Matt is the author of Mayhem: The Strange and Savage Saga of Christopher 'Badness' Binse, My Colombian Death and Running with the Blood God.

The Dungog Harbour Yacht Club is partly inspired by Matt's recent experience of living in the town.

For now, we won't go into detail. Let's just say you don't please everyone when standing up for important causes.

Over to you Matt.

Sitting out back with my wife and a murder of crows, watching Dungog's smoky sky purple into darkness with the aid of a vigorous shiraz, it came to me that this town could do worse than having a yacht cub. Miami's got one, after all, and Miami's not bad.

So I started the Dungog Harbour Yacht Club and, like they say, everything changed.

What had been a landlocked, penned-in, horizonless clumping of 2000 or so humble folk of the Hunter was instantly transformed into a seaside glamour town, envied the world over for its dramatic waterfront, cosmopolitan esplanades, and quick routes into gulf-streams which swoosh sailors far away from dry land and its bitter memories.

Within minutes of launching the DHYC on Facebook, dozens had joined - or at least "liked" - this iconic new institution, drawn not only by the allure of our Regency clubhouse and function centre but by our message of liberation.

"Dungog free from the centre to the sea," is the DHYC's official motto.

Anyway, sailing is a great way to ease the pressures of life in a small town, as are our regular social events. This week we've had an on-water screening of Cutthroat Island, Geena Davis's 1995 career-defining classic.

The movie reminded me of a wooden-handled machete that hangs over my writing desk.

A gift from a Filipino special forces commander on an embattled southern island where beheadings are not exactly rare, this machete is a symbol of social breakdown and its brutal consequences.

By writing a yacht club into existence, and even a harbour for Dungog, I and all the club's now 60-plus members, can enjoy the sea breeze and a hearty glass or two, secure in the knowledge that the pen is mightier than the sword.

We've been following the adventures of Cardiff Heights couple Andrew and Bill Whitbread-Brown, as they've travelled to the Netherlands, India and now Hong Kong.

On their way out one night for a pre-dinner drink, they copped "a pre-dinner whiff of tear gas instead," Andrew said.

"It choked our throats and drained our eyes. Outside our hotel was the media, police and a street awaiting protesters."

They walked to a restaurant, but the tear gas forced them to retreat to their room.