Lil’s Log (updated 29/04/09)
Lil’s Log by Lisa Valastro
On Thursday 9th April, a Crossing for Cancer charity dinner was held at Crown Casino towers, to say a big thank you to all those who had supported the Cross and a farewell and good luck to all the paddlers and support crew for an inspirational, undoubtedly challenging paddle to Tassie.
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DAY 1: Friday 10th April
After an encouraging turn out at the charity dinner on Thursday night, a bright an early start was set for our rendezvous point in Port Melbourne on Friday morning.
We were greeted by a very welcomed free hot cuppa courtesy of paddler Chris and his wife and had the chance to say howdy to the rest of the crew that would be coming along on the trip.
For most of us it was the first time we had met some of the other members of the “crew” and a chance to finally put faces to names after many an email. We are definitely a multicultural bunch. Some members are originally from the UK, New Zealand, Scotland, the USA, Denmark and Holland.
It was then time to load the bus with belongings and food. There was a phenomenal amount of food, enough to most likely sink our support boat and threaten to overturn the bus. Endless boxes of bananas and bananas and did I mention bananas? No, there were breads, meats, veggies and fruit, a lot of which were supplied by local markets to show their support in aid of the trip.
The caffeine had well and truly kicked in by the time we set off for Port Welshpool, our first port of call with the bus alive with chatter and a real “pumped” up attitude. The atmosphere was slightly dinted when it was noticed a pair of vital phones had been left behind. After this early hiccup and a very cooperative deliverer, the caffeine soon started to wear off and soon I wasn’t the only one investigating the back of my eyelids.
A lazy, somewhat hazy day saw us arrive at Port Welshpool a little after 1pm, to be greeted by Bryan, the skipper of our 62ft support boat the Furneaux Explorer and her crew Helen and Gavin. A friendly bunch, we knew we would be treated well.
The task of unloading practically a whole supermarket aisle of food off the boat and onto the Explorer was a feat in itself. The vessel has approximately eight cabins with small bunks and to give you an idea of the food quantity, I had a box of coriander in my cabin, because the pantry was pretty much choc full. After we all pitched in and made a human conveyor belt to actually get the food below deck, next on the agenda was safety procedures and the blessing of the canoes before they were even placed in the water.
Colin ‘Barts’ Bartley was given special permission by a Hawaiian master, Kamoa Kalama to do a traditional Hawaiian blessing over the boats, which have been named in honour of two dear friends, Chris Robinson and Peter Corbishly. The blessing was in order to do the right thing by the canoes who themselves have spiritual ties. “I’m really picky about this kind of thing says Col. Like the Hawaiians, I respect the canoes which a lot of people don’t. The canoe is like a person, and carries with it the spirit of the person who the canoe may be named after, whose spirit is there with you. So I tell people when you have six people in your team, technically the seventh member is the canoe, which is also why it is highly disrespectful to step over a canoe. You wouldn’t step over a person lying down now would you?”
I felt a shiver down my spine and my fingers were tingling.The blessing was soul stirring, very moving. It allowed us allowing us to also reflect on people in our own lives who have been affected by cancer, Brendan who was assisting the blessing, told us to put all our hands on the canoe to create a flow of positive energy.
The general consensus among the paddlers on this trip is that of honour and gratitude. It stands two-fold; grateful for the opportunity to be part of a feat for such a worthy cause, but also as a self-fulfilling journey and personal achievement. 350 plus km across a temperamental Bass Strait in two 45 ft, 155kg canoes is no cakewalk, but the paddlers encourage each other, it is not a race, that’s not why they are here. It’s the reason behind the journey and not the time frame.
It is safe to say that there are not many people who can say they haven’t been affected by cancer in one degree or another. It does not wait for you to be prepared, it does not take your feelings into consideration, and it doesn’t discriminate. In raising funds for the Australian cancer Research foundation, not only is the trip raising money, but also hopefully an increased awareness about the illness and encouraging education about it, which is what Peter Corbishley told me.
Pete is T O M- The Outrigger Man, the guru behind the making of the two beautiful canoes used for the crossing. Manufacturing fiberglass canoes since 1989, Peter was himself diagnosed with cancer a little over a year ago. He acknowledges that if raised awareness during this trip helps save just one person it will be worth it and a positive headspace is what is needed. “I’m doing this paddle to prove to people that there is more to life after the diagnosis and you need to maintain a positive attitude. There is no good curling up your toes and saying that’s it! Don’t put off tomorrow, because tomorrow may never come.” Colin approached Peter early on to ask if he would like to be involved in the paddle and under the current circumstances, whether one of the canoes could be dedicated to Peter. Pete agreed on one condition; that he too come along as a paddler.
So the two canoes are set and ready to glide, the red and white Chris Robinson and the purple and white Peter Corbishly.
The troops end the night with a dinner together to refuel for the first leg of the trip.
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DAY 2: Saturday 11th April
Well this was it. After nearly 2 years in the planning, everything was coming together like a military operation.
Above deck I stepped out onto the pier to a fresh, eerily still Port Welshpool. There was not a ripple on the water and no caffeine hit was needed for this early 7am start, as I think adrenaline and pure excitement were fuelling the paddlers. There are 14 paddlers who will take it in turns to have a rest day as each canoe only seats 6 paddlers. There was a distant buzz, a bustle of movement as the paddlers assembled all the last minute necessary gear and safety equipment. Each paddler was handed out emergency equipment. I overheard one paddler say, there were a few unhappy wives about the whole deal, however they can rest assured these guys have everything covered. Strobe lights for each paddler, life jackets, flares, radios, phones, an extensive first aid kit and even a GPS tracking system so supporters back home can follow the journey.
Everyone was chatting candidly, there were smiles all round, which was great because today was media day. ABC TV came to cover the story and film the paddlers leaving the shore. The group was sooo revved up. You could feel the energy, the low humming and that is no cliché, or as Colin would say, “I shit you not!”
The group stood shivering on the shore under the sad looking sky. We all held hands and huddled around the canoes for the final blessing. “This is it guys, said Colin. We are doing this for our friends in these beautiful canoes, so let it begin.”
The group turned to one another to shake hands and give a big hug to and a slap on the back. Wishing each other all the best and also thanking each other for being here in support.
A little after 9am the group were off, with shouts back to shore of “we’ll see you real soon” and an encouraging shout from the skipper, “come on it’s only 349kms to go!”
Cruising along on the support boat at a steady 8 knots, it was going to take us a little while to catch up with the canoes who had paddled on ahead.
While I had a little time to kill, I thought I’d go and chat to our skipper Bryan.
Our beautiful boat is a 62 ft, standard vessel with 8 cabins, not including captain’s quarters. The Furneaux Explorer was named after the Furneux Islands across Bass Strait, so called by explorer Tobias Furneaux in 1773. Seventy one year old Bryan tells me he’s an ex Cray fisherman, that the boat is a Cray fishing boat, but has never been used for that particular purpose. The old girl has been on the water for 23 years, and Bryan has been sailing for about 50. “I enjoy the trips, he says. I’ve been on the water for a little while now and know these waters pretty well. Over the next few days I guess we’ll find out just what I’ve learnt” he laughs.
With Port Welshpool fading away behind us, I tell Bryan I have never been out on the open water in a smaller vessel before. He turned to me and grinned, “well you haven’t seen nothing yet kid!”
Although it was quite overcast and a tad nippy, the low-lying cloud that was threatening to engulf our view of Wilson’s Promontory ahead, set a slightly eerie but quaint backdrop. Sailing along, I was starting to feel slightly queasy. The paddlers had motored ahead and fell out of sight of the support boat in relatively calm water. I was reassured by the skipper they “weren’t lost, just misplaced for a little while.” Sure enough by scanning and a good set of eyes courtesy of “Rambo” we spotted the canoes again.
I made a bad mistake by volunteering to find them with the binoculars, but very quickly gave that up and forced myself to glue my eyes to the horizon to prevent throwing up my lunch!
When we finally cut the motor and stood stationary on the water for a little while, I thought I was going to lose it, so I grabbed the motion sickness tablets and within 30 minutes I was right as rain.
Gavin the deck hand thought it rather amusing that I felt ill in such calm waters with not a breath of wind. Feeling slightly embarrassed, I insisted it was because I was feeling a little light headed from not having eaten. I don’t think he believed me.
We eventually caught up with the canoes past Sealers Cove, to hand over their lunches. All in good timing as one poor paddler was clearly distressed and in need of a toilet stop, another paddler was looking quite dazed suffering from a migraine.
We were cruising along and keeping a clear view of the paddlers. Now we were in close vicinity to our first port of call, Refuge cove. A 51km paddle taking about six hours to arrive there.
The name Refuge Cove is quite fitting. A place surrounded by trees, with a camping ground not far from the shore. It is a place to rest weary bodies. I can assure you the unwell paddlers were relieved to arrive. When we made it to shore there were already a few weary bodies lazing on the sand, possibly from going all out the night before.
