Swan Island, Spike Bay, Preservation
Island
Little Musselroe Bay, at the northeast
tip of Tasmania, has windmills, fishing shacks, long sand beaches,
and not much else. The little lagoon dries extensively at low tide.
We launched from the beach in front of the campground, paddled out
over a very small break, and easily across to Swan Island. The
current in Swan Passage runs at up to three knots, so some correction
for drift has to made.
Leaving Little Musselroe Bay
Swan Island is a bit of an aberration
among islands of the Furneaux Group, there are no granite boulders or
slabs, just a series of sandy bays and rocky headlands. The
vegetation almost exclusively low lying coastal scrub that can
tolerate very sandy soil and salty conditions. There are muttonbird
tracks and burrows everywhere, but mostly on the southern side of the
island. So many muttonbirds nest here that they have formed
super-highways coming ashore each evening and launching again in the
morning.
From Swan Island, we paddle across
Banks Strait to Clarke Island. Conditions for this crossing, often
perilous, are about as easy as possible, with just enough wind for
the sails to give the boats a little push and no swell. Planning
this crossing to accommodate tidal flows has taken Doug and Stephen
many, many hours. But, as with so many things one worries about in
advance, the crossing turns out to be a non-event. We have two short
breaks, at the hour mark along the way. The second shorter than the
first as both Karen and I begin to feel queasy sitting in heaving
boats in the middle of the strait.
Along the way, we encounter weird tidal
effects, small standing waves, patches of boiling water, and it is
easy to imagine how rough this strait would be under windy
conditions.
Kayaks ready to go,
PC, DB
Soon, we are at Lookout Head, our first
encounter with what I think of as the real islands of the Furneaux
Group. Here, we meet the characteristic granite islands that make up
the Furneaux Group. The shoreline is intricately folded granite
boulders and slabs, with tiny islets and small rocky islands
scattered around the larger islands. Tasmania is dry at the moment,
and the tussocky hillsides behind the shore-line are brown and dusty
looking. The water is so clear that the shadows of our kayaks float
across the sandy bottom.
The incredibly clear water of the Furneaux Group
PC, DB
In Spike Bay, a traditional kayakers
camp-site, we have a short break on a sandy beach surrounded by
granite monoliths. A dive boat is working in the bay, and later it
will occur to me that this is the only boat we saw close up in 18
days around the islands.
Sailing near Spike Bay
We leave Spike Bay, and with a building
easterly wind we paddle north past Foam Point, calm under these
conditions, and up to Dip Point. The easterly wind has whipped up
wind waves in Armstrong Channel but it is still an easy paddle
northwest to Horseshoe Bay.
The wind blows right into the bay and
finding a sheltered camp-site is difficult. We made a bit of a
rookie mistake here, either because we were too eager to be off the
water after a 30 kilometre day or because moving around a group of
eight people, all of whom have differing opinions is sometimes near
impossible. Instead of paddling a short distance around the island
to the north to a sheltered bay, with shade (a rarity in the Furneaux
Group), we stopped where we were and made do. It took me less than
10 minutes on foot to find this much better camp-site.
Preservation and Rum Islands
In the afternoon, I do what I do every
day we are out here, walk around the island exploring. Preservation
Island is very pretty. Granite everywhere interspersed with small
sandy coves all surrounded by the jewel like clear water. There is a
20 metre high point with a view to tiny Rum Island to the south. And
snakes, the infamous Furneaux Island snakes, we see two on this
island.
Rum Island and Old Township Cove
The history of Rum and Preservation
Islands is well documented and people are eager to explore these two
islands. I'm not much of a history buff, tales of courage and
fortitude from the past merely depress me as it seems human kind has
been on a long and rapidly accelerating physical and mental decline
since we began to make comfort our motif for life.
In calm conditions, we weave our way
south down Preservation Island and through the passage between
Preservation and Rum Islands. On Rum Island, we walk, carefully,
mindful of snakes, through long tussocky vegetation to a dome of
granite and a view of the area. Then it is a slow paddle to the
north end of the island where we stop for lunch.
