Getting Paced In The Pace

I am in my new boat and, unlike the green slime, it is breakable. This makes me feel fragile and breakable. Doug and Rae help me launch. Rae keeps the bow pointed into the waves - which are as big as I have ever seen them at Sunshine Bay - and Doug pushes off the stern. I usually launch myself. Paddling a sea kayak on the open ocean, you have to be self-sufficient. But, I am out, and quickly paddling beyond the peaking swells to join John. One by one, the rest of the group launches. We are eight and heading north. Realistically, we can only head north as the north wind is already blowing and is forecast to peak at 20 to 25 knots.

We paddle across the bay to Archeron Ledge. I am faster than before, but not miraculously fast. My stroke is still awkward, Rae thinks my paddle is too long. I think I agree with her. From Archeron, we paddle out around Three Islet Point in big swells. The kind of swells that tower over your head. The swell is often bigger at Three Islet Point than at North Head, although I tend think of North Head as the entrance to the bay.

There is a steady but as yet relatively modest north wind blowing. The sea, however, is confused, a large easterly swell overlaid with a northerly sea. It feels chaotic at times. We paddle north for a distance. I am getting more comfortable in my new boat but I am still unsure of how far I can lean it, and how it reacts in breaking waves. The group is widely spread, and waiting for the others in such a messy sea is a harbinger for sea sickness.

Rae leading the way

At some point, we turn around. and I get out in front of the group. I am never in front of the group and it somehow feels a lonely place. I find it twist around in my new boat to see where every one is without the boat feeling a bit shaky. Soon Rae, who has the capacity to sprint between widely spaced kayaks with ease comes along side and directs me into the shelter of Three Islet Point to wait for the others. "Doug is rafted up with Neil" she says, "but it is nothing to worry about."

Once inside Three Islet Point, I do worry a little. I never let Doug out of my sight and I cannot see him at all. Later I find out that Neil had capsized while surfing a wave and Doug was helping him back into his boat. Once everyone is back inside the bay, we head into Judges Beach for lunch.

Rescues at sea are pretty common

I am keen to do more paddling. It is my first time out in my new boat and I want to see how it handles in varying conditions. Today I will get more than I bargained for. We head further into the bay. Those with sails are whipping along in the 15 to 20 knot wind, and I am pleasantly surprised to find that even without a sail I am not that far behind.

Doug at Square Head on a calmer day

Mike, Neil and John peel off towards Sunshine Bay, while the rest of us paddle west into the bay. At Square Head, Doug and Tony paddle through the long gutter gauntlet. I love this gauntlet. It is long and narrow with a couple of choke spots in between. In bigger swells, like today, the choke spots suck dry and you have to watch you don't hit big rocks. I am not going in today, however, in my new boat. I do hope I am not always so precious about the new boat.

The indestructible green slime on 

a different day at Square Head

From Square Head, we paddle south across to the breakwater and catch a couple of green waves. The break here shifts with the tide, and right now it is much further in the bay. The wind is really whipping now, and it feels like time to head back to Sunshine Bay.

Sitting out back watching waves break

is always confronting, these were quite manageable

I find the next six kilometres a huge and wearying battle. The NE wind is blowing 20 to 25 knots, and it feels like a headwind as we plug along past Observation Point heading for Sunshine Bay. The wind is blowing directly onto all the rocky headlands and islets that are usually so interesting along this section of coast. I am paranoid I will get blown onto them and shatter my new boat. I can literally see pieces of orange and red composite floating on the sea.

The new Pace before the first run,

PC, K. Darby

Accordingly, I take a really long route around the headlands which means I not only paddle further but more directly into the wind than everyone else. The rest of the group is closer in, and having an easier time of it. They all wonder what the heck I am doing. I wonder a bit myself. My bow is a little light and the boat is continually turning with the wind.