The paddlers came onto the support boat by rubber dinghy to have a feed. After a long first day it was evident that all the excitement and nervous energy had worn off. A few of the paddler’s eyes were slightly droopy and it was only 7pm. I asked the slightly more alert paddlers about their first day and pretty much in unison they replied “it was such a release, just a feeling of sheer relief”
John Huber from Hamilton Island said, “It was great to just get into the water because everyone just had so much built up energy. It was also nice to have all these people come together that we don’t really even know. It’s a great chance to see everyone’s paddling style as well.”
I sensed a playful sense of rivalry as one of the paddlers announced that ‘the purple canoe runs a lot faster than the red and that some people are key paddlers and so everyone secretly hates them.’ They all started to laugh.
The paddlers were quick to tell me all about the wildlife they spotted during their paddle, they were grinning from ear to ear like kids with ice-cream. “We saw a pod of dolphins with two babies. They circled around the canoes to say hello, one of the dolphins even had a fish in its mouth!”
“We saw penguins and a seal that wanted to play oh and black swans.”
I told them I’d overheard someone mentioning a shark and they all chimed in at once. “We saw this massive fish come out of the water and cleared it by about a meter. I’m pretty sure it was a Mako shark. It was about ten meters from the canoes. It was weird, absolutely surreal.”
The group was clearly having a ball and when I asked them how people reacted to them coming on the trip, a few rolled their eyes and others giggled saying that most people thought they were absolute nutters! Gert Christensen, a paddler from Queensland replied, “when I first told people I was going away, they thought I was a total nutcase and immediately reminded me of the tragedy of the ‘97 Sydney to Hobart yacht race. But for me, it’s a bit of a midlife crisis thing, I mean we can’t all afford an open top sports car.”
It was a similar case for Peta Martin, a paddler from Melbourne.
“A few people were like what? Why? They asked me. They just can’t seem to fathom the distance. I’d rather be out here living the dream than sitting at home.”
Then there was Ian “Rambo” Newland. A crazy character with tassled blonde hair and moustache, complete with black bandana. He had a fitting response. He turned to me and said, “well you know what? I got crazy hair, coz you gotta be pretty crazy to do stuff like this.” We both laughed.
It’s good to see the paddlers in high spirits and ready for another day of paddling even if the weather had been a little cool. The paddlers got into the dinghy to get back to shore with only a lantern visible in the dark, a scene plucked straight out of survivor Vanuatu. Let’s hope no one is voted off the island for snoring.
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DAY 3: Sunday 12th April
This morning the paddlers wandered into the little kitchen of the support boat after they were picked up on Refuge Cove by rubber dinghy. It was 6.30am and a few paddlers looked understandably weary. For some, it was being kept awake by the wind through the trees and others for not gagging their snoring tent mates.
Breakfast was a bright and early bustling affair, with the little kitchen of the support boat full of people munching on their instant oats. Some taking a little longer to stir and “nurture” their oats in the microwave, insisting it helps the low GI factor, but causing a traffic jam of people waiting for their porridge in the process.
Standing in the kitchen, it came to my attention that the ceiling of the support boat is a tad lower than I first presumed. It’s perfectly fine for those members who are slightly vertically challenged, but not so great for those over about 5′10. Leaning in the doorway on a diagonal angle seemed to do the trick however.
The morning was lovely. The team headed out to a beautiful blue sky, with not much cloud cover. It was quite warm with only a slight breeze. Paddling out of Refuge Cove, saying goodbye to (Wilson’s) Prom Country, we headed for Hogan’s Island.
Refuge cove and the Prom remained visible at our backs for quite some time and then disappeared into the low cloud and haze. The sun had dissipated a little but the warmth still remained.
Cruising along we saw albatross circling the water for their catch, seals, a pod of bottlenose dolphins who were showing off to us trying to race the boat, as well as a school of fish flipping out of the water every now and again. It was a beaut day for fishing. Gavin and Brendan cast their lines, but unfortunately they caught nada. Brendan was so close, when something pretty big made the rod fly off his lap, but no cigar.
Just after lunch, the wind suddenly picked up quite a bit. Blowing directly from the west. The sun had shown itself again, then decided to hide for a little while. Soon the boat began to sway and throw people around a little. I still felt slightly off colour but nowhere near as bad as the previous day.
The swell was creating more momentum and the water became a little choppy, blowing at about 15 knots. We could only see the bobbing of the two canoes very faintly in the distance.
Despite the movement, the paddlers completed the 50kms to Hogan Island in about 4 and a half hours, after leaving Refuge cove just after 8am.
It was really pleasant approaching Hogan’s Island with its lovely green grassy hills. A group of smaller Islands nestled together with sheep and a cow or two, and not another soul around. Perfect for the paddlers to crash for the night. After getting out of their wet gear I heard the paddlers chat about how “crazy but fun that was and how good it was to come back from a long paddle to a cup of hot pumpkin soup.”
The paddlers were still in relatively high spirits, some even getting back in the water with their wet suits, fins and snorkels to do a bit of exploring. The afternoon proved to be quite stunning.
I asked some of the paddlers if they were struggling with the wind during the leg and they replied “it was a bit scary, but obviously fun, awesome as well. There was a bit of a current but at least we had a tail wind.” Their muscles must have been a bit sore after exhorting that little bit extra to make it over some of the winds. Alison Green from Queensland said “it was almost like hitting a brick wall each time the canoe hit the waves and that the wind was pretty much constantly changing direction, sometimes blowing right at you from about 5 different angles.” I asked her if it is mainly an arm or upper body paddle and she said yes it is but it also strengthens your back muscles and you need the power to push off from your foot for each stroke.” Of course you need to do a bit of training before something like this, but also be generally healthy. “You know what? She said I also think the padding on my bum is wearing away!” I laughed and she said “no seriously!” The paddlers are sitting down for quite a long period at a time, so to give them a more cushioned effect, they us bubble wrap, which I’ve heard makes a big difference.
I chatted to Marie Pearson, a Melbourne paddler and John Huber again about paddling styles in different conditions and about the actual paddles themselves. The paddles they use are usually laminated timber, balsa wood and fiberglass with a carbon strip down the side which is quite light and has a bit more give than a paddle completely made out of carbon fibers. I learnt for this type of situation, it is all about the slow deep movements of the paddle, keeping a slow steady rhythm. In a race situation the paddlers would be doing around 70 strokes per minute, but here they are slowing right down to about 55, going about 10kms.
Obviously, the reason for the staggering amount of food is that the paddlers will if not match, exceed the calories they consume during their paddles. Pete Corbishley told me that during one training session he and his training partner burnt 7000 calories over 30kms.
It is vital the paddlers eat and refuel along each leg of the journey at constant intervals. A few of the paddlers said they had felt a little light-headed during paddling as their electrolyte balance was a tad out of kilter. Many of the paddlers make sure they have sports drinks with them as well as putting magnesium powder in their water to prevent muscle cramps.
Paddler Marcel Mangelsdorf from Tweed Heads in New South Wales told me he had began to doze off while paddling. “After lunch, when we started paddling again, I began to fall asleep. I guess it’s like when you go for a long drive, you get very fatigued.”
That night we were treated to a lovely dinner courtesy of our own chef Ramsay, paddler Gert along with a few bottles of homemade wine. We were “eating and being treated like royalty.”
Everyone still seemed on such a high. Tomorrow we were heading to Deal Island, which I had heard was a really great place to get out and explore. A place to go for a wander and stretch your legs among the beautiful surroundings.
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DAY 4 Monday 13th April
Today was going to be a much shorter leg of the paddle. Around 40kms as opposed to 50. A hop, skip and a jump from Hogan to Deal Island. Well, not exactly.
The paddlers still seemed so relaxed yet fired up. I’m amazed at how they are all just bundles of energy, giving the Duracell bunny a run for his money!
I passed Marcel in the little hallway of the boat and he told me that “everything was sweet” and he was ready to go and then I practically collided with Alison who came hurtling up the stairs beaming. I asked her if she was ready to ‘rock and roll again’ and she replied, “well I’ve just had porridge oh and chocolate so bring it on, let’s go!”
Packing all the paddling gear on deck I looked around and I thought, ‘wow! This is so pretty.’ It was still quite dark, turning the water a deep emerald. The sun was just creeping up over the horizon and the moon was still clearly visible high in the sky. Within a couple of minutes the sun burst out. I’ve never seen the sun such an intense yellow before. The sky was awash with pinks and purples, there was only a breath of wind. I could hear the click, click of cameras. The others were just as awed as I was.
We headed out into beautiful conditions. A tad nippy because it was still early morning but we knew it was going to be such a pleasant day.
Cruising along we left Hogan Island and we were approaching Deal Island in no time. The time whizzed
by because there as so much to keep our eyes occupied.
Deal Island is part of the Kent Group of Islands, together with North East Island, Erith Island and Dover Island.
