That’s what it’s about, trust. Look at those two kayaks, leaning against the cabin. I mean, really? They’re going to be up for Bass Strait? Look at them, two bits of fibreglass, just over ten years old each of them, and we’re going to take them onto some of the most treacherous waters off the Australian coastline? Yep, we did meet a few who questioned us, yet they only hear of Bass Strait when things go wrong. We both trusted our sea kayaks and each other.
Always thought that when I’d be crossing Bass Strait I’d be mega-prepared. You know, every t crossed and every i dotted. I’d be super-skilled and super-set. But here I was, day before departure and my first practice pack. It was my need to show Harry that he could trust me that made me finally get it done. It’s scary, wondering, then checking that it all fits. This makes it real, removes another layer of surreality that hovers. Harry was spending the day in the car, shuffling it to Melbourne. I’d best show I was ready.
It fitted. I wandered off to the cafe in the general store at Port Welshpool. Harry returned. So unready was I that this is the first time my new Skwoosh gel pad gets fitted in the kayak seat. Yep, I’m about to hit Bass Strait and I don’t even know if my seat is comfortable enough for those big crossings. And if it wasn’t, I’d be seriously hurting and causing problems for us both.
With a strong wind forecast for D-day, I put my faith and trust in Harry, despite all my inner qualms. We were far from our usual Sydney waters with ready access to comms and rescue, the water was colder, the stakes were higher. Even as we moved our gear from cabin to beach and loaded the kayaks, it took trust in my paddling partner for me to set aside my doubt and go for it.