Trip Plan

Sunday 21st January - Little Musselroe to Thirsty Lagoon. Leave at 0600 (HW Preservation Is at 0850) (65km)
        (HW Swan Is - 0700)
Monday 22nd - Thirsty Lagoon to Babel Island. Leave at 0615 to get slack water off Pot Boil. (HW at 0918) (53km)

Tuesday 23rd - Babel to NE River, or possibly Killiecrankie. (Tide may be starting to flood at NE River) (HW at 1009
         (43km to NE River, 63km to Killiecrankie)

Wednesday 24th - Killiecrankie to Trousers Pt. (HW at 1100). leave at 0600. (63km)

Thursday 25th - Trousers Pt to Rebecca Bay. (HW at 1150). Leave at 0600. (48km)

Friday 26th - Rebecca Bay to Little Musselroe. (HW at 1200) Leave about 1000. (23km)

Well, that was the plan anyway. It was fairly unlikely that I was going to be able to do 60+km a day for 4 days running, without following winds day after day. I’d only managed 66km a few weeks ago when unsuccessfully trying to circumnavigate Maria Island in a day, and was pretty whacked after doing that much. So this plan for Flinders was unlikely in the extreme - but you need to have some sort of plan. I told Cec that I wouldn’t even bother driving up to Little Musselroe Bay for the start unless the weather forecast indicated the first couple of days to be favourable to give me a good start.

The forecast on Friday night seemed to indicate fresh SW winds on Sunday, followed by westerly winds - and this seemed ideal. I left Orford mid morning Saturday, with a stop at St Helens for supplies, plus a cheeseburger. Then on to Little Musselroe.

I have crossed Banks Strait many many times over the past 20 odd years - some solo, some with other paddlers. There are strong tides through here - 3knots out in the middle, but are much stronger off the points. So I never leave without consulting the tide tables, and take into account the wind and what drift it will cause. But even so, quite often as we approach the coast, the tidal current doesn’t always seem to be flowing the way it ought to. It seems to be at least an hour out sometimes, and this trip I wanted to have a closer look at this.

There is something strange about the tides in Banks Strait. The Australian Tide Tables give corrections for Swan Island, and for Preservation Island - based on Standard Ports (Hobart for Swan Island, and Devonport for Preservation Island). However, the tides for these two islands, one on the south side of Banks Strait, and the other on the northern side, differ by up to two hours. Of course Swan Island is on the deep-water side of the strait, while Preservation is ‘inside’, where the tide is restricted by Clarke Island and Cape Barren Island before it gets to Preservation. In the past we have always gone by the Preservation tides, as that is generally the way we go - it is the more interesting option, and can include Badger and Goose etc.. In fact I had only been round the eastern end of Cape Barren Island twice in 20 years.

I arrived at Little Musselroe mid afternoon, a bit earlier than expected, and had a chat with Mrs Ponting about leaving the car on her property, and found that 7 others had left earlier in the day. This was the Maatsuyker Canoe Club, some of whom I had been talking to early this month, and knew they would be here about this time. They were going across to Swan, wait till 12.30pm, and then across to Moriarty Point to camp the first night.

I guess my immediate thought was of Sir Humphrey Appelby, saying to the Minister, “That’s a courageous decision Minister.” There is a right and a wrong tide for getting across Banks Strait - of which I will go into more detail at the end of this report. However, basically I like to start a couple of hours before the change of tide, so that if you think it is going to take four hours to cross, you get a couple of hours of tide in each direction, and they cancel each other out. The only thing you need to do is to pick the right tide, depending on which way you are going. If you intend to go across to Clarke, and then on to Preservation, you need to start 2 hours before LOW WATER. You will then have a couple of hours of tide to the east, and then a couple to the west. BUT, as you approach Clark Island the tide will be starting to run up the side of Clark and take you to Preservation Island whether you want to or not (see map). But if you want to go round Moriarty Point, then you would need to start before a high tide, so that as you arrive on the other side the ebb tide will be starting to sweep you round South Head and up the east coast of Clarke Island. It seemed to me they should have left about 0600 (HW at 0800), otherwise they were going to arrive and find that they were a bit tired after a few hours paddle, and facing an increasing build up of current against them - and it would be much easier then to run before it and make for Rebecca Bay.

My own plan was to leave early and take note of where the tide took me - was the Swan Island tide more influence than the Preservation tide - where did they overlap? And if I was going to have any chance of doing 65km then I needed all day to do it. I really couldn’t afford to hang around half the day for tides. Of course I was hoping that the fresh SW would let me overcome the tide and shoot me across to Moriarty Point and up to Sea Lion Narrows - sailing all the way.