Paddling around Rum Island,
PC, DB
From Preservation Island we paddle
north to Cape Sir John, after the long slow paddle around
Preservation and Rum Islands, we seem to now be in a hurry and we
miss all the interesting little coves and rocks along the southwest
side of Cape Barren Island, heading instead, straight for Key Island
and Cape Sir John.
There is a sea haze on the horizon and
a building northerly wind. Our destination had been Badger Island,
14 kilometres to the northwest, but, Badger is another long low
island and it is hard to even see where it is. Certainly, 14
kilometres into a 15 knot headwind will be long and slow. Instead,
we paddle north up Cape Barren Island looking for a campsite. Bungs
Bay is possible, it is easy to land on the beach, but the camping is
pretty ordinary, and Stephen suggests we try Old Township Cove where
other kayakers have been known to camp.
Old Township Cove
It is only 2.5 kilometres to Old
Township Cove but it seems the most fun paddling of the day. a bit of
real work, pulling into the wind. If you enter Old Township Cove
from the west, you pass between two large granite boulders, much like
gates, and beyond is a pretty half moon circle of sand backed by
thick scrubby vegetation. Either end of the cove are the usual
coarse granite slabs which make a fine kitchen. We camp at the top
of the beach, the only place where we can get tents up. By the end
of this trip, I will be thinking longingly of grassy camp-sites where
your tent is not always inundated with sand.
Birds nest
My walk is a fun scramble along the
shore line, up and down big boulders, following ledges above the
ocean, passing hundreds and hundreds of cuttlefish shells on the
beach. When I get to the last headland south of where some buildings
are marked on the map I turn back. Back at camp, people wonder why I
did not walk into the little township not understanding that I live
in civilization and my greatest desire is always to escape from
people and buildings, roads, shops, all the marks upon the earth that
man leaves behind.
Around Badger Island
The northerly wind abates quickly in
the morning, and although we have a little wind to sail when we
leave, it is calm long before we get to Badger Island. We paddle
past the southern tip of Long Island which has a lot of big granite
boulders along the sky line. It looks like a nice island to explore.
Badger Island is wide and flat, Mount Chappell Island, just to the
north, a more attractive silhouette against the horizon. We land
just north of Lucy Point on Badger Island and find the best camp-site
of the trip - a large flat grassy area - real grass - and big shade
trees with a deep water swimming beach out front and a view across
Mount Chappell to the Strzelecki Peaks.
Passing Long Island,
PC, DB
Doug and I want to unload our boats
here, paddle with light boats around the island, and then come back
to camp, already half settled. This is soundly and rapidly voted
down by the conservative voices in the group. Of course, the danger
is that conditions change and you can't get back to camp. In fact,
this happened to Doug and I once before on a sea kayak trip, but that
was a long time ago, in a country far away, and we were weak and
anxious paddlers at the time. On this occasion, I am happy to run
what I consider a minor risk.
It is about 21 kilometres around Badger
Island, and, for some reason, it felt long. With no wind it was
really hot in the sun, and endless hat dippings did not cool me down
much. The island turned out to be one of the least interesting ones
we visited, just low rocks and dry cleared land behind.
Badger Island looking to Mount Chappell Island
When we were all getting tired and hot,
but pretending we weren't Stephen chose a camp-site above a sand spit
near Little Badger Island. There were only stunted trees for shade
which we had to huddle under but there was a great swimming beach.
Trousers Point and Mount Strzelecki
I wanted to explore Mount Chappell
Island on the way past but others were in a hurry to
get across to Trousers Point on Flinders Island. We paddled along
the southeastern side of Mount Chappell Island and over to the
National Park campsite at Trousers Point. I would much rather stay
away from places that are vehicle accessible, but this is a good
camp-site. There is ample shade, picnic tables, tank water, toilets,
and even BBQ's and garbage bins. The beach is great for swimming and
there are big granite slabs on either side of the little bay for
stretching.
