Not Quite But Almost A Circumnavigation - North Coast.

The day I rounded Cape Portland and reached the north coast was, well, one of those amazing days that's unlikely to be repeated in a hurry.

I was looking forward to Bridport and the comforts of what is generally termed civilisation, but was not really looking forward to the 22km crossing of Anderson Bay. I sensed the forecast wind direction was going be just a tad too close to the bow to sail. I also knew that the slightest errant puff close abeam would necessitate raising the sail as muscles tired and Bridport, shining in the sun ahead, didn’t seem to be getting any closer. Only to be dropped in frustration a short time later, as yes the wind is really just a touch too far forward.

The forecast gale force north-westerlies meant Bridport was going to be home for at least two days, Lynne and Meg were driving up to meet me and hang out for the days off. Instead of $45 per tent for a night in the campground I found a cosy camp with enough space for all of us in the dunes behind Adams Beach at the northern end of town. The 30mins walk into town, in the heat of the afternoon was enough to justify a beer itself let alone all the previous days on the water. Delicious fish and chips for dinner again before returning to the tent for a little snooze. I awoke after dark to undress and get in my sleeping bag then didn’t wake until well after first light. 12-13 hrs sleep!

Lynne and Meg arrived for a lovely cafe lunch, then as they’d had a puncture en route we drove to Scottsdale to source a new tyre. With a new one ordered for pick up the next day we retreated to the Little Rivers Brewery.

Following a great walk up Mount Stronach overlooking Scottsdale the next morning we were back sampling the wares at Twin Rivers brewery, they even let us eat our picnic lunch at their outside tables.
I had vague plans to be on the water before the NW headwinds strengthened the next day but couldn’t be bothered as I guessed I wouldn’t make much progress and I didn’t fancy camping in the dunes of East or West Sandy Heads. Another days rest in Bridport.

The gentle south-westerlies just enabled me to sail so good progress to a boat ramp west of Weymouth for a cuppa and a bite to eat. On to Low Head in similar conditions. I found a nice spot for the tent at the first beach on the western side of the Head just on the edge of a penguin colony, then as I explored further I realised I would probably be in the middle of that evenings penguin tour. I was asleep when the tour guides arrived and they were really not happy with my presence. I sleepily mumbled an apology, pointed out I couldn’t really move on in the dark and what’s the problem anyway? It turned out they’d even moved my kayak on the beach as they said it was blocking the penguins coming up the beach! As they left one of the guides hissed “I hope you’re utterly ashamed with what you’ve done” as though I’d let a pack of rabid dogs loose on the penguins not just quietly settled in for the night. I strongly suspect my discreet presence disrupted the penguins far less than the guides and their regular tours.

Despite being on the water at first light I didn’t think I’d get very far the next day due to the forecast strong headwinds but made it to the east end of Bakers Beach before the wind slowed progress to a crawl. I walked many kms along the beach to the PWS campground for water only to discover on returning to camp that there was fresh water only a few hundred metres away. It was good to have a walk though.

South west wind again the next day so marginal sailing enabled good progress to Devonport Bluff for a cuppa and a bite to eat. Towards the end of the day I pushed on to a ‘camping ground’ just east of Sulphur Creek that I’d spotted on google maps. Spots to land and camp along this section of coast are very few and far between. The shore is generally rocky, nice landing beaches are rare and the coastal strip is packed with houses, the railway line, the cycle way as well as the old and current highway. Landing on the beach to the west of the camping ground was easy then having carried all my stuff to a small spot amongst the field packed with campavans I started to pitch my tent only to be informed that this Council run free campground was for self contained campavans only. With no other choice but to get into trouble again I continued pitching the tent. I didn’t get into trouble either. Of course being Tasmania I met someone I knew and we chatted for a while.

On the water at 6 again for sunrise and smooth water, another lovely early morning except for the loud and incessant rumble of traffic on the highway. Cuppa and food at Wynyard and a sail out to Table Cape, headwinds to Boat Harbour for a quick stop to pick up water and on to a lovely camp spot at the western end of Anniversary Bay.

Anniversary Bay, Rocky Cape National Park

On the water at 6 again, timed to sail the north-easterly into Stanley to arrive for the 10am high tide as it dries a long way out here at low water. Lynne and I passed this way in 2010, landing by chance at high tide right on the shoreline right in front of the campground. On checking in I expressed surprise, i.e. I had a little whinge at what I considered a rip off $45 for a single tent site. It worked, they only charged me $38, old grumpy pensioner discount! My allocated spot was so close to where I landed I was able trolley the boat up right next to the tent. The most glorious long hot shower followed, then laundry.



