Not Quite But Almost A Circumnavigation - East Coast.

Monday 22 January

Do I go, do I not? The eternal sea kayakers dilemma. Scrub going around the Tasman Peninsula, the wx wouldn’t be settled enough to head that way for days and I didn’t have days to spare as I have to be home by early March at the latest. The departure day forecast south westerly 15-20kn was a touch marginal and it certainly looked like it as on approaching Tinderbox the view down the Channel was obscured by grim looking squalls and the water streaked with white caps. The sail went up 50m from the beach and didn’t come down, aside from a quick stop on Green Head to eat the delicious cut lunch Lynne had made for me, until Marion Narrows.

And we're off, on a blustery south westerly.

To make the most of the early morning calm I was on the water at 6, the first of so many wonderful dawn paddles. Heading straight across to Cape Peron the forecast NNE headwinds began ruffling the water. Onward to the southern side of Point Lesueur for shelter from the strengthening wind for a cuppa and a bite to eat. Further steady headwind paddling to Darlington to top up water containers then around to a steep pebbly beach on the tip of Cape Boullanger and a nice camp tucked into the scrub behind the beach.

Strong north easterlies and rain shook the tent during the night but was forecast to drop during the day. Will it drop enough and early enough for me to cross to Schouten? I slowly started pulling gear together in case. Suddenly no wind, not a breath. A quick pack up and on the water about 11 bashing into the remnant choppy seas. By the time I reached Isle de Phoque the clouds had cleared, it was hot and sunny and I was gliding along on smooth seas. Not being fully paddle fit the last hour or so to Schouten was a bit of a plod. A faint south easterly was just enough to set the sail, providing, if nothing else, a morale boosting semblance of assistance for a short time as I rounded Sandstone Bluff. I was soon set up in a lovely shady campsite under the casuarinas in Moreys Bay.

Moreys Bay, Schouten Island.

 Gentle westerly winds provided a surprising amount of sailing the next morning but as predicted the north-easterly built whilst having lunch at the southern end of Friendly Beaches. Plodding into it wasn’t too bad and I felt good so instead of camping as intended on Butlers Point I rang Lynne to say I would be in Bicheno later that day. Waubs Beach Bicheno was busy, the shallows packed with kids and adults splashing in the shallows and playing in the small surf. I had to give way to two young girls with their boards as I approached the beach. In full sea kayaking regalia I felt like an overdressed spaceman amongst the skimpily clad holiday hoards lolling about in the sun. I unpacked the boat, trolleyed it up the beach and turned it over near the community box of free to use beach toys pondering whether the kids would think the kayak a fancy beach toy. Well, now I come to think of it……… A block and a half behind the beach I scored the last tent spot in the campground. With camp set up, batteries charging and a wonderful long hot shower I set off for a beer, had fantastic fish and chips for dinner, then bed, tired.

Lynne arrived for a lovely cafe breakfast in the sun and we caught up with our now quite disparate lives. From me some of the minutiae of detail on the trip so far on waters that Lynne knows well and from Lynne homely news of the veggie garden, Weds paddles and rolling practise. A cruisey morning but as the strong gusty westerly was forecast to ease a little by midday I was keen to keep moving. The wind dropped enough to battle my way straight into it towards Diamond Island where, as I turned more northerly and with the sail as close hauled as I dared I was able to sail. Marginal and tricky sailing all day with gusts coming off the hills from every which way but made it to Four Mile Creek and a lovely sheltered grassy campsite.

Leaving Bicheno into a strong gusty westerly.

On the water at first light again. Despite the W, WNW wind there was a surprising amount of sailing so made good progress until rounding St Helens Point to cross to Humbug Point. Barely making headway against the full strength of the north westerly I was tempted by the boat ramp on the Point only a few hundred metres to my left. Lynne and I had landed there in 2010, the boat ramp and car park were a dust bowl and we searched high and low amongst dry prickly scrub to eventually find a crappy tent spot a long carry from the ramp. It has to be better on the other side. It was.

West north westerlies, so again a surprising amount of close hauled sailing, then a wild close to downwind run from Ansons Bay as the coast turned north easterly. Eddystone welcomed me with clouds of small flies that seemed determined to be up your nose and in your eyes, ears and mouth all at the same time. Again the boat ramp, car park and vicinity offered as many tent spots as the in the vicinity of the St Helens Point boat ramp - none. The choice between camping in a gravel car park or cheekily tucked behind one of the old lighthouse keeper’s quarters up towards the lighthouse on level flat wallaby cropped grass wasn’t a hard one to make. I gasped audibly though when it sunk in what I was doing. The gall of me, a white fella, making myself at home uninvited on aboriginal land. On Australia Day long weekend. As a penance I’ll make a donation to the Aboriginal Land Council ‘Giving Land Back’ fund that will enable the return of Country to Aboriginal ownership.
https://chuffed.org/project/giving-land-back
For two nights too, as I knew the wind would have me off the water the next day. The first weather day off of the trip and a lie in will be very gratefully received too.
Late the following day two cars and mobs of people arrived, they’d booked the house I was hiding behind. I explained my predicament, apologised profusely and offered to move immediately but it was all cool. Once they had settled in I was offered the use of the toilet and shower just metres from the tent at the back of the house.

Eddystone Lighthouse