Dog Days In The Furneaux Group

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.

Swan Island

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.

Mutton Bird morning

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.

Farsund wreck, 

PC, DB

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.

Typical Furneax Granite

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.

Chain from Wolfe wreck

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.  

Walking to Sealers Cove

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.

Prime Seal Island

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.

Badger Island 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.