As we were sailing along the coast of Erith Island, I stepped up onto the deck to take a better look at our surroundings. “see how the rocks disappear into the cliff there? announced our skipper. “That there is the great cave of Erith.” He was right. The trees looked like they’d been practically sucked into the granite rock. I was craning my neck, looking up at the jagged rock faces layered together like a sand coloured jumbled up jigsaw, threatening to fall into the water. I spotted two shags sitting on their lonesome and they didn’t seem too phased.
We were edging closer to Deal Island, passing lichen covered rocks, giving them that fiery orange tinge in the sunlight.
I ducked back inside for a moment to head to the loo, but was just as quickly bustled back outside by an enthusiastic Helen. “Where are you going? You can’t miss this! Oh you’re gonna love Deal girlie.” She said.
“Well mate, added Bryan, you’re gonna see things you’ve probably not seen very often.”
Looking out to the side, you could see a ‘swashway’ between Dover and Erith Island. A rock bridge joining the two islands which you can walk across in low tide. There was no real swell, only the slightest wind and not a cloud in sight.
The paddlers were being treated kindly today. The sun was glistening off the turquoise water. It was a tad hazy, but it was in the high teens and the sun was warm. Cruising along the velvet water, I had a better glimpse of Deal Island.
I could see patches of vivid green. A blanket mainly of oak, a few wild cherries and tea trees covering the hills, accompanied by friendly little white houses, giving the whole place a homely feel. I could see the sheds and a jetty, a rusty disused track from the top of the hill to the jetty, previously used for carts carrying equipment to shore. We made it to the jetty and were welcomed by Wes and Ethel Ford, the current caretakers on Deal.
The paddlers were coming into shore now, racing each other to the waters edge over patches of kelp and sea grass.
They were all laughing and in high spirits at the end of the 42km.Well it was absolutely stunning! I kept hearing “how nice is this? What a magic day. I’m pretty sure I heard “heaven on a stick” mentioned too and the description was pretty much spot on, literally post card perfect. The paddlers sat in the sand lapping up the sun. “Don’t let my wife see a picture of this, said Melbourne paddler Chris McKiernan, I wouldn’t want people to think we’re having a great time doing nothing.”
Even though the conditions were lovely, I heard some of the paddlers say that right towards the end of the leg, there was a bit of a current which was like “hitting a brick wall, going absolutely nowhere!” Jason Shepherd from Melbourne said, “by the end of it my blood sugar had gone down and I just felt wrecked!” Normally in a race situation, which is what most of these paddlers are used to, the steerer would know the waters fairly well and be able to call the appropriate shots in order to pinpoint where the current would be. Col whose predominately a steerer was quick to tell me, “when everything goes right, it’s a whole team effort. When something goes wrong, it’s immediately the steerers fault” he laughed.
We had made the distance to Deal Island in great time. Even Bryan had said he was amazed at how much the weather had been in our favour and how we had covered nearly 150kms in only three days. “You fellas are lucky coz it can be rockin a little bit out there and it really makes you appreciated when it’s calm, coz those winds can change! You see if what you fellas are doing was easy, every man and his dog would be out here doing it! It’ll just show what kind of challenges you’re up against.
The original plan was that when we reached Deal Island, we would have a rest day. We had made great progress, even so some paddlers were thinking maybe it would be a good idea to take advantage of the cooperative weather. There was a bit of debating on having a lay day. Some paddlers thought it would be a shame to miss exploring Deal, but if it meant making it to Flinders which is over half way of the leg and then being stuck for a few days, so be it. At least the major leg would be out of the way. “From a karma perspective we have been so blessed with good weather, they said. It would be almost like laughing in its face. The main focus is to complete the journey and make it in the allocated time.”
“It’s a bit of a shame said Steph Jaques from Sydney. In terms of paddling, this would have been an absolute gift horse!”
“Yeah we have been in the safety of the God’s, added Peta. We could have paddled to Flinders and arrived safely. You kinda don’t want to be paddling at the end of the trip coz you’re in a hurry to make the deadline.”
A few of the paddlers were talking about wind speeds, pressure systems, directions and iso bars. At first, I just smiled and nodded my head. I hadn’t the foggiest! Then they whipped out some paper and showed me some rough synoptic charts and drew little diagrams for me. The basics began to gel.
Basically they were telling me the wind for Tuesday was going to be a low 5 to 15 knots, coming from the North, North West, which would be behind them and a little to the side- a perfect tail wind to give a nice push.
I kind of asked some other paddlers if they thought it a good idea about leaving on Tuesday. Some replied that they were happy to have a bit of a rest before the long stretch. Others thought that yes, it would be good to paddle out on Tuesday, but if the weather was going to turn wooly, then they would be stuck in the crappy weather in tents, whereas here they would be in a house. At least they would be dry and be able to rest properly before the long haul. “It was six of one and half a dozen of the other.”
The “tribe” had been divided!
We ended the night with a BBQ on Deal. The atmosphere was pretty cruisy and relaxed as we watched the brush-tailed possums creep closer to the fire.
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DAY 5: Tuesday 15th April
Well seeing as today was 100% stunning from the get go, if we were having a lay day before the weather turned sour I thought I’d take advantage of the surroundings.
I headed up the path from the pier, around the corner and up the hill. I learnt this particular corner had been dubbed ‘Telstra Corner’ by the other paddlers because this was really the only place where you could get a few bars of phone reception without having to walk around with the phone in your hand, waving your arm around like an idiot and spooking the wallabies. “It’s a real challenge on ‘Telstra Corner’ said Terry Russel from WA. The trick is stepping side to side trying to get the best spot!”
Reaching the top of the path, I met up with Ethel and Wes and had a good old chat. Ethel told me different caretakers come to the Island for three month stints or thirteen weeks before rotating. They had come over to the Island from Victoria and had been there for the last five weeks. I learnt that Wes’ grandparents had been keepers of the lighthouse on Deal during the 40’s. His grandfather had been the one to bury the pilot of the RAAF plane that crashed on the Island, the wreck of the engine is still visible.
I asked Ethel if it gets lonely being on the Island, seeing as it is only really accessible by ship. “Oh no, she said. We get quite a few visitors especially during the warmer months. We have had quite a few kayaks come by. Besides we have a TV, a phone and a radio so we are alright.”
Staring at the back of the caretakers quarters, I could see the clouds moving quite rapidly across where we were staying on East Cove. The movement of the water was rather sad looking out towards West Cove.
I thought the paddlers were still asleep, taking advantage of the rest day. Well I soon learnt they’d been up about two hours prior to myself, trudging up the hill to the lighthouse. I figured I would go and check out the lighthouse for myself.
Scanning through the visitors’ guide, I learnt the Deal Island Lighthouse built around 1846, stands at just over 300m above sea level. It has an elevation of 280m, with the actual lighthouse standing at about 20m and is reported to be the highest in the Southern hemisphere.
It has been decommissioned since 1992.
The trip to the lighthouse is a fair hike. It is a pretty steep stretch, especially the last part of the leg. You will kick yourself for not wearing a hat or bringing a drink bottle.
Climbing up the winding stairs to the top of the Lighthouse and over the railing, I looked out to the stunning misty view before me. Out at the low-lying cloud hazing over Karitane bay to the right and engulfing the tea trees down below. I concluded that it was a little late for photographer Dave Bryant to inform me he was afraid of heights! Fair enough I guess. The wind didn’t really help either. It was rather gusty all the way up there.
It was a lighter stroll back down the hill from the lighthouse, turning off the path on the way to ‘Squally (Wreck) Cove.’ I was happy that it was a bit of a steep way down through the shrubs to the cove, but knowing in the back of my mind my thighs would hate me later on the return trip back up.
At low tide you are able to clearly see the wreck of the Karitane. On Christmas Eve 1921 the steamship Karitane crashed into the cliffs and washed up on Squally cove. The fragments of rusted steel are strewn across the rocks on shore, some which have a distinct rustic tinge. Part of the hull and engine of the ship are still visible, whereas the other pieces are a little harder to distinguish. The wreck is worth a look, but another reason for a bit of bush bashing is the rocky shoreline. A lot of the larger granite rocks are oddly shaped, but it is the smaller ones you are after. These are amazingly smooth and perfectly oval shaped like a shiny emu egg.
It is quite nice to just sit and watch the mid-morning sun glisten over the sandy coloured rocks. There is something so tranquil about the water lapping over them with a slight breeze and the warmth of the sun on your face. It was lovely looking up at the shrubs along the cliff face against a vivid blue backdrop.
Walking back up the track to where we were staying, I saw a number of wallabies bounding across our path, then hiding in the bushes, then heard some cape baron geese in the distant. I could see the cute little white cottage like houses near the care-takers quarters. The Deal Island museum, the out houses and the veggie patch all illuminated with a warm glow from the afternoon sun, peeking through the clouds and just as quickly going into hiding.