After parking the car I suddenly realised that it was about slack water, and in fact the Swan and Preservation tides actually nearly coincided for once. Swan Island LW was at 1416, and Preservation Island LW was at 1442. I nipped across to Swan Island with a light following westerly and both sails up and arrived at the end of the airstrip within an hour, where I set up camp. It was a nice fine sunny day and I wandered off across the island to the beach where we usually land, and then back to the lighthouse keepers quarters for a brief chat with Nigel. He confirmed that the others had left at 1230.

I’d set up camp to be protected from the fresh SW that was supposed to spring up overnight, but woke in the morning to hear surf to the east of me, and none to the west. Strange, I thought. Sure enough there was an easterly blowing - blowing my plan to pieces. Being Sunday, there was no 0550 forecast, so I left at that time and headed due magnetic north, intending to stick to this bearing till I got close to the other side - where-ever that may be. I always endeavour to paddle at right angles to the current, never into it. So-called ferrygliding (or using transits) under these conditions is plain stupid - it just adds hours to the trip and tires you out.

The easterly brought low cloud and although I could see bits of Clarke Island I couldn’t really discern where I was for a couple of hours. I’d been sailing for the first hour, but then the wind lightened and went more northerly, and I just continued to paddle N. About 0800 Lookout Head could be recognised a few km in front of me - the tide and wind had taken me 8km sideways. I lined up a couple of hills and found that I was still travelling sideways at a good speed, and I wouldn’t have made Rebecca Bay even if I’d wanted to. I was probably still an hour away from shore. I pondered briefly on sitting out here for the next hour, and waiting for the tide to turn and take me back towards South Head, which was where I was still thinking I had to go.

Then it struck me that there was an alternative, and in fact a shorter one. If I ran off with the tide and angled across it, I could get into the entrance of Armstrong Channel just as the tide turned to flow east through there - taking me with it. I’d actually already given up any thought of reaching Thirsty Lagoon today, but with just the faintest suspicion of a breath of wind from the west it was starting to look possible after all. Going right around Clarke Island to get from Swan Island to Sea Lion Narrows doesn’t look the obvious route, but it was taking advantage of the tides instead of fighting them.

I did hear later on that Matthew had done a solo trip out here before Xmas, and had gone from Little Musselroe to Lady Barron in a day (about 73km), and I suspect he must have had similar tides - incoming till he was round Cape Sir John, and then the ebb to take him through Franklin Sound. But then again, he was in training for the Murray River Marathon, and is probably half my age. I understand he won the Sea Kayak section of the race, and may have the third fastest time over all - great effort, well done.

By 0930 I was into Armstrong Channel, with the tide just starting to pick up, and a light westerly that let me glide along with a sail out each side - taking a bit of a rest while nature did her bit. Just near the homestead an aluminium dinghy passed, and informed me that the others had been at Moriarty Point last night - I guess to my surprise.

Two hours later I’d covered 15km, almost without paddling - and was gliding into the beach at Seal Point so as to get another bottle of drink out of my hatch when there right in front of me a sail popped out from behind the point, and then promptly turned round and disappeared behind it again. Then a figure ran up the sand-dunes to have a closer look in my direction, before running off again. I could imagine the shock-horror. This was my old club, which I’d left 12 months ago under less than happy circumstances. I certainly hadn’t expected to meet them here, and in fact didn’t think I would at all. You only have to be a km away from another sea kayak and it is impossible to see it

This was my first stop in nearly 6 hours of paddling, but I was still keen to try and use as much of the tide as I could- so after a quick hello-goodbye I headed across towards the Narrows - 10km across the bay. The wind was little use now, and halfway through the narrows went round to a fresh NNE. This produced lumpy seas and a very hard paddle across into Petticoat Bay, where I felt the desperate need for a good long rest. I landed in front of the campsite we’d used when here a few years ago with two Victorian paddlers, an excellent campsite. I stripped off to my undies and took my camera and suncream with me as I strolled round the rocks on the east side of the bay. It was very hot out of the wind, and in fact the wind was dying again. So far today there’d been wind from nearly every direction - E, W, N, but never the good strong following breeze I’d been counting on. I usually feel that if you need to go ashore for a rest, then it ought to be a minimum of 2 hours, and I decided to take this much even though it was allowing the tide to change against me. I felt nearly at the end of my strength, and was wondering if to go any further. The trouble was my schedule called for me to be at Babel Island tomorrow, and there was no way I could do it from here - in fact I thought I was going to be pretty lucky if I managed it from Thirsty Lagoon - which was still a good 18km away.

