Reflections On Bass Strait

All photos courtesy of DB.

“How are the post-trip blues?” a friend asked me. I had to think, did I have post-trip blues? There was a kind of poignant sadness as we paddled into Port Welshpool on our last day. The hectic weeks of planning, preparation and training and the trip was over, seemingly so quickly and, almost effortlessly. Perhaps that is the mark of a well planned and prepared trip, something which seems almost overwhelmingly difficult when you start thinking about it, and yet, at its end, has been a wonderful experience, the challenges easily managed.

Another friend emailed “the direction change was inspired.” Most mainland paddlers crossing eastern Bass Strait travel north to south but we travelled south to north. The Havu, who had been watching high pressure systems consistently track south of Tasmania over our preparatory weeks is the genius behind this decision, although the forecast easterlies were not as strong nor as consistent as expected.

In truth, I think we lucked out with very favourable weather. We had no long periods of sustained heavy weather, and, had we been inclined, we could have finished the trip a week earlier than we did if we had used all our good weather days to make progress. That, however, would have been very unsatisfying. As it was we covered the distance from mainland Tasmania to the north end of Flinders in just 3.5 days, mostly paddling off shore with a determination to get from one camp site to the next. Had we not spent three weeks paddling the Furneaux Group of islands in 2019 this would have been a major disappointment as there is much to see around this group of islands.

My initial thought on finishing the trip was “I will never do this again.” To be fair, most of my mountaineering trips in Canada ended with that thought. There is something about multi-day approaches through untracked bush with vertical miles of elevation gain, sketchy climbing, crevasses, cornice falls, avalanches, and loose rock all to be negotiated while carrying a heavy pack that means that if the summit was reached, any impetus to return is attenuated.

On the Bass Strait trip it is simply the hassle of trying to sort transport for people and kayaks across the Strait on the return trip, the long hours at sea between islands, and the idea, possibly seldom realised, that you could be stuck for weeks by weather on a dry island with little shelter from the weather. Were I 20 years younger, I think the ideal trip would be to cross the Strait by kayak in both directions, once on the eastern route and once on the western route linking both by paddling the northern coast of Tasmania. A real bad-ass could do what Jason Beechcroft did, cross western Bass Strait, paddle around Tasmania and then cross eastern Bass Strait.

The western crossing of Bass Strait, however, is a much more serious undertaking than the eastern route with more challenging weather and sea conditions and a much longer crossings. From the northern tip of King Island to Apollo Bay is 100 kilometres, and Hunter Island to King Island is over 70 kilometres. These challenges notwithstanding, western Bass Strait has been crossed by multiple solo and group kayakers. In fact, The Havu has paddled western Bass Strait solo, as has my friend Rae (whose comment who I referenced above). I am in awe of both these achievements and consider myself incredibly privileged to call these talented and courageous folk friends.

So, while I am very satisfied with our achievement, I am unable to rest comfortably on those laurels for too long; after all, there are many trips (such as western Bass Strait) that are considerably more difficult. But, the trip was a bit of a stretch for me and I am pleased with the style and speed with which we completed the trip.

I learnt three big lessons:

• One. “The mind is primary.” If you’re training is adequate, then it really is all about what you believe you can do. Looking back at my training logs, it was January before I started training in earnest for Bass Strait, prior to that I was doing mostly skills and surfing in preparation for Sea Skills assessment. That means I had one month to progress from paddling about 20 km once a week in an unloaded boat to paddling marathon and ultra marathon distances everyday with a loaded boat. Ouch. All I managed to do was base training, no speed or intensity work at all. Leaving for Bass Strait I felt like I had done just enough but no more. I did, however, believe I could paddle the required distances in the expected conditions.

• Two. As a self-described catastrophic thinker I tend to be uncertain of my abilities even when my skill level is adequate for the task at hand. I need to have more confidence in my ability. See point number one, the mind is primary.

• Three: The idea that we should surround ourselves with people who are better than us has been around for decades and happens to be a truism that is actually true with the caveat that you have to want to be challenged and improve. If your greatest desire is lauding your significance/prowess/intelligence over others, look for the lowest common denominator and settle in.