We ended the night with chocolate mud cake to surprise Marie for her 40th Birthday.
It had been a lovely day. ‘What a day for a day dream.’ We’ll see what tomorrow brings.
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DAY 6: Wednesday April 15th
It was inevitable along this trip we were going to encounter some nasty weather. So today was a complete write off to head out paddling, as the conditions were going to continue to deteriorate over the next couple of days.
People had been sleeping relatively well. We had labeled the snorers the ‘chainsaws’ and tried to have them banished to one side of the little house we were all sleeping in. Usually when you have a bunch of people cooped up together, you’re bound to get personality clashes and confrontation. I am amazed at how everyone is just mates with everyone else and you know what I don’t see why it should be any other way. Everyone here is in the same boat and here for similar reasons. I was waiting to hear in the distance a big fat “I told you so”, but these people are all mature adults and it’s not about being cynical.
By the morning the wind had picked up and was blowing at about 25-30 knots. Coming directly from the North West down through the channel, then blew from the West. We stepped outside to check out the conditions and were almost blown back inside. The clouds were racing across the sky. You could see the white caps ripping across the water, where the tide was clashing against the wind. I could sense some of the paddlers were just itching to get out there. “You see that? I love that s… right there” said Steph. I would love to paddle out in a one man canoe. When the tide changes, then you have a Kahuna! The swell to ride and the tide behind so you’d go racing! It would be awesome, but hard yakka!
We took another chance to step outside and saw the clouds pulling in together. The sky was awash with grey. The wind swung completely around and blew all out in our direction. “Oh crap! Here she comes!” cried Col. A few seconds outside and we were hit with a gust of wind and pelting hail.
Later in the morning it came to someone’s attention that
the canoes down on the shore would most likely be swept out to sea by the incoming tide. It was our mission to trudge down the hill and go fetch the canoes to carry them further up the beach.
We all donned our waterproof gear and headed out. Thankfully, the wind died down only slightly but the rain was going all out.
I later discovered that the label waterproof didn’t really apply to my jacket and ‘quick drying shorts’ and headed back into the house with cries of “Gees Lil, you look like a drowned rat!” Classy.
As we were drying off Peta told me she’d heard on the radio there had been 120km/hr winds back home in Melbourne. “The wind damaged trees and everything, she said. The Spirit of Tassie couldn’t even dock up there and here we are, fourteen idiots in canoes. I just had a look out at those rocks and it makes you feel really small compared to that.”
I chatted to the girls and said maybe we really should have left when we had the chance. Lisa Spain from Melbourne just laughed and replied, “well yeah Lil, we could have left on Tuesday but everyone would have been real cranky at each other coz they would have been real tired. Then it would have really been like an episode of Survivort.”
So we passed the day playing celebrity heads. I haven’t laughed so hard in ages. My ribs were aching. But it was nice to be giggling like a five year old again surrounded by other five year olds.
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DAY 7 Thursday April 16th
Today the weather was pretty average again. It was still really windy. People were floating around, in and out of the kitchen. “People are making coffee out of boredom said Chris, unless you want them to eat the furniture.” “Yeah I’ve had a coffee, a cup of tea and two cups of milo and it’s only 9.30am!” added Jason. Some of the paddlers went out for walks, others reading books, some eating to pass the time. “When you’re bored, you eat said Rambo, but we’re gonna eat ourselves out of the house at this rate!” He had a point. Bryan had anchored the Explorer on the other side of the cove, which was a bit more sheltered from the wind. We needed more supplies from the support boat if we were to be ‘marooned’ for a few more days. We’d convinced Bryan of cruising close to the jetty so a few paddlers could go on board to get more food and warm clothes.
It was quite funny watching people hurl themselves onto the support boat as it approached the jetty and then hurl boxes and containers of food back into the arms of waiting padddlers.
Well now we had plenty of food and then came the task of making use of mushy bananas and squashed veggies. Did I hear someone mention piklets?
After our food find, there was still time to kill. A ‘tribal’ meeting’ was called to discuss the weather conditions for the next few days and to see how everyone was feeling about heading out on a particular day. There was a lot of deliberation but no arguing. We had been in the house for four days and I think everyone was getting a tad restless. It was mentioned that there would be a ‘window of opportunity’ tomorrow, however Saturday and Sunday were looking brighter options. After all, the next haul is a stiff 9 hours. Some of the paddlers were saying it would be good to head out tomorrow, then after an hour or so they could just head back to Deal Island. But, if the conditions were going to be so, so, it would be a hard slog trying to turn back around. I could hear a few mumbles of “don’t hold your breath.
“I told Wes we were thinking of leaving tomorrow said Marie, and he pretty much just laughed at me. ‘You won’t be going anywhere he laughed.’”
“Once you get going, once you commit, said Rambo there’s no going back!” A valid point. This leg was the one where the paddlers would be the most exposed to the elements. No little islands in between to take refuge. It would be grueling. In these conditions you’d need a really good, steerer in seat number six at the back of the canoe and someone pretty experienced in seat five to back them up.
It was either leave on an iffy day, or wait it out one more day for more favourable conditions. Even Bryan wasn’t too keen on Friday’s option. “There will still be quite a lot of residue from the weeks bad weather. I heard him say on the VHF radio. So, if that’s the case, you fellas will have to get up at sparrows fart on Saturday morning and go, go, go like randy rabbits!”
It was still undecided as to the course of action. However, we all agreed until we heard the weather report in more detail at 5pm, so we still had time to fill our tummies and play charades.
Resting on the couch I had a bit of a chit-chat to some of the paddlers, casually asking them if the trip so far was what they’d thought it would be! “You know what? Said Jason Shepherd, our resident Scotsman. From a personal point of view, I think it has. I came to Australia a couple of years ago and this is exactly the kind of thing I wanted to be doing rather than being stuck in an office 9-5! I mean I’ve been on other expeditions with friends and there you have time to do your own thing, but here everyone is in the same boat, literally. I know I’ve made lifelong friends out of this and it’s good because there has been no cynicism. It’s early days yet he said but there has been none at this stage.” He was right. Everyone has been extremely well behaved. But you know I was thinking he added. If this 65km leg turns out to be a real sod, then I guess everyone will know each other a bit better by then won’t they.”
I’m glad no-one has ‘spit the dummy yet.’ Yet is the key word. But in all seriousness, this trip is physically as well as emotionally demanding. It’s a little tricky being out of range of family and friends. Seventeen days is quite a long time. I guess I’ll get back to you on that one.
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Day 8 Friday April 17th
Today the wind was still swinging between 30 knots and we had heard there was going to be 4m swells last night on the radio so Saturday it is.
Everyone was buzzing though, finally knowing they were going to be up and leaving. Don’t get me wrong, Deal Island is awesome, but there are only so many walks you can do and so many books you can read without wanting to eat them.
We spent the day making homemade pizza’s and then scrubbed and cleaned the house we were in to make it sparkle. We piled all our gear together and waited for Bryan to come and pick us up in the Explorer. We headed out to West Cove to anchor for the night, whilst the paddlers followed behind us in the canoes.
Over a steaming bowl of onion soup courtesy of Steph, I chatted to Col about what to expect tomorrow. He whipped out his map and chatted to me and the others around the little dinner table.
The forecast for tomorrow is going to be a lighter 10-15 knots from West North West, with a 2m sea abating later in the afternoon. The wind should swing around more to the south, but very well could become a head wind. I asked him what that meant for everybody. “Well it’s not perfect for paddling, he said. It’s going to be challenging. Not only because of the distance, but because of the conditions.” But everyone is sooo pumped after being hut bound for a couple of days. He added. I think there was a bit of cabin fever setting in” he laughed. “Yeah I just hope I haven’t forgotten how to paddle!” Laughed John. “Everyone’s just firing! Said Col. I think there’ll be a lot of records broken tomorrow morning.”
Everyone headed to bed relatively early to rest up for tomorrow. It was going to be a long day tomorrow. I fell asleep to the rocking rhythm of the boat and the lapping of the water against the hull.
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DAY 9 Saturday April 18th
I woke up this morning and heard the paddlers in the hallway say they hadn’t slept very well. Maybe it was from all the ‘rest’ on Deal Island. Well I bet your bottom dollar, they’re gonna pass out tonight after that long haul today.
I walked into the kitchen asked the first person I saw, if they were all set and ready to go? “Ready as we’ll ever be I guess”, said Gert.
I bumped into Rambo and asked what he was thinking about today. “Well there is a bit more cloud around he told me, so it could be a bit more windy than we had expected. I think it’s going to be an interesting day! I found out that he had stuck a mini “Rambo-cam” on the back of one canoe and on the ama of the other, to capture the money shots, while he was going to hang out on the boat and film all the action from above.
I jumped into the dinghy and headed out to shore to the anticipated paddlers. Gosh it was nice out. Not really cold at all, the sky was quite dark as it was still early. The water had a deep green but black tinge, the consistency of hot tar. I stuck my hand in to test the water though and it was like ice.
