The audacity to challenge a reputedly dangerous stretch of open water, in such a tiny, and seemingly insufficient vessel, must seem insane to an outsider. Of course, the reality is quite different.
 

Initially I considered doing the trip solo, but - in deference to my wife Jeannie’s fears - I decided to seek out a like-minded paddler, and at least do this crossing in the company of a fellow traveller.

Meanwhile, I was gaining the experience and refining the skills necessary to do the trip safely. I was also gathering as much pertinent information about Bass Strait conditions as I could.

About a year ago, I was fortunate to meet up with Peter Provis who seemed to have the same native enthusiasm for the crossing as myself. Our plans quickly gelled, and we trained together over longer distances and prepared our boats to suit the worst of conditions.
About six weeks before our intended departure, two other paddlers – Julian Smith and Tina Rowley - expressed their wish to join us. Although I was apprehensive about the late addition of two untested paddlers to the party, I couldn’t think of a tangible reason to say ‘no’, so they were added to make a group of four for the crossing.

We accordingly left from Tidal River at Wilsons Promontory on the Southern tip of Victoria on Saturday the 19th February 2000, and arrived at Little Musselroe Bay on the North-Eastern corner of Tasmania on Friday the 3rd of March 2000. In all we had nine days of actual paddling via the Hogan, Kent and Furneaux island groups. The single longest open crossing was about 60 km and the total distance covered was some 320 km.

To the extent that we had allowed ourselves a generous number of ‘lay-days’, we were able to pick the best conditions for the longer open-water crossings. These crossings were therefore made on relatively easy water. Perhaps other paddlers who have previously done this crossing, have not had the luxury of spare days up their sleeves, and in consequence encountered rougher water than might otherwise have been the case.

Sat 19 Feb 2000 – Tidal River to Waterloo Bay, 27km
High Tide 11:30 ESST approx.
My alarm was set to 04:40 to drive to Pete Provis’s house to allow us to get away by 06:00. Due to the slightly delayed arrival of Julian and Tina, we ended up getting away at about 06:30. At Tidal River, Pete renewed acquaintance with Mick Keenan, an old friend from Forests Commission days and now a National Parks Ranger. Mick had agreed to look after Pete’s car and trailer while we were away. Glen Cant, an occasional VSKC paddler, came down to see us off, and also several other friends of Pete’s including a long-time cycling mate, Rick Patterson.

We were able to pack our kayaks right beside the mouth of Tidal River, so thankfully there was no long carry of heavy boats before launching into the surf. We departed from Tidal River close to 11:00, just before high tide.

We paused briefly at Fenwick Bight close to the Southernmost tip of the mainland. I had been to this beautiful spot several times before, but it is a first for the others, and it met with general approval. The water was refreshingly cold from Roaring Meg Creek. As we were leaving, a water-police launch from Gippsland came alongside to ask if we had seen a particular (illegal fishing) launch they were chasing. Indeed we had, and provided some details to them.

The water opposite the lighthouse was a bit washing-machine like, but without a lot of power. Shortly after rounding the lighthouse, a fisheries boat pulled alongside and asked where we were headed. I replied “Waterloo Bay” which seemed to satisfy him. Then he asked our final destination and I guess he expected Port Welshpool or similar. When I replied “Tasmania” his jaw dropped noticeably as if to say “You’ve got to be kidding”.

We camped at the South end of Waterloo Bay (S39^o05.1 E146^o25.4) beside a trickle of water coming down a gully from Mt Boulder. This camp is ideally located for parties waiting for suitable sea conditions before setting off on the first of the long open-water crossings. We looked out to sea and could just see Hogan Island on the horizon.  My GPS said it was 52 km distant at 95 degrees (all bearings in this log are magnetic, not true).

Sun 20 Feb 2000 – Waterloo Bay to Hogan Island, 52km
High Tide 12:15 ESST approx. Full Moon
Alarms went off at 06:00 and we launched at 08:00 after an unhurried breakfast and breaking camp. Now we were all heading into new territory – the real trip was “on” at last!

