Mount Jagungal

 “Several sexy campsites…” With a review like that and four stars as well, who could be criticised for wanting to hike up Mount Jagungal? It’s from AllTrails, of course, although I was curious who had given the walk one star. When I scrolled through, I found the single one star review but, frustratingly, there was no comment, no description, no explanation of why this walk, that 71 out of 73 reviewers had rated at least four stars garnered such a dismal rank. I mean, how does a walk get one star, it has to be pretty terrible. Did the rater get bitten by a death adder? Attacked by a rabid fox? Trampled by a male brumby after a mare in heat? Not find a single sexy campsite? It boggles the mind. I’ve had some pretty awful trips over the years, including one where we lost our entire food drop and skied for four days through heavy rain and snow to escape with no food and I still would have given that trip more than one star.

I’ve had Jagungal on my list for years. For many years in a row I had a plan to ski up the mountain over a four day trip from Guthega, but, for those many years, the snow-pack had been so miserly and myself such a snow snob - coming from big mountains and deep snow-packs in the Canadian mountains - that I could never garner the enthusiasm to drive six hours to carry my skis across a lot of flat country side.

A bike and hike is the very best way ascend the mountain unless the idea of a loop walk predominantly on fire trails appeals. The country you pass through is very pretty however, so a two day walk would also be worth more than one star, at least by my rating system.

We had a 40 minute drive to get to Round Mountain trail-head so we started a bit later than previous days but were still away relatively early. The ground was frosty and the trail headed uphill straight away which my old body found uncomfortable. I need a reasonable warm-up these days before pumping my heart rate up to 150. After the first hill, the FT descends down to a ford on a manky bridge made of rusty corrugated metal; a hill I knew I would have to push on the way back.

After that, however, the FT is a delight, rolling along the Toolong Range across open plains with lovely views and hills which are mostly easy to ride. A few kilometres from Derschkos Hut, we met a couple of blokes hiking who warned us about a rambunctious fox breaking into packs and shared the delightful news that there was a track up the mountain. Doug and I had assumed we would be bush-bashing, so this was great news. We passed Derschkos Hut and turned onto Grey Mare FT and, shortly after Grey Mare FT plunged down into and back out of a steep creek gully, we found the trail.

We stashed the bikes in the bush and proceeded to follow the track up a short drainage through some head high scrub to gain a ridge that runs SSW from the top of Mount Jagungal. Once on the ridge, the incline laid back, the scrub cleared and it was a pleasant walk up alpine country to the top. The gently rolling high plains that spread south to the Main Range were pretty and would be nice to walk or ski across some time. The ride out was half an hour quicker than the way in but I did have to push up that first hill.

Mount Tabletop

Riding the bicycles out of Three Mile Dam Campground early on a frosty morning, the only other camper up and about gives us a thumbs up. We ride up the paved road to Selwyn Snow Resort and slip off onto Selwyn FT which climbs 50 metres up to the ridge where the lifts run during the winter ski season. In the big fires of 2020 the resort burnt completely with an extensive rebuild completed in 2023, but the resort only managed to open for a short period in 2024 because it was too difficult to maintain snow coverage with warm temperatures and lack of natural snow.

Ostensibly, Australia is committed to net zero and obsessed with meeting climate targets, and yet, the Blyton Group spent $30 million rebuilding a “snow” resort that cannot survive without artificial snow-making. This large expenditure was made possible by a sweet deal by the NSW State Government who granted a new 40 year lease and facilitated planning permissions necessary for the rebuild. Snow making, of course, uses huge amounts of power and water. Exactly how much power and water is required to maintain snow at the resort is not available in the public domain – quelle surprise! How this meshes with Australia being a climate leader is unclear, and, in essence, any individual with a normally developed level of scepticism will find the entire enterprise suspect.

If you value the natural environment, and particularly Australia’s precious and limited alpine area, you might find the plans for Selwyn Resort just a little bit disturbing. Quoting from the website:

The creation of a brand-new ‘Winter Wonderland’, the first of its kind in Australia, will see the introduction of a range of exciting new snow play products in the coming years including a tubing carousel, skating rink with bumper cars, kids snowmobiles and a miniature enchanted village.

The commonality among all these planned features are, of course, their artificial nature and lack of actual physical activity required to participate. In fact, this dystopian future sounds more like a Disneyland comes to the alpine experience than it does a real authentic experience where people connect with their environment and use their bodies in a healthy way. This is increasingly the style and practice in Australia – the worlds greatest nanny state where the health and safety bureaucrats have the backing of the increasingly timid bed-wetter population – nature and adventure either off-limits completely (see the Arapilies climbing bans) or tamed to become an experience that encompasses no adventure or challenge whatsoever. There is a small and nascent movement against the over-engineering of the outdoor environment but the broader societal influences towards increasing government reliance are broadly outstripping this counter-culture movement. Australia, unfortunately, exists under the tyranny of the “do-gooders.” As C.S. Lewis wrote in 1948:

Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It would be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated; but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience.