Revved up is an appropriate word! The paddlers were doing last minute stretches and I saw Jason arming himself with energy bars and snacks like ammunition on his life jacket. I’ll give the guy a break. “I shit you not” he’s about 6′ft 4″
“Are you ready to go? Alison asked Terry our resident Brit. Have you had your cup of tea?” I sure bloody well did! replied Terry smiling!
Col gathered the crew for a last minute pep talk. “Your challenge, he teased, in his best Big Brother impersonation, is to paddle 65km across Bass Strait! Alright guys he said more seriously, let’s get out there and do this!”
The paddlers head off under a pretty moody looking sky. The sun was just poking its head out to say good morning as it cast a warm glow over the rock faces on Deal Island.
Well it was choppy as, pretty much from the get go. It was relatively difficult to determine just which way the wind was blowing because we were still relatively sheltered by the cliffs. However, once we steered through Murray Pass, you could definitely feel it. The wind was blowing only about 15knots but pretty much head on and the waves were about 2m. Not huge but in this part of the world they are a lot closer together. The paddlers had their work cut out for them as they were paddling against the tide. Water was slopping all over the canoes and the support boat was rocking and rolling like crazy. I heard someone say “I’ll bet the paddlers are thinking, now why in the hell did I come out in this for?”
I attempted to have some breakfast but abandoned that idea when I ended up wearing half my Special K.
We were really being thrashed about. I stepped out on deck to see how the paddlers were doing and was almost collected by slip sliding containers.
I could hear Colin screaming out directions above the wind and kept an eye on the paddlers somewhat fatigued but determined faces. 45 minutes had past and they still hadn’t really gotten anywhere. The boat continued to sway at sharp angles, making standing upright practically impossible.
“There is just enough wind to keep everything sloppy said Bryan and don’t forget we are getting the residue from the last couple of days. Even if the wind died down, you’d still feel the roll”
I noticed the paddlers were rising and falling with the water and getting pushed to the side by the tide. We are practically stationary ourselves said Bryan, but if we were steaming ahead, you wouldn’t feel the rolling as much. The canoes are long and skinny and so are riding the waves like seagulls.”
We were there pretty much side by side with the canoes being shaken about, and one of the canoes was being ‘blown’ I guess you could say, directly towards the support boat. The boat was rising and falling and I could see the paddlers faces a lot clearer as the nose of the canoe was on a collision course with the support boat. I was still holding onto the railing like I was on a theme park ride when I could here people going ‘oh oh oh watch out watch out!’ I caught a glimpse of Marie’s shocked face as they marginally missed the support boat and were taken in the other direction.
I went inside later and asked Bryan if he knew we almost hit the canoes. He pointed to a little sign above his head:
‘A collision at sea can ruin your entire day it read.’ “I haven’t had one yet he said thankfully, but I’d imagine yes it would.”
As the canoes managed to push through the water and head around the cliff faces towards Flinders Island, the conditions became more favourable by mid morning. The tide was now more to their side and not directly head on. The sun had come out and there were a few fluffy clouds. However it was still nippy up on deck. The wind definitely had a chill to it. By lunch time we were passing Craggy Island to our left, with its audience of birds and could see Killiecrankie in the distance, our next port of call. Bryan was amazed at how well the paddlers were traveling. “They are doing exceptionally well. They have about 30kms to go and its only 1′ o clock.
“Yeah added Rambo, they’re still looking pretty good, but I guess the next hour will tell.” Poor Rambo, I think he really wanted to be out there in the action. He was practically climbing the walls.
Over the next couple of hours the paddlers remained ahead of us, firing along. We caught up with them a few times when they stopped for mini food breaks and they looked in good spirits, if not a little cold judging by the jackets they had put on as opposed to just their paddling shirts.
When we arrived at Killiecrankie the paddlers were already there swaying slightly and were surrounded by the Flinders Island Lion’s Club, some of the locals and a beaming Jay and Jackie Hetzel who told us that their café, ‘JJ’s on the bay’ had put on a free spread for us and was putting us up in a beautiful beach house for the night.
Everyone was so grateful for the generosity and hard work they had put in to make us feel welcomed and relaxed. The food and wine was great and utterly appreciated. As we sat out on the deck of the café, I could see the silhouette of Killiecrankie mountain in the glow of the dying sun. It was really something. The picture was so stunning it almost looked fake.
Everyone was happy to be on Terra Firma, where “there is a lot of Firma and not much Terror” according to Bryan. While the paddlers were tucking into their dinner I did the rounds of asking the paddlers about the day’s paddle. After 67kms and nearly 9 hours on the water I figured the paddlers would probably not be in the mood for chit-chat and understandably. However, they were all pretty keen on filling me in, everyone chiming in at once.
“All of us were expecting it to be a little rough near the rock faces leaving Deal Island and then be a nice day’s paddling, I think we were all thinking, ‘gosh I hope it’s not like this all the way’, but it was just relentless the whole time.”
“We stopped every hour, said Marie and you could definitely tell when the hour was coming up because you were thinking God I feel awful. You were getting knocked about a little because the waves would come up and then under the canoe and sometimes get dumped right into your lap.”
“Yeah, said Steph, you could see the rogue waves coming and spilling straight onto you or down your back and that was when it was freezing.”
“I can tell you what, they said. The breaks were definitely needed. We were going to stop properly, but it was just too rough!” “But the worst stroke was the first one after you’d had a break, added Steph, because you are wet, cold and you stiffen up. Another thing you’ve got to get your head around Lil is food envy, she continued. Everyone wants what everyone else is eating” she laughed
I asked everyone if obviously they pulled up a little sore today, because they told me they had been pretty good after previous paddles. “Was that a joke? asked a wide eyed Lisa, are you kidding? I can’t even lift my fork to my mouth!”
I wandered over to where some of the other fellas were sitting to have a chat to them. “I feel great considering, said a content Gert. I had a tough but good paddle today. When I got out, I felt pretty good.” “No, it felt ok, agreed Terry, really pumping.”
“Because we broke it down into hour segments, it was bearable, said Jason. But it was definitely colder I can tell you that. Today was the first day I wore thermals.”
“It was just really long, added Chris. It was cold when you got dumped with water, but it could have been worse. I saw the clouds not looking so good. We kinda bypassed some nasty fronts today.”
I asked the fellas if they tended to get distracted whilst paddling because they were moving continuously. They pretty much laughed in unison. “You can tell when these guys are in focus, said Col, by the intensity of the hup calls.” “And also when the person behind you goes ‘ah Jase, that was 26 strokes before changeover’” continued Jason.
Testing the waters a second time, I asked the boys if they had pulled up a little stiff. “I think everyone did a little bit.” they replied. “When I got out of the boat, my legs wouldn’t work” said Col “Oh and your knees and legs cramp up.” said John.
“Imagine sitting on one butt cheek for 8 hours straight, said Chris. You tend to cramp up.” “His right, said Jase. When you’re in the canoe and your legs and muscles go numb, you don’t really feel any pain, but as soon as you get out, that’s when the pain really hits! So it was so nice to have people greet us when we arrived.”
I wandered around and had a chat to Jay and some of the Lions members who told me they’d passed around a plate to the customers who were in the café and managed to raise $220 in one sitting. A really generous bunch.
Well, I’d had a few mixed reactions today and as the night was winding down and everyone was heading off to find their bed, I heard Alison ask Colin, “so Col did you enjoy today?” and I presume his reply was pretty much spot on in that moment. “Well enjoy isn’t exactly a word you’d bandy around today.” he laughed.
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Day10 Sunday April 19th
After being on the boat for 9 hours yesterday and being tossed around like potato salad, I was set and ready to Rock ‘n’ Roll today!
I was told I would be paddling to get the feel of some of the ‘real action’ so I was pumped. Mind you this feeling lasted a whole two minutes and then I immediately thought “Oh crap.” These people have trained for quite a while. They have their protein shakes and fitness regimes. I came armed with a pen and a notepad.
The paddlers thought it was great myself and photographer Dave were getting into the spirit of things
and so kindly allowed me to borrow some of their paddling gear. A paddle was the main thing, sunglasses, protective gloves to prevent your hands being torn to shreds, a thermal top and a life jacket. This was it! I was going to be sitting in seat five, just in front of Colin, who was steering the purple canoe. Yay, I was going to be in the “faster” canoe.
Before we set out, Jason was giving my-self and Dave a five minute crash course in ‘paddling for dummies.’ He ran through the basic techniques and also how not to paddle, so you can prevent the feeling of your biceps being slowly ripped apart.
I picked up my paddle and it felt weird trying to ‘air paddle’. It seemed a little tricky but I was surprised how easily I kind of grasped the concept of paddling once we hit the water.