Food stocktake and shopping the next morning then on the water about 11 to paddle an hour or so out of Stanley to camp at Halfmoon Bay ready to cross to Robbins Passage the next morning.

I was a tad nervous about the 15-25kn NE forecast, would the seas build a bit too much for comfort as the fetch increased crossing to Robbins Island? First to get off the beach though, I could see it was going to be very awkward. A 150-200m of rolling unpredictable surf from the overnight onshore north easterly and 15-25knots diagonally across the very flat beach. It took multiple attempts to successfully get afloat and get the spray deck on. When I pointed the bow into the waves I barely had time to get in the boat and well before any chance of getting my spray deck on and I was blown beam on to the surf and I was aground again. After one attempt I ended up with boat half full of sandy water. If I pointed the bow into the wind even before I was afloat the surf washed me beam on to the beach again. I nearly gave up but then suddenly through more luck than judgement aiming in just the right direction at exactly the right time and I was both afloat, had my spraydeck on and was heading out into the unpredictable surf. It was weird surf, more like unpredictability of tidal standing waves, the surf was really close together and breaking with no predictable pattern. At one point I crested a small unbroken wave while the same wave was breaking cascading white water a good meter above my head only a meter or so to the side. The surf wasn’t that huge or terribly powerful but two capsizes and rolls later I finally got out of the surf zone and was heading for North Point. Blimey, after that I think the seas off Cape Ely are going to be of no concern at all.

I’d realised ages ago that if I lashed the top of the main sail batten parallel to the top of mast I was able to reef down to a tiny storm sail. So small though that I thought it was too small. Hah! On rounding North Point it was very obvious that with the full sail up I was well and truly over powered, out came a small strip of double sided Velcro and the storm sail was rigged for the first time. With 20knots behind me I rocketed downwind, on a bearing for a while until I could see the low lying land of Cape Ely. The sea steadily built but wasn’t too bad, though it was a relief to relax on the smoother waters of Robbins Passage. I considered heading across the wind towards Stony Point for a cuppa and something to eat but realised there was no point in going out of my way so reverted back to flying along on my original downwind course. Kates Point just east of the low tide crossing point between the mainland and Robbins Island provided shelter from the wind, a comfy backrest and a leisurely lunch spot. Over the sound of the wind and waves I could hear for the first time the low incessant roar of the west coast swells breaking on the reefs, rocks and beaches to the west. Here we go I thought, the soundtrack to next ~500km of paddling. Local knowledge had informed me that high tide at the crossing between the mainland and Robbins Island was HW Burnie +2hrs so in theory I was ahead of the high tide but a few kms past the crossing point a channel marker north-west of the Wallaby Islands showed it was already ebbing. Despite this I took a gamble and left the channel as it turned north into the wind and cut across the shallow sand banks south of Kangaroo Island more or less directly towards Woolnorth Point so I could continue sailing. The tide was still high and it would be very embarrassing to be stuck on the endless expanse of sandbanks until the next high! I was doing fine still sailing fast in very shallow water until inevitably the kayak ground to a halt on the sand. Jumping out, the boat kept sailing with me sloshing along holding the mast and trying to keep up. After about 100m it was deep enough for me to jump back in and keep paddling, a short while later the same happened but on clearing the second shallow patch the colour of the water darkened and it was obvious I was out of danger of embarrassment. From there to Woolnorth Point the wind was howling and the ebb stream building. With little fetch it was relatively smooth water so under full sail now I was flying along. I couldn’t resist switching on the GPS to check the speedo, not paddling I was moving along at 10kph. I knew there were a few small sandy beaches on the western side of Woolnorth Point promising easy landing. Rounding the Point and suddenly into another world, the intimidating feel, sight and sound of the west coast overwhelmed me, butterflies in the stomach, nervousness swept through me. The north-easterly wind was lifting spray in huge curtains from the top of the breakers on the rocks and islets between Woolnorth and Trefoil Island. Chill, big slow breath out reassuring myself that, first of all I’ll get used to it, secondly treat it with the respect it deserves and it’ll respect you. So to camp following an epic day. After the celebratory dram and message to Lynne to say I was safely ashore I wandered around looking for a campsite, a track came out onto the beach and I realised it was the same spot where I picked up Guy and Ebi at the end of their west coast trip in 2017.