Set the alarm for 4:15am

September 6, 2020 by deesta

Yesterday, an unusual suggestion from me which Harry quickly accepted. We packed and loaded the gear and kayaks, prepared breakfast and went to bed early.

When we arrived at Watsons Bay it was dark and quiet. At 5:45am we launched, the sky was brightening and the birds beginning to call. The sandstone edges of the harbour looked special in the light with no shadow. We rounded a relatively calm South Head and went east for a bit, picking the spot where the sun’s rays had begun to point upwards. Gradually the golden sun rose above the horizon, the clouds above reflecting golds and pinks. We sat silently observing, rocking in the swell.

We continued to North Head, this side was much more dynamic than the southern shores, and ventured towards Blue Fish Point. Hunger pangs started so we retraced our paddle strokes and headed for Reef Beach. Flocks of sea gulls swirled and turned, indicating fish action below the surface. Sitting on a rock enjoying our muesli, coffee and boiled eggs, we chatted with the pair of magpies who came to inspect us.

Following the low cliffline we paddled past Dobroyd Head and the huts nestled into the bush. Searching for Washaway Beach we figured out it had washed away (for now, it will be back). Towards Cobblers Beach and around Middle Head, we crossed via the channel markers and Sow and Pigs, returning to our start point.

Paddling in time of lockdown

April 18, 2020 by deesta

Friday 17 April, 2020

Our COVID-19 pandemic restrictions here in NSW sees exercise as a “reasonable excuse” to leave home. A quick decision to paddle. Loaded the gear and kayaks into the car and drove 5 minutes from home to Rodd Point on the Parramatta River to park and launch. The Harbour Bridge is a dividing line, to the east is Sydney Harbour, to the west is the Parramatta River.

a magic moment, with the bridge in sight

With blue, sunny skies, a warm day and the promise of some sou-westerly winds we took off pretty much on low tide. It’s a regular paddle for us, though we hadn’t done it together for a while – out of Iron Cove, under the Iron Cove bridge, past Cockatoo Island and turning east around Yurulbin Point, under the walkway bridge to the new-to-us Birchgrove ferry wharf, and on past the eclectic assortment of watercraft moored in Snails Bay. Nearing Goat Island we agreed to continue eastwards and crossed the channel towards Blues Point. Avoiding a fisherman and his line, a random couple on the waterfront beckoned us in and asked if we knew Phil – nope, didn’t think we did. The sea kayaking community in Sydney is small, but not that small we thought. Until we rounded the point and met two kayakers. “Who’s that?” one called out. “Dee”, I replied, immediately realising that he was our mate Stewart. And of course, Stewart was paddling with Phil, who we did know, having kayaked to the Tollgate Islands with him just last month … small world, our kayaking community. A few photos of each other, a few pleasantries exchanged and we continued on east, now contemplating Stewart’s suggestion of a takeaway coffee, at Thelma and Louise’s café in Neutral Bay.

happy to be on the water

decrepit vessel in Snails Bay

view towards Balmain

happy and random meeting with a mate

Under the Bridge, always a thrill and a moment of pause and reflection, while carefully keeping an eye on what all the ferries and rivercats are doing. A sense of Freedom for having passed under the Bridge, for using our right to “exercise” to be on such a spectacular waterway. Onwards past Admiralty House and round into Neutral Bay. Stewart’s vague instructions “Go past Kirribilli and go right and there’s the beach with the steps to the café” were clear enough for us to find our way. However the numbers of folk gathered on Hayes Street Beach made us pause and decide not to land. Odd, how the NSW restrictions are policed, this number of folk on a beach, clearly not exercising would be unacceptable in other parts of Sydney. A quick chat with a swimmer and we learned about another café near the Ensemble theatre. Onwards, past Australian Border Force we found the Flying Bear café and landed, managing to get the kayaks ashore despite the slippery concrete ramp.

not much happening with so many boats on the harbour

exercising?

