Camped out of the wind at Bluff Hill Point was all very well until the wind dropped and the tent, in full sun, became a sauna. It was lovely and cool out in the open in the breeze but squadrons of march flies determined to feast on my blood meant being cool was anything but relaxed and comfortable. From Eddystone onwards many of the campsites have been beset with march flies but this was by far the worst. Max came over on his quad bike for a chat and invited me to his place along the beach at 5 for a cuppa or a beer. At the preset time one of the other neighbours in a battered old Hilux pulled alongside the tent and said “Comin to Max’s? Jump in”.
6:30 on the water and despite very calm conditions the 20kms to Couta Rocks felt like I was paddling uphill through treacle, perhaps I was, it took over 4hrs! Northerly tidal stream perhaps? Feeling exhausted by such slow going the break for a cuppa and early lunch was extremely welcome. I plodded on for another couple of hours to a very sheltered beach at Gannet Point. Still feeling weary I wasn’t particularly looking forward to the 14km crossing to Sandy Cape, with a relatively featureless shoreline kilometres off to the east offering little or no sense of progress. The almost imaginary westerly was just enough to set the close hauled sail which helped me along I am sure but what really passed the time was listening to a few podcasts.
6:30 on the water and the next landing 38km south at Conical Rocks, then hopefully a further 16km on to Granville Harbour. Closing in on Conical Rocks with the wind building and a niggling worry about the size of the swell making it tricky to land at Granville Harbour it seemed prudent to stop at Conical Rocks. First to get in. The seas started getting very lively and messy with rebound off Conical Rocks Point. Closer in and ah, there’s the big rounded rock marking the right hand side of the entrance that I remember from 2010. It seemed to have some very large explosive surf crashing over at times. I wondered whether the swell was too big but no it’s on the low side, it must be ok. The breakers didn’t spill very far across the gap towards the shore, so there’s my route, a bit left of the furthest spill from the surf crashing over the rock. Suddenly the sea started leaping about like a mad thing, side to side, up and down and from all directions all at once, even more madly than off the point. And just as suddenly it calmed down and a few minutes later the kayak nosed up on a flat sandy beach from mirror calm water.
It turned out to be two days at Conical Rocks, it blew really hard all night and through the following day with brief intense showers that shook the tent. The second day, the wind wasn’t as strong as forecast but still too strong to go anywhere, even the short leg to Granville. The swell was well up too, I couldn’t get out to sea even if I wanted to.
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| Two days of big winds and massive swells at Conical Rocks. |
I tossed and turned a bit during the third night, fretting about getting out of the Harbour. The swell was forecast to drop but…… Heading out is quite different to getting in. Coming in you know it can only become calmer, heading out is the opposite, it could quickly get a lot worse and suddenly it’s all a bit much and turning around is the last thing you want to do. There’s only one way to find out.
First light on a dull overcast morning and I’m approaching the big rounded rock, it doesn’t look too bad, the surf crashing over it is a lot smaller than the previous day. The mess of rebounding confused seas builds, and builds a bit more, then surprisingly drops away more quickly than I thought it would. The seas were still pretty messy outside, but to be expected, not really calming down until I was a couple of kms offshore crossing Ahberg Bay.
A short day to Granville, too short really, I considered going on to Trial Harbour but it’s nowhere near as sheltered from the swell. I needn’t have worried about getting into Granville, there was plenty of room between the breakers on each side of the entrance and was soon ashore with the kayak sitting on deep drifts of kelp covering the rudimentary boat ramp.
Tent pitched and lunch eaten I wandered off up the road looking for phone reception to ring Lynne. She was on her way, having breakfast in New Norfolk. She arrived late afternoon and we more or less turned around and headed back to Zeehan and the pub for food and a beer. We also met up with Luke a long time friend, who in a small group including Lynne and I and Craig Saunders helped each other layup our first Dean 21 doubles in the mid/late 90’s. Luke, a geologist, was working out of Zeehan on the search for sources of rare earth minerals. Back at the tent at 8pm for an early night for an early start the next morning and there were Fi & James the kayak2climb couple from the UK paddling and climbing their way across Bass Strait and around Tasmania. https://www.facebook.com/Intotheseaexpeds We’d been in touch from early in their trip about south and west coast landings. It was great to finally meet them and have a catch up, unfortunately for such a short time though as we were all headed for an early night. One thing we did ascertain was that they worked at Loch Eil Outward Bound, as I did for a quite a few years in the early 80’s!
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| Granville Harbour 6:30am. Fi and James of the 'Kayak to Climb Tasmania' expedition heading north, me heading south. |
With the fumbling around in the dark over, boats loaded and afloat all three kayaks headed out to sea at 6:30. Fi & James heading north, myself heading for the long 50km plod across to Macquarie Heads. Conditions couldn’t have been better though, no wind and a glassy smooth sea. The dim and distant shore to the east gave no little sense of progress, Cape Sorrel appeared as a grey seemingly unchanging lump on the horizon but at least having something to aim for is a lot easier than regular glances at the compass to stay on course. There was nothing else for it but the audio book I had ready. “Lessons In Chemistry” by Bonnie Garmus passed the time wonderfully for 7hrs or more until about a kilometre from Hells Gates I spotted a kayak just emerging through the gap. I know who that is. Lynne’s boat had been on the roof from last Wednesday evening paddle so she’d brought it along and was paddling out to meet me.