But, it’s May and there is no snow at Selwyn, and only a dusting of frost. From the 1600 metre high point on the ridge, Selwyn FT heads south, undulating along a gentle ridge of burnt snowgums, falling down to Nine Mile Creek, then climbing again to pass along the eastern and southern flank of Tabletop Mountain. It’s lovely riding, and a bicycle a fantastic way to travel this country. After 2.5 hours we are at the base of Tabletop Mountain and the broad flat summit a mere 20 minute walk up grassy slopes. To the southwest, at 2062 metres is Mount Jagungal. Not a particularly high mountain, but, from this angle, almost looking like a real mountain not merely a rounded hill.

Leaving the van early in the morning, we had forgotten lunch and our snack bags feel very light. We split half an energy bar and a few nuts, and then walk back down to the bicycles for the ride out. Bicycle travel is even better on the way back and we are back at Three Mile Dam in time for lunch.

Tantangara Mountain

The old argument about trail sharing sites, surfaced on a blog I follow yesterday. It’s a tedious argument and driven only by some kind of fake elitism, and, much like other far left debates, makes zero sense from a logical perspective. It’s really about protecting your own turf from the undeserving interlopers, which is a bit weird coming as it does from the inclusive crowd. But, it spurred me to have a look at AllTrails for Tantangara Mountain because the government topographic maps are all a bit inaccurate.

Earlier versions of the standard topographic map call the 1745 metre high point Tantangara Mountain but have no tracks marked while the later version shows the track from the Snowy Mountains Highway but not from Rocky Plains Campground and leave off any names from the high point labelling the top simply SMA0093. I had to use AI to find out what SMA represents, apparently, Snowy Mountains Authority and it means the map was produced during the planning of the Snowy Mountains Hydroelectric scheme.

I don’t actually think AllTrails is very useful as almost any trail/route I have ever looked up on the site says something like “very hard, extra severe, you will likely die.” Mount Jagungal, for example, is described as “hard” (even though there is a good trail all the way to the top), has only four reviews and gets three stars (out of five) from most raters. Most real bushwalkers, who will have Mount Jagungal on their tick list lying as it does in the Jagungal Wilderness and being prominent from many locations will scratch their heads at this and wonder what the raters have been smoking or not, as I thought hash was supposed to make you mellow and happy.

But back to Mount Tantangara. The current topographic map (and AllTrails) makes it look like you should park near Black Walters Creek and follow the trail (an old road) east to the top. This works but the problem arises as soon as you try to legally park. One on side of the Snowy Mountains Highway is a chain up area. I’m not aware of any laws about parking in chain up bays (nor is AI) but it does not seem like a good idea as you could get a ticket. On the other side of the road is a gravel pull-out, ideal for parking except for the sign banning parking.  The better option, is to park down at Rocky Plains area, either at Sawyers Hut or near the campground and follow the track – not marked on any map or AllTrails north to join the track from the Snowy Mountains Highway. The starting elevation is roughly the same but the walk is about 2 kilometres shorter.

It’s a very pleasant walk. We saw some feral horses down near Black Walters Creek, despite heavy culls they are everywhere. The entire walk is easy and scenic owing to burnt forest and the ridge line track. From the top, we used a compass to locate our next couple of destinations: Tabletop Mountain and Mount Jagungal, and also Mount Morgan which we had completed the day before. Mount Jagungal looks like a real mountain from this location and will pique any peak-baggers interest, unless, of course, you read AllTrails and then you would simply shrug, turn over, and go back to sleep.

Mount Morgan

In keeping with our penchant to always go the longest way self powered to avoid as much driving as possible, we were planning to hike up Mount Morgan from the north instead of the much shorter and more popular southern route. The day trip would be in excess of 30 kilometres so we were hoping for a drier weather day. I had woken early the day before to drizzle and low cloud so we had delayed a day. In the middle of the drizzly day, when the weather lifted a little, Doug had walked into the Oldfields Hut to see what the trail was like for cycling, while I had picked up a track that took me from Old Snowy Campground down to Tantangara Reservoir.

Up in the dark again the next morning, the weather was really no better with low cloud and drizzle but we decided to head off to the Oldfields Hut and assess conditions again. We cycled out from Old Snowy Campground at 7 am. Doug pushed his bike up the steep hill on Murray Gap FT to the saddle on the Gurrangorambla Range and plunged down the even steeper east side while I stashed my bicycle in the bush and walked. We met at the Oldfields Hut where it was damp and chilly. Deciding to meet again in two hours, Doug pedalled away while I walked along the FT into a biting wind.

Doug had a cold and damp 25 minute wait at the saddle where the track to Mount Murray leaves the FT but I did manage to arrive with about 20 minutes to spare from the two hour mark. The footpad to Mount Morgan is actually a very good trail all the way to about 1810 metres where it meets the north ridge. From there, the track is fainter as it bypasses some boulders on east side of Mount Morgan. The trees up here had been coated with long icicles which were dripping off as the day warmed. We scrambled up the slippery summit boulders in dense fog, snapped a picture or two and then retreated to the ridge and a slightly sheltered spot for a bit of food.

