From the day we arrived in Sydney we have seen notice after notice announcing that on NYE this throughway will be closed: that access will restricted to certain parks: that control gates will be established to certain areas: and that the Harbour Bridge will be closed on NYE from 11 pm to 1 am. And as NYE approached, there was an undeniable atmosphere of excitement and anticipation throughout the city. All over the place, blocks of colourful green and white portaloos or jiffyjohns were being set up, and the rent-a-fence companies were obviously doing their best business of the year.
Early on the morning of the 31st we set out on one of our harbour walks and found that our usual route to the ferry quay was blocked off. On the alternative route, we found a maze of fences set up for the queue at an entrance to a desirable viewing area, and already--at 8 am--the lines were forming, and there were people there in sleeping bags as if they had been there all night.
Far from the Harbour Bridge, which is the epicenter of the fireworks, we stepped off the ferry onto a piece of green foreshore at Cremorne Point, on which people had pitched tents and literally staked out their viewing patches with groundsheets and tarpaulins.
Their view was good, but a fairly distant one. Our hike ended at the Zoo, where a long peninsula heads out into the harbour and ends at a point called Bradley’s Head. The night before, from our hotel window, we could see boats accumulating there, and by midday on NYE—when we were blocked off from walking out to the end of Bradley’s Head—the anchored boats were so thick you could probably have walked along to the Head by stepping from one boat to the other. And dinghies plied to and fro taking out liquor supplies to the scattered parties that were already well under way in the middle of the day.
Later that afternoon, when we returned from our north Sydney harbour hike, we strolled down to our nearby park—Rushcutters Bay—from one end of which there ia a good view of the Harbour Bridge and the Opera House. Squads of security men and women checked incoming spectators and searched their bags for alcohol. And although we were still at least four hours away from the first fireworks (at 9 pm—they come in two bursts: at 9 pm for children facing bedtime and at midnight), the crowds were pouring in. Outside the fenced-in restricted area, there were many group picnics underway (how the Aussies love to picnic) and we watched a whole posse of police set out to check up on each group—we think warning them that after a certain time the alcohol had to vanish, as the whole park had been declared an alcohol-free area.
We had been invited to dinner by some friends who have a modern apartment of great elegance in the street that runs down to the Opera House. The building is one of a set that overlook Circular Quay (harbour ferry central) on one side and the Botanical Gardens on the other. We walked to get there, and the crowds were building up everywhere—everyone hurrying to get to some viewing spot. Announcements were being made that this area was full, and that another area would close in half an hour (this before 7 pm).
Eventually we produced the tickets, supplied by our hosts, that enabled us to penetrate the security perimeter and made our way up to their apartment.
From their balcony we could look down on the huge crowds down by the Opera House and on the long lines of people standing waiting to use the temporary toilets set up in a grassy area opposite.
We ate our first course and then at 8.45 pm we were led by our hosts down onto the quay on the Harbour Bridge side and watched the childrens’ fireworks at 9.00 pm.
A fairly conventional display, and we doubt that many children went to bed when the fireworks were over. Our hosts escorted us back through the security checks, and we had leisurely second and third courses of our meal. At about 11.45 pm, down we went again—and again our party got separated on the dense crowds, which created some difficulties in getting a good clear view. Taking photos was a problem—much to our distress, Joan’s camera had sadly given up the digital ghost earlier in the day, and my camera has a tiny screen and in the poor light it was quite difficult to do much more than hold it up, press the shutter, and hope for the best. Many botched shots.
Joan got better ones with the I-phone.
It was a spectacular display—there were a lot of conventional fireworks, but the designers of the show made great and creative use of the bridge, with waterfalls of light from the road level and rockets going off simultaneously all across the bridge.
After our farewells to our hosts, we set off on the streets, packed with thousands of others, to walk back to the hotel. A few bunches of yobbos on the walk, but mostly everyone was in good spirits and lots of NYE well-wishing along the way. Bed at 1.30 am.
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