"No one is going up and down the street, cruising," says Lieutenant Milas, who knows the rhythms of Newcastle's main drag well, having grown up at Beresfield.

Not a car is in sight, not even a light rail track. Rather, under the Hunter Street sign is a row of life jackets, and, instead of traffic noise, the air is filled with the sounds and scent of the sea.

For this Hunter Street is the main passageway on the Royal Australian Navy warship, HMAS Newcastle. The sign was presented by the Lord Mayor of Newcastle, John McNaughton, after the ship was commissioned in 1993. It is hardly the only reminder of home on board Newcastle.

Tim Milas is among 21 Novocastrians and lower Hunter residents serving on the ship named after the city.

"It's pretty special," says Lieutenant Milas. He has been in the navy for a decade and on Newcastle since January. "That's one of the reasons why I wanted to jump on."

The other main reason for Tim Milas to join HMAS Newcastle was to be on the ship as it sailed towards its decommissioning on June 30. He wanted to be there when the frigate cruised into Sydney harbour - and into history.

What's more, the last two legs of that final voyage were to begin in the city that gave the ship its name and Tim Milas his sense of place. Newcastle.

AS a city prepares to say farewell, a ship readies itself to sail.

HMAS Newcastle has been in port for a week, paying a final visit to its namesake city. Newcastle has responded by embracing its ship, along with the 210 officers and crew on board.

From the moment the guns of Fort Scratchley blasted out a salute to welcome the ship as it slid into the harbour, the frigate has been feted as a returning Novocastrian.

There have been official gatherings, such as the Freedom of Entry march by the ship's company through Newcastle.

And there have been emotional reunions and goodbyes, particularly when members of the ship visited Newcastle Senior School, which HMAS Newcastle has supported for more than a quarter of a century.

Now it is time to slip the lines. Standing on the bridge wing is the commanding officer, Anita Sellick.

Commander Sellick is aware of the enormity of this moment - for the ship and the city.

"It will be some time before we see another HMAS Newcastle," she says. "That makes it very significant today when we're departing."

As Newcastle pushes away from West Basin Number Four, Commander Sellick is viewing her past. She is a Novocastrian, having grown up in Merewether.

As a girl, she would sit on the Stockton shore with her grandmother, never imagining one day she would lead Newcastle out of this harbour for the final time. That all makes the leaving "a bit emotional" for Anita Sellick.

"When you look out at the harbour and you see from the waterside, you see Fort Scratchley, you see the breakwater, you see the family and friends, you've got Nobbys Head there as well, it's just such a beautiful harbour," she says.

The ship's company lines up along the rails. Procedure Alpha, as it is known, is rarely done when leaving a port, but HMAS Newcastle wants to say a proper goodbye.

Gazing out is Warrant Officer Jason McGraw. He is one of only two on board who was on Newcastle on its first entry to this port in 1993.

"We berthed over at the Lee Wharf," he recalls. "It's completely different. There was none of those flats along there. They were old sheds, from memory."

Warrant Officer McGraw, originally from Sale in Victoria, rejoined Newcastle in January 2018, the same day Anita Sellick took command of the ship.

"To be here for the first entry and the last, it really is a huge privilege," Warrant Officer McGraw says, as he surveys a dramatically changed foreshore.

What hasn't changed is the locals coming to the waterfront to say farewell. The volunteers at Fort Scratchley Historical Society provide a seven-gun salute, which the ship returns.

Standing at the fort and waving a red scarf is the former Lady Mayoress of Newcastle, Margaret McNaughton.

She was the ship's "launching lady" in 1992. She was involved in Newcastle's first voyage into the port, and she has been a champion of the ship and a staunch friend to its officers and crews ever since. So saying goodbye is painful for Mrs McNaughton.

"I cried and I cried, and I waited until it went over the horizon," Margaret McNaughton says later.

She explains there was a rainbow out to sea, which Newcastle seemed to be heading for. So she began quietly singing, Somewhere Over the Rainbow.

No sooner has Newcastle passed Nobbys than the ship breaks into a sprint, travelling at about 30 knots.

Perhaps Newcastle is trying to demonstrate it doesn't need to retire from the RAN yet.

But this Adelaide-class guided missile frigate has travelled more than 900,000 nautical miles. Time and tide - and a new generation of ship, a Hobart-class air warfare destroyer - have caught up to Newcastle.

"It is about technology, it is about time for the capability to be retired, because we have other capability that is there," explains Commander Sellick.

HMAS Newcastle turns south and drops back to a more stately 16 knots. The frigate goes even slower when a tell-tale spout is seen a few hundred metres ahead. A whale is passing along Newcastle's starboard side.

