Sunrise, Sunset

Day 60 and the terminus of the Hard Things project. It would have been great to finish the 60 days with a 24 hour hard thing that used up everything I had left after 59 days of plugging through hard things, but, 60 year old people (even 40 year old people) have to be mindful of avoiding injury.  The personalization of training and goals can get so lost in the era of blanket media coverage, but doing hard things is about doing something that is hard for you personally, without regard to what the clamor of media implies you should be doing.

Candice Burt, now at day 139 of her ultra-marathon streak recently wrote: “I never aim for fast as I’d quickly enter depletion and injury if I did. Easy to moderate is always the pace. It’s just not worth risking going fast.” The moral is, even an athlete who appears superhuman (Candace passed the world record for most consecutive ultra-marathons around three months ago), must practice some body wisdom to avoid injury.

I marked Day 60 of the Hard Things project by book-ending two hard things across the day. At 6 am, in full dark, I wheeled my kayak down to the beach and set off to sea. Sunrise on the water is always wonderful, but the time between dark and light can be disorienting. Paddling out in full dark, with no moon, it is easy to lose your equilibrium and feel unsteady and unstable. There was a reasonably long period two metre swell rolling over the ocean but no wind so the surface of the water was almost oily calm. Leaving the bay, a school of fish, jumped and flashed around the boat while an Australasian Gannet, its buff-yellow plumage just visible, flew over. The water was warm as my hands dipped in. Lightening flashed through a dark cloud out behind Black Rock.

Near days end, I walked westward, along rock platforms and beaches up to a viewpoint from whence I could watch the sun set. The harsh Australian sun softens in the evening and misty amber light was picking out colors in the rocks and trees that are normally washed out by bright sunlight. Wisps of mist floated along the hills behind town as I turned and walked back home, the project complete.

Bay Belly

Normally, I would not call a two hour walk at recovery pace a “hard thing” but days 56 through 58 of the Hard Things project were exactly that: regular activities that were surprisingly hard to get through. Initially I thought my fatigue and lethargy was related to Saturdays 31 kilometre lactate buster but it turns out that what I thought was sea sickness was actually a minor gastrointestional complaint that left me nauseous, unable to eat, weak and sluggish.

Today, day 59, is the first day I’ve felt able to function somewhat normally. Day 56 was a two hour recovery walk which I staggered through, day 57 I cycled an hour and walked an hour feeling rough and went to bed at 8:00 pm which is early even for me. Day 58, I did manage to grind through a strength workout and a morning walk but was still not eating.

Which brings me to day 59, the penultimate day of the project. Feeling the best I have since Saturday, I went out to walk hills, hoping to amass a decent amount of elevation gain without having to drive far. The best locations for this esoteric but highly functional activity are off the Araluen Road where you can rack up 800 metres in a relatively short distance. Near where I live, the hills top out at about 150 to 170 metres and the trails are a bit too gradual for best training. By going up and down a bit, I got 470 metres of gain (wish I had known as I would have done the extra 30 to make 500 metres) but it took 12 kilometres to amass that not very impressive elevation gain.

Gradually Then Suddenly: 31 Kilometres Over Lactate Threshold

I tried one roll in Sunshine Bay when we got back from the day’s paddle but was so fatigued that my kinetic chain was a loose rope and, after flopping back over, I had to resort to a Pawlatta roll. The upwind/downwind run was 31 kilometres today, leaving, as is often the case, from Sunshine Bay, north to land on Emily Miller Beach for a rest while the wind built. Out to sea, into the wind to try and find a clean run south and then the vomit inducing, well above lactate threshold sprint back to Sunshine Bay.

Trolleying the boat up the hill home I thought about how these upwind/downwind paddles have evolved over the last couple of years. Initially, Doug and I would go out occasionally on summer days, leaving Sunshine Bay before the wind got up, paddling to North Head, drinking tea and strolling up to the lookout while the wind built, and then paddling the 6 or 7 kilometres back with a following wind.