Throughout the entire Bass Strait crossing, I set my watch-alarm to ring every hour to remind me to record our absolute position on the GPS. These positions would allow me to subsequently confirm the influence of tides, and also analyse our paddling speed.
Conditions on the water were calm and the forecast SW change apparently was delayed. We reasoned that even if it came through while on the water, the wind would assist rather than hinder the crossing. As it happened, the conditions were so calm that I paddled virtually the entire crossing with my spray deck open. I finally closed it to stop my legs from being sunburned!
Perhaps an hour into the crossing, we encountered thousands of mutton-birds (short-tailed shearwaters Puffinus tenuirostris) that were flying close to the water’s surface. They seemed to be following a well-defined route, and I wondered if they had started migrating? We also saw at least three species of albatross (shy Diomedea cauta, yellow-nosed D.chlororhynchos and one other, possibly black-browed D.melanophris). Of course, throughout the entire trip we saw numerous little penguins Eudyptula minor.
About 3 hours into the crossing, Pete said he wasn’t feeling too well, and indeed a short time later I rafted-up alongside as he lost most of his last meal over the side. We tried a vee-tow with mixed success (in retrospect I suspect a single tow, swapped periodically is more efficient). Fortunately, Pete felt better shortly after vomiting and he was able to resume paddling all the way to Hogan Island.

As we approached the island, we experienced a strong tidal current ebbing to the North-East, and we needed to compensate our heading to prevent being swept to the North of Hogan Island. Had this been allowed to happen, we would have been left with a stiff paddle against the tide to reach the island. The crossing took 8h15m overall. Shortly after landing, the wind came up strongly from the East and we were pleased not to have to battle into it at the end of the crossing. Each of us had our own minor ailments: mine was a sore backside and a few blisters on the fingers of my left hand.

We pulled the boats up to a small grassy spot and established camp (S39^o12.9  E146^o59.4). Our tents were located about 50 metres down from the only building on the island – a hut belonging to Brian Stackhouse, the lessee of the island. He runs about 50 head of cattle here, and periodically visits to tend them. The hut is left unlocked and offers some creature comforts to the occasional visitors. We especially welcomed the water tank attached to the hut, because the spring reported to enter the beach nearby, turned out to be a rather boggy soak that seemed too well used by cattle to be healthy for human use.

The logbook in the hut records the visits of fishermen, yachts, and the small number of sea kayakers who cross Bass Strait (most of whom call at Hogan Island). Since this logbook provides one of the few authentic records for documenting Bass Strait crossings, I transcribe all of the records pertinent to sea kayaking from it here.

The log-book dates from 16-01-90.
 17-12-94 Ken Miller, Graham Albrey, Mick Smith, Peter ?, Stumpy, Gary Newy (all from WA) “In transit from Tidal River to Tassy in sea kayaks”.
 15-04-95 Gary Edmond, Evan Shillabeer, John Wilde “Sea kayaking to Tas from Refuge Cove”
18-12-95 Lester Nation “Kayaking Vic to Tas accompanied by John Bests on Eileen”
16-03-97 Jim Bucirde, John Jacoby, Chris Ryan “Sea kayaking from Tas to Vic (Lt Musselroe to Tidal River) 5 days on Deal Island due to strong winds, here on Hogan for less than 12 hours – weather good. Be glad to finish!!”
07-01-98 Matt Dieglutis, Wade Burnham “Sea kayaking from Port Welshpool to Tas. Weather so far perfect. Hut not quite.”
12-02-98 Karl Noonan “Solo kayaker Sydney to Hobart from Port Albert today. SW 15-30 knots. Now gusting to 50 knots, 2 m swell. Tough trip today! Waiting for expected cold front to pass before going on.”
24-02-98 Doug Fraser, Ross Davis, Stan Podobnik, Wayne Langmaid, Andrew Linton, Jerry Thomas “Sea kayaking Tidal R to Tas. From Home Cove to Hogan I today. Sea calm. Wind NE 5 knots”
15-04-98 Matt O’Brien, Pete Lenehan “Had an excellent time and paddle from Tassie over. Thanks to all who helped us out.”
31-12-98 Stuart Trueman “Solo sea kayaker heading for Tassie. Would like to have a bit more time to look around”
27-03-99 Lester Nation, Steve Dineen “Kayaking from Vic to Tas. Left Waterloo Bay on 27/03. SW front through at 17:00.”
20-02-00 Ian Dunn, Pete Provis, Tina Rowley, Julian Smith “Vic Sea Kayaking Club. Wilsons Promontory to Lt Musselroe Bay crossing”.

