Illusory Superiority

It seemingly does not matter what trait is studied: driving, intelligence, teaching ability, most people will consistently rate themselves above average. This is even more true in Western cultures where we have spent decades fostering a rather rabid sense of individualism. This effect is so pervasive that it has a name in social psychology: illusory superiority.

Ken demonstrates competency in kick turning

In our everyday world, where most risk is heavily modified and social media allows us to promulgate images of ourselves that are not completely congruent with reality, illusory superiority flourishes. If, however, you engage in some kind of sport with real consequences, like backcountry skiing in avalanche terrain, mountaineering, or rock climbing, illusory superiority can be quashed pretty quickly. A serious avalanche incident, a fall, gear pulling, all these things have major consequences and most people, if they survive, will recalibrate their sense of competency.

Reality in the modern world, however, is that increasingly few people are exposed to accurate feedback as to their abilities and illusory superiority is widespread.

The results of a failure of competency

I recently had a discussion with family where everyone assured me that they were essentially "above average" and not influenced by advertising. Now I always find this an interesting position because virtually everyone I have discussed this topic with has told me the same, advertising influences other people, but not them.

So, we live in a world where just about everyone is impervious to advertising and yet in the USA alone, $223.7 billion was spent on advertising in 2018. That is a big spend on roughly the 20% of the population that admits that advertising influences their behaviour. Clearly something is going on. Either all the people that claim they are impervious to advertising are mistaken or highly successful businesses have wasted something in the order of 10% of their profits year after year on ineffective advertising. I know which one my money is on.

One of my most eccentric friends who is almost impervious to advertising

Interestingly, if you look at many of the truisms that are perpetuated in our society most are built upon sophisticated advertising claims that have converted specious ideas into inalienable facts. This covers such diverse themes as the importance of breakfast, diamond engagement rings, and, probably the greatest con of all time, the cholesterol myth.

The insidiousness of advertising is that it not only convinces humans that wants are needs, but it creates necessities out of nothing at all. To thrive as humans we need relatively little: clean air and water, access to shelter, nutritious food, and connections to nature and other humans. Remarkably, most of us in the civilised world - particularly those domiciled in large and congested cities - live without easy access to many of these basic needs. Perhaps that is why we fill our lives with wants.

I abhor advertising and have written about it on this blog many times in the past, go here, and here, and here.

The Sunday Paddles: Bawley Adventures

"Look behind you now!" yelled Nick as we paddled north along the eastern side of Brush Island. "I don't want to," my voice wavered. I had been paddling all out following Nick as we threaded a line through some breaking bomboras on the eastern side of Brush Island off the NSW South Coast.

Nick never seems to get caught; so I thought if I trailed him by just a few metres, I too would avoid being tumbled in the big breakers. I did, however, glance over my shoulder and saw white, lots of white, right where we had passed through. But, we weren't caught, and, in the end, that is all that counts.

It was the Sunday paddle. The swell was larger than I had anticipated and my planned beach landing tour had gone mostly according to plan despite some of the beaches featuring big surf breaks.

Six of us launched from Bawley Beach where there is a small, poorly protected boat ramp that is seldom used by power boats. The boat ramp is in a slot between a small reef and rock slabs along the shore and frequently features a kicking current that swings kayaks around. The first time we planned to launch there we studied it for a while and declared it a no go before launching off Cormorant Beach to the south into full surf.

We had a newer paddler with us today so instead of the usual free for all surf launch, Rae paddled out first, while Nick stayed on the beach and helped keep the boats straight into the surf as the rest of us launched. I put my spray jacket on as that is the usual key to NOT taking a big wave over the head and managed to take just a small wave.

My plan for the day was to check out four different landing locations, three near Brush Island, and the final one south of Snapper Point. I was feeling less optimistic than when I had planned the trip as the northerly swell was considerably bigger than originally forecast, but, there is no harm in looking.

So, we looked. At the south end of Murramurang Beach - no go, and Cat and Kitten Beach, also no go. At Bull Pup Beach we were able to paddle around a reef and a bombora on the western side and landed easily on a nice flat beach with small surf. I was ready to declare the trip a success already but there was more!

We passed O'Hara Head and Snapper Point in steeply peaked seas. Nick and I wandered in toward Pretty Beach but as we approached a big swell rolled in and we backed off. A landing in the far northern corner would be possible with good timing. My final point to check was the small Island Beach which is near O'Hara Island, a cluster of rocky reefs that is close to shore and barely an island. On the southern side, landing was easy on a flat beach.