Then Splashalot showed up and we would get a call, “good day for a downwinder, meet you at 2:00 pm.” By afternoon, of course, the summer northeasterlies were at their acme and we would plug into the wind to North Head, have a brief stretch out of the boats, and then catch runners back to the bay. The entire episode was over in two hours or less.

“Gradually, then suddenly,” to quote Ernest Hemmingway, the upwind/downwind paddles have got longer and harder. First, we extended from North Head to 20 minutes paddle past North Head. Then we went to Richmond Beach, then 20 minutes past Richmond Beach. Yesterday, we talked about Dark Beach but went further to Emily Miller Beach. And, of course, it does not end there. After a rest on the beach we paddle into the wind for a further kilometre off-shore to get the best angle for a downwind run.

Gradually then suddenly, the upwind/downwind runs are over 30 kilometres long, which goes some way to explaining how shattered I felt at the end, and my total punt on the last six kilometres, when, if I caught a runner at all, it was simply luck not speed, stroke, or any other paddling accomplishment. The last kilometre, my mantra was “just keep paddling, just keep paddling.”

Hard Things project update, day 53 was rolling, day 54 was eschewing my comfortable evening at home (which I love) and going out, day 55 was this way over lactate threshold paddle.

It Was All Good Until It Wasn't

I’ve cornered Megan before she’s had coffee at the Sunday morning leaders meeting at Rock N Roll and she has blithely agreed to my plan to supervise me leading a group of paddlers south from Corrigans Beach to an easily accessed beach where my husband, Doug, or “Saint Doug” - as the other leaders have jeeringly called him when they hear this plan - will pick up enough drivers to get all the paddlers and kayaks back to Corrigans Beach. The forecast, as all attendees will remember was for strong northerlies. But I paddle this coast all the time from my home, a mere three kilometres south of Corrigans Beach and these summer northeasterly winds always tick up gradually. By 10 am, we’ll have a pleasant but gentle tail wind which will be my signal to look for a sheltered landing near car parking where our group can escape.

Except it did not happen like that. At 11 am, in completely calm winds, but slightly bouncy seas, we were paddling past Pretty Point, and I was wondering if our group could make Guerilla Bay, the next sheltered landing point in time for Saint Doug to pick us up and get himself to Corrigans Beach to join Mark and Rob’s downwinder from Durras when, the wind roared in at a steady 15 knots with stronger gusts.

Suddenly, a number of people in the party seemed to be just hanging on and the group spread had widened considerably. The only thought in my mind was getting the party to retreat to the calmer waters of Pretty Point Bay before we were dealing with multiple capsizes. It took some time to get people turned around and heading north for a couple of hundred metres until we could run into the sheltered bay with the wind behind us. As a new leader, I was dismayed to see my up until now relatively well managed paddle deteriorate into chaos in mere minutes.

DB photo

Would I have to call Marine Rescue? Where was my flipping radio which I had left with Saint Doug to use as Beach Master on Saturday? Where was Megan? Were all our paddlers still right side up? Finally, why had those eye-bleeding risk matrixes required for Sea Guide not prepared me for this?

Over the roar of the wind I heard “someone’s in the water!” “It’s started,” I thought dismally, “this is where it all goes wrong.” By the time I got turned around, the someone in the water had, with the aid of Rod, vaulted back into her boat. Fear is a wonderful thing sometimes. No need for complex instructions on hooking a foot into the boat and wriggling in while staying low. In a fit of adrenaline spiked athleticisim the capsized paddler had leapt three metres into the air, pirouetted several times and landed back into her boat sitting upright.

Megan, it turns out, was right there, but taken up with contact towing another paddler who was feeling unsteady. Our capsized paddler had a hands free pump, yet, as so often seems the case, the pump was not working, so a hand pump was being used, but the northerly wind was rapidly blowing the party onto the rocks.