At Sunshine Bay, the view towards the beach is confronting. Big waves rise up and peak. All we can see is the backs of white curling waves. The beach is invisible behind the big rollers. There are a lot of rock reefs in Sunshine Bay, and again, visions of orange and red fibreglass with perhaps a seat attached floating as debris on the ocean unrolls through my head.

We should have landed. Rae has talked to Neil on the beach and once in a bit, the landing is fine. Everyone with the exception of me wants to land, but I freak out and insist we paddle back to Corrigans Beach. This is my mistake and I need to own it. The boat would not have broken, nor would I. I could make all kinds of legitimate sounding excuses about not being used to my new boat, the 25 knot wind blowing us around, but in the end it all came down to irrational fear.

It feels like as much a battle back to Corrigans Beach as before. I am pointing to directly into the wind again, fighting to keep the nose upwind, worried about being smashed on the rocks; in general, an over-anxious wreck. Of course, my paddle stroke has long ago fallen apart and I am still taking too wide a tack around the headlands making everything harder for myself.

Another day, another capsize, not sure

how I managed to capsize in this easy spot

Finally, we paddle around Observation Point into the shelter of Corrigans Beach. I had eventually given in to Doug's exhortations to steer off from the wind and had suddenly found the paddling much easier. One by one we roll into the beach. Karen tips out of her boat at the last minute and her rudder falls off her boat (note the foreshadowing here). I am glad to be ashore, wondering why I am drawn to sports that are hard for me. Could I not, at 55, hang up the rock shoes and rack, turn to bushwalking instead of climbing, paddle gently on inland lakes and sheltered bays, ride my bike on paved cycle tracks instead of crashing repeatedly on the single track? Why do I have to keep beating my thick head against a wall of intimidating sports?

Night falls..... It is day two in my new boat. Karen and I are getting forward stroke instruction from Rae. Rae has the most effortless, efficient and elegant paddle stroke of anyone I know. No matter the conditions, cruising downwind, towing two sick paddlers in the huge swells off Wilsons Promontory or battling into a headwind, she seems to move without struggle through any conditions.

We launch from Corrigans Beach today, a bit worried about a repeat of yesterday as the wind is supposed to be even stronger than yesterday. Ironically, the wind and swell are about half what they were the day before. From Corrigans Beach we work on our forward stroke over to Cullendulla Bay. This is a nice sheltered spot to practice drills in clear, relatively warm water.

I flub my first roll. My second and third are shaky. The fourth is another flub, and after two tries I bail out and rescue with Rae's help. I am definitely better practicing on my own where I can take my time.

It is time to head over to the bar for some surfing. There is a big sandbar in Batemans Bay which breaks fairly frequently. In big southerly swells, it can feel too big, other times, it is too small, or at least it was for the green slime. Karen is nicely catching the fronts of waves and riding in on the green face. Rae soon disappears riding in wave after wave.

Heading out the bar

As usual, I pick what is probably the worst spot. My first ride is not too bad, but I broach quickly. I am using the rudder. I never use the rudder in the green slime but I am trying the rudder for a couple of rides in my new boat as, apparently, that is what Pace owners do. My second and third waves are quite wild. I broach immediately and am side surfed, then spun completely around and back surfed, back to forward facing, then side surfing, all on one wave. Somehow I keep myself upright, and then decide to head out into the channel to catch my breath.

But I am in the midst of all the breaking waves and the bow keeps kicking around no matter what I do with the rudder. It is good practice for surf exits though so I keep paddling through each wave as it rises up. I'm glad I am wearing a wetsuit, and the helmet does not hurt either. When I limp out into the channel, I turn around and see my rudder hanging off the back of my boat at a sick angle. Rae comes over and is somewhat agog as well. A day and a half into a new boat and the rudder falls off!

Side surfing the new kayak

Luckily I am near the Marina so I paddle in and try to effect a repair. Had I realised the seat adjustment allen key, which is still attached inside my cockpit, would have screwed in the two loose screws, I could have got right back out there. But, with fingers only, I can't get the screws in to even begin to tighten them. I wiggle the rudder back into place, but retracted and paddle out to tell Rae and Karen I will meet them back at Corrigans Beach.