Mon 21 Feb 00 – (Hogan Island)
The wind that picked up just after we arrived yesterday had strengthened considerably. Last evening I picked up a 3LO (774 kHz) radio report which gave a strong wind warning for all coastal waters East of Cape Otway. This morning it had been upgraded to a gale warning. At least we would now have time to explore the island.

Hogan Island is about 3 km long and has an interesting coastline. We landed on a tiny strip of sand protected by a narrow gap in the rocks. The opening in the rocks might easily be missed. The only other sandy beach is on the opposite side of an open bay and is perhaps 30 metres wide. The rest of the coastline is rocky. There are several outlying islands. When we landed yesterday, we could easily see Wilsons Promontory (50km away) and also the Kent Group (our next target, 35 km distant). Today, the sea mist restricts visibility to about 15 km.

Hogan Island had no trees and very few stunted shrubs (Correa alba amongst them). Mostly it is covered in tussocks of grass and rock. Apart from the cattle, the most noticeable wildlife are Cape Barren Geese (Cereopsis novahollandiae). There must be at least 100 of them on the island. Of course there are numerous little penguins, probably thousands but they are easy to overlook because they arrive back at nightfall and then walk up to their numerous burrows. “Noisy little buggers” according to Julian.  During the day we saw a dozen or so of the young near the entrances to burrows. Pete ignored the pecks and grabbed one out - it felt very soft and warm, and seemed not very disturbed at being handled.

On Hogan Island, I also recall seeing spur-winged plovers (Vanellus miles), a white-faced heron (Egretta novaehollandiae), a quail (presumed Turnix varia), Australian Pipit (Anthus novaseelandiae) and a brown bird-of-prey (possibly brown falcon Falco berigora). The falcon I startled (and vice versa) while walking through the tussocks. On three separate occasions one flushed from cover within a metre or so from me. I saw numerous skinks and the remains of three blue-tongue(?) lizards, but no snakes.

Tue 22 Feb 00 – (Hogan Island)
It is still too windy to safely go.
Much of the day was spent strolling around the island again. I salvaged a bright orange life ring from a heap of debris washed up on the Western coast of the Island, and carried the trophy proudly across the island to the hut where Pete nailed it to the outside wall.

In anticipation of leaving tomorrow, we worked out a strategy to combat the tides and wind and will aim at a point some 15 km to wind- and tide-ward of Deal Island. In this way, we will be able to drift down onto our real destination (the Northern entrance to Murray Pass) with tide and wind assistance, rather than battle against both at the end of what may be a trying paddle.

Wed 23 Feb 00 – Hogan Island to West Cove (Erith I), 35km
High Tide 15:11 ESST approx
A trying paddle indeed! Alarm a 05:00 and departed at 06:30. We reckoned the wind was likely to be least strong in the morning. Despite a gale warning still being current for waters East of Wilsons Promontory, the wind had locally dropped to a light breeze. The first few hours were uneventful, and the albatrosses were a delight to watch as they gracefully wheeled around our boats on their wide wings - often with one wing tip a bare centimetre above the water.