Just two days previously, I had carefully daisy chained my short tow, clipped it into my tow hook and fixed it handily to the deck of my kayak suspecting that I would be set up with a mock tow situation sometime over the weekend. To be honest, I’m pretty lackadaisacal about having all these bits and pieces of safety equipment handy. So often we paddle out and nothing untoward happens. My obsession with not getting caught out now seemed prudent rather than neurotic as I was able to quickly clip onto Rod’s boat who steadied our rescued paddler while I plugged away to the beach at Pretty Point Bay trying not to wince as the two towed boats surfed forward on waves and collided with the stern of mine. On the way into the beach, I obsessively counted paddlers, so many times I almost hypnotized myself. Occasionally, I’d miss a head as my boat dipped into a trough and I’d start the count again, “1, 2, 3, …, yes they are all there.”

Safely onshore, I called Dial A Doug to come and pick us up and while we waited we had a group debrief. “It was all good until it wasn’t,” quipped one paddler, I heartily agreed.

Ten Days

Here’s a wrap on days 43 through 52 of the Hard Things Project. Recall that I left off at day 42 which was the capsize tour. Day 43 I struggled out of bed at 6 am after not getting to sleep until about 2 am. Days 44 through 47 was the Nadgee trip, getting up in the dark every day, surf landings and launches every day. Day 48, I did a fasting day, while day 49 I carried a weighted backpack on my walk. Day 50, I climbed on the wall for 20 minutes. Day 51, I rowed 5 kilometres on the Concept 2 rower, day 52 I did something I have been dreading for a long time, which I will write about later, which brings me to day 53 (today). The forecast is for hot weather so I’ll go out and do some more rolls. My re-enter and roll needs a bit of work before April.

The Dry Hair Tour: Nadgee Wilderness by Sea Kayak

When Paul called a couple of months before the 2023 Rock N Roll at Batemans Bay to ask if Doug and I wanted to paddle the Nadgee Wilderness Coast immediately following Rock N Roll, we, as usual, took about two seconds to say “of course.” The one hundred kilometres of coast that runs from Boydtown in the north to Mallacoota in the south has, without doubt, the best paddling on the entire east coast of NSW. To date, although threatened, the area has escaped the depradations of development and remains a coastline of wild surf beaches, jagged cliffs, deep green forests and open moorland. You simply cannot enter the Nadgee Wilderness and not be touched by its splendid isolation and erose beauty.

Our conundrum was which direction to paddle. Winds were forecast predominantly from the west to south west which would normally indicate a south to north paddle, but big swell heights and long periods were forecast for early in the week which would make landing on the surf beaches a dangerous proposition. In the end, we decided to paddle north to south, trading some potential head winds for the opportunity to land on the surf beaches without calamity.

Day 1: Boydtown to Bittangabee Bay

Our first challenge, apart from trying to sleep through the ukelele playing revellers at Boydtown Beach Holiday Park, was launching from Boydtown Beach deep in Twofold Bay. Normally a sheltered location, 1.5 metre waves were crashing down with serious energy. With a bit of judicious timing, however, we were all off the beach with dry hair and on our way to Mowarry Bay.

Boyds Tower marks the start of the brick red cliffs that continue almost all the way to Bittangabee Bay. The swell was so uniform and powerful that you could have surfed off the rebound and approaching Mowarry Point, a perfectly formed rebound wave crashed over my head thus wetting my previously dry hair. We landed for a short break on Mowarry Beach which is steep and also had metre high waves collapsing onto the shore, yet managed to launch again with no-one copping a wave over deck or head.

The red brick cliffs continue almost all the way to Bittangabee Bay where grey granite walls mark the entrance to the protected landing. The lagoon was open to the sea and Bittangabee Creek was also running well with fresh water for swimming.

Day 2: Bittangabee Bay to Merrica River

On our second day, we again needed an early start as we had no idea how long it would take to reach Merrica River if the southwest winds ramped up as forecast. Leaving Bittangabee Bay at 8 am we paddled south down to Green Cape against a light headwind which nonetheless managed to kick up a fair bit of chop necessitating cagoules to avoid getting drenched.