Back at Kioloa for lunch, we saw a pair of kayakers north of Belowla Island and wondered for the second time that day if we knew them. Nick had raised the possibility of paddling around the eastern side of Brush Island and I was instantly intrigued. Doug, Nick and I decided to paddle around Brush Island, while Rae, Neil and John took the shorter - and safer - inside route back.

On the water, we soon split into two groups. By the time we started heading east around Brush Island, the other three were far behind. We could see big waves breaking on hidden bomboras off Brush Island and were unsure how far out to sea we would have to go to avoid them. As it turns out, quite a long way. There was one bommie that was a steady breaker, but another one only appeared on the bigger sets and as we were riding up and down over confused two metre seas it was hard to keep in your mind where the sporadically breaking bombora was. Finally, we figured we could safely pass between the island and the intermittently breaking bombora, and just as we finished that, Nick yelled "Look behind you now!"

On the north side of Brush Island we found ourselves almost three kilometres from shore but luckily the wind never got above 10 knots and paddling into land was simple. There were big waves washing up onto the rocks at Bawley Point but with the tide lower, landing at the ramp was easier and all three of us cruised in easily. Nick called it an "honest days work." And, two other kayakers, our friends from Canberra, who had been paddling up and down the coast looking for us, were there to help with our boats.

Paddling South

Last week we got away with a group of friends for a five day sea kayak trip along the far south coast of NSW. It was an out and back: two days south, two days north and an extra day to explore at the far southern end of the trip.

As kayak trips go, it was uneventful. Only two very minor crashes, no capsizes, quite a few early morning starts to avoid headwinds, sightings of dolphins and seals, including one extremely curious large (I assume male) seal which followed me for around a kilometre.

Beautiful sunsets, chilly sunrises, walks in the woods, and along the rock platforms. Stories around the campfire, all the things that make trips with friends so special.

In some ways this was an extra special trip as we had tried to get out together four times over the preceding months but bushfires and Covid cancelled all those plans.  Finally enjoying this section of coast again, in mid winter instead of mid summer was all the sweeter.  

The Sunday Paddles: Brogo Dam

It was Sunday, and we had our kayaks, so, although the rest of our companions from our recent five day seakayak trip had departed for home, Doug and I "did" the Sunday paddle. I had long had a hankering to paddle north up the dammed Brogo River from the dam to see how far it was possible to get a kayak up the Brogo River.

The Brogo River runs west deep into Wadbilliga National Park, one of the few truly roadless areas in NSW and, as such, an important tract of remaining wilderness. These blank areas on the map where there are no roads are instantly appealing to me and I fully support NSW National Parks in their endeavours to preserve these tiny and vulnerable isolated ecosystems. There simply is no need and no convincing argument for people to be able to drive everywhere.

The grounds of the dam are open for day use and it is a pretty area with toilet and picnic facilities. We pushed the boats out from the boat ramp at the south end of the dammed river in the early morning when it was very shady and cool. Our first detour was up Nelson Creek where there are some interesting cliffs and an open area, now closed to camping due to abysmal behaviour by some campers a couple of years ago.

After paddling as far as we could up Nelson Creek, which is not very far, we continued north up the river in gusty winds. It turns out, that you can not get a kayak very far up the Brogo River at all as, not long after we got into the wiggly section of the river, we ran out of water. Ahead, there were patchy gravel flats and pools of water. In warmer weather, walking up the river would be an option.

We pulled off the river and walked up a hillside to a 350 metre ridge where we had filtered views of the river snaking west into Wadbilliga National Park. Lots to explore in this area and almost all of it must be done self-powered.

The Sunday Paddles: Racing With Nick

Only one taker, besides Doug for the Sunday paddle this week. But the Sunday paddle is very much a personal goal so I don't let numbers - high or low - deter me. It is all about making a regular commitment to getting out, good weather, bad weather, big crew or solo. Talk is incredibly cheap these days and the world full of people who think posting about something is the same as actually showing up and doing shit.

The plan was to paddle from the Moruya River, out the heads and north to Sunshine Bay. This made some reasonable sense from a car shuttle perspective (28 km paddling for a half hour shuttle) and we were expecting 10 to 15 knot southerlies.

