The Wave

The 10 knot east wind feels chilly as I start my paddle south from Sunshine Bay. I stay in close to the rocks. The swell does not seem that big, just a metre or so, but to the south, I can see some surprisingly large spumes of water washing off the coastal reefs. It's always like this sea kayaking, trying to paddle as close to the shore as you can without getting caught by a bigger wave.

Stories of kayakers mashed in rogue waves are multitudinous. We've all had narrow escapes and many have not managed to elude the big wave, breaking boats and bodies on rocks, reefs and beaches. No matter how many times I am almost caught, I always find myself gradually drifting in closer and closer to rocks and reefs pulled by an invisible elastic that stretches only so far before settling back edging closer and closer to the rocks.

Today I am alone, so I should be more cautious. After all, I am just out for a training paddle, to improve my forward stroke and get a bit fitter for the upcoming summer paddling season. I have decided to avoid going into all the little gauntlets and gutters as I paddle south and just stay a reasonable distance off the rocks, working on my forward stroke. But shortly after leaving, a gutter running behind a rocky reef lures me in.

I have not seen any bigger waves for a while and I wrongly judge the easterly reef will shelter the gutter from a southeasterly swell. I paddle in, nose first, and the first inkling of danger is immediate when a big rock suddenly appears beneath the bow of the kayak. A larger wave has sucked a rock reef dry and I glance behind me to see a bigger wave curling over, soon to break. If I get pushed forward I will smash onto the rocks at the head of the gutter. Back paddle hard, brace, and roll over the crest of the breaking wave, the kayak wobbles on the lip then falls into the trough. I want to get out of here, but another wave is coming in, the reef sucks dry again, back paddle, brace, this one is smaller and behind it, the next wave is smaller again.

Rapidly I sweep the boat around wishing I had edged in stern first or at the very least retracted the rudder to make turning faster. Out beyond the gutter I shake with adrenaline. Now the big washes smashing onto the reefs to the south make sense. I won't get in that close again, at least not today.

Ski Touring The Main Range

Almost a month to the day and we are back for some more ski touring in the NSW Alps, this time we are heading for the main range. I am not sure exactly what constitutes the "main range" but it seems to be centred roughly around Mount Kosciuszko and extends at least as far north as Mount Tate and south to the alpine area above Thredbo. Almost all of Australia's peaks over 2,000 metres lie within this small area, although calling the numerous rounded bumps on ridge lines "peaks" is perhaps somewhat lofty.

Apparently, it is becoming a bit of a thing to hike up all 26 to 33 (interpretations vary) of these high points. Tick lists such as these are always objectively arbitrary but subjectively meaningful. I've had numerous weird tick lists over the years, none of which I ever completely finished but which were fun, in a strange way, when I was obsessing over them.

Day 1: Guthega to Carruthers Ridge

Anyway, back to ski touring. This time we started from Guthega, about 5 km southwest of Guthega Power Station (GPS). The road deteriorates quickly past GPS. It is two wheel drive, but windy, pot-holed and dusty. Guthega is a bit of a weird place. There are a few lodges and a chair lift that runs for 1.5 hours in the morning, presumably to take downhill skiers over to the south side of the mountain. Many of the north facing runs are completely melted out and there is hardly anyone about when we arrive, just a couple of other ski tourers heading out. In the month since we were last skiing, the wind blown bare patches have greatly expanded and the height of snow has shrunk by about 25 cm or almost a quarter.

We start skiing around 11.15 am, and head south roughly following the Illawong track. Between the parking lot and the suspension bridge over the Snowy River we have to take our skis off once and a few times we ski across bare vegetation. Ski travel along this track will not last much longer. There is a big warm bare spot around the lodge so we stop for lunch where we can take our boots off and enjoy the sunshine.

Once across the suspension bridge it is easy skiing along the western bank of the Snowy River to Carruthers Creek. We are after a bit of shelter for camp against the incessant westerly winds as we will leave the tent for two nights while we day trip around the area, so as we skin up beside Carruthers Creek we are looking for a sheltered campsite.

Doug finds a great campsite behind some stunted snow gums and a big boulder at around 1800 metres. There is even a snow melt trickle above camp which obviates the need to melt snow for water. Although we don't have evening sun the site does get early morning sun and the setting sun paints delicate shades of pink and red around the surrounding hills.

It is a bit weird to be camped where we can see the lights of the groomers plying the ski slopes. This is definitely not deep Canadian wilderness, but it is always nice to be camped out and skiing is a bonus.

