the patterns are well drafted.

Finally, in my Epic Trouser Saga, I’ve signed on for a sewing class with Thread Den, here in Melbourne.  The class is called “Perfect Pants Pattern” (please interject tee hee in the correct place if you too are juvenile).  That’s a big call, no? We shall see, we shall see.  I’m fairly confident of my sewing (and unpicking and sewing again) skills, but I just feel all flummoxed when it comes to fitting.  I haven’t had any major issues so far: take in a bit here; let out a bit there, lengthen, or shorten and we’re done. And usually it is only one issue on a pattern.  But trousers have a whole lot of cascading issues and I think I need someone to hold my hand, and provide me lots of fortifying chocolate.

Wish me luck, and keep a beady eye on your feed readers for the next installment of Oanh’s Trouser Saga!  Coming probably not very soon to an internet near you!

To the Lighthouse!

This isn’t the first time we’ve slept in lighthouse-based accommodation, nor is it the first time we’ve used this title.  It’s too perfect a title not to rehash, and I’m allowed to plagiarise myself, surely?

Since arriving back in Australia, we have neglected Our Blog.  It’s possible that, in the same way that we have photography exhaustion, we both have blog exhaustion post the mammoth effort that was the Bike Tour Blog.  I still have the blogging bug, but I’ve never been a good ‘reporter’.  I just write whenever I feel like it, about whatever I feel like.  And I feel like writing about our various trips; well, okay, this one in particular and maybe I’ll write up a few others.  My family think I am on a perpetual holiday, so I may as well start that mis-belief with my blog audience.

You know I do not lie when I say we are The Outdoors Type? Since moving to Melbourne, pretty much everyone who finds out we are The Outdoors Type tells us we have to go to Wilsons Prom.  In almost the very next breath, they then tell us how terribly crowded it gets.  Crowds is emphatically not why we go to The Outdoors.  

I had been to Wilsons Prom once, a long time ago.  I remember two things clearly from that trip (I was a teenager, so forgive me): (1) There was lots of rubbish on the short walking trail we did and it made me really mad, and (2) March flies ate me alive.  Literally.  Small chunks of flesh were missing from my lower calf and blood poured down my legs until I could bear it no more, I asked my brother for his car keys, ran back to the car and sat in there until everyone else came back from the walk.  No one else got devoured like I did.  Not. Fair.

So, we decided we should visit Wilson’s Promontory National Park (that’s it’s proper name but we all call it Wilson’s Prom, or even just The Prom, because, you know, too many syllables) and we decided winter would be a smashing time to do so, hoping that there would be no crowds.  As it would, after all, be winter, we decided we would not hike and camp but would stay in accommodation with fancy things like a roof and walls.  We picked a weekend from the calendar and then tried to book accommodation.  We failed.  I won’t go into the boring details, suffice to say, we considered giving up and going to somewhere warm instead.  Then we booked a trip to Tasmania (yeah, we get confused), then I remembered that Wilson’s Prom has a lighthouse That You Can Stay At.

We booked two nights accommodation at the lighthouse.  Unlike Portland, Dorset, UK, you don’t get to stay inside the actual lighthouse, but you do get to stay in the lighthouse keepers’ cottages (there are multiple).  It is up to you whether you pretend you are a lighthouse keeper for the weekend.  You might be able to guess what I did.

Here is some information from Parks Victoria about the lighthouse.

Here is some more information from someone who went there (quite detailed and very helpful).

Here is my summary of the information, in case you want to go there as well:

- Be aware you have to hike into the lighthouse.  It is at least a 19km walk if you take the shortest route – the Telegraph Track.  The shortest walk is a perfectly fine walk, but if you want a scenic walk, it will be more like 23++kms.  I will tell you about our walk shortly.  You have to carry all your food for your stay.  The walk is undulating, with some steep sections and one very steep section at the very end when you are so close to the lighthouse that it seems unfair.  

What you need to take with you

– Food 

– Clothes

– Towel

– Toiletries

– Sleeping bag (although you can choose to hire doonas if you do not wish to carry or do not own a sleeping bag but if you take the doona option, you still need sheets or a sleeping sack.  If you’ve ever stayed in a backpackers, you will know what it is you need sleeping wise)

– Things you would usually take on a long daywalk e.g. first aid kit, torch (just in case), wet weather gear, enough water for the walk.  Honestly, if I need to tell you what to take on a daywalk, perhaps this accommodation is not for you.  Or go with someone who knows.  

