When I came over on the Spirit of Tasmania I noticed a few bikkies. But waiting in line for the Spirit of Tasmania to board, I noticed a lot more.

It wasn't until I was on board and could properly read the news on my phone that I found out there was a big meeting of them in Tasmania, around the same time I had been there, though in the north east, so I never encountered them.

Getting my boarding pass was easy enough, I had managed to find myself on the easier side of the queue so my driver's side window lined up with the booths, and I was ahead of the bikkies.

Surprisingly and unlike being checked in Melbourne the security in Tasmania wanted me to open the bonnet of my ute and have a look in the back and in the tub.
Upon opening the back of my ute I discovered a rather large amount of dust had got in during my sojourns along the dusty roads leading the Highland Lakes. I'd noticed there was a degree of dust when I'd stopped earlier that day for breakfast / lunch, but it seemed to have gotten dryer and dustier by this point. The security guard remarked 'I didn't think we had dust like this in Tasmania'. Nor did I. It was like talcum powder it was so fine.

The checks having been done I was directed into another queue, and then after a short break directed onto the Spirit of Tasmania.
To my surprise, and somewhat relief, I would be able to drive straight onto to ship and at the other end, drive off. I was the first in one lines of cars on the ship from the bow of the ship. I think I was one or two lines from the port side of the ship.
All of the bikkies were parted behind me. So there was that.

Making my way on board and finding my cabin I regretted not changing my ticket.
I had considered a day or two ago changing my booking to the same cabin I had on the way over. Going so far as logging into the the Spirit's website to check the availability.
But had changed my mind; thinking that the basically double-the-price cabin wasn't worth it.
Looking now in the cabin I had, two narrow single beds and a porthole out, plus a tiny bathroom, I began to have regrets.
Later that night where the seas were a little choppy, and I could hear the dogs barking on the deck below and car alarms going off, I had a few more.
I did worry that, because one of the car alarms that was going off sounded like my ute's alarm, that it would just keep doing that and they I'd return to it the next morning with a flat battery. But I tried to console myself that the designers would've built something into its systems to stop things like that happening.

The room wasn't terrible, it was okay, satisfactory even. It had enough comforts. A bathroom with a shower that delivered hot water. A bed that was soft enough. Power points to charge my phone. Everything that is needed to get a night's sleep.
Just not a very enjoyable one.

I have now experienced all the cabins of the Spirit of Tasmania. On my previous venturing across the Tasman I had booked the cheapest of the cabins, the interior room. It was actually the interior bunk room, even though I had it to myself.
It was somewhere down in the depths of the ship, somewhere near the engines, because I placed a bottle of water on the table and watched it vibrate off.

The twin bed cabin room is knots above that, but it's just accommodation, that's all. It's functional, but I wouldn't go so far as to say it's restful, it's just a functional place to get some sleep. It's certainly better than the recliner lounge on board. I've never bought that level of ticket, but it appears to be a recliner lounge seat with a little bit more tilt and a little bit more room than an airline seat. The twin room is certainly a step up from that.

When I next go to Tasmania again, I'll be spending the extra money to get the deluxe room both ways. The Spirit of Tasmania is already a slightly outlandish way to travel, some might say that flying is easier and cheaper. But it's not a nicer way to travel, it's just a functional way to get to places, it's being slotted into an aluminium (or carbon fibre tube) and flung through the air at an efficient speed. Travelling by sea, even on the ferry is a more luxurious, more involved method of travelling, you can stand out on the deck 10; the very top of the ship, look out at the bridge and see that the ship is ploughing its way through the sea. You can go down to decks 8, 7 and 6; getting a closer look at the sea that the ferry is sluicing through.
In Australia it's not often we get to see, get to experience this level of connection with travelling across a long distance. Crossing the mainland it's by road, rail or air. Only the first two give a real connection and indication or passage. Travelling to Tasmania by the ferry, by the ship gives another connection, another dimension of travel.

The following morning, having woken fairly early to the twinkling lights around Port Philip Bay, I realised I hadn't had a terrible night's sleep. I'd slept through; the rocking of the ship (2 metre swells according to the captain's announcement) and gentle movement of its passage had sent me into an uninterrupted sleep.
I elected not to go for breakfast; not really feeling hungry and I'd woken with a craving for pancakes, so the omelette that was on offer in the Tasmanian Market Kitchen unlikely to satisfy that craving.
Because my ute was on deck 5, it meant we were called first to go down to our vehicles and I waited barely any time before we were being directed out.
There was a significant fuzz presence outside the port, waiting for those on bikes within the Spirit of Tasmania, they showed little interest in my dust covered ute.