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| Lessons in Chemistry kept me sane on the long day between Granville Harbour and Hells Gates. |
Lynne had already booked a tent spot in the campground in Strahan, so once ashore at the Macquarie Heads boat ramp we loaded up the car and were soon in town with camp set up, showered and with laundry washed and drying. I had considered having a day off in Strahan but the forecast north westerly sailing breeze the next day was too good to resist.
Back to Macquarie Heads, packed and on the water at 8, heading out through Hells Gates with the current into the forecast 5-10kn north westerly. Once I turned south and got the sail up I was moving well, smooth paddling in the light wind, I wouldn’t have wanted much more. Entertainment on much of this section of coast is keeping a wary eye ahead for boomers from the crest of every swell. A quick stop every couple of hours for a stretch, check progress on the GPS and have something to eat. With relief after a long day in the boat it was wonderful to reach the little haven of Sanctuary Cove, a mini Wineglass Bay crescent of a beach, the narrow rocky entrance and offshore rocks ensuring a placid landing. By a degree the West Coast gets a little easier from here, some of the commitment drops away as landing opportunities even in larger swells are 15-20km apart instead of more weather dependent landings 30km or 40km apart on the coast north of Macquarie Heads. Familiarity too, it’ll be the fourth time I’ve paddled the coast south of here. South-west Tasmania welcomed me with the calls of currawongs and crescent honey eaters as well as drizzle and low cloud.
7am the next morning it was grey and murky but not a breath of wind in the lee of Point Hibbs. The forecast southerly headwind made itself felt though as I rounded the point, forecast to strengthen from about midday the ~20kms to Hartwell Cove would be plenty for today. Visibility was poor crossing towards Hartwell and Christmas Coves but I could just see the break in the cliffs forming the entrance. Closing in there were massive breakers and boomers extending across the northern side of the entrance and out to sea which made for an adrenalin pumping entry that required careful timing. If I’d got it wrong I’d have been smashed just like we were at this very spot nearly seven years ago. As I turned south towards Hartwell Cove I realised I’d made big mistake, closer to the southern side of the entrance, south of the massive reef breaks extending out to sea was an open, wide and surf free gap. Following the grey murky drizzly morning the clouds cleared to a warm sunny afternoon, enough for the solar panel to top up all my batteries and time to break out the repair kit to make a small repair to the mast.
I’d been in contact with my daughter Meg as she progressed around the coast from Kettering with Ian Johnstone on ‘Julienne’. They were on a mission with two bushwalkers, Dan Haley and Peter Marmion, who were intent on scrub bashing their way between Mainwaring Inlet and Christmas Cove. Meg and Ian had dropped off the walkers a couple of days previously and were bobbing around at anchor in the Inlet. I said I’d see them about 9 the next morning.
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| Meg on 'Julienne' at anchor in Mainwaring Inlet. |
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| Leaving Mainwaring Inlet, heading for Cowrie Bay. |
It’s still just light enough at 6.30 to be on the water and actually see where I was going. As I turned south east from Montgomery Rocks the going seemed slow despite a zephyr of a wind just setting the close hauled sail. If it’s setting that nicely it has to be helping me along, surely? The seemingly slow going meant it was going to be well after 9 before I met up with Meg and Ian. I was wrong the going must have been better than I felt, at 9 on the dot I was welcomed aboard ‘Julienne’ with coffee, avocado and tomato on toast. And cake. An hour later we said our goodbyes, them pulling anchor and heading north to pick up Dan and Pete at Christmas Cove. I headed south past The Shank, around Low Rocky Point then east to the sheltered landing and lovely camping at Cowrie Bay.
The next day with a low swell and the possibility of some sailing breezes from the NE I knew I had a good chance of reaching Spain Bay in Port Davey. If such a long day didn’t pan out there were plenty of places to land and camp, some of which Mulcahy gulch, Alfhild Bight and the Trumpeter Islets I’ve stopped at on past trips. Approaching Mulcahy gulch where I planned to stop for a break I was feeling good and was making good progress on the early morning mirror calm seas so decided to bypass the extra few kms diversion and continue on to Alfhild Bight or the Trumpeter Islets. There had been the odd beneficial puff of wind but not the forecast 05-10kn north-easterly until crossing Mulcahy and Nye Bays there was lovely sailing for an hour or so until the wind died away. What looked from a distance like a sandy beach on Hobbs Island turned out to be rocky but it and the less than 2m swell provided a place to land to sit comfortably in the sun for a cuppa and proper lunch. In such calm seas it was quite a treat paddling only metres from the rocks of North Head as I entered Port Davey.