An hour later I noticed the other group coming out of Sea Lion Narrows and heading my way, but they pulled into a small bay a hundred metres away to camp. As I was sitting on the rocks between the two bays I suddenly realised that the wind was now dead southerly - maybe 6 or 8 knots. I was quickly back in the Longboat and away up the coast, hoping that the wind would freshen and hold for a few hours. This wasn’t to be, and at 5.00pm I was just rounding Cape Barren and heading up the coast into a light NE. I was feeling really stuffed now, and struggled on towards Thirsty Lagoon (Harley Point) - wondering if it was all worthwhile. I was thinking of my trip plan - “a fast circumnavigation of Flinders Island”. There was certainly nothing fast about it right at the moment - more like a crawl. (map)

13 hours after leaving Swan Island I struggled ashore at Thirsty Lagoon, and forced my weary bones to go through the process of setting up camp (68km - not quite as good as Matthew’s effort). There wasn’t much choice for camping, just a flat dry sandy patch between the dunes - where dry sand was likely to blow through everything. First though it was into dry clothes. Once out of the kayak I felt quite cold, and was soon in full length thermal fleece, plus a thermal hat - and then forced myself to get something to eat. This was the first time I’d eaten since the cheeseburger at St Helens the day before - only having a 55gm chocolate bar today, as well as the odd mouthful of Coke. In fact I could have easily gone to bed without eating, but thought that if I intended to do any distance tomorrow I’d better replenish a bit of energy. I had a very small fire while I was eating, but was in bed by 8.30pm. I was so tired and aching in every muscle that I had great difficulty in getting to sleep - tossing and turning trying to find a comfortable position.

In the morning I started to pack up and try to get the sand out of everything while waiting for the forecast at 0550. It wasn’t great. NE winds, to go NW and strengthen - and my course would be due north. There was no way I was going to get to Babel today, and once in the kayak I realised I was going to be lucky to get to Vansittart Island. My arms felt like lead, and it was lucky that the NE was only about 5kn - any more and I think it would have stopped me dead. But it was a hot sunny day which lightened the heart, and I still managed to do the 18km to Vansittart Island in 3 hours. It was right on high water, and calm. I was alongside the wreck of the Farsund and could have stood up in my kayak and stepped onto the deck - but didn’t bother. My waterproof camera wasn’t with me on this trip, only my good SLR carefully away in the back hatch. And if I wanted good photos of the Farsund, I really couldn’t do better than the ones Jeff has produced in his video in 1995.

Now what to do? Would I go into the township of Lady Barron? Would I go across to Pot Boil Point and camp? Or would I stay on Vansittart Island? The forecast for the next few days was for NE, which would mean headwinds all the way up the outside of Flinders Island - which I’m led to believe is pretty boring. Just miles and miles and miles of surf beach, and nothing but sand-dunes to camp in. I’d really wanted a good following wind along here, to get up to NE River as quickly as possible, but that seemed unlikely - even allowing that the forecast can’t be relied upon. And the way I felt I didn’t think I’d be going too far tomorrow anyway.

We’d always camped in Bates Bay on Vansittart Island before, but it’s a bleak windswept place in bad weather, so I decided to try for a more sheltered spot. Along the NE side of the island there is a lot of thick scrub, but it wasn’t till I was almost around to Ross Point that I saw a likely place. There were some big She Oaks just back from the beach, which are always good to camp under. The first one was too close to the beach, and still in sand, the next one was further back and OK if a bit of clearing of dead limbs was done, but the third one was just right. A big circular clearing with 2 metre high scrub all round - but the only problem was the bush bashing to get to it, it wasn’t easy. I made a few trips struggling through the thick scrub to get my camping gear up there, but found I was cold again, and got into dry clothes first - there I was on a hot sunny day with a thermal hat on! The wind freshened from the NE just after I was ashore.

After setting up camp I had time to explore a bit, and discovered a very old 4WD track a few metres inland from me. This ran along to the west a bit, then headed for the beach. Although it hadn’t been driven on in decades, the cattle had kept part of it open, and it was a very easy stroll down to the beach - coming out a couple of hundred metres away from the kayak. And just near the beach was another excellent campsite, big enough for a dozen tents - if only I’d known. This was one to mark down for future visits. And in fact I found some fisherman’s balls washed up on the beach and used them round a tree stump to mark the start of the track. No doubt the next person past in a dinghy will spot them and possibly retrieve them.