Both the ship and those on board slide into the rhythm of sea life for the 260-nautical mile journey to Eden.

The dark smear that defines the edge of Australia accompanies us south.

Off Sydney, a massive pod of dolphins closes in on the ship, riding the bow wave, much to the confoundment then delight of Lieutenant Benjamin Liddell, who is watching from the bridge.

"I was wondering what all these white caps were," he says.

As a Port Stephens boy, Ben Liddell has grown up seeing dolphins, but he reckons there must have been hundreds swimming near Newcastle.

When night descends so does the thrum of a helicopter on the ship's flight deck at the stern.

Newcastle has its own Seahawk helicopter and air crews, but this chopper has flown out from Nowra, so that its pilot can practise night landing on the deck.

Jared Burton, one of two pilots assigned to Newcastle from 816 Squadron, offers to take me to the "shack" to watch the Seahawk in action.

"It can be pretty interesting landing at night out to sea," Lieutenant Burton says.

The view from the "shack" is extraordinary. The Landing Safety Officer Station is a pod that protrudes from the deck, so we are just metres from the chopper, as the pilot levitates above the tilting ship before plonking the machine down.

On the deck, a series of lights and an air marshaller waving night wands offer guidance, and there are controllers in another pod overlooking the deck, but the pilot is largely relying on his own vision, training, and instinct.

"It's like juggling when trying to balance something on your head. It adds another dimension," Lieutenant Burton says.

Once the helicopter lifts and shrinks into the night, Jared Burton returns to the wardroom, which is the officers' mess. Reminders of Newcastle hang on the walls; a historic photo of the port, and a print of a John Earle painting of Nobbys Beach.

Lieutenant Burton plays a few rounds of Monopoly Deal cards with his colleagues, but they remark they'd prefer to be flying. And the ultimate in flying, they reckon, is landing on a ship.

As one of them says, "It's pretty boring, going back to a runway."

Newcastle glides across the moonlight-pebbled surface of Twofold Bay. To the right, the lights of Eden twinkle, but we are headed for the navy wharf on the opposite side of the bay.

Commander Sellick is on the bridge wing, checking as the navigator manoeuvres the ship into the wharf.

"Eden can be quite a fickle port, particularly in winter," she explains.

"We can get some very strong winds at the berth. Not only that, it's particularly cold, and that takes a lot of focus for the people who are down there handling lines."

The weather is cooperating. The winds are relatively mild and help push the ship into the wharf.

In the pre-dawn chill, Newcastle is nuzzling against the wharf, and teams prepare for the delicate and day-long job of deammunitioning the ship.

This wharf, away from populated areas, is used by the RAN to load and unload ammunition from its warships.

Missiles and torpedoes are carefully lifted out of the ship and craned onto the wharf.

"It is the last time they will deammunition HMAS Newcastle," says Commander Sellick, using that phrase she will often utter on this voyage - "last time".

With some time to spare, Lieutenant Timothy Milas offers a Novocastrian's tour of Newcastle.

A SHIP is a village. It is a community. Within that village, the community is diverse, as people from all walks of life undertake different jobs.

We head to the stern and into the hangar, where the ship's Seahawk squats, with its rotor blades folded up. The chopper has a connection to its namesake city. It is nicknamed "Hunter".

Lieutenant Milas introduces me to Petty Officer Sarah Waller. About 20 per cent of those on board Newcastle are women.

Petty Officer Waller has been in the RAN for about seven years, transferring from the Royal Navy.

Her official role is as an aviation technician, but she was also part of the flight team on deck last night.

Just about everyone on board multitasks, "to reduce the number of personnel on a ship".

"Everyone loves going to sea, because you get to do your job, and you see what is happening," Petty Officer Waller says, "whereas back at the base, you just see them flying off."

Below the main deck are four levels. We descend, using the steep stairs, and visit the ship's Central Control Station.

"We essentially start and stop everything," explains Petty Officer Paul Nash, the Marine Systems Manager, in the station.

He guides us around the ship's massive gas turbine engines. Petty Officer Nash compares them to a jet airliner's engines, only modified for the sea.

Asked how he feels about the end of HMAS Newcastle, Petty Officer Nash replies, "It's the same for us, no matter what we're doing ... We don't have many windows down here."

Lieutenant Milas' tour winds through the Warrant Officer and Chief Petty Officers' Mess, and on to the ship's laundry, with five washing machines for more than 200 people.

Like so much of ship life, even doing the washing requires coordination and cooperation.

"This is the warmest ship I've been on, everyone's welcoming, everyone's friendly, everyone gets on and does their job," he says.

As a surface warfare officer, Lieutenant Milas' workplace is the operations room, or "cave". It is in permanent night, with its black walls.