What the accommodation has

– pillows!

– cooking equipment: stove, microwave, oven, pots, pans, crockery & cutlery.  They have a plunger (french press), folks.  All good.

– a fridge

– drinking water 

– lovely sitting rooms with views

– wombats

Our original plan was to leave Melbourne on the Friday and find some accommodation like a motel or a caravan park cabin, so that we could start our hike out to the lighthouse early Saturday morning.  Google Maps told us that it was a 3.5 hour drive.  Friday was miserable, wet and cold, and we were lazy.  We decided instead to set off from Melbourne at a hideously uncivilised hour on Saturday morning.  It was a good plan except I failed to turn the alarm on, despite setting the uncivilised time.  Nic woke at 7am with sunlight edging in around our curtains and said, “Oanh! It’s 7am!”  We scoffed breakfast, packed the car and ske-daddled down to Wilsons Prom as quickly as the speed limit would allow us.

We paused in Fish Creek – a little township near the Prom – for coffee at the excellent and very friendly 9 Acres coffee shop.  And we bought some ground coffee because I forgot to pack it.  (Sense a theme?)  Fish Creek is pretty much your last stop for provisions should you have forgotten anything, and its stores (we visited the cafe and I visited the petrol station/roadhouse) seem sufficiently well stocked.  The 9 Acres coffee shop had delicious looking freshly baked sourdough, and we (mildly) regretted packing our own two loaves from Melbourne.

Finally at the visitor centre at Tidal River at 11am, our hike was only briefly delayed by technology: we had booked under the old system (phoning someone) and they had since changed to an online system, and our booking could not be found.  The person checking us in was a little bit worried about the time we were setting off; we blithely reassured her that we were fit walkers, though I admit to being worried myself.  

Despite not actually starting the walk until 11.30am, we decided against the most direct route because it was along a vehicle track, which makes for hideously boring walking (not that we’d done it; just surmising).  Instead, we chose to walk along Oberon Bay, and reassess our options when we reached the vehicle track.

The walk along Oberon Bay was gorgeous.  It undulates.  It mostly hugs the coast and you get magnificent views.  You also get a patch walking along two beaches, and there is a short creek crossing, where your feet will get wet.  I personally really dislike water crossings but I’m getting much better at them.  Basically, you just have to accept that you will get wet; don’t mince about and just go (i.e HTFU).  If the weather’s alright and not too cold*, and the water might go above your ankles, you may as well take your shoes and socks off, because walking with wet socks is no fun.

(*which, let’s be honest here, it’s Australia.  It is highly unlikely to ever be too cold.)

Oberon Bay

Time to take off those shoes and socks.

After we left Oberon Bay, we headed inland towards the vehicle track (known as Telegraph Track).  At Oberon Bay campsite, we had our first close encounter with a wombat.  I love wombats.  They just seem the most ridiculous creature.  They’re large and quite round, they have massive claws and they’re vegetarian.  Also, their poo is square.  I’ve only ever seen wombats at dusk, disappearing into the undergrowth, so seeing one in broad daylight that was more interested in chewing grass than bounding away from me felt pretty special.  We watched for a while, and then we continued walking.  (Weekend wombat count: 3. As we saw two by the side of the road when driving in.)

As we reached the Telegraph Track around 2pm and we still had another 13kms to go, we decided to just follow the vehicle track all the way to the lighthouse.  There are options to take a walking track at various parts, and to detour out to the sourthernmost point of Australia’s mainland, imaginatively called South Point.  We figured we’d do them on the way back.

No bones about it, it was a hard slog.  Harder than any walking I can recall doing but predominantly because we were not stopping to rest as often or for as long as I probably needed, and I was worried about getting to the lighthouse in the dark, and I was worried about the reported steep last patch.  It is a beautiful walk, through varying Australian coastal scrub and eucalypt forests, with patches of wetter forest and ferns.