I lay down under the tent fly for a couple of hours, then decided to walk the 3 odd km back round to the Farsund. It was beach all the way, and one of the enjoyment’s I get away sea kayaking is walking along remote beaches, listening to the sound of the breakers on the shore. It was so hot I sought shelter under some scrub for a while as I rested a bit more in the middle of the day. In what I call the Farsund Channel there were about a hundred buoys in the water. It was too shallow for crayfish, and nobody would put that many nets down, so I pondered on what kind of marine industry was being carried on. A bit later a flat bottomed barge put off from the opposite shore with some big square crates on the front deck, and proceeded to go out in the bay. I couldn’t see what they were doing, and could only imagine that maybe it was a crab hatchery or something.

I’d half expected to see the other group come up the coast to the Farsund, but they weren’t in sight by 3.00pm, so I thought they may have heard the forecast and gone the other way to Thunder & Lightning Bay. I strolled back to my campsite for another lie down, then at 5.00pm decided to climb the hill in the middle of the island. This gives great views in every direction on a clear day, which at the moment it wasn’t. Strzelecki Peaks were hidden in rain clouds, as was most other high ground. I took my telescope and surveyed as far as I could. The campsite in Bates Bay was still empty, and I scoured the coastline for any sign of kayaks - not a thing. I was later to learn that at that very moment they were travelling round the island in a clockwise direction heading for Bates Bay. It just shows how hard sea kayaks are to spot, even from a vantage point like this.

I’d listened to the midday forecast, it was for two more days of NE, and then freshening NW on Thursday. I decided to give the east coast of Flinders Island a miss for this trip.

The forecast the next morning was for NE winds for the next 3 days, than freshening NW on Friday. As I made my way down to the beach I noticed the most incredible sunrise - a totally coloured sky. The only trouble was that my camera was wrapped up in the back hatch, and even though I started to sprint along the beach it was too late - it faded very quickly. But it looked for all the world like this one taken in the same area a few years ago - brilliant. I left early and used the flood tide through Franklin Sound, heading for Trousers Point. The day started off with a fresh NW, but lightened considerably  by the time I got past Great Dog Island, and from there on it was a relatively easy paddle along the shore round to Trousers Point. I was feeling much better today, and thought that I may have a couple of hours rest at Trousers Point, and then push on to the township of Whitemark. BUT, the wind got me head on going round the SW corner of Flinders, and every point I came round I kept expecting to see Trousers Point. There was false alarm after false alarm, and I began to think I was never going to get there. Thoughts of going on to Whitemark were fading quickly. It took four and a half hours to reach Trousers Point, but I still felt much better than yesterday. Even so, this was as far as I intended to go for the day, as I had decided to head home tomorrow. It wasn’t the same, paddling around without company.

Coming across the last km to Trousers Point I’d noticed the pump was barely working, as though the battery was dead flat - which it couldn’t possibly be. Then it refused to go at all. I took the pump apart later on to find that the motor wouldn’t turn without giving the impeller a bit of a flick first - it appeared as though the motor had finally chucked it in - getting old like me. This pump was 18 years old, and not the RULE pump that is used almost exclusively today. In those days there were a few other makes about, and I tried them all. I think this was a Swedish one, and the only one that lasted more than a few months. I made sure that it wasn’t being jamned by seaweed or anything, but it appeared to be sticking internally. I cut the wires and chucked it in the nearest rubbish bin. It would be back to using a sponge, of which I was carrying two.

I felt cold again today after landing, despite it being a hot day - must be using up all my energy paddling.

I rested most of the day, and was then surprised to see the others arrive about 1745, and to find out they were on Vansittart last night. They were one paddler short. Dave had developed serious wrist trouble battling against the tide at Moriarty Point, and had had to be towed a fair bit of the way to Vansittart Island yesterday. He had then been dropped off at Lady Barron today to fly home - his kayak going back on the ferry.

Wednesday morning I listened to the early forecast - they had to be joking. For days they had been forecasting NE winds for the next few days. Now they had changed that to fresh SE winds. I could have gone to Babel Island yesterday, and flown up the coast today - sailing all the way. Instead I was heading in the opposite direction, and was now going to have a headwind all the way back to Tasmania - terrific. I left at 7, just after Matthew headed off to explore Mt Chappell Island on his own, then meet up with the rest at Whitemark in the middle of the day.