The plan was that I’d be paddling for about an hour to get a good taste and then make a quick changeover. One paddler told me in the nicest possible way, that “no offence, but you probably won’t make an hour.” Why thank you for the reassurance. I was pretty sure I’d be right and an hour didn’t seem too long so things didn’t seem so bad…until we actually started moving.
My initial thought was “Oh, this really sucks. Why would anyone want to do this?” Ten minutes in and my shoulders were already on fire! Thankfully, Colin said over my shoulder, “You’ll find it a lot easier Lil if you put your hand down closer to the paddle blade.” Well hey presto!- no more burning sensation.
I think after the initial pain, you just get into a rhythm and work through it. Paddler Chris told me, that even in professional race situations, the first half an hour is pretty tough.
There are little mini walls you hit where you find yourself thinking “oh that’s not so fun”, but once again it passes. It was a little tricky because we were paddling against the tide and the one thing I remember was feeling extremely thirsty.
I remember Col had mentioned to me at times when you’re paddling, your mind wanders off, because of the repetitive motions. “You find yourself thinking about the weirdest things, he said. Like ‘did I put in my tax return?’” He was right. I was concentrating on keeping in time with the paddle strokes in front of me. The movement through and up over the water, through and up, then for the oddest reason I started to think about golf. Golf, of all things! I don’t even like golf! I snapped out of it after about 20 seconds when my paddle completely missed the water and I ended up drenching Gert in front of me. Trust me I did it more than once, a couple of times even dumping water into my own lap!
As much as I kid, I had an absolute ball. By the end of the hour I was ready to keep on paddling. I was all fired up. But you know what? I am not even going to pretend I really know how the paddlers feel because honestly, I have absolutely no idea. I paddled for a little over an hour which is only an iota of what these paddlers are doing. I really take my hat off to them!
After the change over we cruised ahead to Whitemark with stunning Mount Strzelecki as its background to wait for the paddlers to come in. The mysterious low lying cloud hovering over its peak. We were greeted again by the members of the Whitemark Lion’s Club.
The paddler’s thought today was going be a short stretch after yesterday’s long haul. Somehow, that info was miscalculated or maybe mis-communicated. I think the paddlers may have overhead our skipper saying the next leg was 30 miles instead of kilometers and got a little confused, making the trip closer to 50km. I can tell you, they were not happy campers.
When the paddlers arrived on Shore at Whitemark they looked absolutely wrecked! “We just paddled 115km in two days!” announced one paddler. “Oh that was nasty, said John. It was the same thing for nearly eight hours, paddling into the wind the whole way. By the end of it, you just had nothing left!”
“The wind was blowing South Easterly, so it was quite cold, said Col. The wind wasn’t strong, about 15knots the whole way, but it was right in your face.”
The paddlers also told me that it was quite difficult mentally as well, because they had been prepared for a bit of a lighter paddle after yesterday’s killer. So they hadn’t really brought as many snacks or water as usual.
“When did you realize that it was going to be more than 30 kilometers?” I asked them. “When the distance on Marcel’s GPS had reached 30kms and we still hadn’t arrived yet, they said. “Yes, said Marcel. I said to them, ‘for anyone that was thinking this paddle was going to be 30kms you can get out now”, he laughed.
Before the paddlers had arrived, Chris, Jason and my-self went for a bit of a walk to suss out the surroundings. We happened to bump into the local pub owner. We asked him what time the pub closed, because the paddlers would most likely love to wander over after today’s session. He told us six but we asked him if he would leave the pub open an extra hour for us and when he found out we had been the crew paddling for cancer, he kindly agreed.
So after a pretty long day, the paddlers went and had a well deserved drink or two in the company of the intrigued locals, finishing off the night with minestrone and cottage pie to soothe their weary souls.
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DAY 11: Monday April 20th
I can honestly say that everyone we have met along this trip has been nothing but nice to us. Extremely hospitable and commending us greatly. Offering to open their homes, cafe’s and even schools to us. Digging deep into their pockets, offering what they could to donate to the Australian Cancer Foundation. As the ‘scribe’ for this trip, I think I can safely speak on behalf of the rest of the group in saying we are forever grateful. They definitely put a smile on our faces with their generosity and for that we thank them.
Today the paddlers were off hitting the ground running bright and early, heading towards Trousers Point about 10kms away. With the support boat to catch up with them there, then wait a little while longer after the canoes headed off again towards Cape Barren. We were to wait, as we were meeting up with an extra supporter.
The sky was looking rather bleak. Very overcast, very hazy, but for those of us on the support boat we still took the opportunity to walk ashore and stretch our legs. We were told there was a quaint little B&B/café not far from the shore and so we went for a little wander to grab a cuppa. Although the weather was a bit sad the grass was such a vivid green, it was lovely. We walked a little further until we came to a sign reading ‘Vistas on Trousers Point’- Open at 11am. We continued up the pathway until we reached a homey looking place, encircled by shrubs and Mt. Strzelecki right at its doorstep. We approached the front door but a lovely lady by the name of Caroline Stockton, came out to apologize saying they were closed. She asked us where we had come from and we told her about the Cross for Cancer. At this her eyes lit up and she said “Oh you’re the paddlers from the crossing, all right then, come on in! I had no idea, she said. We stepped into the room with its warm coloured walls and cozy, crackling fire. We met another lady there Bea, an aboriginal elder who makes the most intricately beautiful sea shell jewellery. We all had a good old chat over a free hot cuppa courtesy of Caroline, who gave us some money to donate if we promised to also donate the equivalent of four cups of coffee. We thanked her and promised to spread the word about her hospitality and lovely B&B.
Apparently by the end of the week there is going to be a pretty horrendous front creeping through. The paddlers have a little over 90km to paddle and would want to make tracks pretty quickly to avoid being ‘marooned’ again and running out of time. In order to do that, it looks like there is another long 60km paddle on the cards for tomorrow.
I mentioned to Bryan that after yesterday’s paddle, the outriggers were absolutely exhausted. “Yes, he replied, but that was a battle from the get-go with those nasty conditions. At least tomorrow is going to be a lot calmer with a tail wind behind to cruise them along.” There will be a cool South Easterly breeze at around 5 knots.
So the paddlers are gearing up for another mammoth cross tomorrow. You can tell the paddlers are a tad weary, a few yawning a little more than usual. At least tomorrow they will finally be on the Tassie mainland.
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DAY 11: Monday April 20 Trouser Point Flinders Island to Cape Barren Island
Another perspective (This section contributed by Brendan Condon)
The Furneaux Explorer sat at anchor off Trouser Point, waiting for a new addition to the support team, botanist Damien Cook, to arrive from mainland by aircraft. This plan was eventually abandoned as the faulty aircraft required a new alternator and never left Essendon. Damien promptly boarded the Spirit of Tasmania to meet us at Bridport. Meanwhile the two canoes moved across the large strait separating Flinders and Cape Barren Island, maintaining radio with Brian as we went.
The 30 km paddle to Cape Barren Island would take us to our staging post for the almost 70 kilometer paddle to Waterhouse Island and Croppie Point. The winds were massaging the canoes along in the water, hitting us ama side (from the left) as we paddled along in time. We had repeatedly stressed that the paddle was a team effort, not a race, but invariably every day we would have the two canoes paddling along side each other and a little white line fever would sneak in – one canoe would almost imperceptibly accelerate a little as the paddlers quietly applied more power, then the next canoe would respond, and both canoes would move from a ten kilometer per hour amble to a 12,5 kilometer race. This is well and good in a training run but not ideal after a 40 or 50 kilometer paddle. Almost all of the landings on the islands were sprint finishes. In fact we worked out with back of the weeties box mathematics that we took somewhere between 150,000 to 200,000 paddle strokes across Bass Strait. Each stroke involved placing the blade in the water and applying power through contracting the biceps, rotating the shoulders, contracting the abdominal muscles and driving through the legs. Imagine what you would say to your gym instructor if they told you they wanted 180,000 ab crunches, and 180,000 leg presses!!!
The Chris Robinson canoe team rated faster than the Peter Corbishley team – 66 strokes a minute versus around 52 – but they moved along side by side at pretty much the same speed. Sitting in seat one in the Peter Corbishley was the man himself – Peter Corbishley – and he went to ridiculous lengths to protect himself from the sun and wind with a Bedouin style head dress – he earned the nickname Osama Bin Paddling and in seat two Marcel Mangelsdorf was Lawrence of Arabia.
The finish at Cape Barren Island was no exception – a two kilometer accelerating sprint finish – and we touched landfall after a decision by committee on where we should land the canoes (committee decisions can either tap the knowledge of the whole group or be a disaster) and we were promptly met by a reception committee from the Cape Barren Aboriginal community. Brian told us to drop in to the primary and secondary school to say hello to the students, but when we arrived we found most were away across the various islands with their parents collecting Muttonbirds, or Yolla in their language.