On the way down, we popped under the clouds and had some misty views of the Bimberi Range to the east and by the time I had walked back to Oldfields Hut, I could even see the tops of Bimberi Peak and Mount Murray. Doug beat me back to the Floatel by 1.5 hours!

Cave Creek

I feel a strange exhilaration riding my bicycle along Pockets Saddle FT in the falling rain. Doug has gone on ahead, while I cycled the extra half a kilometre along a side track to Pockets Hut. I am within six kilometres of Old Snowy Campground which makes the rain less of a problem. I’ll be back in the Floatel within an hour even if I am drenching wet. My legs are getting stiff from the cold, but with a goretex jacket and heavy toque (beanie) on, I am only a little chilled, not really cold.

A couple of hours earlier we had been walking east along Cave Creek towards Cooleman Falls. The track crosses the creek nine times and, while Doug had determinedly kept his shoes on almost the entire way, I had taken mine off and walked bare foot between creek crossings. Clark Gorge is a short, two kilometre canyon with limestone walls. About a kilometre before Cooleman Falls, the canyon opens out to a pretty river running beside eucalpytus forest lined banks.

On our way back from the falls to the campground, the rain started. Big heavy drops driven on the sound of thunder. We detoured up to the campground hoping to find a picnic shelter, but the only roof in the area was protecting the interpretive signage. After sheltering here for about 10 minutes, with thunder rumbling all around, the rain had stopped so we walked back down the Blue Waterholes FT to retrieve our bicycles. We had been going to walk the circuit loop around Nichols Gorge, a drier and smaller version of Clarke Gorge but the persistent thunder and threatening rain was a deterrent.

Instead of the whole loop walk we wandered up to Cooleman Cave where we walked through three of the chambers that did not require crawling through wet mud! Back at the bicycles, we started riding just as the rain started again. All the way back I felt as if I was being chased by Thor as the thunder rumbled on.

The Old Pull-Over

I’m always happy when I get to read something of Andy Kirkpatrick’s; he is incisive, original, fearless, and, most importantly, has a very advanced bullshit detector. It’s coincidental that this essay, on outdoor clothing, should come out, a couple of days after Doug and I returned from a trip to the Snowy (but not that snowy) Mountains. Everyday I had worn my old Patagonia insulated pull-over. An extremely simple piece of clothing: a layer of synthetic insulation sewn between two layers of light wind resistant nylon with a quarter zip at the neck. No hood, only one small breast pocket, elastic in the sleeves and bottom, and no sewn baffles. After 20 years, this piece of clothing is still going strong: sure it has a couple of patches and I avoid wearing it unprotected if pushing through trees and brush, but, if you consider both warmth for weight and longevity, this pull-over has beaten the odds.

Doug in his black pull-over

It’s impossible to buy a pull-over like this anymore. Although Patagonia has 95 women's jackets on the site, not one approximates this pull-over. The new way to make jackets is to sew at least several dozen baffles in so that the jacket is criss-crossed with seams and has a certain “puffer jacket” look. Never mind that all those seams allow cold air to leak into the jacket and warm air to leak out. You look sharp, and, apparently, even in the rarefied shopping space of Patagonia (which we used to call Patagucci because every clothing item was so expensive) looking sharp is more important than being functional.

The old sky blue pullover, PC: DB

My current pull-over, like the previous one before, was bought from a Patagonia outlet shop. There were two of these in North America, one in our home town of Nelson, BC, and one in Dillon, Montana. Both extremely unlikely places to find Patagucci outlets and I’m not sure how the outlets came to be in either location. In Nelson, the outlet was downstairs from the main clothing store which sold a variety of brands, and, on occasion, you could score a reasonable jacket or pair of climbing pants at half the regular price. I used to buy all my Goretex (or similar clone) jackets from there as the jackets wore out with great frequency and were expensive to replace. They never fit quite right because the items that went to the outlet store were “failed” Patagucci items. There was always something a little odd about the cut and fit, but not odd enough to put you off buying something that was at least solidly made from quality material.

A Patagucci jacket that never fit quite right,

PC: Bob

The Dillon outlet was much better than the Nelson one, despite the town being a third of the size. Dillon is home to the University of Montana Western and as such had a lot of young people amongst its small population. The outlet was always hopping and, in addition to having racks and racks and racks of clothing, at least 50% off again from the Canadian price (most things in the USA are 50% of the Canadian price which is why the USA has a more robust economy), the outlet did mail order so that while you were browsing the racks, the store attendants would be walking about the store gathering up items to ship off to far away locales. I’ve still got a pair of shorts and a tank top from the Dillon store, in addition to my pull-over.