Sub Base Platypus

under the wharf

gorgeous views from under

a touch of LA in Sydney

happy with the good life

Here was lovely Milson Park, a whole world away from the terrors of the SARS-COV2 virus and its attacks on New York and London cities. Sunshine, people lazing (safely physically distanced from each other), takeaway coffee and food available … quite a headspin to compare this to how so many others in the world are coping with the pandemic. A trip to the public toilet, a visit to such facility that can be achieved without directly touching any surface is a personal triumph, followed by our coffee, muffin and croissant from The Flying Bear while sat in the sun, appreciating our amazing good fortune. Where else in the world would anyone want to be during this pandemic?

what a place to be!

such a serene day to be on the water

passing the icons again

Relaunching, we wandered back past the waterfront homes, marinas and yacht clubs, approaching the Opera House and Harbour Bridge again. Watching the ferries carefully, criss-crossing with a yacht under sail, we made our way from the harbour back to the Parramatta River and up into Iron Cove, all the while into the W/SW headwinds of 10-15 knots. It felt lovely to pass the little beaches, the sandstone outcrops, the spreading fig trees before landing back on the little sandy beach. Happy and grateful for the ability to have an outing like this, we packed up and drove home. 20km done.

17 April paddling path

The north-east coastline of Tasmania

February 13, 2016 by deesta

Sunday 12 – Thursday 16 January 2014

Back at the beach the following morning, we load up for the next part of our adventure, along the coast to Devonport. Jeff joins us for a while providing some welcome on-water company.

I hadn’t heard much about this part of the Tasmanian coast, though I do remember the battle Justine Curgenven and her group had into the constant headwinds along this stretch of coast. Harry has previously ferried into Devonport on the Spirit of Tasmania, unloaded his kayak and headed west with Guy, John and Keith until they arrived at Cockle Creek. His first crossing of east Bass Strait had continued from Little Musselroe along the Tasmanian east coast to Hobart. So he was keen to experience one of the remaining stretches of Tasmanian coastline unknown to him.

We have four days of incredibly pleasant paddling along coastline that felt remote, but really wasn’t. We pass small townships and hear, then see, beach buggies and four-wheel vehicles on the long, deserted beaches. On our first day we cover a respectable 31km. For our first campsite, Harry finds a gap in the trees at the back of a small beach just west of Weymouth. The quiet edge of a paddock protects us from the onshore winds. Launching from rocky shore next morning requires us to gather beds of seaweed for under our boats.

One highlight of this stretch of coast is Tenth Island, the one that comes after Ninth Island. This small rocky outcrop, five kilometres off the coast, is covered with seals. Seals of all ages and shapes, making an incredible variety of sounds. We sit in our kayaks, downwind so as not to disturb them too much with our presence, and watch entranced for almost an hour.

On turning back towards the coastline, I immediately spot the lighthouse at Low Head, 20 km away on the eastern shore of the mouth of the Tamar River. I wonder if the many days spent at sea, looking into the far distance along with far fewer hours spent looking at close-range screens and pages, have sharpened up my vision.

Jeff has made the trip to the Low Head lighthouse to greet us. He takes photos from the shore. Sweet, finally some great photos of Harry. A stop to chat to Jeff, then we cross the mouth of the Tamar, observing its flows and incredible depths of seaweed. The campsite on the other side is perfect: a glade under the trees to set up the tent, rock ledges on the beach where we enjoy some nibbles, wine, the evening light and the sense of achievement and enjoyment our trip has brought.

Most Bass Strait kayakers finish at Little Musselroe and get whisked away, racing back to the ferry. We are blessed to have settled weather, time, and a wonderful piece of coastline to paddle – all of which allows us to reflect on everything we have done since departing Sydney on 20 December 2013.

Our next stop is only 11km away, a place a friend mentioned. We could reach Devonport and finish the trip that day, but instead choose to do a short paddle, and once we find a wonderful campsite, decide to have a compete rest day. A day chosen to stop and simply be. We have the time to spare and the weather is great.

One day of complete leisure and then we load and launch for our final paddle into the mouth of the Mersey River. Finding an unrocky piece of the beach with safe passage to deep water is a challenge. The winds rise and provide us sailing delights. Egg Island, and its many birds, is briefly visited. Then its into the Mersey, narrowly avoiding a beaching east of the channel wall. The Spirit of Tasmania is docked on one bank while we complete our 505km journey on the other.