Muttonbirding is a way of life for the Tasmanian Aboriginal people, and for thousands of years the Short-Tailed Shearwater or Muttonbird has flown across from Alaska in the Northern Hemisphere to the Bass Strait islands for Summer feeding, where upwellings of nutrient rich water spawn an explosion of life – phytoplankton, krill, then all the other higher rungs on the food chain joining in the feast. The chicks grow to an enormous size compared to the adult, full of oil and energy, and they use this to grow their flight plumage and propel them on their maiden flight where they navigate unassisted (the parents departed weeks ago) back to the Northern feeding grounds of Alaska and Siberia. The oil has been the prize for the Aboriginal communities and when we arrived most of the community was out on the land engaged in this practice of Muttonbirding.
The Furneaux explorer was hours away, we were cold and wet and the community took us under their wing, giving us access to sleeping in the warm high school building, and keeping the community shop open. Everything we spent in the community shop was donated back to the Crossing for Cancer charity – we find that often the people with the least to give actually have the greatest generosity and this held true with this community.
Schoolteacher Judy Hunter gave us a crash course in the history of Cape Barren Island, and the history of this resilient community. Despite the background of being rogered by successive governments from colonial to present day, the locals had a great attitude, and we felt very welcome. On stark symbol for me of the treatment of this community was the very large war memorial sitting in a prominent place in the centre of the community – both during the first and second world wars the Cape Barren Island men volunteered in droves – it seemed from the size of the community that every able bodied male went off to fight for the empire. Judy Hunter told us that proportionally the Cape Barren community had the highest rate of combat of any community in the Empire during these wars. Yet when they arrived back they had to apply for medals and didn’t receive citizenship until the late sixties or receive title to their island until the 1990’s – well after most of the veterans would have passed away.
The next generation was represented by young Malakai, a bright eyed young fella who was the only student not away birding. He offered us the entire contents of his pockets for the charity and we were very chuffed at his generosity.
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DAY 12: Tuesday April 21st Cape Barren Island to Croppie Point
The next morning we gathered and were sent off into the early morning light by Judy Hunter and we all have fond memories of Cape Barren Island as we struck out on the longest leg to Waterhouse Island and Croppie Point.
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(Lisa Valastro continues:)
DAY 11: Tuesdsay April 21st
We had kindly been given permission by teacher Julie, to spend the night out of the cold in one of the classrooms at the small Cape Barren school. This allowed us to be a little more comfortable, and to use the facilities ensuring a speedy start for today’s long stretch to Croppies Point.
The 5am wake up call was a bit of a killer, especially as the night had not gone as smoothly as planned. Everyone arose in a slight stupor and a little grumpy. We had been in closer vicinity to everyone else, therefore the ‘chainsaw’ snoring was amplified, resulting in a poor night’s sleep and “destroying our souls” in the meantime.
We trudged back in the crisp morning air and through the darkness to where the dinghy was waiting for us, navigating our way to the jetty by the aid of our headlamps. Nobody was really saying much, all too tired to speak and still a little irritable.
Grumpiness aside, the mood quickly lightened after the crew had had breakfast and were finalizing last minute equipment for the days paddle. The crew said a big thank you to Julie for her hospitality and set out ready for the day ahead. They were pumped and rearing to go. Tanya our photographer was just as revved, thrilled to jump into the dinghy and shoot ahead to capture all the excitement.
I only saw the canoes a few times throughout the day, which passed without a glitch. There was some cloud cover creating a light blanket of warmth from the cooler day. The sun was peeking out behind the clouds and the wind had died down considerably from the previous days. The paddlers seemed much more at ease during this long leg. The conditions were a lot kinder to the weary paddlers today.
By late afternoon, the canoes were cruising closer to the shore, a little faster than at a leisurely pace. I waved to the paddlers up on deck as they went sailing past the support boat shouting and laughing. I think the notion of a ‘friendly’ paddle had been thrown out the window.
All though there is still one day of paddling left, technically, Croppies Point is considered to be Tasmania, which was good enough in that moment for the paddlers, who jumping up and down hugging and congratulating each other.
“Well it’s funny said Col, this is the first time I’ve been to Tassie and honestly, I never thought I’d be arriving in a canoe” he laughed.
Because the conditions had been mostly in their favour this time around, I heard Col telling the group they had pretty much shaved a good 2 hours off their paddling time as opposed to their last 60plus km stretch which took close to 9 hours. “I thought it wasn’t a race.” I said to them jokingly, telling them I noticed they had had their game faces on as the canoes were neck and neck coming into shore.
“Well everyone kept saying it’s not a race, it’s not a race but you sort of can’t help it, said John. When there are 2 canoes side by side, when they are next to each other, it’s like instinct kicks in. It’s a race!”
“Yeah it’s like even though you’re going slow, chimed in Jason, it’s like I’m going slow even better than you’re going slow! It’s technically not a race…. but losers are always last! He laughed.
The moody lighting was set by the sun setting against the quaint water-coloured sky, the clouds tinted with violet. The dying light illuminated the lonesome Explorer on the still evening water. All you can really do when Mother Nature delivers something like this is sigh! Another perfect postcard snapshot to ponder, as the finish line lay just over the horizon.
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DAY 12: Wednesday April 22nd
The Final Countdown:
It was a nippy morning. Nearly 5am, pitch black and fresh. The moonlight was still dancing on the water accompanied by a clear, star studded sky. It was going to be a pretty day. The paddler’s who had slept on the boat, were rudely awoken around 4.30am to the Explorers’ foghorn. Our skipper had informed us the night before, that we had to leave this quaint little spot at around 6am in order to make it to our next port, Bridport by 8am.
This was to ensure we would catch the high tide and avoid being stuck in the mud. The bleary eyed paddlers came up on deck looking a little dazed but were comforted by the fact they would soon be joining their comrades just a stone throws away on shore at Croppies Point, getting the chance to catch a little more shut eye for a few extra hours.
No such luck for those of us to remain on deck. Well there we were. The ‘paparazzi:’ Tanya Fry our second photographer and myself, Lil the ’scribe’, as well as the extra paddling crew; Marcel and Peta. We had heard that paddler Marie was also planning to meet up with us in Bridport.
The sun was just creeping up and there were streaks of yellow and blue, splashing across the sky as we said goodbye to the paddlers, wishing them luck for their final day and telling them we would catch up with them on the other side.
The cruise to Bridport took about 2 hours. The plan was that we were going to meet up with Bryan’s nephew who would race us out to meet the paddlers on his zippy cruiser and accompany them along this last leg of the paddle.
Tanya and I set out first on one boat to greet the paddlers, as Peta and Marcel were going to catch up with us in another speed boat once Marie arrived, whom we assumed was not that far off from meeting us.
In no time at all, we had rocketed across the water and were now on the speed boat lolling side by side with the outriggers. Every now and again, we would shoot ahead in front to get a better snapshot, much to the delight of photographer Tanya.
The paddlers were cruising along at a beautiful, steady pace, with the light breeze just kissing our faces. It was a really magic day; blue sky, fluffy white clouds, crystal water. It was encouraging to see the paddlers looking so happy, so relaxed and also getting the chance to chit chat and laugh with them when they took a break. A cruisy 24km leg. Things were looking just peachy.
As we continued jetting along nicely, one of the other men in our speed boat decided it was a good idea to cast a fishing line out into the water, as we had now drifted a fair way from the paddlers. No one had actually noticed he had done this as the roar of the motor drowned out some of the surrounding sounds. Within seconds of him casting the line, we veered left to once again meet up with the canoes, which were just a little behind us. The line was picked up by the wake of the boat and proceeded to be entangled with the canoes. I don’t think anyone had registered just what had happened until we heard loud voices from the canoes shouting “hold up! hold up! Stop! Stop!” The hook of the fishing rod had come hurtling out of the water and thankfully become attached to the fabric on the canoe coverings rather than into the body or face of one of the paddlers!
I immediately hurled around to the ‘fisherman’ and asked wide eyed “Are you serious? Don’t you think that was pretty stupid casting off with the canoes so close? You could have taken one of their eyes out! That was really, really silly!” I was relatively calm and kept my composure, but I was absolutely furious! To his defense he apologized profusely and I heard he even went up to the paddlers later on and further apologized. I guess it came down to a bad judgment call on his behalf, but nevertheless an honest mistake and there is no denying we have all done that before. Presumably a little shaken, the paddlers kept cruising along seemingly un-phased and good on them. This was their day and it would take a lot to take that away from them.
Time was being erased and kilometer by kilometer, the shore was fast approaching. We had caught up with the other speed boat by now who had waited and waited on shore for our final paddler. Still, there was no word or sign of Marie. Apologetically, I kept shouting out to her partner Brendan saying “Sorry Brendo. We can’t reach her on her mobile, we haven’t heard from her and we’re not quite sure where she is.” Over the lapping of the water I could hear Brendan saying “well we are not going into shore without her!” Rightly so. It would be devastating if we were a member short as we finally completed this journey.