I headed off across to Long Island, wanting to arrive there about high tide, and then get the tide down to Preservation Island, or maybe Rebecca Bay. Because of all the land around you going across here, it doesn’t seem all that far - but is in fact the same distance as from Swan Island to Clarke Island. You wouldn’t think twice about going from Trousers Point to Long Island, but from Swan Island to Clarke is a serious matter of thought.

My Coke supply was starting to get low, and in view of possible holdups with the SE winds I went into 'The Corner' on Cape Barren Island and purchased another bottle, and a meat pie. The wind hadn’t been much up till now, but as soon as I left 'The Corner' it increased dramatically, and the weather up ahead looked pretty bleak. I decided that if there was no one on Preservation Island that would be as far as I would go. I have been going there for nearly 20 years now, back when the shack was just one room and a trolley bus. The island has changed hands several times since then, but the owners always seemed not to mind visitors dropping in and using the shack. There always used to be a visitors book that was worth reading, to see the large number of yachties etc that would use the facilities from time to time. It is now a 3 bedroom affair, with toilet and bathroom, but the current owners are the unfriendliest - and don’t encourage any visitors at all. I had heard that the shack was now left locked, which is a bit silly in remote places like this - you’ll always find someone will force an entry just to see inside out of curiosity. I’ve never heard of anyone abusing these places - certainly in all our numerous visits over the past 20 years we have always swept it out and left it cleaner than when we arrived. (map)

Wanting to hear the midday forecast, I paddled in to Thunder & Lightning Bay, and landed with half an hour to spare. Although not intending to camp, I located the campsite (probably one of the best in the whole Flinders Island group) - I thought I’d landed near it, but was several hundred metres away - so marked its location with a blue plastic bucket that I found in the campsite. The weather forecast was for more of the same - freshening SE - and so it was. If it wasn’t for a 3kn current I doubt if I would have got to Preservation Island - there were some pretty big waves through the narrowest part of the channel, where the wind also seemed to step up a notch. Arrived about 2.00pm and was happy to find the place unlocked and vacant - with only a ‘private property’ notice to keep people out. I was a bit stuffed again by now, and felt sure that the owners wouldn’t begrudge a tired old man one night of haven. The rain had started by now, but it was only a few minutes before I was in out of it, gazing out the window at the wild remote area - feeling pretty happy despite the hard 7 hour day. I think I was just starting to get just a little fitness back.

The last couple of months I’d been telling some other paddlers that you can’t be a part-time sea canoeist - you have to paddle regularly or you’ll never have the fitness to do anything worthwhile. And yet the last 12 months I’d been more a part-time paddler than anyone - and had suffered for it on this trip.

I was contemplating going on to Spike Bay if the wind eased off. I was hoping for more northerly winds tomorrow, and considered the best time to leave Rebecca Bay was about 0950. But the rain set in and the wind stayed the same so I settled in for a very comfortable night, and got halfway through one of their novels.

Thursday morning about 0400 it was dead still, and I went outside to check conditions - calm but too dark. Checked again at 0500, still calm and a breath of wind from the north. About 0600 it swept in from the SE, as forecast. I was in paddling gear just about to leave - but walked up to the top of the hill to look towards Cape Portland. There were whitecaps in the narrow channel between Rum Island and Preservation, so I changed back into dry clothes and unpacked the sleeping bag again. I obviously wasn’t going to get to Rebecca Bay by 0950, and in any case that was only the best time in calm conditions. This wind changed all that - and I started in to figure out the next window of opportunity.

As previously stated, I like to have an equal amount of tide in each direction, to cancel each other out - but that is assuming no wind. Quite often you can use a westerly wind  and a full flooding tide to cancel each other out and you end up paddling in a straight line across Banks Strait. When paddling with a group I generally like to keep the route as short as possible, so that there is less time for the weather to change (which it can do regularly in this area), and less time for people to get tired. So Rebecca Bay is the preferred starting point for the return crossing. Starting from Preservation Island adds about another 2 hours to the time required.

I watched the wind while continuing the novel, and it seemed to be going round to the east slightly. I walked up to the top of the hill again and studied the strait. Certainly the wind was east (magnetic), and had dropped off. It would just be possible to sail and maintain the correct course for Cape Portland. High water was 1150. It appeared to me that I could leave Preservation and immediately head south magnetic - this would put me out in the fastest current (3kn), but it would be behind me. This would give a bit of a slingshot effect across the strait, till I approached the other side where I would be going at right angles to the current. The more I thought about it the more I liked it. Depended on the wind a bit. If it went back to the SE it would be a real bugger, but if it went north a bit more it would be a dream run. If you never go, you’ll never know!