Decked out in Patagucci outlet gear at EPC,

PC: DB

I got my first pull-over from the Nelson store – a sky blue one that was subsequently ripped apart on backcountry ski adventures in the Selkirk mountains – and my second, current model, from Dillon. When we were in Canada in 2019, I searched all the outdoor stores for a replacement pull-over for Doug whose black pull-over had worn threadbare but was absent all the rips that mine had accumulated. I could not find anything even close, and the prices were exorbitant. MEC was in the death throes of its eventual financial collapse at the time – driven, of course, by DEI and ESG and marketing executives fresh out of graduate school who did not know a tricam from an ice-screw – and jackets (there were no pull-overs) were upwards of $500 each. Marketing is expensive and the money to fund marketing must come from somewhere.

The toque (aka beanie) also from the outlet shop,

PC: DB

These days, I buy my outdoor clothing (with the exception of rain jackets) from Aldi (centre-aisle) or K-Mart. The items cost under $30 (although disturbingly, these are likely made in some off-shore sweat shop, but so are the more expensive models) and no worse and very often better than a name brand like Kathmandu. There’s a persistent myth in the outdoor space that high tech, high cost gear is needed for every adventure from a two hour trail run to a multi-day ski trip. It’s a myth as old as time. Pre-social media days, people would buy their high tech gear to wear to the local coffee shop, these days, the high-tech gear is more likely to appear in the latest carefully staged social media post. But it’s not gear that gets shit done outdoors, it’s guts and grit, and perseverance and the ability to tolerate discomfort if not outright pain. None of these can be bought off the rack at a shop but must be earned in the daily battle against inertia.

Mount Gladstone

Rising just over 100 metres above the surrounding plains, Mount Gladstone is better called Gladstone Hill, but that might belie how many times I had to get off the bike and push part of the up-track. The uphill section on Franks Loop was ride-able, but I had to get off and manhandle the bike a half dozen times on Longview, which I might rename “huck a lung.” It’s not overly steep; from base to summit, the elevation gain is only 175 metres, but the steep bits are very rocky and given my base level of skill, which is pretty much bump across while trying not to pedal strike or get bumped off, I had to push the bike more than normal (normal on my home trails is never!).

There are a couple of look-outs at the top, and nice views across the nearby flat farming land. There are no green trails off the summit, but the blue trail we rode (Gladiator) was not really technical and an easy ride. One of those times, however, when you get to the bottom shockingly fast and then have to confront the lung and leg blasting effort to get back to the top.

We did not go back to the top but lapped around Franks Loop and Easy Peasy, a green loop on the eastern flanks. If I did ride up again, I think I would throw ethics and aesthetics out and simply ride the sealed Mount Gladstone Road back to the top.

Three Days In April

My nephew, who has some passing interest in rock climbing (mostly in the climbing gym) occasionally drives south to stay with us for a couple of days. He is 32 and thus, of an age where young men should be challenged mentally and physically. This is basic evolutionary biology which exists – like binary sex - whether you believe in it or not. An increasing proportion of society would like to erase the precepts of science arguing instead that humans have no common genetic traits and are, as John Locke theorised in the middle 1600’s, merely blank slates (tabula rasa) upon which are imprinted societal constructs. That’s not turning out very well for either individuals or society but humans are mostly not rational, despite what we like to believe. All philosophical arguments aside, when my nephew comes to stay we plan activities, because young men like cattle dogs are best behaved when tired out at the end of an active day.

The first day we went rock climbing. Despite vowing every year to stay in shape for climbing, the end of summer finds me in perilously bad shape. Strength based skill sports get harder and harder each year, which is no doubt why there are so few older rock climbers around. Nevertheless, I try to – as RedGum would say - “keep the faith,” and keep climbing. We put Mitchell on a couple of projects at the crag. I’ve climbed one of them clean on top-rope but the second one I’ve never been able to do two or three crux moves that make up the middle part of the route.

There was zero chance of M sending either; the flexibility and strength of youth cannot make up for slip-shod footwork. I have one leg markedly weaker than the other despite years of trying to bring the weak leg up to the stronger leg. I’ve always assumed that it is this weak leg that makes the opening moves on this particular route feel desperately hard but watching M slip, slide, fall, and thrutch on the same moves I wondered if the weakness might be somewhere else up the kinetic chain, my fingers or core perhaps? There’s so much weakness when you are old that it’s best not to catalogue every imperfection.

On the second day we went sea kayaking. There was a big swell with a long period. The period was up to 16 seconds which is almost unheard of on the south coast of NSW where a long period is in the order of 10 or 11 seconds. Sixteen seconds is more typical of the Southern Ocean. In addition to the long period, the waves were very large. The wave buoy, which was three kilometres due east of the Tollgate Islands last time we found it, was reporting maximum swells to six metres with average swells in the three to four metre range. The swell was too big to get off our beach safely, in addition to breaking across the mouth of the bay, the water was surging across the parking lot so there was nowhere to launch a kayak anyway.