Day 2: Mounts Clark, Northcote, Townsend, and Lee, Muellers, Abbot and Carruthers Peaks

The sun lights the tent early and it is a delightfully warm morning cooking breakfast and packing for the day out. We begin by skinning up to the ridge above camp and then contour across the broad basin that drains into Club Lake Creek. We dodge dry patches of ground and skin up to our first "peak" of the day, Mount Clark, which is a round flat bump. A short descent, we don't bother to take skins off as the snow is still frozen and we are soon on top of "peak" number two, Mount Northcote.

We don't really have a firm plan for the day but we have been up Mount Kosciuszko before, and, although it is the highest peak in NSW, it is actually one of the least inspiring, with a very long gentle north ridge and a lot of bare ground showing on all aspects. Instead, we skin up Muellers Peak, a short section on the east face actually requires kicking a few steps as our skins are sliding off the icy slope.

Skins off for the descent off Muellers Peak and we are able to coast across the broad basin below to Abbot Peak. On the map, Abbot Peak has two closed contours and we are unsure which is actually higher so we ski up both, tackling the western one first, then the eastern one as this gives us a better run down to the base of Mount Townsend. Mount Townsend is probably the most impressive looking peak, but it too is an easy skin up the southwest side. From the top we can see a couple of skiers on Mount Northcote and this turns out to be two sea kayaking friends of ours who are doing day trips from Charlotte Pass. We exchange a couple of text messages as they head off to Mount Kosciuszko and we have a surprisingly good corn snow descent down to Albina Lake.

From Albina Lake we skin up to Mount Lee and along the ridge to Carruthers Peak where we meet two other skiers, also day tripping from Charlotte Pass. There are a couple of other named peaks in the area we could tag - Alice Rawson and Mount Sentinel - but it would be good to have a couple of new peaks we can come back to another year so instead we ski down to camp on the ridge. Another party has camped about 60 metres below us on the ridge and they ski past just as we arrive at camp.

Day 3: Little Twynam, Mounts Twynam, Anton, Anderson, Tate and Mann Bluff, return to Guthega

Another warm morning but the west wind blows all day and it takes until 11.00 am for the snow to soften. We pack up camp and contour around to Crummer Spur. We follow Crummer Spur all the way to Little Twynam where we have to remove our skis to touch the top as the snow is all melted. It is very windy and our skis act as sails in our hands. It is windy all the way to the top of Mount Twynam, but from there the wind is behind us and not near as annoying.

Unfortunately the descent of Mount Twynam is solidly frozen and it is a chattering descent down to the base of Mount Anton where patchy snow on the west side means it is easy to walk to the top that try and ski. From Mount Anton we continue north and ski up to the top of Mount Anderson where we meet a young bloke out for a day trip from Guthega.

The east ridge of Mount Tate is almost all completely bare of snow but by weaving around a bit we are able to ski all the way to near Mann Bluff. We leave our packs and skis for the short hike up to the top of Mann Bluff and then ski over to the base of Mount Tate. We leave our packs at 2,000 metres on the ridge and skin up Mount Tate, the rocky top is blown clear so we walk the last bit.

Back at our packs, all the plodding has released pent up demand for some downhill skiing and as the snow has nicely softened we make turns down the east facing slope of Mount Tate gradually also traversing to the south as we go. Travel in the Guthega River valley looks tedious. The creek has melted out and there is not enough gradient to slide downhill so we continue traversing until we are roughly above the footbridge over the Guthega River where we get some more turns. There are quite a few old ski tracks, this is obviously a popular descent, and we follow the tracks, turning and traversing until we ski right out to the foot bridge.

On the east side of the Guthega River the snow has melted off so we have to walk until we reach the dam road where we can ski again until skis come off to cross the melted out dam wall, then skins and skis back on for the final 1 km ski up to the parking lot.

It was a grand three day trip involving ski ascents of 13 little peaks and two very fine corn snow runs. Another month, however, and there will be much more bare ground than snow, so that is probably it for our skiing this year.

In Search Of The Batemans Bay Wave Rider Buoy

Happiness is having a group of friends who think the perfect Sunday is spent paddling about kilometres from shore in a sea kayak searching for the wave rider buoy for no other reason than it sounds like fun.

When Mike, hence forth known as “local knowledge” proposed this trip I was, as usual, stoked to be invited. What could be more fun that heading out to sea looking for a small buoy in a big ocean. Two years before, Mike had found the buoy 800 metres from the last published location. This time, it would be a little different.

I planned to paddle over from our local trolley accessible beach at Sunshine Bay as the best adventures are those that start, hobbit like, right from your own front door. But, I knew I would be the slowest paddler and crossing over from Sunshine Bay to Maloneys Beach where Mike proposed to meet would add 10 km of extra paddling to the day. No worries, I would arrive early and eat a leisurely breakfast on the beach while I slurped down tea and rested prior to the arrival of the rest of the group.

