Yes, 'Ovens' is a strange name for a submarine

I've got to squeeze out a post now while I have a small window of opportunity. The Fella was away for work last night and will be back any minute to cajole me into watching the State of Origin with him on 4 hour delay. I figure it's imperative to get off the internet soon to avoid accidentally finding out the result, otherwise any shred of interest I have in the match (or in the sport for that matter) will be gone. To add to the misery, the Fella goes for Queensland, despite living in Sydney for all but 5 years of his life, which infuriates me every year. I was raised, like all good NSW residents, to loathe and abhor the Maroons. And I would probably indulge in some kind of mock rivalry over it if I could care, but this week's racism scandal has severely dented my sense of patriotism.

So, I really must tell you about our submarine tour. Last weekend was the Heritage Festival in Fremantle. We went to a vintage bicycle exhibition at the Fremantle Arts Centre (arriving by bike, of course). The Arts Centre is a really interesting place and I'm keen to go back when the free Sunday afternoon concerts start up again in warmer months. But, let's get to the submarine. It actually has nothing to go with the Heritage Festival, except that maybe we were thinking about, um, old stuff.


As I said very earnestly to the Fella that night, much to his amusement, "You know I really learnt a lot about submarines today." Not essential life skills perhaps, but interesting nonetheless. Those of you who already know a little too much about submarines (you know exactly who I'm talking about) can probably stop reading now.

 So, the submarine is at the Maritime Museum (though we skipped visiting the museum itself - all those ticket prices add up). It's called HMAS Ovens and is an Oberon class submarine - the model before the current disfunctional Collins class. I've just realised that you can take take a virtual tour here and learn even more than I did. But you won't risk hitting your head, so it's not nearly as fun. And I should warn you that my tour is going to be a lot less factual.

 The first thing yo.u realise when you get inside is how tiny it all is compared with how it looks from the outside. Most of it is taken up with tanks and batteries and machinery. It's all a perfect size for someone of my limited stature, but the Fella attracted a special "watch your head" warning from the guide before we started. I will try to cherish that experience the next time I'm unable to reach the top shelf of the kitchen cupboards.

The next thing I noticed is how familiar it all looked from the movies. It's all narrow corridors, ladders and round doors to crouch through.

There are teeny tiny bathrooms and bunkrooms, especially if you're not an officer and have to share with about a bajillion others (actually more like 55). So of course, the kitchen is also teeny tiny. I do not envy cooking in here.

Probably my favourite bit was all the dials, switches and pipes everywhere. Mostly they were fun because I didn't know what they were for and didn't need to.

The view towards that bit of the submarine that sticks up (fin? damn, I should have paid more attention). Look, I really did learn a lot, but it turns out you'll just have to take my word for it. And if you ever come to visit, you might be lucky enough to check it out for yourself.


We are planning our first trip to Margaret River in a bit over a week, so I look forward to reporting back about that. But I've got to get through the last week of term first. So folks, until sometime soon when I emerge from exam marking like a hoarder rescued from a collapsed pile of newspapers.