We trolleyed about five minutes further to a beach facing north into Batemans Bay where we were able to launch into Short Beach Creek and out to sea. I’ve wanted to paddle out Short Beach Creek for ages but you need either a lot of rain or a very high tide, preferably both. I had walked along to Observation Point in the morning to suss out the route to a couple of surf spots in the Bay that are good in big conditions. Batemans Bay is very shallow and in heavy swells there can be surf breaks all the way across the Bay from Square Head to Observation Point.

I had picked a line that went to the west of the westerly cardinal marker and then slightly northeast past another marker out into deeper water but when we launched, the change in tide height meant that the waves were breaking to the west of the cardinal marker but not to the east! We went out single file, me leading, M behind me, and Doug coming last. The swells were very big and rising steeply in the shallow water. At one point, I turned around and noted that M had drifted off my course and I yelled to get him back into position. It felt a bit like skiing a big avalanche slope: you’ll be quite safe as long as you stay off the convex roll!

We paddled right around the north side of Snapper Island keeping well off reefs and into the more sheltered waters to the west of Square Head. Cullendulla Creek runs out here and with a falling tide, you can get really long rides on friendly waves. The tide was rising so conditions were not as good as other times, but I notched up four kilometres riding in and then paddling back out again. M did quite well but lacked the pattern recognition to know when to paddle hard to stay in front of the wave. He only flipped once and managed to cowboy back in. We had a break on shore and then paddled over to Cullendulla where there were lots of families and few surfers. After trying a couple of spots, we found a nice metre high green wave that provided long rides in a spot where we were not in danger of wiping out any small children. It was lots of fun.

On the way back, we looked at paddling back the “inside route” which passes between Snapper Island and Observation Head. There are multiple reefs and sandbars through here where the water is less than two metres deep so it can be very dodgy, particularly with big sets coming in, to get through safely. In the end, we decided to go around. Getting caught by a bigger than average wave would be really nasty, these swells were very powerful! As we paddled into Caseys Beach and shelter from the dry reef, one set of 4 or 5 big swells stood up and curled slightly at the top. M who was dutifully following my line in, asked “is that going to break?” “No, no,” I said, more confidently than I felt, “just keep paddling steadily.”

PC: DB

The next day we went mountain biking. We had only one more goal to achieve, tire M out so that he was unable to ride up the hills. We had him falling while climbing, capsizing while kayaking, so this was all that remained! I honestly thought it would be harder than it was but, on the last uphill on the trails as I puffed along the trail coming DFL (dead fucking last) – my quads were starting to quiver – I found M pushing the bicycle up hill. “Time to go home,” I thought. “Our work here is done.” Good times all round and M was pretty well behaved!

Tomaree Coastal Walk

Apparently, the 20 minute walk to the top of Tomaree Summit Head is a Grade 5 walking track. That’s right, a paved trail with handrails and stairs, excessive signage and which takes about 20 minutes to walk comfortably is Grade5, or, descriptively “very experienced bushwalkers with specialised skills, including navigation and emergency first aid. Tracks are likely to be very rough, very steep and unmarked.”

Here’s what you should do if you are walking in the area, ignore the rating and stroll to the top. I walked up twice, once in teeming rain with no views and once the day after Doug and I walked the full Tomaree Coastal walk. On a very windy and rainy day, I walked from Fingal Bay north to Tomaree Head. The trail is a mix of beach and bush track and passes by Box, Wreck and Zenith Beaches, all little beaches tucked under short steep hills. Tomaree Head has a series of short trails, one to the top, and another that wraps around the north side. These can be linked together via rough bush tracks.

One day later, the weather was a lot better with only sporadic brief showers but gusty winds and large swell. I walked south from Fingal Bay while Doug drove to Birubi Point and walked north. The track is well marked and there are lots of side tracks to different rock platforms and lookouts: Fingal Head, Fingal Point, Snapper Point and Big Rocky. It’s worth walking out to all of these if you have the time and energy.

After Big Rocky there are two longer beaches, Samurai and One Mile Beach. Both were pounding with big surf as I walked along them. South of One Mile Beach is Morna Point with a very scenic slot that was awash with massive waves. A further half kilometre south is Boat Harbour which reminded me of paddling south west Tasmania: big swell and scary looking but also reasonably safe if you paddled out right through the middle. The coastline runs due west from Boat Harbour to Birubi Point. This is another interesting section of coast with rocky bays and headlands. The rocky coast abruptly comes to an end at Birubi Point and long Stockton Beach runs all the way to Newcastle.

Coming Through

It would be easy to dislike E-bike riders, too easy. E-bike riders seem to have an affinity for stopping on the trail, which necessitates analog riders either getting off their bikes to shuffle around or calling “coming through.” As soon as the E-bike riders see that the “coming through” bicyclist is a somewhat chubbier than she should be old lady, they feel compelled to spring immediately upon their bicycles, push the assist gear to high, and zoom up behind. What’s an analog rider to do then? Push on and have a cardiac or get off their bike – again – to let the E-riders past? If you are an analog rider all the old proverbs about rolling stones gathering no moss and “… trust inertia, it is the greatest force in the world,” are ineluctably true, we want to keep our bicycles moving; it is much easier if we do.