Yesterday I’d noticed a bit of a rip in the top of the sail (another piece of 18 year old equipment) and took the waiting period as a good time to effect a repair. Just as well when I had a good look at it, it was about to rip right down the mast, starting from the top. A piece of whipping twine soon fixed it, but I did observe that the material was getting fairly rotten. It was only shower curtain material, so had lasted a good number of years (with a few minor repairs over the decades).
 

1150 I was on the water, and found that I could sail once clear of the island. Couldn’t see any land ahead, all low cloud. The instinctive gut reaction is to head across towards Clarke Island and run down along its coast, but logic told me I had to keep on the S magnetic bearing. I didn’t have a clue as to whether the wind would make more leeway than the tide, and whether I’d end up west or east of Cape Portland - but I didn’t really care. I suspected that in 3 hours time I would be in the narrowest part of the strait with maximum current, and that would win the battle over the wind.

For the first couple of hours the wind was light and I probably could have used two sails - except for the occasional puff that saw me put in a quick support stroke. I was probably just a couple of degrees into the wind, rather than having the wind straight over the side at right angles. Land was in sight dead ahead, and the bearing never changed for the next hour or two. It seemed that as I angled across the current it was just enough to counteract the wind. Then the wind freshened and went further to the south, and this combined with large waves as the tide was now full strength against the wind. I had a few hairy moments for a while, but then got through this patch, and was surprised to notice Swan Island a short distance away - straight upwind from me. I would have sworn it was only 2km away, and that if I pulled the sail down and paddled I could have landed within 20 minutes. An hour later it didn’t seem to have moved an inch, and I was starting to worry. It seemed as though I had an anchor down, and yet the bow of the kayak was still slicing through the water. I eventually decided to try for more speed. I was well inside Cape Portland, so could afford to run off back towards it if necessary. This I did, and the sail was certainly doing a lot more now, and half an hour later I could see that I was moving away from Swan, and slowly approaching the shoreline - probably not far from Little Musselroe.

I’d been stopping every three quarters of an hour to sponge out, and have a sip of Coke.

That last hour was the devil. I thought I could make out Little Musselroe off to the left, but still opted for more speed to hit the shore anywhere I could - there were any amount of beaches straight ahead. Finally at 4.10pm I hit the beach, and was almost too tired to get out and walk. Little Musselroe was just around the corner, so after a quick bite of chocolate and swig of Coke I set off for the last spell. According to the Preservation tides there still should have been another 2 hours of ebb current to help me, but out round the first point I was battling to get past the first rocks. There was no helpful current here at all, and that started to explain why I’d been slowing down out near Swan Island - different tides. LW at Preservation was 1830, but LW at Swan was 1730. Therefore it was pretty well slack already, and I had this headwind to contend with all on my own. I nearly gave up halfway across the bay - but then thought of the ludicrous situation of going ashore and camping within 800 metres of Little Musselroe. I pushed on, and on, and finally could turn into the very shallow entrance of Little Musselroe, arriving at the boat ramp at exactly 1700. I sat in the kayak for a few minutes before gathering the strength to get out, and then made several trips to carry all the gear up. Last Saturday when I’d left here I’d carried the fully loaded kayak down, there was no chance of a repeat of that today - even if it was now lighter.

At 1800 I was gratefully accepting a cold drink from Mrs Ponting, before heading off to Gladstone for an icecream and bottle of Coke to get me through the 3 hour drive home.

Would I try this trip again? Well, Probably not - I think I may have left it 20 years too late, and yet, if I am in the vicinity of Vansittart Island again, with a strong SW blowing - I'd be tempted to race up the eastern side. But long surf beaches are pretty boring, and camping in sand-dunes not ideal. The western side of Flinders Island is 100% more interesting, and it is so easy to get to Flinders Island. It can be done in easy stages of no more than 4 hours paddling a day. This trip I went from Swan Island to Spike Bay (Clarke Island) in 3 hours, and once you are across Banks Strait the rest is easy. (map) I'm even inclined to think that my "new" route to Sea Lion Narrows could well be the accepted way in the future, particularly as we have never explored the southern coastline of Cape Barren Island through Armstrong Channel (between Clarke Island and Cape Barren Island).

And I did tell Mrs Ponting that I may see her again next year!!!!