Light dribbles from dulled overhead lamps and the glow of screens. Those screens are monitoring the surface, the air and under the water.

"This room makes this a warship - plus all the men and women on it," says Leading Seaman Jake Beams, from Launceston, who is keeping an eye on a few of the screens.

A WARSHIP is not just a village. It is like a big city. It never sleeps. At least, someone is always awake, working. And just like in a city, it is high-density living on Newcastle.

Sub Lieutenant Matthew Newman is an Adamstown Heights boy who grew up with space around him.

But on Newcastle, the maritime warfare officer has precious little space, occupying the top bunk of three in what is called 3 Forward Mess, the sleeping area for about 60 sailors.

As an officer, Sub Lieutenant Newman could expect to be upstairs in a cabin, but there's not enough room on Newcastle, so he is two levels down in the junior sailors' living area. Not that he minds.

"At first, it was a big shock to me, how little room and how difficult it is to get in, but now I wouldn't change it for the world," Sub Lieutenant Newman says. ""It's an easy way to make mates."

On the middle bunk is Able Seaman Thomas Ketchell, who is about to return to civilian life, and on the bottom is the oldest sailor on the ship, 55-year-old Able Seaman Derek Dobson. He likes the bottom bunk.

"In a high-seas state, you don't have that far to fall," Able Seaman Dobson says.

The father of two adult daughters joined the navy four years ago to beat the boredom of semi-retirement. Able Seaman Dobson says he has learnt a lot, including "to live with lack of sleep", as he works split shifts.

His messmate, Sub Lieutenant Newman, has been on Newcastle since the start of the year. As a Novocastrian, he pushed to be on this ship: "Purely because I'm from Newcastle, and it's the last Newcastle potentially."

"This is an old ship, but with a young, positive crew on board," Matthew Newman says. "That's why it's hard to believe it's to be decommissioned."

That night in Eden, the ship's company shares a seafood dinner, is allowed a couple of beers each, and talks about life on Newcastle.

"I have a soft spot for this ship," says Lieutenant Commander Phillip Alley, the ship's executive officer.

A tall, cheery soul with a neatly trimmed beard, Phillip Alley served as navigator on Newcastle a decade ago, and he put his hand up to return.

"It's bittersweet," he says of the decommissioning, using a term often heard on board during this voyage.

"It's a bit of an honour to see her out, and it's sad to see the end of something you've invested so much time in."

Lieutenant Commander Alley, who has been in the navy for two decades, is grateful for the acknowledgement Novocastrians have given the ship through the years. He mentions how a warship entering Sydney harbour barely raises an eyebrow, but in Newcastle, "there are people on the foreshore, the fort is cracking a salute, and it's pretty special."

ON a still winter morning, the ceremony of Colours is played out on the flight deck. Officers and crew stand to attention as the Australian white ensign is unfurled, barely fluttering in the shallow breath of a breeze.

Once tradition is honoured, it is down to work.

A group of dignitaries - four former commanding officers of HMAS Newcastle, along with Margaret and John McNaughton - is due on board to be part of the ship's final night at sea.

A welcoming party "pipes" on the officials. It is all very formal. Until Margaret McNaughton steps on board. There's nothing military about Newcastle's "launching lady".

Upon seeing Commander Sellick at the end of the gangway, Mrs McNaughton hugs her. It is the first of many hugs dispensed by Margaret McNaughton. It's her version of a salute.

And Margaret McNaughton doesn't refer to the officers and sailors by rank. She names them.

"Hello, Dave!," Mrs McNaughton says when she sees Petty Officer David Pickering.

She knows everyone's name?

"She's part of the crew," Petty Officer Pickering says with a huge grin.

"That's the hardest, saying goodbye to all the crew," Margaret McNaughton says later. "They are like family."

Her husband, John, recalls how Margaret McNaughton was told at the launch, "You'll bond with this ship".

He smiles: "And she has."

The four former COs point out this is "Margaret's ship".

"When you get command in the navy, it's your ship," explains Commander Steve Hamilton, who was Newcastle's fourth CO. "The very last words my predecessor said to me was, 'Hey you know you think it's your ship? You're just borrowing it from Margaret for a while'."

Indeed, when Mrs McNaughton is introduced to a recent arrival to Newcastle, Lieutenant Michael Pigault, she responds, "Welcome aboard my ship!"

It seems most who have served on Newcastle feel an attachment to this ship.

"I was not going to miss this, so I took two days' leave," says Commodore Gerry Christian, the ship's seventh CO. "I wanted the opportunity to do this one more time."

This is Gerry Christian's first time back on Newcastle since handing on the command of the ship in 2004.

