Day 55, Jan 21 2010
I woke early, anxious to keep moving. A north-easterly was already blowing at 20 knots and I’d just listened to the weather report predicting them to rise to 30 knots at midday with rough seas. From this direction it would be directly behind me. This wind had proven rare over the length of my journey with north-westers being the more prevalent. When it had. it had provided an exciting ride.
I’d carried the kayak and most of my gear down to the beach before 8:00am. Chip kindly showed up to bid me farewell. He’d been planning to go on a ‘tuna run’ today with family and friends but the weather did not auger well for this.
We chatted briefly before he held my bow whilst I climbed aboard and secured myself into the cockpit at 8:20am. There was a small surf to contend with but after the previous day’s efforts the benchmark had shifted considerably, and such conditions as I was faced with here would no longer register any concern.
With the strong wind pushing me along and the consequent swell and chop I made excellent progress and experienced the excitement that had been promised. I experienced strong winds and poor visibility as frequent rain squalls passed me by.
I pointed in the direction of Cape Turnagain through the cloud and rain whilst taking a bearing on the compass before it disappeared in the mist. With the wind and seas behind me, the more direct route of about 30km was a far more sensible one than following the line of the shore.
The paddle with the assistance of the elements was not a taxing one however I did run into trouble when around midday, some kilometres from shore, I felt my rudder catching. It did not take me long to realise that a carabiner clip I’d attached to the rear carry toggle had slipped down and become entangled in the rudder‘s workings.
Pressing each peddle alternatively seemed to release the catching rudder but it meant frustrating delays and surfing the swell required constant adjustments to maintain the correct heading. I put up with it for an hour before I began to worry that I might be doing damage of a more permanent kind if the clip began to wear or exert pressure on the rudder itself and its attachments.
I decided that despite the abysmal conditions I would have to rectify the problem and this meant climbing out of the cockpit and swimming down to the stern of the kayak. I was kilometres from shore in driving rain and a heaving sea.
I woke early, anxious to keep moving. A north-easterly was already blowing at 20 knots and I’d just listened to the weather report predicting them to rise to 30 knots at midday with rough seas. From this direction it would be directly behind me. This wind had proven rare over the length of my journey with north-westers being the more prevalent. When it had. it had provided an exciting ride.
I’d carried the kayak and most of my gear down to the beach before 8:00am. Chip kindly showed up to bid me farewell. He’d been planning to go on a ‘tuna run’ today with family and friends but the weather did not auger well for this.
We chatted briefly before he held my bow whilst I climbed aboard and secured myself into the cockpit at 8:20am. There was a small surf to contend with but after the previous day’s efforts the benchmark had shifted considerably, and such conditions as I was faced with here would no longer register any concern.
With the strong wind pushing me along and the consequent swell and chop I made excellent progress and experienced the excitement that had been promised. I experienced strong winds and poor visibility as frequent rain squalls passed me by.
I pointed in the direction of Cape Turnagain through the cloud and rain whilst taking a bearing on the compass before it disappeared in the mist. With the wind and seas behind me, the more direct route of about 30km was a far more sensible one than following the line of the shore.
The paddle with the assistance of the elements was not a taxing one however I did run into trouble when around midday, some kilometres from shore, I felt my rudder catching. It did not take me long to realise that a carabiner clip I’d attached to the rear carry toggle had slipped down and become entangled in the rudder‘s workings.
Pressing each peddle alternatively seemed to release the catching rudder but it meant frustrating delays and surfing the swell required constant adjustments to maintain the correct heading. I put up with it for an hour before I began to worry that I might be doing damage of a more permanent kind if the clip began to wear or exert pressure on the rudder itself and its attachments.
I decided that despite the abysmal conditions I would have to rectify the problem and this meant climbing out of the cockpit and swimming down to the stern of the kayak. I was kilometres from shore in driving rain and a heaving sea.