Our ‘easy’ crossing was interrupted when Pete once again started to get bilious symptoms. This was quite disturbing, and was certainly a problem that had never arisen during the hundreds of kilometres of training paddles I had shared with him. He took a “Quell” and seemed ok for a short while. We towed a bit to give him a rest, however about an hour later he was again sick and effectively incapacitated! The only piece of luck (if you could call it that) was that we were now only 8 km from the entrance of Murray Pass. It was to be a tough 8km for all of us. Pete needed direct support and Tina seemed best suited to that role while Julian and I did a double (in-line) tow. (Neither of us had been impressed by the inefficient vee-tow a few days earlier). To make matters worse, a South-West front came through shortly after commencing the tow and the seas increased in size and the associated showers quite obliterated the Kent Group of islands from our vision. We relied on compass and GPS for our directions.
The in-line tow seemed very inefficient, made more so by the lack of any real resilience in the tow ropes. A few paddle strokes, followed by a snap loading to bring one to a seeming standstill – this sequence repeated itself for a couple of hours. Since we were battling against wind, sea, and the drag of two kayaks, we could not rest, because to do so was to lose some of the hard-won distance made towards the islands. It was energy sapping work and towards the end we were making perhaps just 2 kph – but imperceptibly edged closer to the shelter of the islands. All four of us were very tired at the end of this crossing. Pete, by his illness (eventually ascribed to a polluted drinking system on his boat), Tina was cold because she had not been expending energy paddling while supporting Pete, and Julian and myself simply from the effort needed to tow for a couple of hours. It was the toughest physical moment of the whole trip – and indeed one of the hardest times any of us had ever had on water.

We eventually made the Northern entrance to Murray Pass, and edged down on more sheltered water until we rounded the corner leading to the beautiful cove on Erith Island. Even though exhausted, the beauty of this place was apparent. I agree with an earlier paddler’s description that this Kent Group of islands is truly the “Jewel of Bass Strait” and it is not surprising that it is often used as a haven for yachts. We camped beside the hut on Erith Island (S39^o27.3 E147^o17.9) because in our tired state, none of us felt much like hunting for better campsites.

After the energy sapping effort to reach the Kent Group of Islands, Julian was very pessimistic for the next and longest crossing for the entire trip. I wondered if there was an alternative to paddling out of here whether he would take it.

Thu  24 Feb 00 – (Deal Island Lighthouse)
A bit of a sleep in, until about 07:00 when a motor vessel was heard pulling up and unloading supplies. It transpired that a work party from the Australian Bush Heritage Commission was also going to be on Erith Island until next Monday. Accordingly, I chose at this stage to move my tent from its close proximity to the hut – partly to allow the owners better access to their workplace, and partly because of the rat-infested nature of its environs. I reckon I knocked one rat out as punched it through the tent wall overnight.

I moved to a nice level spot about 250 metres away in the tea-tree, but missed seeing some superb tent sites with million-dollar views. Pete later capitalised in my oversight!

After an idle breakfast we all paddled the couple of kilometres across Murray Pass to Deal Island where we met the two caretakers Bob and Peter. They had a one-month “residency” as caretakers in the employ of the Australian Bush Heritage Commission and they plied us with an appreciated cup of tea and biscuits. We made a reverse charges call from their telephone to Bill Robinson who is acting as our base-station support person. He has spoken to Jeanne and told her of our safe arrival. He gave Pete some medical information regarding known side effects of “Quell” tablets because at this stage Pete was wondering whether he had simply suffered an adverse reaction to them.

We visited the Deal Island museum, then walked in almost tropical heat up the steep track to the disused lighthouse. The view from there is a staggering panorama. In one direction we could see the Northern tip of Flinders Island, while in the opposite direction (actually from a nearby knoll) we could see all the way back to Wilsons Promontory. These islands of the Kent group are spectacular. Later we spoke with some fishermen in a small boat the “Misere” who generously gave us a can of drink each. I enjoyed a cold beer while floating on the calm water beside their boat.

Later we paddled a few kilometres across to the “swashway”, the narrow gap connecting Erith from Dover island. At high tide it (just) floods, and kayaks are possibly the only type of vessel that can pass through. The others preferred to return to rest in camp, but I thought the opportunity to circumnavigate Dover Island was too good to miss. The high cliffs are awesome. It took just on the hour to complete the circuit and re-enter Murray Pass from the South, and then paddle back to camp.

It was early to bed after a wholesome pasta dinner ready for the big crossing (65 km) tomorrow. The forecast is excellent, with moderate following winds.

As I wrote up my notes at the end of the day, a small scorpion crawled across my tent floor.

Fri 25 Feb 00 – (Erith Island)
A most frustrating day. Alarms went off at 05:00 and I had a quick bowl of cereal, then pulled my tent down, packed and started carrying my gear to where I anticipated the others would also be preparing to go. Instead, I was met by three torches coming along the track towards me with Julian in pessimistic mood saying “Have you seen the clouds? Have you heard the wind?”