Paddling last Sunday, one of the other paddlers noted that he only used his E-bike assist on the hills, which is really the only time you are doing anything much on a bicycle unless you are riding steep trails where you must poise spring like over your pedals with your muscles in an isometric contraction. This is analogous to saying, “I only use a motor on my kayak when I am paddling.” The machine is doing the bulk of the work! Pedalling on the flats or downhill is basically just spinning your legs around and reminds me of the rather useless device someone once gave my mother (sold every year by Aldi) wherein an “exerciser” sits on the couch and spins their legs about. I’m not sure a more useless piece of equipment has ever been invented; but I could be wrong.

Also on my Sunday paddle we were talking about how tough people were in earlier generations. We all know this, no “studies” are required. Before the industrial revolution the bulk of people were tough as nails because they had to be to survive. I am in the same boat as everyone else: I’m not tough either. Every time I go out and do something difficult I have to remind myself it won’t kill me and will, in all likelihood, make me a better person. But it’s seldom I don’t have to remind myself of these two facts: “it won’t kill you, you’ll probably be better.”

If we learn to speak positively about risk and difficulty and hard work, and we make doing so a habit, it completely changes our relationship to same, and we become different, more capable people. Our opportunities and trajectory are forever altered, and we aren’t as inclined to settle for less than our greatest potential.  Mark Twight.  Poison.  

Rain and Wind on the North Coast of NSW

Was it a cut-off low or an east coast low? I don’t know, probably nobody knows. Humans have developed categorical designations for all sorts of things which make us believe we are both precise and accurate when in many instances we are neither. With no precision or accuracy I can say it was wet and then windy followed by wet and windy. My first Rock N Roll (RnR) at Jimmies Beach on the north side of Port Stephens, my first RnR as a trip leader and a wet baptism it was.

The rain started on Friday night and continued all day Saturday, “heavy at times” as the weather man (person) would say. Sunday was mostly dry in the morning but windy – very farking windy - and the rain moved in by afternoon and continued solidly for the next couple of days.

PC: DB

I felt disorganised the entire weekend because our gear was either stuffed in various places trying to keep it merely damp rather than dripping wet or sitting in puddles of rain water. The end result was that I couldn’t find my PLB (Personal Locator Beacon), left my mobile telephone on the coffee table at someone’s house, lost my paddle leash, and misplaced a dozen other items. Additionally, for some reason, I had only brought summer paddling gear with me, despite the horrendous forecast. I was wet as the proverbial drowned cat all weekend and had to keep moving to stay warm.

Nevertheless I fronted up to the leaders breakfast at 7:30 am on Saturday morning. And, had my first experience with “impostor syndrome.” There was a general decision to stay inside the heads and with a strong northerly forecast along with heavy rain, that meant paddling somewhere along the northern shore of Port Stephens. As it turned out, onshore, the wind didn’t amount to much so we could have paddled over to the south side of Port Stephens but it was, if you can excuse the colloquialism, pissing down and a few hour paddle was quite enough.

PC: DB

I teamed up with a sea instructor from Victoria to take a group around Corrie Island. Pleasant enough but it did make me realise that I’m not much of a flat water paddler. I find it a bit boring – my apologies to everyone who loves flat water paddling. I had thought we might be able to eddy hop up Myall River but there are few eddies, the current was stronger than I expected and the persistent rain quickly sapped my enthusiasm.

Sunday the weather was worse, if that is at all possible. Back at the leaders breakfast at 7:30 am and I’ve seldom felt less like paddling! The previous day’s northerly strong wind warning was replaced by a southwesterly gale warning. For the land-lubbers, that equates to wind speeds of 34 to 47 knots, or bloody windy. This is the kind of wind that blows your paddle out of your hand and your kayak across the beach. In sea kayaking texts this is described as “dangerous conditions …. each paddler must look out for himself and rescues impractical [sic].”

How then did I find myself out with a full contingent of paddlers in these conditions? Well, you can blame Mad M. and my inexplicable decision to avoid driving anywhere. Amazingly, we ran seven trips under those wind conditions but all of them, with the exception of mine and Mad M. were either right inshore, in the Myall River, or out of Mungo Brush on a small lake with little fetch. Only Mad M. and myself were mad enough to paddle across Port Stephens in those conditions. Ironically, the reason I teamed up with Mad M. instead of one of the other leaders was because the other trips (that did not involve driving) sounded a bit miserable. As if paddling into the teeth of a gale wouldn’t be miserable? This is proof that even those of us who consider ourselves logical and rational are anything but.

PC:DB

The trip was supposed to include a small number of paddlers with solid rolls and minimum Sea Skills/Grade 3 designation but somehow - and I blame Mad M. for this - we ended up with half of the paddlers either unable to roll or without a reliable roll (which is pretty much the same). When I tried to question the paddlers I did not know, the answer I got from all of them was “I’m a local. I know the area.” “How nice,” I thought, and “how irrelevant. What matters is can you handle the conditions?”

