The Wave Rider Buoy (again)

That which we avoid gets nastier. Will Gadd.

Friday was sunny and I paddled down to Guerilla Bay to meet some kayaking friends. There were a couple of whales in the shallow bay between Pretty Point and Jimmies Island when I went past, but, by the time we were back out to sea, the whales had moved on. My friends went south, while I went back north, paddling home into a light headwind. South would have been a 40 kilometre day for me. Those will come soon enough this summer!

On Saturday we went rock climbing. It may be the tick situation (that’s what Doug thinks) but my head is just not in rock climbing mode these days. I am distracted and it’s difficult to try hard. I am such a useless climber I have to try hard all the time. On Thursday, Doug had called me and let me know that his riding partner had picked up a tick on the mountain bike trails, so on both my climbing day (Saturday) and my mountain biking day (Thursday), I went out in my covering of full body 80% Deet and permethrine treated clothing. I checked frequently for ticks, and my clothes went into the dryer when I got home.

The events surrounding my near death experiences with ticks still flash into my mind a lot, and I take precautions virtually every day of my life now. Getting bitten by a tick in the house means I can never let my guard down. But I do not want to become part of the “stress injured”; the walking not wounded people whose identity is permanent victim status. This is one of the other things we used to know implicitly but forgot in the fourth great awokening, no good comes from believing yourself a victim.

Today we paddled out to the Batemans Bay Wave Rider Buoy. Paddling directly out to sea for 10 kilometres I realised how long it has been since I have done this kind of paddling. Nothing much to look at but the wobbly horizon, the weird and slightly unsettling experience of leaving land far behind as we paddle on a compass bearing, the different environment that is encountered far off-shore: shearwaters wheeling overhead, schools of fish jumping, even a few whales. Our route was pretty direct, just veering to the south when we were within half a kilometre of the buoy and Doug had spotted the ragged black flag.

The buoy looks like it’s been through a few storms, but then again, haven’t we all.

The Last Week of September: Paddling, Hiking, Biking, Skiing

Sunday was, of course, paddle day. Conditions were very good with a modest swell and light winds. I probably would have picked a different beach to launch from if I had known there would be six paddlers, but we went from our home bay across to North Head and up the Murramarang Coast to Dark Beach. It was possible to paddle into the cave if you were careful.

On Thursday, I went out to get some elevation training on the legs. What you really want is a very steep climb of about a thousand metres or, at least 800 metres over a short distance. That’s very tough here on the coast without driving a long way. West of the coast, there are some hills that reach almost 700 metres, but the starting elevation is 100 metres, the drive takes an hour each way, and the fire trails are less steep than ideal. When I was training for Canada in 2019, I had worked out the drive time to elevation gain per metre ratio for a variety of hill climbs within an hours drive! Bolaro Mountain Fire Trail, which is only about half an hour from home, seems to work reasonably well for limited driving. You can go either south to Bolaro or north to the communication towers on Erics Ridge, and I got 740 metres of gain out of that.

On Friday, with stiff legs, I got on the mountain bike and rode around the trails. My lucky day in that I did not encounter any E-bikes! Saturday, we headed off to the Snowy Mountains and stopped at Molongolo Gorge Reserve to walk the trail along Molongolo Creek on the way. A pretty little river running in a steep sided canyon with a half dozen small cascades along its length.

Sunday, of course, was skiing. From Guthega Pondage, we skied up the long gentle south ridge that eventually leads up to the Rolling Grounds. The only walking required was the 1.3 kilometres down the pondage road, across the dam wall, and up the old road on the north side of the Snowy River. There was enough snow to put skis on above the Snowy River and, by skiing to one side or other of the higher ridge, we skied all the way to Consett Stephen Pass and up the ridge north of Mount Tate. There were a number of skiers heading up the ridge but they all seemed to turn back after a couple of hundred metres. We had one run down into Falls Creek which was pleasant yet short, but otherwise, the day was trundling along on the low angle slopes that characterise the flattest continent on the planet.