There are plenty of track markers giving distances and times.  This was the first time on a walk that I did mental mathematical exercises, which were a regular part of our rides during our bike tour.  I worked out what pace we had been doing, and what pace we needed to still be doing in order to make it to the lighthouse before dark.  I am notorious for freaking out about it getting dark, to which my partner usually says, “Oanh, take your sunglasses off,” and then all is well and the light is much brighter than I had realised.  Also, I tend to conservatively estimate my abilities, and occasionally remind myself, If Nic thinks I can do it, I can do it.  However, on this walk, I learned that Nic views me as the voice of reason of what our capabilities are.  I’m sure this means we strike a balance, because nothing has ever gone as disastrously wrong as I’m capable of imagining… (I’m a fan of survivor stories, so I’m very good at imagining disasters.)

Near dusk, we approached the lighthouse.  The notoriously steep bit?  It deserves its notoriety. Even if you were not tackling it after 20kms in a mere 5 hours, it would be considered steep.  I’m not good at gradients, but there are two patches of very ridiculously stupidly steep shortly before the lighthouse; each patch is about 200 – 300m long.  

The lighthouse. 

Lighthouse complex, from the top of the lighthouse. 

Compost bins with a view.  

I admit to being pretty excited that the lighthouse collected organic waste for composting.

We were warmly greeted by the park rangers and settled into our cottage quickly.  The complex has 3 cottages for accommodation.  One is the couples cottage, which (strangely enough) sleeps two.  The other two sleep groups.  We were staying in the smaller of the two cottages, which could sleep a total of 8.  The large cottage can sleep 12, I think (I kinda was not listening at that point of the tour…)  That evening, there were another pair and a group of 3 women.  The large cottage was apparently full as was the couples cottage, but we heard not a peep from them, nor did we even see anyone except for the others in our cottage and a mysterious pair who walked past our window in the morning.  

Nic defeated me in a game of Scrabble (curse him!) that evening as we waited for our dinner of lamb stew to cook.  Hot tip: don’t cook stew when you’re ravenous.  It takes forever.  It was rather delicious when we were finally able to consume it, and we had a strange instant ‘self-saucing chocolate cake’ for dessert (which may have tasted much better if, ooh, I’d remembered to pack butter …)

We had two nights accommodation booked at the lighthouse, which I highly recommend.  I mean, why trek out 20++kms, sleep, only to turn around and do it all again the following day when you can instead, laze about the lighthouse complex, take a leisurely tour of the lighthouse complex, mooch about the lighthouse complex and go WOMBAT STALKING at the lighthouse complex.  

During the excellent and informative lighthouse tour (although I ended up being the girly swot who answered all the questions because I happen to be reading a novel – Between the Oceans – that involves lighthouse-living.  I’m often the girly swot on a tour.  Sorry.) we went to the top of the lighthouse and emerged to check out the view.  As soon as I stepped out I said, Wombat! because the sneaky creature had decided that it would meander along the main path while we were all on top of the lighthouse!  (Weekend Wombat Count: 4)

Later that afternoon (around dusk), we spotted more wombats, and I even had the chance to sit down and have a meal with one.  Well, s/he was munching on some grass, and I got real close (less than a metre away), and then just sat down to watch.  I video-d her/him and Instagrammed it, so get thee an Instagram account and check it out. (or, just follow this link.)  After a few more minutes, I kinda felt like I was intruding, so I left.  (Weekend Wombat Count: 7) But that would have been the highlight of my weekend except …

Later again that evening when we were out wandering around the lighthouse complex looking at the stars, we startled two wombats who gallumphed off in different directions: one away from us (tick) and another directly towards us (uh oh).  It charged us, and I’m still not sure if that was a very interesting form of self-preservation (attack being the best form of defence and all that) or if its senses just weren’t quite right.  We, being slow-witted creatures, did not get out of the way fast enough.  Good thing too because when it got quite near, it veered around us.  For an enormous thing, it has excellent maneuverability.  Also, we were kinda incapacitated by the giggles.  It really is hilarious to be charged by a wombat.  And that, my friends, is the highlight of my life. (Weekend Wombat Count: 9)

Wombat stalking at dusk.

We walked out via Little Waterloo Bay, crossing the peninsula’s isthmus and Telegraph Track to finish the hike by retracing our steps along Oberon Bay.  This was another gorgeous walk through a variety of landscapes, dropping in and out of coastal scrub and rainforest.

Looking back to the lighthouse, on our way to Waterloo Bay.

(Weekend Wombat Count: 16. 16 Wombats!  Also, 3 emus, 4 rabbits and a lot of wallabies)