Julian was not at all keen to get going. I pointed out that, since the forecast was excellent, we should at least pack and start out as planned and only assess the wind situation when we were looking at ‘clean’ wind North of Deal Island (the wind was blowing from North and North East). From our campsite on Erith Island, we were seeing a highly modified wind flow.

Eventually we did all pack and get on the water, but by the time we had paddled up to Garden Cove on the North side of Deal Island, it was 08:00 and any time-margin to cope with head winds or other contingencies had been whittled away to nil. We mutually then agreed that we should not go, “in case the wind strengthened”. I expressed frustration at the wasted opportunity and said my ‘gut feeling’ was that the wind would ease in the afternoon.

I didn’t want to waste the day, and suggested that we explore the coast of Deal Island, but I was effectively out-voted so didn’t push the issue. We returned to Erith Island and re-established camp.  In the afternoon I was somewhat satisfied when the wind did ease off considerably.

Sat 26 Feb 00 - West Cove (Erith I) to Winter Cove (Deal I), 8km
The forecast front came through in the early hours of the morning. A small amount of rain preceded the front at about 04:00. This change from the South-West was at about 30 knots and a strong wind warning was current for all waters East of Cape Otway.
This was an emotionally highly charged day. There is clearly tension within the group, not helped at all by the frustrating ‘non-start’ of yesterday.

Late yesterday afternoon, Julian and Tina came to my tent and told me they were “not prepared to tow Pete” should the same illness occur on the water! To be fair, they justified their stance by saying they probably couldn’t do another tow as tough as the last one. They reasoned that the threat of re-occurrence was too high and that Pete should arrange “to take a boat ride to Killicrankie”.

I was somewhat shaken by this position, for this clearly was a crucial time for the success of the entire trip. I stewed on this over-night and different scenarios played out in my mind. If indeed Pete did need to pull out, I could not see myself paddling successfully with Julian and Tina due to different mind-sets. My choice then might well have been to continue solo and insist they either paddle as an independent pair, or for them to hitch a ride like they were suggesting Pete should do.

Fortunately, my faith in Pete’s judgement allowed me to decide that if he was prepared to start I would most certainly be prepared to travel with him - alone if need be - and that the other two could look after themselves as an independent pair. I believe if anyone is not prepared to support other members of a group, they themselves do not deserve to be in the group.

The situation was more or less resolved with an impromptu conference beside my tent in the morning. Julian and Tina muted their ‘no tow’ stance with an “if not capable of doing so” statement. Julian then spoke of “hoisting the silver antennae”, meaning pressing the EPIRB button! I said this should only be used in cases of life-threatening situations, and that if there were three able-bodied people and one incapacitated paddler, then it was not life threatening and that we should be prepared if necessary to stay out overnight if necessary. They indicated that they would not be prepared to do this. Fortunately, the need to do this would be fairly remote if only because we could use the VHF radio to request local assistance should that become necessary. We agreed that it should be used rather than using an EPIRB, however I was again shaken by Julian’s readiness to request outside assistance before really necessary.

Having brought things out into the open, our day-plan was to make a few calls from the Deal Island phone and then move our camp over to Winter Cove on the Eastern coast of Deal Island. This would place us almost 5 km closer to Killicrankie Bay, and allow a ‘quick get-away’ from the island. The crossing distance from Winter Cove is ‘just’ 59 km – a psychological advantage to be under the 60 km barrier.

The caretakers, Bob and Peter, again plied us with a cup of tea while we made our phone calls. They kindly offered us some freshly baked bread about to come from their oven but I politely declined because I knew they themselves did not have unlimited supplies . I must admit that it took some will power to say no. They wished us well, and gave each of us a fresh apple – a simple and much appreciated gesture. We were also invited to pick some more tomatoes from the plants in the vege-garden.
We paddled around to Winter Cove with very strong wind gusts coming down off the cliffs. The coastline is beautiful between Murray Pass and Winter Cove. Some of the tidal effects off the points were quite dynamic. The wind gusted up to about 50-60 kph. Good camping at Winter Cove beneath some shady casuarina’s (S39^o28.4 E147^o20.7). It seems noteworthy that Eucalypts are rare in the Kent Group, with reportedly none at all on Erith Island. We got some good water from a small creek and eleven fish were caught off the beach (10 small salmon, and 1 flathead). While the others fished, I built a nice safe fireplace - trenched and surrounded with beach stones. The dry casuarina debris seemed a disaster waiting to happen.

