There was, as there so often is, an early sign of trouble which we ignored. Our speed, heading north up the Murramarang Coast was excellent. When I glanced at my watch from time to time, we were cruising along at between seven and eight kilometres, often even over eight kilometres with no serious effort, despite rather lumpy seas and a large swell. The shallow and narrow passage between Grasshopper Island the northern end of Point Upright was pretty messy with a breaking swell so we paddled around the north side of Grasshopper Island between the big bommie and the island and into Depot Beach. Just over 2.5 hours for 20 kilometres. Maybe we can knock this 40 kilometre day off easily and quickly.
We didn’t land. Depot Beach is a steep beach and there was a large surge running up the beach from deep water. The kind of landing that requires a quick exit from the kayak at exactly the right moment before the kayak gets sucked back and, frequently results in the paddler being completely immersed as they stumble to stand up in deep water with a sucking swell. We could land at South Durras (Cookies) Beach and, I always find if we take our one break of the day past the half way point the mental boost is worth the longer time in the kayak.
Paddling back out, the gap east of Grasshopper Island still looked messy with waves from both sides exploding in the middle so back around Grasshopper Island and into Beagle Bay at South Durras. But our speed, we are barely pushing six kilometres and the seven kilometres from Depot Beach to Cookies Beach takes an hour. We have a short break at Cookies Beach. I’m not hungry but force myself to eat something as I know that I’ll get slower and slower if I don’t.
On any average day, South Durras to our home bay would take around two hours, but, as we head south, my watch is telling a sorry story: five kilometres an hour, sometimes even 4.5 kilometres an hour. This is going to take three hours. That is 50% more than normal. I am so tired I could weep with fatigue. It has been a heavy training week, a heavy training month and 40 kilometres on the last day of the year was not really a good decision.
At Yellow Rocks (Three Isle Point) we can see the current streaming north up the coast. I want to take a brief pause and rest for a moment, but not until we get into Batemans Bay as I feel, no matter how irrationally, that the current will suck me back out if I don’t get past Yellow Rocks. Somehow, we manage to pace at between 6 and 7 kilometres on the way back although my core muscles feel so worked they are almost painful to touch. Seven hours after we left, we land on the beach, which is busy with holiday makers, lying on the sand or reclining in beach chairs. We live in different spaces, the average folk, whose time off is given to “leisure” and “relaxation,” and us crazies who spend the last day of the year getting worked on a long paddle to nowhere in the hopes that the suffering now will pay off later.
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