For two weeks, Quick Nick had been talking about Skull Rock, a kilometre east of Derwent Island which is itself about 65 km east of Mackay. So, as we paddled north on a 500 kilometre off-shore journey from Bangalee to Seaforth, we knew that camping on Derwent Island had to be a “thing.” After all, this was Nick’s first Queensland paddling trip and we wanted to make it memorable.
It is 42 kilometres from the beach on the southwest side of Prudhoe Island to the tiny patch of sand on the north side of Derwent Island where we hoped to land and camp. The tide floods south and ebbs north at up to three knots and, coincidentally, the moon was due to be full that very night. On the only windless day of our 19 day trip, we left Prudhoe Island about an hour before tide change and slogged along under an over-bearing sun for an hour at a slow feeling 5.5 km/hour before the current changed and we gradually paced up to a much more respectable 10 km/hour.
There are two tiny patches of white crushed coral sand on the south side of Derwent Island but even optimists would not think about camping here as at high tide the island rears straight up from the sea, a wreck of car sized granite boulders and steeply inclined slabs. Paddling around the southern and western side of the island we passed over a gorgeous coral reef with big drop-offs, gutters and coral bommies. The water this far off-shore is clear and aquamarine and we could see colourful tropical fish buzzing around below us while sea turtles flippered gracefully by.
On the north side of the island, behind a fringing reef there was a small patch of sand backed by steeply inclined granite slabs and more large boulders. There is no flat ground, just slabs and boulders to the 131 metre high apex of the island. We landed the kayaks and optimistically declared the site “wonderful for camping.” Based on previous wet sand tide marks, we were all completely confident that we would be a satisfying 30 centimetres above the evening high tide.
The tides are weird in this part of the world. At Prudhoe Island, high tide at 2216 would be 6.40 metres while due north of Prudhoe Island at Scawfell Island (almost exactly in line in an east-west direction), the tide would be only 5.27 metres at 2216. There are no tide charts for Derwent Island, and I can only say in our defence that we hoped the high tide would be the lower rather than higher figure. We were also highly motivated to make this campsite work as we had: (a) not yet paddled around Skull Rock – which absolutely must be done; and (b) would either have to paddle 11 km in the wrong direction (east) to find another camp, or even more tiring to think about, paddle another 31 kms in the right direction (west) to Scawfell Island.
As we still had to haul our mounds of gear, drinking water and kayaks a couple of hundred metres over a dried out reef to camp the enthusiasm to paddle any further was not merely lacking but absent. Making good use of judicious pieces of drift wood, a sturdy platform for the kayaks to rest on for the night was constructed and the kayaks juggled into position. With another handy piece of driftwood we made ourselves luxuriously level sand tent sites, perhaps the best of the trip. Then, as a huge full moon rose over the cliffs to the east of camp, we settled in to enjoy this most unique night.
Despite feeling weary from the days exertions, sleep was hard to come by. The water, which had been lapping gently on the shore when 100 or even 50 metres away, was no longer lapping gently when a mere half metre away, and was instead surging energetically up the sand towards the tents. With admirable but ultimately misplaced confidence, Nick had drawn a line in the sand in front of his tent any point beyond which he claimed would remain dry. When I looked out the tent around 8.30 pm - a couple of hours before high tide – the full moon was dazzlingly bright and the line had been washed from existence.
By 9.00 pm our position had become indefensible. The tents had been manhandled up onto the boulders and were hanging akimbo, the tide was surging under the kayaks on their driftwood resting places, Doug and I were crouched on boulders above the ocean wondering if we could manage to sleep sitting up while Nick was lying on a sleeping pad on a roughly level car sized boulder drifting semi-comfortable off to sleep.
It was a long and sleepless (at least for me) three hours until the tide receded enough to toss the tent back onto the sand, our level tent pad now resembling a luge run, and fall inside to try and catch a little sleep. The next day was required a handful of No Doze pills washed down with a jug of double strength coffee before I felt equal to paddling east to Skull Rock.
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