At the little beach, about 1.5 km west of Moruya Heads, we found a smouldering fire that some low life could not put out despite the ocean being literally right there. First order of business was to snuff that out, and then get the boats ready with sails on to paddle north.

Heading out through the channel, I got almost pasted onto the breakwall by a reckless boat operator who roared by full speed literally two metres from where I was paddling. This is illegal as well as rude and obnoxious. A novice paddler could easily have capsized and/or been pushed onto the rocks of the breakwater.

Thankfully, once out of the river we did not see another boat all day. Conditions were lumpy with a good sized mostly beam on swell as well as a well developed and rather messy sea. Doug and I had our sails up and spent the two hours to our quick lunch stop madly chasing Nick who was darting left, right, left, catching waves, surfing, and clipping along at around 10 km/hour. He is a fast devil.

At Jimmies Island, we decided to stop for lunch although it was tempting to knock off the 28 kilometres without a break. Sometimes the Sunday paddles are a bit slow as we often have a large group of mixed skill and it was nice to move along swiftly.

We landed surprisingly easily on a tiny little northerly facing low tide only beach and had a quick break. It was a cool day and none of us felt like standing around wearing damp clothes with no sun. After lunch, Nick, who is a very good paddler, gave us some forward stroke instruction. I do appreciate this, but pity the poor sods trying to teach both Doug and I how to paddle efficiently. It often seems a daunting task. Old bad habits have to be unlearned and new habits embraced.

Under a southerly influence, as you continue north conditions always ease and, as we paddled past Mosquito Bay the swell and sea subsided greatly and we cruised easily into Sunshine Bay which was comparatively busy with long weekend visitors.

Hot tea and coffee at our house before the return shuttle and maybe one day I will keep up to Nick.

The Cave Weasel: Sunshine Bay to Mossy Point Return

Time for the Sunday paddle with the south coast squad, and, after missing one Sunday due to heavy weather I was happy to get the Sunday paddles on track again. The previous weekend with a forecast for gale force winds and long period large swells, I had, after much deliberation, decided not to organise a weekly paddle. That Sunday, a very inexperienced (one can only assume) kayak fisherman had set off from the southern side of the bay and got blown across the bay ultimately becoming separated from his kayak and drowning.

There is a story behind the folly of filming your last minutes and updating your Facebook profile when you are less than 2 kilometres across a relatively sheltered stretch of water from Marine Rescue instead of calling for help. However, that story is mostly about the false sense of esteem that comes from social media than anything else.

On this Sunday, the forecast was for strong northerlies, up to 20 knots, but shifting slightly northwest as the day progressed. Wanting to avoid a car shuffle with Covid restrictions still in effect, I decided we could launch from Mossy Point and potter along the south side of the long Burrewarra Peninsula where conditions would be sheltered and there are lots of small caves and gauntlets to explore.

However, that would mean driving - horror - or Doug and I could paddle down from Sunshine Bay to meet the squad, and paddle back at the end of the day. Neither of us were sure how long the "approach" paddle would take so we off before dawn, a wonderful time to be on the water. As the sun came up, the familiar short cliffs along this section of coast, lit up golden in the rising sun.

I left about 10 minutes before Doug and paddled down to and around Burrewarra Point solo. At that time of day, in a somewhat lumpy sea, the ocean felt like a lonely place. On the south side of Burrewarra Point, the ocean was immediately calm and I stopped to wait for Doug.

The bar at Mossy Point, sometimes rough, was glassily calm this morning, and the idea of a kayak spearing  seemed improbable. We arrived in plenty of time to stretch out and enjoy a second coffee before the crew arrived.

We had an enjoyable paddle meandering along the south side of Burrewarra peninsula. Nick, the cave weasel, the only paddler in a plastic kayak and certainly the most skilled paddler, dodged in and out of every nook, cranny, cave and crevice.

The squad was happy to paddle around Burrewarra Point and we were immediately in lumpy water and a light headwind. We found a secluded beach to land for lunch.

There were no takers to continue paddling north after our break, except, of course, for Doug and I. So, while the crew turned south, Doug and I headed north. The wind, as predicted had shifted northwesterly so our paddle north was not too hard until we got Lilli Pilli where the coastline edges west.

Around 3.00 pm, we pulled happily into Sunshine Bay, just starting to get tired and feel that the day had been long enough.