There were standing waves around Green Cape as wind and current collided and our speed slowed for a couple of kilometres. The ten kilometre paddle across Disaster Bay to Merrica River felt quite reasonable with a light wind only over our shoulders from the south, and a very easy surf entry into Merrica River made tricky only due to the strong outflowing tide. Paul and I paddled up the river to the freshwater cascades, a side trip which is always enjoyable, and later that day, Paul and John gathered and cooked fresh mussels to supplement dinner. It was, however, a chilly night at Merrica River with cold air draining down the river valley.

Day 3: Merrica River to Nadgee River

Another early morning start paddling south along the beautiful cliffs and beaches of the Nadgee Wilderness. We passed sleeping seals and a huge pod of dolphins. The swell had, as forecast, continued to decline so we could paddle closer in to the stunning rock formations, caves, arches, waterfalls, and steep surf beaches that stretch along the coast.

At Nadgee Beach, we decided to land at the south end which had a little more shelter from the surf than the north end. I called Doug back to clarify our landing order just as a huge set of waves rolled through which Fishkiller appropriately called “the set of the day.” After the set of the day, we landed one by one without mishap.

Nadgee River is one of my favourite camps along this coast as you can walk across Nadgee Moor to Nadgee Lake and up onto Endeavour Moor, explore up the Nadgee River, or even walk up Mount Nadgee. With a more favourable weather forecast we would have stayed an extra day.

Day 4: Nadgee River to Mallacoota

On our last day, we had a more leisurely start as the southwesterly winds were forecast to ameliorate over the day before turning more southerly in the afternoon. At 8.30 am, we launched through small surf – another dry hair launch – and followed the coast south past Nadgee Lake, Cape Howe, around Iron Prince Reef and over to the lighthouse on Gabo Island. We lapped Gabo Island paddling through the gap between island and reef on the northern tip where the seals rest before taking a pleasant lunch break on the tiny beach and harbour on the western side of the island.

Over lunch, the wind, which had dropped completely as we paddled around Gabo Island, ticked up from the southwest with enough vigor that we were able to gain some lift from our sails for the final 13 kilometre paddle west past Tullaberga Island to Bastion Point. Half way between Tullaberga Island and Gabo Island we came upon a group of seals who were feeding on a large school of fish. Just another reminder that the Nadgee is a special place which always rewards the traveller.

Sudden Winds, a Capsize and Rescue

A strong wind warning was forecast for Sunday with winds up to 25 knots and the South Coast was still under a “large and powerful” surf warning. Tricky conditions for organising an open water paddle with a mixed group. The Bureau of Meterology does not actually elucidate what conditions meet the criteria for the issuance of surf warnings; some unspecified combination of wave height, direction and period is used. On Sunday, the period was around 12 seconds which is long enough to give most kayakers pause and warrant careful navigation around bommies, reefs and when undertaking surf activities.

My paddle plan for the day, approved by my supervisor on this Sea Guide training paddle, was to depart Corrigans Beach and paddle south keeping a close eye on wind and wave conditions. We would land at one of the sheltered bays along the coast as soon as the wind started to tick up keeping well off from bommies or reefs and avoiding surf landings. I had Doug lined up to drive down and take some drivers back to the caravan park to pick up enough cars to transport all the paddlers and kayaks back to our start point. So far, so good.

And, as is so often the case, it was all good until it wasn’t. Off-shore the wind was already blowing solidly when we departed but inshore conditions were calm (apart from rebound). We progressed easily down the coast with some faster paddlers, some slower, some comfortable in rebound, others less so. Ocean paddles along this section of the south coast typically feature rebound and clapotis so if you paddle frequently you get quite used to bumpy water.

I pulled the group into Garden Bay, about 8 or 9 kilometres into the paddle, to regroup, drink and eat if needed, and also for me to get a sense of how the paddlers were handling the conditions. Although we did not have a big swell, the long period meant we had to paddle almost right into land at Garden Bay to get decent shelter. Passing Garden Bay we would have only one more sheltered landing site before Guerilla Bay and I did not think this group would make Guerilla Bay. It seemed likely we would land at Pretty Point Bay, two to three kilometres south.

