It's not the men in my life that count, it's the life in my men. Mae West.
PC Nick Blacklock
There was a time, many years ago now, when I really yearned for more women to climb, ski and adventure with. I had a couple of strong female partners, but mostly, almost exclusively, found myself out with all male groups. Truthfully, it got a little wearying. In the backcountry ski and climbing world, testosterone poisoning is a thing, and even into their 70's, some of these guys were all about proving who had the biggest cojones by jumping onto the most avalanche prone slopes they could find.
When I occasionally managed to pull together an all women trip it was amazing how much more cohesive and less competitive the group was. Leading all women climbing and skiing trips was so much easier and less stressful than dealing with a bunch of men who wanted to prove their hardman status. Sadly, however, it also meant much easier trips than I wanted to do, and, after a few forays into all women trips I gave it up and just tried to find solid partners.
These days, I don't think about it much any more. I am just happy to be out, still healthy and strong enough to enjoy challenging myself in the outdoors. If there happen to be a lot more men on the trip than women, I mostly don't even notice.
The forecast is for strong northerlies and interesting sea conditions - two completely opposite swells and a significant wind driven sea. I don't feel optimistic of seeing many whales. The rougher the ocean, the harder it is to see the whales. I am, however, happy to be out adventuring, even if there are seven men and me, the lone female.
We paddle out of Twofold Bay into a light headwind. I have done this paddle many times on trips going south and north. Once you leave Twofold Bay, the swell gets bigger and we are paddling south, past a series of rock filled, exposed bays. I am working on my paddle technique and I think I am getting faster, certainly I am feeling fast enough to be able to paddle away from the main group to explore bits of coast and then back to meet them. Not as fast as Nick, but, I will never be as fast as Nick. The beach where we land and camp always has a bit of a shore dump and a sucking wave that pulls the boat back out if you are not quick enough jumping out between waves and pulling your boat up the beach. The challenge is to make the landing as glamorous as possible and not get swamped as a couple of people do.
Doug and I find a really nice campsite with grass mown short by the resident wombats, sheltered from the northerly wind, and shaded from the sun. The only problem, which we discover when we return home is that wombats apparently have fleas and now so do we.
The wind gradually builds through the afternoon and it is a windy and cool evening, great for keeping mosquitoes and wombat fleas away.
On Sunday, those of us paddling, are up early and into our boats before 7 am, hoping to paddle south and get back before the wind builds too strongly. There is a confronting shore dump to launch into, but, with empty boats and some careful timing, everyone gets out okay and mostly dry.
We paddle south down to a nearby point. It is not that far but the sea is rough, really rough. Big steep waves coming at us from all directions. Every so often, a haystack sends a spurt of sea water shooting a few metres into the air. Our boats rise and fall, we lose sight of each other. I have to concentrate to avoid "air strokes" which are disconcerting as well as destabilising. Away from reefs, the waves don't actually break, but they rise steeply and curl over at the top and frequently look as if they are about to collapse.
It will be almost impossible to see whales today, and, although I feel fine, I do wonder how this sea will feel with a 15 knot wind pushing the waves up even steeper. We spend a while out bobbing around in our boats but eventually we decide to go back in. Looking back over the trips I have done at this time of year on the far south coast and we often have very windy conditions, but this is certainly the roughest sea I have seen down here.
The rest of the day is spent walking. I follow the trail all the way north to Boyd Tower in an increasingly thirsty march to find water. I forgot to get my water bottle out of my kayak, and, by the time I walk a couple of hours to the north, I am parched dry. There is a rain water tank attached to the outhouse at the parking area at Boyd Tower with a sign saying "Do Not Drink." I ignore this completely and clamp my lips over the faucet and gulp great swigs of water. The tourists look at me suspiciously.
Next day we head back to Twofold Bay. I am looking forward to the challenge of some rough water but it does not feel as bouncy as the day before. Launching has its challenges, with a couple of people getting spun around and struggling a bit to get out through the breakers. I just put my head down and paddle like stink, reaching over the back of breaking waves and, although I get drenched by a wave breaking over my head, I make it out beyond the surf break quickly.
Nick has been teaching me to catch runners and encouraging me to do some interval training and, once we pass by Red Point into the more sheltered waters of Twofold Bay, the waves are regular enough to catch some runners and I alternate sprinting - and gasping - with catching waves.
No whales seen on the way back, but we did have the company of a pod of dolphins for a while. There is a very short video here.
No comments:
Post a Comment