I released the skirt, climbed out of the kayak and lowered myself into the water. It was cold! Sliding down to the stern whilst being sure to maintain contact with the kayak. I grappled with the offending clip. The kayak was lurching heavily in the choppy conditions and I could feel it’s weight pulling me back and forth through the water as swells lifted the hull up and down.
I could feel it’s weight pulling me back and forth through the water as swells lifted the hull up and down.
Releasing the carabiner, I returned to the cockpit and whilst I was attempting to scramble aboard, a rogue wave caused the kayak to pitch suddenly, sending me literally head-over-heels and back into the icy water on the opposite side.
Head-over-heels!
The weight of the loaded kayak ensured that it did not escape me in the strong winds and my second attempt to board was slightly more successful and I was able to begin pumping out the water that had entered the cockpit in my short absence.
It didn't go anywhere.
I had thought that the incident would make for good viewing and had turned the camera on accordingly to capture it, but I had not counted on the inglorious, albeit acrobatic, dunking upon trying to re-enter.
At 1:50pm I reached Cape Turnagain, so-called because Captain James Cook had to turn back when approaching the cape due to bad weather. I had bad weather too, but I’d been running with it. Like Cook however, I was soon being offered some protection by it and conditions mellowed considerably.
My goal had been a place called Herbetville but as I paddled along its shores I decided that it looked uninviting. It was set back from the shore and I could discern no obvious sites to pitch a tent and with such miserable conditions there were no folk about to seek advice from.
It was not yet 3:00pm so I paddled on in the hope that I might simply find an attractive spot to land and a site to pitch the tent away from any signs of civilisation. The foreshore appeared to offer opportunities for a landing so I pushed on for another half hour.
I noticed a beach with some large rocks a small distance offshore offering some relief from the surf and paddled near these. The grassy slopes levelled off before reaching the beach and I decided to beach. Again I succeeded in staying upright as I surfed a small wave in.
I noticed a beach with some large rocks.
Regrettably, this and other recent successes in this area have had something to do with timing and selecting the right spots, but mostly just though good luck rather than any improvement on my behalf when it comes to handling the kayak on an incoming wave.
I soon found a level spot back from the beach where soft clumps of spongy moss covered the ground between the large tufts of grass. I carried my belongings up to the chosen site and then moved my kayak up into a small cutaway at the back of the beach above the reach of the tide.
Regrettably, this and other recent successes in this area have had something to do with timing and selecting the right spots, but mostly just though good luck rather than any improvement on my behalf when it comes to handling the kayak on an incoming wave.
I soon found a level spot back from the beach where soft clumps of spongy moss covered the ground between the large tufts of grass. I carried my belongings up to the chosen site and then moved my kayak up into a small cutaway at the back of the beach above the reach of the tide.
The kayak in a small cutaway.
I pitched the tent as the cloud lifted and the light improved and was able to treat myself to meal of Thai Chicken (freeze-dried), and a bowl of rice.
I pitched the tent.
I wanted to fuel up because tomorrow threatened to be a really tough slog. Another southerly change was due later in the day and I had at least 50km to paddle to get to Castle Point and the promise of its camping ground. If I did not make it I might be stuck for days without any food or water apart from what I was carrying.
I carry enough food to last at least about a week without any real trouble, along with at least 5 litres of water as well as water purifying tablets if things get really tough but I do not in all honesty expect to ever have to use these.
I went to sleep knowing I’d best be off early the next morning if I was going to make the most of the conditions before the forecast change.
I’d paddled 51.41 kms in just over 7hrs.
I wanted to fuel up because tomorrow threatened to be a really tough slog. Another southerly change was due later in the day and I had at least 50km to paddle to get to Castle Point and the promise of its camping ground. If I did not make it I might be stuck for days without any food or water apart from what I was carrying.
I carry enough food to last at least about a week without any real trouble, along with at least 5 litres of water as well as water purifying tablets if things get really tough but I do not in all honesty expect to ever have to use these.
I went to sleep knowing I’d best be off early the next morning if I was going to make the most of the conditions before the forecast change.
I’d paddled 51.41 kms in just over 7hrs.