I'm not sure what my paddle is doing,

nothing useful

The wind is only around 10 to 12 knots, but it is enough to keep turning the bow into the wind for the two kilometre journey back. I give up on paddling and row back with my paddle extended and using a classic oar stroke solely on one side of the kayak. The next day I have seized up muscles on just that side of my body. Paddling a Pace without a rudder would really suck.

Down, Up, Down, Up: Perrys Lookdown to Lycon Plateau Return

There are a handful of tracks into the Blue Gum forest in the Grose Valley. Two that I had yet to walk were via Perrys Lookdown and the Lycon Plateau so it made sense to combine them into one trip. Down Perrys track to the Blue Gum forest then straight out the opposite side via Du Faur Buttress. The 1200 metres of elevation gain and loss would also make it a good training day.

According to the sign at Perrys Lookdown, Perrys track is the steepest route into the Grose Valley and it sure is steep. About 2.5 km of continuous steps, almost, but not quite relentlessly steep. It took me one hour to walk down to the four way track junction in the Grose Valley and my legs felt a bit wobbly after all the steps.

The trick to finding Lockley track on the opposite side of Govetts Creek is to walk straight towards the creek from the four way junction (the only unsigned alternative) and when you reach the creek, walk downstream a short distance until the perfect log for a river crossing spans the creek. Stroll across.

There is no flat ground on this walk, and once across Govetts Creek the track immediately begins climbing up Du Faur spur to the Lycon Plateau. This side of the valley is not as steep as the Perrys Lookdown side, but it is still a solid grind uphill. Once you get to Du Faur Head, the track winds cleverly up on rock steps through a break in the cliff line up to Lycon Plateau. As you head south, gradually gaining elevation on the plateau, there is one awkward step to climb up.

I, mistakenly it turns out, stopped a bit short of Lockleys Pylon on the cliff edge for a break before returning the way I had come. Not being in great steep hiking shape, I was not sure how long the walk back out via Perrys track would take and I did not want to run out of energy part way up. In the end, I managed the 600 metre climb out of the valley in under 1.5 hours so I had some time to spare to go slower if needed.

On the way back, I wandered down to Acacia Flats where camping is allowed but fires are NOT. Unfortunately, people being what they are, the camping area was covered with the remnants of old fires. As sure as the sun comes up in the morning, the beautiful Blue Gum forest will be burnt down as people refuse to give up the short term but immediate (and questionable) gratification provided by a campfire for the long term gain of preserving a now unique environment.

Of Glens and Cliffs

Walking down Braeside walk to the Barrow Lookout I immediately felt good. There is something about walking through woods that is just good for our psyche. A small stream runs through the valley and after recent rains it was gurgling gently while the bush was alive with spring flowers on the native flora. At Barrow Lookout, I turned north and followed the busy Cliff Top track to Govetts Leap. The area around the car park was busy as usual, but a few minutes along the track in any direction and I was alone again.

My map marks a track called the Jungle Track branching off Williams Track that descends Govetts Leap Brook and I wanted to see if I could find it before continuing on to Pulpit Rock. I walked a fair way down the steep and wet Govetts Leap track until I passed the location where my map and GPS indicated the Jungle track was without finding it. Looking back at this section of cliff later from closer to Pulpit Rock, it is obvious that the Jungle track must leave the maintained Govetts Leap track down near the base of Govetts Leap Falls and not a hundred metres up the valley as shown on the topographic map.

After not finding Jungle track, I walked back up and strolled along to Pulpit Rock. This is an easy but lovely walk following the cliffs around the valley passing over the top of Horseshoe Falls and ending at the spectacular Pulpit Rock lookout. A light misty rain was falling over the Grose Valley which is one of the real treasures of the Blue Mountains.

On the way back, I exited via Popes Glen Track another pretty track that winds up a quiet valley eventually arriving at Blackheath.