The group spread started right off the beach as half of the paddlers underestimated the force of the wind and had drifted a couple of hundred metres down the beach whilst the stragglers launched. I rounded the group up and got them to “hold position” using a transit while we waited for the late launchers. The last two paddlers were a problem from the get go. One had a brand new paddle and some kind of problem with his rudder set up (henceforth known as Rudder Paddler), and wanted to sit out on the water faffing around with his rudder and foot-pegs. Mad M. told him to “suck it up or go back,” (not exactly those words but that sentiment), so Rudder Paddler returned to the beach. Meanwhile, an older paddler paddling a Zegal with a Greenland stick (henceforth known as Stick Paddler) was falling behind immediately. I stuck with Stick Paddler for a while, but it was clear he was not up to the task. In strong wind, you simply have to be able to paddler faster than the wind blows you backward.

Mad M. and the faster paddlers were quickly streaming away from me and Stick Paddler. My exhortations to him to speed up were useless. I sprinted ahead and caught up with Mad M. and told him I would take Stick Paddler back. Thor – the fastest stick paddler you’ve ever seen - happily agreed to accompany me. Mad M. with barely a pause said “We’ll meet you on the other side.” So Thor and I took Stick Paddler, who was pissed at me, back. Stick Paddler informed me that he would happily paddle over by himself. “In what universe would I leave someone to paddle out into a gale alone?” I wonder.

PC: DB

Stick Paddler had drifted way east by the time we got near the beach, but Thor was more than happy to chase him down and herd him back. Thor is like a giant, friendly Border Collie rounding up sheep or paddlers in this case. As it happened, we dropped Stick Paddler off (with much grumbling and dirty looks at me) and found Rudder Paddler hanging around on the beach and so Thor and I lost one paddler and gained another!

It was a long slow haul over to Fly Point on the south side of Port Stephens as we were against the wind and the tide, and the current rips out of Port Stephens. Coincidentally, RnR happened to be held on a weekend with a very large tidal (and hence current) range. Although our compass direction was SSW, I paddled the entire way across with my kayak pointing due west. Essentially a 5.5 kilometre ferry glide! I copped a few breaking waves over my head so despite the fact it wasn’t actually raining, I was soaked. Rudder Paddler was doing OK, but was a bit slower than me and a lot slower than Thor.

As we neared Fly Point, Thor dashed over to Shoal Bay to see if the rest of the group were waiting for us there, while Rudder Paddler and I plugged into the wind and the current. Near Fly Point in standing waves and maximum current we were barely pulling three kilometres an hour. However, at a small beach near the marina, I was relieved to see kayaks lined up on shore. I had begun to wonder if Thor, Rudder Paddler and I would be on our own. Paddling in wet clothes, I had chafed an open sore under my arm so trotted off to the toilet block to undress and slap some tape on while Rudder Paddler fiddled with his rudder. The wind was building along with the outgoing current. In a strange way this rather unpleasant paddle had been kind of fun, because real fun is actually seldom fun.

Mad M.’s original plan had been to paddle west along the shore to Corlette Point where we would turn and run downwind back to Jimmies Beach. There were a couple of issues with this plan not the least the lack of shelter from wind on the south shore as the wind was blowing very westerly, and, we had missed the current by at least two hours and were now paddling against near maximum flow. Nevertheless, off we went. Mad M. out front and me bringing up the rear. Within a kilometre, in fact, probably a few hundred metres, there was more trouble as Upside Down Paddler was very slow, so slow that at West Point, I could have sworn she was not moving forward at all.

I probably should have put Upside Down Paddler on tow right away but the idea that I would tow someone further into these conditions struck me as somewhat nutty. Additionally, I am uncomfortable putting paddlers on tow when they are not fully incapacitated. As it was, I noted Upside Down Paddler had her paddle upside down. Rectifying this made little difference, so I asked Thor, who had circled back to check on us, to put Upside Down Paddler on tow. With the tow on, Thor shot away like a bullet with Upside Down Paddler hydroplaning behind.

By this time I had begun to think that I was well outside my pay grade. The wind was getting stronger and stronger and our ability to rescue anyone out in the middle of Port Stephens where we would face the full brunt of the wind was questionable. Here we were with at least three people who had no roll and who were struggling in conditions that were much easier than anything we would encounter in the middle of Port Stephens. The thing with paddling into the wind is, that although it is tough physically, it is actually very stable as the bow is well anchored. Turning beam on or downwind is technically much more difficult as the kayak suddenly becomes highly unstable and boat control is challenging.