Trousers Point
Of course, we were going to hike up the
Strzelecki Peaks. There is almost 4 kilometres of hot dirt road to
get to the start of the track and Doug and I shamelessly cadged a
lift with a couple of tourists. The track is just the way I like it,
straight up. But it is hot and I feel like I am sweating blood as I
pant up the track behind Doug.
Strzelecki view
Ironically, when all around is blue
sky, the summit rocks swirl in low cloud and the view is a little
obscured. This actually makes the views more evocative. It is a
nice bit of rugged country adrift in a much more tamed landscape. A
traverse of the range would be a fun excursion if only the bush were
not so desperately thick.
Lady Barron and nearby islands
I find the next few days frustrating, a
clash of values and aspirations between myself and the other members
of the group. I want to paddle every day that the weather allows, do lots of exploring and avoid civilization. Most of the rest of the group want to visit town, eat at the cafe, drive around the island. These two seem pretty much mutually exclusive at this point.
It is 11 am when we arrive at Lady
Barron, I find this depressingly early and the rest of the day seems
to stretch ahead like a long, dry walk across a desert. There is a
24 hour only camp at Yellow Beaches and, after a lot of dithering,
this is where we end up. It's not bad, but it is right by the road
and the only tent sites are on hard gravel in the hot sun.
In Frankland Sound
Somehow, the afternoon passes, but the
next day Doug and I split with the group and paddle across to one of
the nearby uninhabited islands where we set up camp and wait a couple
of days for the rest of the group to resume, what I think of, as the
real trip. I do a lot of walking while we are there, and,
eventually, the forecast westerly wind does blow up.
Just your average day on this trip
Truthfully, I have begun to chafe
against the constraints of decision making that I find far too
conservative. We have unbelievably good paddling conditions and
while a few of us would love to explore the wilder east sides of Cape
Barron and Clarke Islands, other members of the group, while
accepting that circumnavigating the two islands is theoretically
possible, seem to view the prospect as practically impossible.
Assessing risk is such a personal and
ultimately subjective thing. It is influenced by all the experiences
you have had in life up to that point, whether you feel able to deal
with difficulties or overwhelmed by them. There are only two real
consequences of paddling around Cape Barron Island, you get wet if
you capsize or you turn around and come back the way you came.
Neither is a high consequence event.
The band is back together
After a couple of days, we get a
message that the group is coming across to meet us and our trip will
continue. I am looking forward to being off this island, but, when
the group comes over, the majority vote has us staying one more night
to wait for the westerly wind to subside.
Vanisttart Island, Tin Kettle Island
A magical morning. Before dawn, the
nesting muttonbirds come padding down the island on beaten in tracks.
They run down the beach, and legs rapidly pin-wheeling launch across
the still dark ocean. We stand among them, part of this seething
mass of life and watch as they fly out to sea. Three of us launch
our kayaks in the early morning dusk and just as the sun is climbing
up the eastern skyline in a white hot blaze, we paddle out to sea
ourselves and across the churning channel with the tide running
swiftly in to Briggs Islet.
From Briggs Islet, we cross to
Vanisttart Island and at Ross Point, on the northern tip of
Vanisttart Island where the deep water runs rapidly into Franklin
Sound on the rising tide, we paddle all out to get around Ross Point
and into an eddy. As soon as the bow of my kayak hits the eddy line,
I know I have made it.
Even though we are near peak tidal
flows, it is easy to eddy hop down the east side of Vanisttart Island
to the wreck of the Farsund which is a few hundred metres off shore
in shallow water. The Farsund has become home to sea birds, mostly
cormorants which are lined up along the rusting rails.
We have agreed to meet the rest of the
party on Tin Kettle Island. Their route will take them down the west
side of Vanisttart Island with the tide, over to Apple Orchard Point
and then onto Tin Kettle Island. To say they were dubious about our
ability to paddle down the east side of Vanisttart Island would be
understating their reaction to our plan.