"Invariably, the command of the ship falls in love with the ship. If it's not at the start, it will be by the finish, because it's your life.

"There's a flood of memories coming back, and conversations, and people I've served with elsewhere, who I've already had a chat with."

There's a lot of reminiscing. Captain Nicholas Stoker, the ship's 10th CO, has brought a stack of newspaper clippings from his time in 2007 and 2008. He takes the clippings to the wardroom, to show Margaret McNaughton.

"I just want to remember a little bit with you," Captain Stoker says to Mrs McNaughton.

Later, Commodore Justin Jones, the ship's 11th CO, catches up with Phillip Alley, who was his navigator. They sailed to near the top of the world in Newcastle, across the Bering Sea.

By mid-afternoon, Newcastle slides away from the navy wharf and out of Twofold Bay.

"We're all set and ready to go," Commander Sellick announces. "Settle down, enjoy your last night at sea, reflect with friends, and let's get ready to take the ship in for the last time tomorrow morning."

Applause blooms across Newcastle.

Later, in the captain's cabin, Anita Sellick considers what tomorrow might bring.

As the ship's CO for 18 months, she is thinking about all those on board. As she says, "The thing that makes the ship is not the ship itself. It's not the metal and the hull. It's all the people who are here."

She is thinking about what is next for all those people. With the ship's decommissioning, it is the break-up of a community. The village of Newcastle comes to an end. But something new will grow from that.

"It's almost like the pioneers," she says.

"When you send the pioneers out to start new communities, that's the way I see what is about to happen with Newcastle."

The end of Newcastle's service also brings a close to Anita Sellick's sea command - for now. So on her final night at sea, Commander Sellick says of the decommissioning, "I don't think I've come to terms with it, to be honest".

But she adds, "I could not have asked for a better ending to my command than to decommission HMAS Newcastle."

The frigate heads north through the night, relishing in the light, variable winds and swell of only about a metre. Even Mother Nature is being kind with its farewell to Newcastle.

On the bridge, Sub Lieutenant Matthew Newman reflects on what Newcastle means to him, to all of them on board, to a city.

In the darkness, cradled by a gentle sea, Matthew Newman begins shaping those reflections into a poem.

Newcastle is close to Sydney Heads.

"Hunter", the helicopter, is pushed out, ready to take off and provide the frigate with an aerial escort into the harbour.

Twenty minutes later, the ship's company is woken with a song over the PA system. It is Hoodoo Gurus' 1000 Miles Away. The lyrics seem to have been written for this moment.

Estimated time of arrival 9.30 a.m/ Been up before the sun and now I'm tired before I even begin.

Only no one appears tired. Many are excited at the prospect of seeing loved ones again, after being away on deployment for more than four months.

For Margaret McNaughton, there is also grief that the end of her relationship with Newcastle is nearing. Wearing a ship's jacket and cap that were given to her, Mrs McNaughton clutches a handkerchief to dab away the tears.

"When it finally comes, it will be an enormous wrench," she says.

At 9am, Newcastle slides between the great sandstone sentinels at the entrance to Sydney Harbour. In the breeze flaps its decommissioning pennant, supported by balloons. It is almost 150 metres long, representing the length of the ship plus one foot for each year of service.

Margaret McNaughton had asked for Newcastle to be decommissioned in the port of its namesake city.

But that is to take place at a ceremony at the navy's Garden Island base.

After all, Sydney's Fleet Base East is Newcastle's home port. Just don't tell Mrs McNaughton that.

"Her home is Newcastle, always will be."

She looks around and comments that it is a lovely harbour.

"But not as good as going into her home port."

A pod of dolphins escorts the ship near Bradleys Head, a passing Manly ferry blows its horn by way of greeting, and the Sydney Harbour Bridge beams like an upturned smile in the morning sun.

Over the PA system, Commander Sellick reads Sub Lieutenant Matthew Newman's poem, which ends, "Fair winds, to the Fleet, from us, it's goodbye".

Those words have Margaret McNaughton quietly sobbing.

Warrant Officer Jason McGraw squints and says, "It feels like a moment in history."

At Fleet Base East Number Five, loved ones have gathered, holding "welcome home" placards and waving.

"We're here," says Margaret McNaughton. "The end of a magnificent era."

Newcastle is secured. The gangway touches the wharf. The voyage is over. And so is a chapter in Australian naval history.

But for those who have served on it, and in the city whose name was carried around the globe by it, HMAS Newcastle sails on.

"The spirit will go on forever, and the legacy they're leaving the city will last, because they've done so much for the city and given so much of themselves," says Margaret McNaughton, after giving Commander Anita Sellick one more hug.

"The memories won't die."

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