We pulled into the beach again and had the conversation we should have had before leaving Jimmies Beach. This resulted in a split group. I would take three people back to Little Beach where we could leave two kayaks at Upside Down Paddlers nearby unit and take two kayaks back on a friends vehicle (a huge thank you to Mark who drove over and picked us up). This left five people to complete the downwind run. Those five people were comfortable with the fact that rescue, in the event of a capsize, was likely impossible. I still feel a bit disappointed that I missed out on the downwind run – Doug said it was a hoot – but it was more important to me to make a good decision (admittedly, merely one out of a series of bad decisions) than it was to enjoy a ripping run. I simply felt that my ability to rescue a capsized paddler was very far from guaranteed and I did not think I should be leading a group under those conditions.

As it was, we were back at Little Beach within minutes barely paddling. There was some fun paddling in a tidal rapid around Fly Point, but otherwise comfortable paddling. I tied our two kayaks to the toilet block while we carried the other two kayaks up to the unit as I have had my kayak blown across the beach in that wind strength before. We had time for a quick cup of tea before our pick up arrived.

Monday arrived with more rain, more wind, and an enormous swell and I for one was very happy to pass on anymore paddling.

The Great Aussie Battler

What happens when a cancer doctor gets cancer? No, it’s not a riddle, it is a media phenomenon. The doctor, who won Australian of the Year in 2024, was diagnosed with glioblastoma in 2023, and, went from unknown (at least in the public eye) to media sensation as he embarked on a new treatment regime that was documented on various social media platforms, enthusiastically picked up by mainstream media (MSM) and even captured for posterity (although a post publication note may be needed) in a recently published memoir.

Most, if not all, the public commentary has been positive. We love the story of a battler, and what better battler than a cancer doctor who gets the disease he has spent his life working to eradicate. It could be the feel good story of the Australian decade. Except, it’s not, because, predictably, the cancer is back and time is limited.

The prognosis for glioblastomas is dismal and I can understand the desire, particularly for a relatively young and fit individual to try anything. What I don’t understand is the desire to make your private cancer journey so painfully public? Is it the TikTok/Instagram/Strava effect that if you didn’t post it (whatever it is), it didn’t happen? Is a cancer journey even analogous to my latest rip down the Mogo bike trails? I don’t think it is. One is a recreational pursuit, the other is a deeply personal, and probably (I don’t want to make any assumptions) traumatic journey that is unlikely to be improved upon by feeding a social media machine.

In a converse twisted kind of way, the inevitable recurrence of cancer seems somehow worse given the hype and near hysteria that accompanied the experimental treatment. The results of the neoadjuvant checkpoint therapy was described as “nothing short of phenomenal” and “generated in 10 weeks discoveries that would normally take years.” Where have we heard that hype before? Posted public comments such as “supposedly incurable brain cancer” must now make anyone with any sort of empathy weep. Is this “desperation oncology” as one prominent cancer clinician/researcher has written or merely the human propensity to have our hope validated by a larger audience? And does anyone, least of all, the afflicted individual, truly benefit?

International Womens Day

On International Womens Day The Guardian published an article about how terrible it was that men who identify as women are being returned to men’s prisons under the Trump’s new gender orders. The subtitle of the article was: “Incarcerated trans women report being groped by male guards.” That sounds terrible. Too bad, The Guardian did not think to cover any of the true incidents of men, who identify as women in order to do “easier time” who, upon being transferred to women’s prisons go on to rape and sexually assault women prisoners. There are dozens and dozens of these reports, but, as only real women are harmed by these incidents, they are not worth reporting, even on International Womens Day.

Such is the banality of evil we now live with every day. And the irony, of “pussy grabber” Trump actually standing against the ideologues to offer real protection to women is not something I thought I would see in my life time. But I also didn’t think the entire world would shut down over a virus that well over 99% of people survived. But then again, I didn’t think the Left would become the political party of war (as long as they don’t actually have to fight), or big Pharma, or big Food, or rampart authoritarianism or child mutilation the likes of which would have made Hitler proud.

I turned away from the Left when gender ideology went mad. I thought, “if you can convince people that men can become women, you can convince people of anything.” And here we are. A chunk of society believes men can become women and visa versa. This same chunk of society believes anything and everything the MSM pumps out. Their social media accounts are a continuously rotating rainbow of icons signalling the latest virtue. And, in their hubris, they “call out” – Lefties love to “call out” - anyone who disagrees as stupid and manipulated while not recognising that they have signed up to a cult which demands absolute and devout obedience to each new and increasingly ridiculous edict. How long until the Far Left cuts their own hands off to pledge allegiance to the latest hoax? Already they are cutting the body parts off children and young adults. Mental illness and the inability to give informed consent is not an impediment.

I’m now a single issue voter. I’ll vote for any party that dismantles the woke mind virus. I agree with Gad Saad. These are parasitic viruses which take over the mind of the infected. Wokeism is not, as Jane Fonda recently said, “caring about other people.” Woke is indefensible ideas and failed policies that make everything worse. The Left, as someone much smarter than me once said, “does not understand the power of incentives,” which is, of course, the height of irony as everything the Left proposes is intended to signal their own virtue and raise their own social status; in other words, the Left is responding to incentives.