PHOTOS TO FOLLOW

In The Bag

April 15, 2015 by deesta

Friday 10, Saturday 11 January 2014

We start slowly, the weather couldn’t be more perfect, the distance a mere 30km. Retracing our steps back to the kayaks, we laugh as we load.

This is IT… the day we “cross” Bass Strait, our time to land on the mainland of Tasmania.

Last day of Bass Strait crossing

Bag packing

Glorious scenery

Perfect day

Following the island’s coast

Our launch spot couldn’t be more heaven-sent, such a pristine place. We follow the lines of the island for as long as we can, once we leave it there is little until we reach our destination, Bridport. Wide open blue sky, flat wide blue sea – this is Bass Strait in another mood. We spy a kayak and divert to have a chat with a local kayaker out on a fishing trip for the day. I insist on a silly photo and video shoot, just to prove that Bass Strait isn’t all about life-threatening waves and intimidating winds.

The Furneaux Explorer tracks slighter closer to us to check us out as she heads to her home port of Bridport.

With such you-beaut conditions we head directly across Anderson Bay to Bridport, a long dune-backed beach to our left, Bass Strait shining to our right. Finally, the gap closes and I spend those last ten kilometres reflecting on the past few weeks: the crossings, the challenges, the discoveries. It has been quite an adventure.

We reach the busy beaches of Bridport and cruise along, hoping to find one without too many holiday-goers. We choose one, luckily it turns out to be the beach closest to our contact’s home.

Driving the bow onto the wet sands, I cheer – Bass Strait crossed.

Bass Strait – crossed!

Jeff finds us, gathers us up along with all our gear, brings us to his home, shows us the hose and the clothesline, leaves us to unpack, sort and clean while he orders pizza and opens a bottle of chilled white – this is a man who truly knows sea kayakers and their needs! Not surprising this, given Jeff is a Tasmanian sea kayaking legend who combines his love of photography with the ability to reach some remote and stunning locations.

We take a rest day with Jeff and are treated to a tour of north-east Tasmania – a local art gallery-cafe, a scenic lavender farm and the local club.

Jeff collects us and our gear

Local cafe and gallery

Loving the lavendar

Sunset

Waterhouse Island to Bridport

Paddling 30km to Bridport

Crossing Bass Strait

Trip Days 18 & 19

Paddling Day 8

Friday 10 January 2014

Distance covered: 30km

Launched:

Landed:

Rest day: Saturday 11 January 2014

Westward Ho!

April 15, 2015 by deesta

Thursday 9 January 2014

From Clarke most sea kayakers cross the notorious currents of Banks Strait, finishing at Little Musselroe Bay in remote north-east Tasmania. We had set Devonport as our goal. Despite the extended stay on Flinders, we still had plenty of time to head that direction. Instead of coming out of Spike Cove and continuing south, we pointed our bows to the west and took aim for an island 50km away.

Madness!

I did consider this plan totally daft. Why volunteer for yet another long open water crossing with no possible landing when we could reach Tasmania in half that distance? There’s no logical answer to this, other than it was there, and we could do it. Weather conditions allowed it, we had sought and received permission to land on the island ahead, and personally, I knew I was up for it. After everything I had already done, I was confident in my ability to sit in the kayak seat for a 50km crossing.

Leaving Spike Cove

En route

Nearing the end of 50km

Calculations had determined that 11 o’clock was the best time to depart, the tide turning our way. Yet we were ready and eager to leave by 10 o’clock so off we set. The GPS reveals a slight bow in our path, caused by the tides sucking us back in the wrong direction. It didn’t matter, the winds were blowing from behind and we let loose our sails. The waters of Banks Strait proved an interesting place to kayak, occasional tidal races appearing with white caps offering more challenging moments.

There’s not a lot to see out there. The wind farms on Cape Portland provided a marker against which to note our passage, then the land disappears further into Ringarooma Bay and we continue, ever onwards until we arrive on the only beach on the island. Harry strips all off and dives into the wind-blown waves in a mad moment of delight while I wander looking for a campsite, observing the resident Cape Barren geese.