Bikes and Bush in the Budawangs

Could it be over a year since we last walked into the Budawangs - land of cliffs and pagodas, hidden creeks and caves, and, of course, Budawang brush? Our last visit was in summer, it was hot and the bush was full of flies. This time, we went in via Nerriga in winter and with mountain bikes, it was a totally different experience.

Nothing really spurred this visit except a weekend of blue skies, sunshine and cool temperatures. We drove in via the Meangora Road out of Nerriga. The access to the National Park is reasonably well signed past private property and after crossing the Endrick River you should find yourself on the Red Ground Track. This is an old road pleasantly reverting to nature and perfect for a mountain bike.

In places you ride through open heath with the magnificent cliffs of the Budawangs around you, in other spots, the track passes through gorgeous eucalypt forest. About 10 km from the parking area, the road dips down and crosses Endrick Creek again before the track travels generally south under a canopy of eucalypts to some campsites and open grassy areas near Piercy Clearing. After riding up another small hill we came to the junction with the track that runs down to Styles Creek and Hidden Valley.

We stashed our bikes in the bush a short distance up this track and then continued on foot as the trail climbed a small hill. At the apex of this hill, a cairn marks the start of the track to Quiltys Mountain. The track up Quiltys Mountain is a typical Budawang pad pushing through scrubby bush but soon coming out near the top of the mountain on sandstone slabs. Some wandering around brought us to the Bora Stones near the summit. There are Bora Stones and views, and, of course, a great place for lunch. The ride back out was as enjoyable as the ride in, except we also got some nice downhill sections.

Next day, we rode back into the second Endrick River crossing except this time we headed west instead of south on another fire road. There are nice views along this section as the fire road dips into and out of small creeks on sandstone slabs. There is another bigger creek crossing at Sallee Creek where the Endrick River has big pools. About a kilometre further on, the fire road junctions with Round Mountain fire trail and we turned south and rode along this until we arrived at a small drainage which runs out of the north end of Round Mountain.

We could not find any track but the bush was not too bad on the spur ridge to the north of the drainage except when we arrived on the western cliff line of Round Mountain. We had lunch here before turning back, however, we should have kept going to the top of Round Mountain as there are better views from the top and also some more Bora Stones. Riding back out we had lovely views of the cliffs of Quiltys Mountain.

Free Floating Anxiety: Narrawallee Inlet to Green Island and Ulladulla Harbour

Perhaps it started with the roadside breath test just south of Ulladulla at 9.00 am in the morning, more likely it was arriving at Narrawallee Inlet at 9.30 am, right on the agreed time to find the rest of the crew had kayaks packed and were ready to leave. Maybe it was the thought of a day book-ended by surf exits and entries. Whatever it was, I had a fair degree of free floating anxiety before I'd even slipped into my kayak.

Our plan was to paddle out through the - hopefully - small surf break beside the rocks at Narrawallee - plug north into a gentle headwind to Bendalong for lunch, and then cruise back with a stronger tail-wind. But, the best made plans and all that.

I've surfed my sea kayak at Narrawallee once before on an incoming tide with a one metre clean swell. Even then I had one particularly spectacular crash and subsequent dragged out swim into the beach that Alison remembered distinctly due to my rodeo like double pivot turn followed by rapid capsize on the biggest steepest wave of a short set.

Today the tide was running strongly in, and a brisk 15 knot northeasterly wind was blowing onshore. I felt like I went from a standstill to flat out paddling just to get through the bar. Timing is everything, and mine was simply good luck as the group was all waiting out beyond the waves and I felt pressured just to paddle out without waiting for a set of smaller waves.

Green Island is just under 5 km from Narrawallee, but with sea spray in the air and a headwind, it looked further. Rae and Alison immediately began paddling laps around Doug, Mike and I, as they are both training for the Hawkesbury Classic. My free floating anxiety increased. I was, as usual, well at the back of the group, grinding into a headwind that felt like a giant hand on my chest pushing me backwards. I tried to practice all the things Rae taught me about an efficient forward stroke - tap, not grind, keep the cadence up - always a struggle for me - drive from the hips, etc., etc., but nothing felt quite right, and I certainly wasn't going to break any speed records.