It is 16 kilometres from the Farsund to
the northern bay where we have agreed to meet the rest of the group
and once we enter Franklin Sound Rae wisely chivvies us along. I
have already worked out in my head what we will do if the ebbing
current is too strong to paddle against. There are enough big bays
along the northern side of Cape Barren Island that we could catch
eddies heading west and eventually simply ferry glide across to Tin
Kettle Island.
Heading over to the Farsund,
PC, DB
We have gone perhaps 4 or 5
kilometres, when a moderate westerly wind springs up and we paddle
the rest of the way into a headwind. Headwinds often seem much worse
than they actually are, particularly when they build up a short steep
chop when it can feel like each wave stops the kayak dead. I had
done a lot of headwind paddling in preparation for this trip and it
was really a matter of simply settling in and doing the work.
We arrived at Tin Kettle Island about 4
hours after leaving camp. After a quick stop on the eastern side of
the island, we paddled around to the northern bay expecting to meet
the other group who had left an hour after us but who were expecting
a much easier paddle. No-one was at the northern bay, however, and,
although we waited 2.5 hours, no-one came. Finally, we got a text
that the rest of the party had set up camp on the eastern side of the
island.
Heading for Tin Kettle Island,
PC, DB
This was a good opportunity for us to
paddle around the western side of the island, which we did, finally
sailing into the eastern bay where we had landed over three hours
before. It was a nice paddle around an island typical of the
Furneaux Group, clear water, granite boulders, low dry scrub.
Afterwards, I was disappointed that I had not tacked on a lap around
Anderson Island as well which was only a kilometre to the west.
Trousers Point, Big Green Island,
Whitemark, Prime Seal Island
Calm weather and we paddle to Trousers
Point for water, then out to Big Green Island. I wanted to lap
around Anderson Island but the alternative crew who had some kind of
epic the day before struggling to reach Tin Kettle Island, were not
in the mood for deviations. We end up back at Trousers Point to camp
as Big Green Island has no shade and with a strong southeasterly
forecast the next day would be a bad place to be stuck.
The southeasterly wind comes in as we
are packing the boats the next morning. Dark clouds across the
southern horizon and suddenly the beach is awash in wind chop. I am
looking forward to some interesting paddling and some sailing with a
good following wind, but first, we have to wait for the tide to rise
so we can paddle across the shallows between Big Green Island and
Flinders Island. We paddle around to Fotheringate Bay and wait there
for an hour or so, and then we are off!
Front over Prime Seal Island
Some of us are having a blast sailing
north up Flinders Island. Although the wind is blowing a solid 20 to
25 knots it is incredibly safe as there is no swell, but, there is at
least one nervous sailor in the group and for some reason, that never
becomes clear to me, we end up camped at Whitemark. I walk up Hayes
Hill east of town where I can see out to Prime Seal Island.
Chalky Island, Prime Seal Island
The next morning we leave early on
glassy calm water and paddle over to Chalky Island where we land for
a short break on the west side. Chalky Island is typical of the
smaller islands of the Furneaux, lots of granite boulders, some
scattered beaches, low vegetation, no real shade. Then, in a rising
wind, we are off to Prime Seal Island. The wind is too much for the
nervous sailors but Doug, by tacking to and fro manages to keep his
sail up without getting ahead. I have mine up and down, but it is
hard not to get far ahead with a sail up when the rest of the group
are paddling.
Leaving Whitemark,
PC, DB.
We make camp near Spit Point, not the
best location, but group decision making has reached the stage of
paralysis by analysis and everything takes so long. By the time we
have hung about on this northern beach for almost two hours, moving
the group to another destination seems like a herculean task.
The next day there is a northerly wind
blowing. With 1.5 litres of water between us and no food, Doug and I set off on foot for a grand tour
of the island. It is brilliant walking along granite shore line south towards Peacock Bay and we cross the island from east to west to
Wolff Bay. Walking along the shore towards Sealers Cove we find the
wreck of the GJ Wolfe and shortly after have a wonderful swim at
Sealers Cove. We cross back over to the west side of the island to
Peacock Bay and the homestead, and then walk back to camp via
Mannalargenna Cave and Target Hill. When we get back, six hours
later, most of the others are huddled under a tarp trying to escape
the sun and they look at us as if we are truly insane for walking so
long with so little provisions. It's hard to explain that hormetic stress can be good.
