It is midday at Parker Point.
Pelicans circle like dogs at a dinner table and stingrays glide beneath the boat everyone notices.
The 61-year-old Talisman, a heavy classic with six-inch jarrah ribs and a maximum speed of eight knots, has bobbed in the same spot since it dropped anchor in the glassy waters six months ago.
From behind, a small dinghy chugs into view. Geoff Jacoby, 82, mans the motor and his 80-year-old wife Nelleck - the unchallenged Queen of the Bay - stands at the bow, right arm gripping a rope for balance, Jackie O sunglasses covering half her face and green kaftan blowing in the breeze.
If Rottnest Island had royalty, this would be it. Larger than life, tactile like honeymooners and in bodies that somewhere along the line forgot to age, the pair have made their home here for the best part of 20 years.
"All the bus drivers know us. We've become a tourist attraction. I stand up the front of the boat and go 'woohoo'," Nelleck says as she pretends to lift her top to flash imaginary onlookers.
"We died and came to heaven. And it really is heaven. Where in the world can you anchor a boat so close to the beach and just dive overboard in the morning and have a swim and catch your own fish?"
Aside from four months in winter when they retreat to their Cottesloe home, the couple live full-time on the water in the place they call paradise.
Inside, the boat feels like a home. Family pictures cover walls lit at night by parafin lamps.
In one corner, an old plastic box is full of black and white photographs documenting Nelleck's gymnastic career.
She introduced the sport to WA, trained seven Olympians and was given the moniker "Australia's mother of gymnastics".
She claims she is also the inspiration behind Eliza, the bronze statue in the Swan River at Crawley.
But when sculptor Tony Jones is asked if Nelleck was his muse, he laughs.
"Sadly not. But Nelleck can claim it, if she likes. I don't mind."
Geoff said his doctor urged him not to sell their boat. Parker Point, with its clean waters, laid back lifestyle and seafood on tap acts as a virtual Shangri La.
"She's very energetic, you know," he says, pointing to Nelleck, who lifts her right leg up to her ear to demonstrate. "She swims every day. She'll swim out to the cray pots, dive on them and see if there's anything in it."
She lays out 25 herring on the deck, the spoils of the night before, and hands over a crayfish: "It's yours. There are plenty more where they came from."
The couple pile back into their barnacle-encrusted dinghy and head off for a lunch date on a neighbour's boat.
Nelleck takes her place in front, green kaftan blowing in the breeze. Onlookers waving.
"Stay smiling," she calls out as the pair chug past. "I say that to everyone." <div class="endnote">