There had been slight zephyrs of a breeze from the south-west which strengthened just enough on the crossing to Spain Bay to set the sail. A yacht moving nicely with the same breeze behind it passed inside of Swainson Island then crossed my course heading for Bathurst Channel. Both of us seeking shelter from tomorrow’s gales, as mariners have done in Port Davey since the days of bark canoes.
The first day at Spain Bay, it really blew hard, the wind absolutely roaring through the tree tops above the campsite, the relatively sheltered waters of Spain Bay white with waves and spray. It was a surprisingly hot day even in the shady campsite. I don’t think I got up until early afternoon. The wind the next day was similar, definitely another off the water day, but this time there was a chill in the air. There was the possibility of a weather window to get round the South West Cape the next day Saturday. The forecast north-west wind was on the upper limit of comfort but offering a sail to the Cape, the swell dropping to 4m during the day would help too . It was silly really but I packed up twice that day and headed out for a look keen to get the last big hurdle of rounding South West Cape out the way. The Spain Bay campsite is so sheltered it’s impossible to tell what’s going on out at sea. I barely made it past Hay Island before retreating, it was early too I was on the water at 7. The second time at about 11, the latest I was prepared to leave I almost almost made it to Swainson Island before sense prevailed.
So back to another couple of busy days of audio books, podcasts, snoozes, writing, reading, radio national, cooking, eating and sleeping.
Monday offered a window, the swell was down to 2.5-3 and the strong south-westerly was dropping out to be replaced by gentle north-westerlies. On the water about 9.30 and got it just right, the sail went up and I could just feel the breeze over my right shoulder, light but filling the sail and adding a bit of speed to otherwise really slow going in the messy seas. Once I’d cleared the horrible rebounding seas off Hilliard Head it calmed down a bit but was not smooth going until a couple of hours later when I rounded the Cape. It’s such tiring paddling not being able to keep up any sort of rhythm, one minute the water drops away and there’s little or none left for the paddle blade so it swings uselessly through fresh air, while the next stroke is elbow deep in the water. There’s a constant change in cadence and power too as the boat slows seemingly to a stop in the bottom of a hole in the sea when there’s no point in wasting energy putting any effort into the stroke only to find few strokes later on the crest of a swell a small wave propelling the boat forward requiring a few powerful sprint strokes to take advantage of the push. Off McKays Gulch about 4km from the tip the wind picked up. A welcome boost along but just a bit too much for comfort as the waters became even more confused and messy around the Cape. Maatsuyker came into view, then DeWitt, a quick glance back up the west coast and a whispered ‘thank you’ for the challenge and adventure. I could see ahead the wind had strengthened enough to whip over the lower ground north of the Cape to form vicious bullets fanning out in a sweep of white caps and spray across Karamu Bay. With the sail down I slowly crossed towards Wilson Bight until the wind was coming over my left shoulder and I could raise it again to sail across to Telopea Point. The small beach on the northerns shore of Ketchem Island offers sheltered landing in pretty much all conditions and there’s a couple of nice tent sites right at the top of the beach.
The next morning on a mirror calm sea paddling straight into the rising sun and its glare on the water stretching from bow to horizon really wasn’t pleasant. Squinting from under the pulled down brim of my hat didn’t make a lot of difference, it wasn’t until a couple of hours later approaching Louisa Island that the sun had risen enough for some respite. Whether it was trying to look where I was going without staring into the sun and the glare on the water but by the time I landed for a cuppa on Louisa Island I felt completely listless and apathetic. A cuppa and some food helped but didn’t completely remove the feeling of ennui that had engulfed me. With the swell low over the next couple of days I knew I should really get to Rocky Boat Inlet today, to shorten the final day of the trip to Cockle Creek but really couldn’t be bothered. Little Deadmans it’ll have to be, despite adding an extra 9km paddling to the finish.
I had it in my mind the forecast winds over the next couple of days were not going to be very cooperative for the 50km to Cockle Creek so was resigned to a couple of days at Little Deadmans. Lynne texted the Windy and MetEye forecasts and they weren’t too bad at all, dispelling my lethargy and motivating me to be on the water by 6.30.
As it turned out there was hardly a breath of wind all day. My favourite stretch of water in Tasmania between Little Deadmans and Rocky Boat Inlet went quickly, the early morning light on the Southern Ranges, low patches of mist over New River Lagoon and the distant view of Federation Peak over my left shoulder simply reinforced my favouritism. With no wind and a very low swell the sea couldn’t have been smoother so I was moving along really nicely at 7 to 8kph. Shoemaker Point came and went, South Cape loomed ahead then abeam and South East Cape appeared ahead. Every couple of hours I stopped for a drink, a stretch and a muesli bar or two or three. Whale Head ahead, then only a 10 metres or so to my left. So very different to when I was here in January with Tim R and Terry S when the sea conditions were quite the opposite so Whale Head got a very wide berth.
A gentle north-easterly breeze rippled the water as I rounded Fisher Point, just enough to get the sail up to blow me slowly towards the last landing of the trip. I sat back and rested, appreciating the break after nearly 7 hours in the boat.
And then it was over.
A total of 38 days, 28 paddling days, ~1100km.
And I’d do it again next year…..
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