Sun 27 Feb 00 - (Winter Cove)
We anticipate leaving Winter Cove tomorrow, so today is essentially a rest day waiting for the wind to moderate. The forecast is looking good, and I sense that we are all steeling ourselves for the “big crossing”. Pete is feeling much better and has been building himself up with some good food. I walked around the rocks at low tide. My GPS has the distance to Killicrankie Bay at 59.0 km (at 120 degrees), and with intermediate “checkpoint” distances to Wright Rock at 22.0 km (116 degrees), and Craggy Island at 37.4 km (117 degrees). These two intermediate points are almost on the same straight line. The day is spent more-or-less idly in a white-sand beautiful cove. The wind calmed down by evening and everyone prepares for an early start.

Mon 28 Feb 00 - Winter Cove to Killicrankie Bay (Flinders I), 60km
High Tide 06:25 ESST approx Moon: 3rd quarter
Everything went according to plan. Alarm at 04:00, we had our breakfasts, pulled the tents down and quietly packed our kayaks – all in the dark – and were away at 05:20. (Quite a pleasing contrast to what happened three days earlier). It was interesting leaving through the surf and paddling in the dark. Three of our boats used ‘cyalume’ chemical lights that were excellent at keeping track of everyone on the water. Initially we aimed directly at Venus, shining brightly as a morning “star”, but as soon as we reached the mouth of Winter Cove we could see the distant flashing light on Craggy Island almost 40 kilometres away. It immediately became our new guiding star until daybreak. Sunrise was about 06:30.

The water was unbelievably calm with effectively no swell and only occasionally a slight breeze. We deviated ever so slightly to make a close encounter with Wright Rock (S39^o35.9 E147^o32.6) and enjoyed a pause watching the seals slide down on their bellies into the water. They frolicked beside our boats. This is the only seal colony I can recall which was not tough on the nose.
It took several more hours of solid paddling to reach Craggy Island. At one stage a shark’s dorsal fin broke the surface just a couple of boats lengths away. Despite our heightened awareness, it was not seen again, and quickly forgotten. At Craggy Island, I scouted the entire North coast for any potential landing spots but even with the gentle swell, no safe landing could be made. Perhaps a plastic boat might risk one spot, but in our kevlar craft, we thought better of it. We had a brief on-water lunch in the lee of the Island before setting off finally for Killicrankie.

We watched as our GPS’s gradually ticked down the distance to Killicrankie Bay, and eventually we beached at the sleepy town with one shop and a phone box. We pounced like kids on the shop with its treasure trove of goodies. Bread was bought, and a few other staple supplies, and soft drink, chocolates, chicken rolls were all eagerly consumed. The camp-ground is a $2 honour system and the (cold) showers were good value considering the smelly state of our bodies. (There is a chip-heater but most of us did not bother waiting for the water to heat). The camp-ground is surrounded by tiger-snake infested tea-tree. We saw just one snake, but the shop-keeper warned us to beware of others.

It had taken 8h45m of solid paddling to cover the 59km from Winter Cove – and thankfully the bogey that had haunted Pete was now shrugged off.

Tue 29 Feb 00 – Killicrankie bay to Emita, 33km
High Tide 07:10 ESST approx
After yesterday’s long haul, and the ‘pig-out’ from the small store, we had a sleep-in and a late start. Despite that, we covered a fair distance around Cape Frankland and over to an un-named cove near Emita at the South end of Marshall Bay. It is just South of the 40th parallel. We seemed to make slow progress into a strong South-East wind.