Chalky Island, East Kangaroo Island,
Badger Island
For some reason, maybe the wind, the
plan to go to Settlement Point before we head south is off the table and we are instead, heading directly for East
Kangaroo Island 18 kilometres away. This seems like an odd choice
given there are some anxious paddlers in the group and the 20 knot
westerly wind will be blowing across our stern quarter.
Indeed, the most nervous sailor in the
group had pulled her sail down before we were completely out of the
lea of Prime Seal Island. Doug and I sneakily left our sails up, and
tried not to get too far ahead of the group. Doug had by now
mastered the art of tacking the Mirage 580 he was paddling across the
wind, while I dragged a paddle blade much of the time to act as a
brace. Apart from it being a little chilly not paddling, it was very
easy.
The paddlers, however, were having a
hard go of it and our progress seemed very slow to me. Just as I was
thinking it was going to be a long slow journey to East Kangaroo
Island, Rae made the call that we should go to Chalky Island instead.
I did not always agree with Rae's decisions, many of which seemed
way too conservative to me, but in this instance, I think it was
wise. At the speed we were travelling it would take many hours to reach East
Kangaroo Island and, if people really were on edge, being anxious for
4 or 5 straight hours would exhaust them.
We landed on the east side of Chalky
Island this time and as I knew we would be there a while, I dug out
the stove and brewed up a pot of tea. As usual, we waited until
there was virtually no wind left, and paddled easily over to East
Kangaroo Island. This was a nice paddle through a little cluster of
rocky islands and islets.
Leaving East Kangaroo Island
We were an hour at East Kangaroo Island and it was 3.00 pm before we set off for Badger
Island. I was hoping we would do the trip in under three hours.
Paddling past Ann Islets where the waves were crashing on these
isolated rocks with the Strzelecki Peaks behind was very scenic and
we also got a bit of a look at the west side of Mount Chappell
Island.
Mount Chappell Island,
PC, DB
From Mount Chappell Island, it is a
quick hop across to Badger Island and I went straight to the good
campsite we had found the first time we visited Badger Island and, in
defiance of group convention, unilaterally declared it the campsite
for the night. And it was a great campsite, big trees for shade and
shelter, lovely flat grass, and an easy carry up from the beach. The
only downside was that the beach almost disappeared at high tide and
we had to carry our boats up onto the grass behind the beach. As far
as I can tell, despite my naughtiness, people seemed to like the
camp.
Thunder and Lightening Bay,
Preservation Island, Spike Bay
After another lay day because of
westerly winds, we sail (most paddle) over to Cape St John where we
bounce around in a fun tidal race. There is a stop at Thunder and
Lightening Bay, and then a slow crossing to Preservation Island. The
westerly wind has edged up again to 20 knots and we have missed the
ebb tide. The crew will not go on until either the wind
drops or the tide switches.
It is a long hot four hours as there is
no shade and where we are, no wind either. At 4.15 pm, when we get
away there is no wind, nothing, and also bugger all discernible
current. We paddle easily around Foam Point, minimal foam, and into
Spike Bay.
A rare cloudy day,
PC, DB
Spike Bay is beautiful in a dry
desolate sort of way. The usual kayak camp has, again, very little
shade, but it is late afternoon when we get there, and the lack of
shade is off-set by the delightful swimming in deep water between big
boulders. Our camp kitchen is on a lovely big flat granite slab.
Banks Strait, Swan Island, Little
Musselroe Bay
Another amazingly fair crossing of
Banks Strait. This time we paddle around the eastern side of Swan
Island so we have circumnavigated the island now. The final 8
kilometres across to Little Musselroe Bay is into a rising westerly
wind, but everyone is pretty paddle fit now and the wind is no
trouble.
Evening at Prime Seal Island
At Little Musselroe Bay it is hot and
dusty and hard to believe this trip that was so long in the planning
is over.