And then, half the group – the strong half – also decided to paddle from Sunshine Bay – and when I arrived a full hour before our agreed upon departure time at Maloneys Beach, the rest of the group was already there with sails on kayaks and fully kitted out ready to go! So much for my leisurely breakfast.

Five minutes after the appointed time we headed off east to Three Islet Point. We had a position location from the relevant government site but no-one really expected the buoy to be that easy to find. Pete gave us a bearing and with compass and GPS we paddled for another 1.5 hours until we arrived at the buoy location. No buoy. No buoy in sight. Local knowledge refused to give any guidance on where he had last found the buoy, yet despite that, we managed to organise ourselves into a rough kayak grid search and spaced out over a kilometre or so we paddled roughly north in search of the buoy.

No buoy, no buoy in sight. Grid search back to the east and south again. Local knowledge is now providing some information about where we might find the buoy. No buoy, buoy in sight. We've been out for a few hours now. People's bladders are filling while stomachs are emptying and patience may also be ebbing away.

John suggested we sweep south one more time and, just as we are about to give up, Alison somehow manages to spot a tiny yellow speck that is intermittently just visible on the horizon. She is off going like the clappers, and those at the back of the group, doddling about drinking tea, who know who you are, are not sure what is going on.

After 15 minutes, I can see a small yellow speck, and then John can see a small yellow speck, finally we can all see a small yellow speck which does gradually get larger and resolves itself into a low lying yellow buoy with a small black flag atop. The wave rider buoy is found. We are 4 or 5 kilometres off shore and 6 kilometres from the last recorded buoy position. Selfies with the buoy aren't really possible as a brisk northerly has come up, but we do congratulate each other.

Mike and Alison head off back to Maloneys Beach, apparently they had good sailing conditions all the way. Doug, Pete, John and I head southwest to the Tollgate Islands and on into Sunshine Bay. Despite a solid 5 hours in the kayaks, John, Pete and Doug can't resist a paddle through the passage between north and south Tollgate Island while I, the slow one, plug along trying not to hold up the entire group.

We are all glad to land at Sunshine Bay after 5 hours and 33 kilometres. And that's happiness.

Up Joes Creek With A Paddle

After a significant hiatus, I've been getting back out in the kayak. Today I trolleyed down to our local beach and paddled north into the bay. I paddled along Caseys Beach and past Observation Point and pulled out in a small dumping wave midway along Corrigans Beach where Joes Creek forms a big lagoon behind the beach. It was early and the beach was quiet.

I dragged the kayak over the sand to the lagoon and almost capsized launching the kayak into the knee deep lagoon. I had positioned the kayak above a little sand shelf thinking I would just rock forward and slide gracefully into the water. But the stern of the boat got stuck and like a cow in quicksand I wobbled from side to side dangerously close to dunking completely. This must be how it is for Mirage owners launching off the beach.

In the lagoon, I paddled past the wildlife park where there are dozens of different ducks in the water. The Beach Road bridge made a low long tunnel to narrow to paddle through so I palmed along the roof to pass under the road. Passing behind the High School I was a source of great hilarity to the resident inmates but the school bell rang and they went back to their cells.

Passing under the Glenella Road bridge I was running out of water and a cyclist going by looked at me strangely perhaps wondering why I was kayaking in a drainage ditch. The birds love the creek, there were hundreds. Corellas and lorikeets, egrets, spoonbills, cormorants, many different species of ducks and other waterfowl.

On the way back, an old lady walking her dog turned tail and fled as I paddled past, perhaps thinking only monsters come out of creeks. While the couple I met walking their dog along Corrigans Beach thought the whole thing a grand adventure. That's how it is when you do something slightly unusual: you are either a genius or a nutter.

Winging It

It has been way too long since I was out in my kayak. Distracted by other activities, but mostly, waiting for my new kayak to arrive and thinking how much faster I would go in my new smaller, lighter kayak. But, that new kayak is now a long way away off and it is time to regain some kayak fitness.

I took a wing paddle. Supposedly, wing paddles are 5 to 6 % faster than Euro blades with the caveat that you must have pretty impeccable technique to see that increase in speed. I am not good with a wing, I'm not that good with a Euro, either, but I'd be pretty happy to not always be the last paddler struggling to keep up.

It's hard to manage a wing, however, when you are focusing on keeping up with the group, so paddling solo is a great time for me to work on technique.

I trolleyed down to Sunshine Bay, our local beach and paddled over to Cullendulla and back via Snapper Island. It was glorious. Warm sun on the water, no wind. The water was a little murky after some recent storm events, and I'd forgotten how interesting it is paddling around Snapper Island.