Wed 01 Mar 00 – Emita to Trousers Pt, 33km
High Tide 07:50 ESST approx
Started at about 09:00 and coasted around Settlement Point then headed into another head-wind ultimately into Whitemark. Much of Parry Bay is shallow and dries in “springs” low tides, but luckily we were here at “neaps”, so paddled right up beside the jetty. We changed into street clothes and had a great tee-bone steak at the Interstate Hotel, followed by a fine cappachino. Posted postcards then did some ‘re-supply’ shopping at the supermarket. Phoned Jeannie who dismayed me by saying she had not received my message left on the answering machine on our home-phone from Killicrankie Bay. (This was my mistake, for I should have rung her mobile number instead). Not having heard, she had in fact contacted the police to check on our safety. They quickly established our movements from ‘the grapevine’ and later that afternoon, “Tony” from the Tasmanian water-police eventually met me just before the Trousers Point camp-ground. I pulled into the camp-ground ahead of the others and put up my Macpac tent while they were still chatting to some fishing boats and yachties. When they eventually reached camp they held a quantity of fish in hand from one of the boats. Pity we had all had such filling lunches at Whitemark. There was good water from a tank at the camp-ground, a well constructed long-drop toilet, and once again we were amongst casuarinas. Plenty of possums during the night.
We learned from a yacht that another South-West change was forecast for late tomorrow, so we now plan to get as much distance in beforehand as possible. We think in terms of Rebecca Bay on Clarke Island, about 42 km away. It means bypassing the Thunder and Lightning Bay campsite that I have been told is as good as Trousers point.

Thu 02 Mar 00 – Trousers Pt to Rebecca Bay (Clarke I), 42km
High Tide 08:20 ESST approx
We left Trousers Point in very calm conditions and pointed our kayaks at the right hand edge of Long Island (185 degrees). (Had we known of the new shop on Cape Barren Island at the other end of Long Island , we probably would have aimed at it instead!) We averaged a solid 8 kph for the crossing including a brief natter to the group on the “Furneaux Explorer” and later again to the water policeman “Tony” (this time nothing official, just a friendly chat on the water). The North-East wind sprang up and soon we raised our sails and Pete his kite, as we made good time past Thunder and Lightning Bay and around Cape Barren Island to Preservation Island. We landed there briefly and spoke with a family that regularly flies in there. Then up again with the sails to use a moderate following breeze across to Clarke Island. This was the best sailing for the whole trip, and for a time I was sail-surfing at great speed. In the lee of Clarke Island, the breeze died (though Pete’s kite was able to fly a lot longer than the sails). Eventually we paddled into Rebecca Bay and explored camping options. The left-hand end had surf, and exposed campsites, the right hand end was more protected though there was still almost no shelter for the tents. We chose the latter, though it was a bit of a toss-up; neither site had water. We had covered about 45 km for the day. It was still just 3pm and it was tempting to cross Banks Strait in what were fairly easy conditions. A South-West change was forecast, but I reckoned we were all tired and that it was better to cross the final challenge in a freshened condition.

I strolled around the rocks and saw some impressive red lichen vistas and visited a stone cairn.

Fri 03 Mar 00 – Rebecca Bay to Lt Musselroe Bay (Tas), 24km
High Tide 07:50 ESST approx
Pete and I had predetermined a course offset for crossing the Strait. We planned to reach the vicinity of Swan Island at low (slack) tide, and figured the ebbing tide would carry us about 7 km down-tide, so we reckoned to head off at 210 degrees to make good a 180 degree course. This plan worked nicely, and just three hours later – on a 2 m sea – we passed beneath the Swan Island light to land on the lee side of the island. The 6 kph average on this sort of water was pleasing. We chatted to a couple of “birdo’s”, then had lunch. A squall from the West decided to hit us just as we re-launched, so we crept along very close to the shore to avoid the worse of it. It quickly passed as we commenced the final crossing to Little Musselroe Bay. It was a bit of an educated guess just what part of the bay to aim at (S 40^o45.8 E 148^o02.1), but it proved to be the correct one and the first person I saw standing on shore was Jeff Jennings! With a stroke of luck, he was already up here from Bridport. He was assisting one of the three NSW paddlers travelling down the East coast of Tassie from Devonport to Hobart. Liz Ponting, who lives at Lt Musselroe offered us the use of her shower, it was much appreciated, and typified the friendliness we had encountered throughout this entire trip.