Based on advice from other leaders, I had adopted a 10 point scale of how good people were feeling with 10 being having a blast and one being shit scared. I think I can definitively say after Sunday that asking people this question in a group will almost always elicit a seven or eight. No-one wants to be the person who shortens the paddle due to anxiety. This scale might work if you could quietly and privately ask people how they feel but in front of a group, no-one will blink.

Another couple of kilometres paddling and we were near Pretty Point. It’s almost always bouncy around Pretty Point but generally sheltered either side. It was just a bit too early to pull into Pretty Point Bay but I had no hope of us reaching Guerilla Bay. We were too slow, conditions would get rougher around Jimmies Island and there was no way I would take this group through the shallow water between Jimmies Island and Rosedale that makes a convenient “short-cut” to Guerilla Bay.

My plan was thus to nip around Pretty Point headland, pause on the sheltered south side and then nip back and land in Pretty Point Bay. But, just off Pretty Point the off-shore wind moved inshore abruptly and we went from paddling in perhaps 3 knots of northerly wind to 15 knots of northerly wind. I immediately called for the group to turn around and head into the sheltered waters of Pretty Point Bay but had not counted on the fact that a surprising number of people in the group had great difficulty turning their kayaks into the wind. Mistakenly, I had assumed that grade 2 paddlers were proficient at manoeuvring in the wind and bracing as required.

Eventually we got everyone turned around and pointed into Pretty Point Bay when I heard “H is in the water!” Turning back, I discovered one paddler had capsized and exited her boat. Luckily, H was right beside Rod, a strong paddler, when this happened, and Rod was already effecting a rescue. I found another nearby paddler to lead the group into Pretty Point Bay, while I went back and hooked my short tow onto Rod who was holding H upright and towed them both a half kilometre into the more sheltered waters of Pretty Point Bay. I admit to fearing for my boat as I was using my short, emergency tow line rather than my longer tow line, but, this was an emergency as the two paddlers were in danger of drifting onto the rocks. Meanwhile, M, my supervising leader, was contact towing J a short distance to ensure that J did not also capsize. All hell seemed to have broken loose in the space of mere minutes.

J only needed support for a short distance and then M was able to shepherd the remaining paddlers into shelter while I towed Rod and H in until we were only a hundred metres or so off the beach and Rod told me I could release the tow. I stayed on the water beside H who shakily paddled into land. What a trial by fire, or maybe I should say water, this Sea Guide business had been (day 42 of the Hard Things project). 

Tricks and Twists: Corrigans Beach, North Head and The Tollgate Islands

In hindsight, a good deal of hindsight, I realised that I actually enjoyed the process of getting Sea Skills through the NSW Sea Kayak Club. At the time, certain parts – most notably the ridiculous risk matrix – caused a lot of steam to explode from my ears, but, overall, I learnt a lot, became a better paddler, and certainly gained some humility from the feedback that one recieves when going for a kayak award.

With that said, it is not altogether surprising that I decided to try and inch my way further up the award ladder by qualifying as a Sea Guide. The basic paddle skills for Sea Guide are similar to Sea Skills, but, the paddler also needs to learn to manage a group of novice paddlers. Thus there are “soft skills” along with hard skills that need to be acquired. I am not altogether unfamiliar with leading groups as I have led hundreds of mountain trips over the years, and mountain sports are every bit as (maybe even more?) risky as sea kayaking. The one difference I have noted is that it is much easier to gather a group together and communicate with a group when operating on land compared to at sea.

On Saturday, I took a group of 6 paddlers out to North Head Beach and the Tollgate Islands. I was observed – and set up! - by CA, while CA was observed by ST (CA is going for his assessor status). So we had quite a hierarchy. Along with being a conspiracy theorist, I have anarchistic tendencies believing that all men (used in a strictly non-gender sense) should be self-determining. Hence it is difficult for me to tell other people what to do. Luckily, I did not have to do too much of that, mostly just setting the pace, deciding and communicating the route, and trying to pass all the little tests that were sprung upon me along the way.

