1. The Eddy
2. Eddy's
3. Apollo 9
4. The Lawns
5. The Crossing
6. The Knot
7. Saltmarsh
8. The Troubadour

The back-current of the river. The place where the main flow has passed and the water sits and turns, exactly the kind of bend the new course makes against the Brisbane. The spot on the river people gather and linger at. A small word with a clear physical meaning, anchored to the geography of the site. The possessive form of The Eddy. Same physical meaning, different register: where The Eddy reads as the feature on the river, Eddy's reads as the place that sits next to it. Pairs cleanly with Apollo 9 as the other venue-coded name in the shortlist, host-led and conversational. A member tells a guest to meet them at Eddy's, not at The Eddy. Worth testing both forms in the room before locking on either. The Apollo was the motor launch Frank Duffield brought down from Townsville in 1922 to open the first motorised ferry between Bulimba and Hamilton, the suburb directly adjacent to Royal Queensland on the Eastern Land. Before the Apollo, crossings between the two suburbs had to be made laboriously by rowboat. For the added pleasure of the ferry's patrons, a draft board was set up at the Hamilton terminus, a game on the riverbank a hundred years before the pavilion lawn. The original Apollo Road Ferry Terminal still stands today, locally heritage-listed. The 9 is the nine-hole short course. Reads as a venue name without needing the possessive. And then the second layer: Apollo 9 also lands the Apollo program as a recognised cultural anchor, and the program lands the moon. The same moon that moves the tide that runs through the course twice a day. Direction 02's lunar story threaded into the front of the verbal identity. Plural and casual. The actual lawns around the pavilion and the Himalayas putting green at the heart of the routing. The kind of name a member uses on a Friday: meet me at the Lawns. Lower stakes than a course name, higher hospitality than a clubhouse. The closest in spirit to the old country-club lawn tradition without leaning on it. Plays double duty. The crossing point at the centre of the figure-eight routing, and the historic Brisbane River crossings the deck already carries: the Apollo motor launch, the suburb-to-suburb ferries, the Hamilton terminus. Layered onto the existing river vocabulary rather than introduced as a separate idea. Reads as a place: meet me at the Crossing. Brings Liam's figure-eight observation to the front of the name without leaving the river story behind. The figure-eight knot is a real, recognised sailing knot, so the name carries both the routing and the maritime register already running through the deck: steamers, flying boats, ferries. Double duty in a single word. Reads as a place: meet me at the Knot. The most poetic of the routing-led options, and the only one in the shortlist with the figure-eight built directly into a member-of-the-room reference. Brought forward from Direction 02. The actual wetland the course was rebuilt from. The river dredged the land out of mangrove flats in the 1920s; the new course gives it back to the tide. A name that honours what was let back in. Quiet, particular, ecological. The right call if the brand wants to do something more reserved, with the natural world doing most of the talking. Troubador was an actual Brisbane River vessel from the 1930s, one of Frank Duffield's fleet, used for fishing parties beyond Moreton Bay. The word itself describes a wandering social performer or composer of romantic, sociable lyric. A near-perfect fit for Ash's wandering routing and the social proposition. We recommend the dictionary spelling Troubadour for the brand, while telling the historical-vessel story in the supporting copy. A small note for the room: there was a much-loved Fortitude Valley music venue called The Troubadour that closed in 2010. A fading association rather than a live collision.