Jeff had borrowed his school’s kayak trailer to take our boats down to his house at Bridport. There we met his wife Bev and they put us up in their house for the night and Jeff entertained us with some of his recent video efforts and a (PC based) slide showing of sea kayaking Tassie style. I rang Jeannie and luckily caught her early enough to arrange for her to come across on the Devil Cat on Saturday morning.

She duly arrived mid afternoon on the Saturday, and after loading Ninja on top of our van, we drove down to Launceston for a fine dinner before departing for the mainland on the Devil Cat the next day. The 6 hour crossing was in stark contrast to the 8 or 9 days of actual paddling needed to complete the trip by kayak. Still, which is more enjoyable? Which trip will be remembered the longest? The self-powered one – of course!
 

1 This section is derived exclusively from my own notes written during the trip. It therefore reveals a more “personal” account of the trip than a formal logbook might be expected to do.
2 It has often been stated that Hogan Island cannot initially be seen by a paddler when departing from Waterloo Bay (Refuge Cove also) because it is “over the horizon”.
Geometrically, this is true, but not always in terms of visibility. The distance to Hogan Island is 51 km, and the geometric “horizon distance” (it is 136 metres high) is just 41.4 km. Even adding 3.6 km to the sighting radius to allow for the paddler’s eye being one metre above the water, suggests that Hogan should not be seen until 6 km off-shore at very least.
However, that we could see the island from shore was undeniable! I even knelt down on the sand at the water’s edge, with my eye just centimetres above the water, to confirm that it was still visible. So what is going on here?
I believe the correct explanation is that – given a clear atmosphere - one can indeed see ‘over the horizon’ due to refraction of the light’s rays for ‘near horizon’ objects. The denser atmosphere ‘bends’ the lower light rays more than higher rays. Astronomers routinely make corrections for ‘near horizon’ objects - at grazing incidence, the correction is about 30 minutes of arc (½ a degree of angle). From the observations of Hogan Island, it is clear that at least 20% extra distance is possible.
3 When crossing Bass Strait, especially for slow craft like kayaks, getting updated weather forecasts and warnings is crucial.
Our prime source of weather information was from one or other of the ABC (AM) radio stations 774 kHz (Melbourne) and 711 kHz (Nth Tasmania) that could be picked up throughout the Strait on a tiny pocket receiver carried for that purpose. Although a weather summary was therefore available after each news broadcast, it proved more useful to listen to the regular “chat” segments with the weather bureaux.
I had also carried a VHF transceiver in the hope of getting more specific Bass Strait information, but in this role it proved to be of limited use because it operates on a ‘line-of-sight’ basis. I managed to get only a weak reception from the summit of Hogan Island, and no reception at all from the campsites on Erith and Deal Islands (but good reception from Clarke Island).
By contrast, at Deal Island, one of the yachties allowed us to listen to the weather broadcast on their hand-held short-wave receiver. The clear reception convinced me that it is the best means for getting this important information. They said they could get a signal “anywhere”. Their particular radio was a SONY ICF-SW7600G and costs “about $300-$400”. My guess is that they were tuned to one of the standard weather bands (2201, 4426, 6507, 8176 kHz).
Naturally for any radio to be useful, knowledge of broadcast times is essential.
4 We were aware of the need for resilience in the tow ropes and felt (wrongly as it turned out) that the amount of stretch in the 4mm plaited nylon chord was sufficient. Certainly that diameter chord is strong enough (neither tow line failed in over two hours of towing, despite many ‘snap’ loadings), but an insert of strong shock-chord would have made for easier and more efficient towing.
5 “Springs” refers to the larger tidal range at full and new moon. “Neaps” refers to the reduced tidal range when the moon is at 1st and 3rd quarter.  At “springs” the high tides are higher than average, and the low tides are lower than average. At “neaps”, the high tides are smaller than average, and the low tides are higher than average.

(The above is part of a well produced bound manual which includes General Information, Description of Route, Bass Strait Conditions, Equipment Review.
Available from
Ian Dunn,
18 Booker St,
Cheltenham, 3192
Australia
RRP $10