As Alison cycled by on her fourth or fifth lap past me, she confirmed that we would land on the beach on the south side of Green Island for some respite from the wind. Tap, tap, tap, I said to myself as I plugged on.

The surfers were catching some reasonably big waves off the reef at Green Island, but it was easy enough to land on the south facing beach, even though there was a bit of water that felt kind of squirrelly, or perhaps it was using an unfamiliar wing paddle to brace and rudder. It was nice to have some shelter from the wind, as when we looked north of Green Island, the sea was awash with white caps.

I was still reasonably keen to continue on to Bendalong. I like to practice paddling into the wind when I don't actually have to so that I know I can do it when I have no choice. But, as Rae said "that is a good idea while we are on the beach." Instead, we decided to paddle across the little reef between Green Island and the mainland, circle around Green Island and head back to Narrawallee. My free floating anxiety found something else to fix on. Would I capsize and get blown back into the surf?

I went first, which seemed a reasonable idea given my anxiety, and cruised through with no drama; luck again, as the waves were quite small when I went through. Doug followed closely behind me, then Mike, who got carried close too the rocks and buffeted around by waves breaking both in front and behind him - "Who thought that was a good idea" he said - and then came Alison, almost, as she rocketed up into the air on two colliding waves, and ended up out of her boat.

It was a bit challenging to maintain our position with the wind blowing us back on-shore and I dithered about whether I should paddle back over to assist, but Rae seemed to have everything under control and after a while, we could see Alison back in her boat, and Rae paddling through. Alison met us on the south side of Green Island. Apparently, paddling through the gap no longer seemed like a good idea to her.

With gusts up to 20 knots now, I found my big sail too much to handle given my degree of anxiety so I dropped down to my two thirds sail. Doug, however, was lounging comfortably in his boat with his full one metre sail, not even paddling. It was a fairly swift trip down to Narrawallee Inlet where the swell was looking messy but mostly due to the sea on top of the one metre swell.

I was anxious, of course, but figured I could make it in alive, if not dry, so was working my way in towards the beach when Rae called me back. It turns out the group was split, Mike and Alison wanted to paddle down to Ulladulla Harbour and a surf free landing, while Rae, of course, wanted to surf in, and Doug agreed. We decided to tentatively split into two groups, with Doug, Rae and I paddling in, and the other two continuing to Ulladulla Harbour, unless we three made it look super easy.

It was one of those awkward times sea kayaking where the wind is very quickly blowing you where you do not want to go, and the surf looks bigger and wilder due to a piled up local sea. Rae started in, but somewhere in the surf zone we saw the bottom of her kayak. Again, I dithered about going in to help but doing any type of rescue in the surf zone is problematic, perhaps even chaotic. Instead, we battled the wind out back until we saw Rae emerge onto the beach. That was enough to localise my anxiety and we decided to paddle down to Ulladulla Harbour. We gave Rae our predetermined signal and set off again.

It is a further 8 kilometres south to Ulladulla Harbour and I was not at all confident I would not be blown onto the rocks at Bannister Point so I stayed well out. Alison and Mike were near me, Alison at least was feeling the same, although she is a much stronger paddler than I, while Doug cruised along relatively close in shore.

Once past Bannister Head, our direction of travel seemed more favourable for sailing so the sails went up, although I found I had to brace on occasion or risk a capsize. Perhaps it was just my free floating anxiety that seemed to facilitate an entire storyline of things that could go wrong continuously unraveling through my thoughts. Ulladulla Head marks the northern entrance to the harbour and I recognised it from a previous trip. It was nice to paddle into the harbour, although it was not until we were right inside the breakwater that the wind and sea abated. As Mike, aka "local knowledge" said, "it was a good day, nobody died."