There Was Nowhere To Go But Everywhere

In conventional time, it is around lunch-time. I try to avoid convention, so for me, it is near midday, but whether you are on astral time, dream-time, or geologic time, the tide is low and a long stretch of sand is exposed. Had I known in advance that there is a sand boat ramp with all tide access just outside Bonnie Vale Campground to the east, I would have landed my loaded kayak there. Ignorant as I am of this fact, I’ve landed in front of some caravans lined up along the shore, assuming the tent site I booked will be somewhere nearby.

I have a kayak trolley, strapped to the outside of the boat, but it is our “portable” trolley bought over 30 years ago for use on a sea kayak trip around the Solomon Islands and it does not stand up on it’s own. Manhandling my loaded kayak onto this trolley by myself will be impossible. I had launched from a disused boat ramp in Yowie Bay where I had managed to get my kayak off my car, onto the trolley, loaded and down the ramp to float the boat off the trolley by myself, but this low tide sand beach will hard to manage alone. For a split second, I wonder why I seem focused on always choosing the most difficult option to an end goal.

But, I’m saved. David has seen me struggling with the trolley and walks down the beach and together we get the boat on the trolley, up the beach, over a series of rocky groynes and finally all the way to my tent site at the very back of the campground. I don’t think I’ve herniated a disc but the boat has been poorly situated on the trolley making the bow very heavy.

Later, with my tent set up, I trolley back to the groynes and meet some other paddlers, and with the boat almost empty now, it is much easier to lift the boat over the groynes and into a clear stream flowing out of Cabbage Tree Basin and together we paddle out the creek and east to meet the rest of the afternoon paddle crew near the boat ramp for a pleasant and easy paddle around Port Hacking.

After the paddle, I gobble some meat and cucumber while sitting on a big stone by my campsite. I have no refridgeration capacity but a keen desire to stay as close to my carnivorous diet as I can while away. The only food I’ve brought is bacon - which everyone knows keeps forever - eggs, a cucumber, three apples and multiple cans of meat. This does garner odd looks. I can even easily imagine these odd looks are actually sneers. Who, after all, eats tinned meat by choice? Dogs and cats perhaps, but tinned meat that is pink like bubble gum is generally considered the food option of the impoverished.

Over the weekend, when not paddling, I walk across the bridge that links Maianbar to Bonnie Vale and find a plethora of dirt foot pads that run through the bush on either side of the Maianbar Road. Some lead down to Cabbage Tree Basin, while others reach the water at South West Arm. These tracks are empty of people and a nice break away from the busy beach at Bundeena and the incessant and tiresome roar of jet skis. On Sunday, without noticing, I discover that I’ve walked 10 kilometres just wandering around on bush tracks to see where they lead. Queue the Keroac quote “There was nowhere to go but everywhere.”