It was an interesting group including the one chappie that came along with a Greenland paddle (always slow) who paddled part way with his hands and sprung in and out of his boat into the water at least half a dozen times. There was also a very nice man who got tired before we returned and got slower and slower and slower, eventually reaching the stage where he would paddle a few strokes and then simply stop paddling. Endurance, simply stated, is the ability to endure and keep going regardless of feeling tired or uncomfortable. I had a amateur film-maker and a couple of other younger paddlers who were just getting used to ocean paddling. It was a good group and I enjoyed the paddle and learnt a lot in the after paddle briefing.

Hopefully, dear reader, you get a sense of foreshadowing, as some of the things I learnt on Saturday I needed to put into play on Sunday when, of a sudden, the paddling got serious very fast. Day 41 of the Hard Things project was leading my first real club paddle and organising a group rescue.

Rock N Roll 2023 and a Mini-Triathlon

The first weekend of March was the NSW Sea Kayak Club annual paddling weekend “Rock N Roll,” this year held at Batemans Bay very close to my home. For Day 40 of the Hard Things project, I did a (very) mini-triathlon event switching out walking for running and paddling for swimming. First, I paddled around to the event location to leave my kayak ready for an early morning on Saturday, then, after checking that everything was running smoothly, I walked home, and later, cycled back for the welcome evening beer and pizza social before cycling back home again after dark.

D. Gibbins photo

Injuries and Tweaks

The Hard Things project has mostly been about dodging injury; although I prefer to call injuries “tweaks” because if I downplay their significance they might disappear quickly. I have no randomized, controlled, double blind, placebo trials to show this to be true, nor a Cochrane review meta-analysis. In fact, I think it likely is not true, at least in old people.

On Tuesday 21 February, I wrote in my training log “hip gammy.” For the first few days, I thought this was a tweak that would completely disappear and so I followed my usual “injury, ignore” cycle. A week later I wrote “hip still gammy,” in my training log and I cut down on my usual 50 to 70 kilometre per week walking routine. Today’s entry will likely read “hip a bit gammy but improving slowly.”

Training logs are useful because when you look back you can recognise patterns. Turns out that the Hard Thing for February 20 was 100 squats to the ground. I remember feeling pretty shaky on these at the end, and data would suggest that 100 squats to the ground was actually a pretty dumb idea. Not the first, won’t be the last. Today is day 40 of the Hard Things project and while I refuse to quit before I hit 60, I am having to look for Hard Things that won’t actually break me.

For day 38, I tracked my dietary intake. Everyone knows this is tedious and time consuming although tracking is always a high level suggestion from dieticians for weight management. Tracking, at least for a while, probably has it’s place in health management. Most people, particularly older folks who have high protein requirements, are notoriously protein deficient which is why sarcopenia is such a big problem.

Anyway, I had about 130 grams of protein on day 38, almost all from biologically available animal sources, although, one meal did fall short of 30 grams of protein. Thirty grams of protein is thought to be the minimum amount to trigger muscle growth and older adults should aim for 30 grams of protein at each meal. A popular misconception is that 30 grams of some kind of animal protein is equal to 30 grams of protein. This is not true. To achieve 30 grams of protein one needs to eat, for example, 100 grams of white fish, 120 grams of fatty fish, 100 grams of chicken breast, etc. Thirty grams by weight of most animal flesh is actually only seven grams of protein. Protein from non-animal sources is both poorly absorbed and not complete in amino acids. Don’t be triggered. I can’t change facts to support belief systems.

On day 39, I limped along with a gammy hip to boulder at a low tide beach. This was the day after I had climbed on my wall and it was early afternoon and the hottest part of the day as that coincided with low tide. Boulder pads are awkward to carry and as I have a short torso – I’m short overall – mine sags onto my hip which seemed to accentuate the gammy qualities of that hip. Never mind, I made it, and kept the streak alive.