After many a somewhat panicked phone call, we managed to finally catch word of Marie’s whereabouts. We quickly made plans to all pile into the one speed boat, as the other speed boat zipped ashore to refuel and go and collect our missing paddler. Everyone began to breathe again.
The canoes ran upside along the boat so the remaining paddlers could clamber onto to the back and onto the ‘amas’, in order to arrive as ‘one’ with the rest of the group.
The anticipation kept bubbling away as we crept closer and closer to the shore. The paddlers were grinning widely, laughing and shouting out “whoo hoo!!!! This is it guys!”
Well what a reception! From a little way off shore we could see and hear the people gathered on the beach. The cheers, yelling and clapping became louder as we saw a group of about 200 littlies running across the sand screaming in our direction. It turned out the local primary school, Bridport primary had let the kids out early to come and greet us as we arrived. There were dozens of other happy, smiling faces, not to mention a teary eye or two. I’ll admit it! I was getting a little choked up myself. I quickly cleared my throat, insisting I had almost swallowed a bug!
The kind locals had given up their morning to come down and show their support. I could also see the shiny black video cameras of the media. They were right on it, ready to capture every moment of this historic finish.
We arrived onto the jetty just after noon, to booming applause and wolf whistles as each one of the paddlers pounced on a fellow paddler or well wisher to give them a mighty hug. I was caught in a rib crunching hug and swept off the ground more than once I can assure you. Amongst the laughter and applause I heard someone almost whisper, “Well we did it! We bloody well did it!”
A huge bottle of champagne miraculously appeared and Brendan began to douse himself and unsuspecting paddlers around him with it, before grabbing two fellow paddlers and hurling themselves with a huge splash back into the water. Everyone was ecstatic!
The kids were having a ball chatting to the paddlers, shooting their hands up in the air, eager to ask their vital question: “What did you eat? Did you see a shark? How did you go to the toilet?” they cried.
The man of the moment Pete Corbishley was warmly welcomed by his partner Lois and was led through a guard of paddles to the awaiting media. “I’m living with Cancer, not dying of it!” I heard him say. He continued up the path oblivious to the fact his parents had flown in from New Zealand to meet him once he’d finished the crossing. Everyone else was in on the surprise, but he had no idea. It was lovely. His eyes lit up when he saw his parents, I think he really got a kick out of them being there.
After all the excitement of the afternoon, we headed on down to Bridport Bay Inn, where we were going to tuck into a hearty meal at the pub and then crash in the cute little beach cottages for the night. What an awesome atmosphere. Everyone was in high spirits! People talking animatedly, glasses chinking, a friendly argument over who was up to buy the next round. It was great! I figured, before people started to tell me the same story three times and giggle half way through, I’d catch the paddlers for one last “interview” before anyone had the chance to slur their words!
Paddler Chris had insisted all week on an “exclusive interview” and kiddingly wouldn’t dare speak to me until we’d arrived in Tassie. “Alrighty, I thought. Time to spill it Chris!” I wandered over to where the fella’s were sitting and began to laugh. This “exclusive interview” turned out to be a group session. The other fella’s had pulled up chairs to listen in and were ready to chime in with their answers as well, so I gave up. Though I aimed my questions at Chris, other comments were greatly appreciated.
“Well, what a stunning day!” I said to them. “Yeah, said Jason. It was absolutely ideal conditions. A little chilly this morning but there was a slight breeze right behind us as we were sailing along.” “It just went really fast! said Chris. Paddle wise, the conditions were a dream. Light wind, light swell. It was a perfect day. You couldn’t have narrated a better day. And gees those school kids really made it didn’t they? he added. Our arrival would not have been as joyful without them I reckon!”
“I completely agree, said Col. It was just amazing. You could see Bridport and we knew that that’s where it was all ending. The mood was electric! When we were paddling we were counting down the kilometers and then before we knew it we could see kids waving and people cheering. It was the best way to finish something like this.”
“It was funny, added John. Because at times I was thinking I don’t want this to be the end. We were getting closer to the shore and coming in and we were going faster. On the one side we were getting a really good pace, but on the other hand the faster we were going meant the faster we were going to finish and then that would be it.” “It was a bitter sweet pill.” I overheard Steph say.
“Well, yeah. I don’t know about you guys, I said to them, but I feel a little lost now that we have finished. I don’t quite know what to do with myself.”
Chris pretty much had centre stage at this point. “Well I kind of have mixed feelings in some respects, he said. I’m a bit sad and I’m not really ready for it to end. I’m happy for it to go for a few more days but then on the other hand I’m glad that we finally did it and it’s kind of nice to be going home.”
Chatting a while to the boys I discovered that after the long 67km haul from Deal Island to Killiecrankie, a few paddlers had actually pulled up a lot worse than they had let on. Everyone looked wrecked that day, I just hadn’t realized to what extent. I mentioned to Chris that he had insisted he was fine that day, but honestly he looked terrible. “Thanks, he said, you don’t look so bad yourself.” he laughed. “Honestly, I was in pain from leaning on the one side for over 8 hours, he said more seriously. I was in a bit of pain and on a short fuse. I probably put myself through more pain than I should have. Because I was steering, my main fear was tipping the boat.
If something goes wrong, ultimately it is the steer’s fault. So I was erring on the side of caution. My will to just get there was driven by fear. I was stressed because of that fear of tipping, of being absolutely admonished by the group for flipping the canoe. Not only that, but going through in my head the procedures we would take if we did tip. The sight of those waves around a tiny canoe started to scare the s… out of me! So instead, you learn to deal with it by just listening. I tell you what? Pain is a strange thing, it certainly opens up your mind to just how much your body can cope with!”
I had asked paddler Steph earlier in the night, how is it a paddler can just keep going when they are absolutely wrecked? She told me that “team spirit” was a huge motivator and also suggested I talk to Marcel who had hurt his hand after the long paddle. “I busted the tendon in my wrist, from the repetitive movement, which got worse in the strong winds, he said. Yes of course you are in pain, but you can’t think, ‘why do I keep going? It’s just not an issue. You think ‘this is what I need to do’ and you just do it. You also don’t want to let the team down, no way! Bugger that!”
Aches and pain aside, the paddlers were just happy to be here. Content and relieved they had made the stretch across the Strait and achieved their own personal goals.
“Honestly Lil, sighed Alison. On a personal level, I just wanted to see if I could make it! And also to just step off the planet for a bit I guess, stepping out of the rat race and doing something worthwhile for a change.”
“I’m really satisfied, said Brendan. It was a beautiful finish to a great story. I was thinking of Chris [Robinson] when I was paddling and I really think he was there with us, creating all that positive energy. I’m really looking forward to the next adventure.” “And it was just so great getting the chance to paddle with Pete, agreed Col. To go from chatting to him in the factory to see something that starts from a seed and grows into something like this is just amazing.”
We could not forget Pete. Paddling every leg of the way, never having a rest day and never moving from his position in seat one. Col had gotten up to say a few words in which he congratulated the group on the crossing and then turned to Pete. “The whole trip was absolutely fantastic and honestly mate we couldn’t have done it without you. I tell you what. I wanna hear a lot more stories about sharks coming from you yet mate.” He said, as everyone applauded.
“You know what Lil? Chris said turning back to the group. I think everyone has memories of someone in their lives affected by cancer and this may sound like a cliché, but for something like this you want to raise as much money as you can. I hope to God they find a cure for cancer, I really do. They may not in my lifetime, but I hope the money we have raised really does go far and helps towards that.”
So after 12 days paddling across the high seas, and the history books set with a fresh new entry, the night was set to continue until the wee hours.
We had held up the pub a little longer than they had hoped, so as we were rounding up our discussion to go and continue the celebrations elsewhere, the fella’s wanted to let me know just how stoked they were at their accomplishment. At how humbled and blessed they truly felt to have been apart of this incredible journey. “You know you can’t really appreciate something like this until you’ve lived and breathed it, said Chris. There are so many people I have spoken to who wish they could have been on this trip and I feel so lucky that I was actually able to be a part of it. Also, he said smiling, to have something set in concrete that no one else has done before, to do something first feels pretty damn amazing.”
“Oh yeah!, said Col. I don’t think it will sink in for a few days and that’s when I’ll truly realize just what we’ve done and you know what? It’s ours forever and that is the cool thing!”
Crossing For Cancer Statistics:
Overall Distance Paddled - 378.11km
Total Number of Days – 12
Number of Paddling Days – 8
Overall Paddling Time (this includes rest stops on each leg) – 48h 24m
Average Moving Speed – 8.3km/h
Best Average Moving Speed for one day – 9.0km/h (last leg)
Fastest Speed – 17.2km/h (Deal Is to Killiecranckie)
Longest Leg (distance) – 68km (Cape Barron Is to Croppie Pt Tas, 7h 58min)
Longest Leg (time) – 9h 30m Deal Is to Killiecranckie – 67km
Number of Hulis (capsizes) – nil!
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