Scribe Peter Newman
It was hot and oppressive when the five of us met at Flinders Island Airport for what was to be a week's canoeing among some of the islands of the Furneaux Group. Earle Bloomfield, Steve Weston and myself climbed out of our plane and looked expectantly across at the plane that landed immediately after to see if it contained Andrew Rust - the Tasmanian member of our small paddling contingent. Even though we had never met him it was not hard to pick him out from the middle-aged tourists that clambered from the plane and likewise he seemed to have no difficulty in recognising us. Our party was complete when we met up with Steve Tremont from Sydney who had been on Flinders Island for a week after bringing his boat across from Port Welshpool on the Lady Jillian. Luckily for us Steve had secured the use of a pick-up truck and thus we were able to make for the ‘Interstate Hotel’ in Whitemark almost immediately so as to slake our considerable thirsts and become acquainted with each other.

There was to be no paddling on this first day as we had been unable to load all our gear onto the plane and this gear was not due to arrive until the following day. At any rate, any chance that there might have been of an early start was soon to be quite beyond the bounds of possibility as we all succumbed to the alcohol and the remainder of the day was spent in loading and moving the boats down to the water's edge before again retiring to the pub.

Day two was quite a contrast to the first day. The changeability of the weather down on Flinders Island almost rivals the weather in Melbourne. The persistent westerly and mild 22C temperature was an agreeable change from the day before. It was mid-afternoon before we pushed off after saying our goodbyes to Rosie, Barbara and Anne whom we had met at the pub that morning. We were to meet them at the Furneaux Tavern in three days time for dinner.

After a short paddle with the sloppy waves and wind coming at our starboard beam we rounded Lagoons Point and pulled in to inspect the remains of several whales which had beached themselves upon Fotheringate Beach. We spent about 20 minutes taking photographs and admiring the Strzelecki Peaks behind us before heading off toward Trousers Point. Trousers Point is shaped somewhat like a battle-axe and is fairly impressive with nice rounded granite blocks jutting out into the sea. As we headed toward the northern-most part of the point I had been watching the waves break against some rocks which were about 50 metres out from the rocky coastline and I entertained some thoughts about darting through the narrow passage of relatively calm water. However just as I was about to commit myself the sight of a large wave shaped somewhat like a mini-Pipeline washing completely over the rocks and boring right through my chosen route caused me to quickly change my mind and opt for a safer route further out to sea. After bouncing around in the rebound for 15 minutes or so we rounded the southern part of Trousers Point and pulled up at an idyllic little beach which was completely sheltered from the wind. The Flinders Shire council has developed a picnic and camping area among the she-oaks at Trousers Beach complete with fireplaces, toilet facilities and the like. I have resolved that the next time I go to Flinders Island I will spend a bit more time at this idyllic place as not only does it possess a beautiful beach but it is also ideally situated as a base for venturing out into the Strzelecki National Park.

Shortly after our arrival at Trousers who should drive up but Laurie Ford. Laurie was spending a couple of days at Killiecrankie after a 27 hour marathon return paddle from Wilsons Promontory. Laurie had left Tidal River at 8.15am the day before and had paddled direct to Flinders Island via Curtis Island so as to take advantage of the favourable conditions. He had made good time arriving at Killiecrankie at about 11am this morning after spending the last part of his journey battling the westerly winds and choppy seas that this wind brings. We helped him celebrate his success by drinking his beer.

Our first day of paddling ended with a lengthy sojourn around the campfire punctuated at intervals by the shrill cries of possums unfortunate enough to be caught by Steve Tremont.

Day three began at a leisurely pace with paddling delayed by the perceived necessity to go out and catch fish for breakfast. I thought it was just as well that I hadn't been sucked in by the notion that I could live entirely from what I might catch. After a late breakfast Rusty and Steve Tremont went off to climb Mt. Strzelecki. I had intended going with them but opted instead for a more leisurely departure. We left at 12.30pm in good conditions, following the coast to the next point whereupon we headed out for Anderson Island. On the way out to Anderson we decided to veer off and head for the more interesting looking Oyster Rocks instead. We paddled around the rocks and although the fishing possibilities looked excellent a steadily increasing wind and cloud build-up convinced us that we should make for Big River Cove.

We landed on the main beach at Big River and I was quite struck when looking across Franklin Sound at Anderson and Tin Kettle Islands at just how dry and desolate this area is. Despite the storms which lash Bass Strait this area receives a fairly low rainfall and obtaining water supplies can be a problem. The panoramic vista reminded me of another place I had been to and eventually I realised that that place was Macquarie Harbour which I passed through after a trip down the Franklin River about two years ago. After hauling our boats up the beach we set off up a track to obtain water. The thick scrub soon gave way to open paddock which apparently leads to an old abandoned homestead. Steve Weston was surprised at the extent to which the natural vegetation had taken over the paddocks since his last visit a couple of years ago. Whereas the old homestead could once be seen from the bottom of the paddocks this was no longer possible. The creek from which we were to obtain water was very low and had little flow in it but the water seemed OK if somewhat brackish. After filling all containers we headed back to the beach where the wind-blown sand stinging our legs and covering our boats convinced us that we should seek a more sheltered place in
which to camp. Therefore we paddled back towards Sarah Blanche Point and pulled in at a secluded little beach which was sheltered from the wind. Rusty and Steve Tremont arrived at about 6pm just as we had got a brew ready. They had climbed Mt. Strzelecki and eventually left Trousers Point at 4.30pm. Such was the wind and the tide by this time that they had only taken one and a half hours to reach our camp at Sarah Blanche Point.

Next morning (day 4) we all got up early, had our morning dip, quickly ate breakfast and were away at 9.30am. Earle had taken his meteorological readings and found the barometer had fallen substantially. The westerly wind was measured at 65kph. and this, combined with the easterly moving tide, meant we hardly had to paddle at all. We were pushed along at a fast speed and in no time had passed Pig Head, Tongue and Tommy Ryes Points. We headed out toward Little Dog Island stopping half way across at some rocks for a delicious feast of shellfish. After our feasting we quickly reached Little Dog Island but it was so bleak and windswept that a look-see from the boats was quite enough. We ‘sailed’ across to Great Dog Island and then headed for Lady Barron township via Little Green Island.

We arrived at Lady Barron shortly after 1pm and attracted some interested yachties and the like who after inspecting our boats expressed surprise at their seaworthiness and level of equipment. After establishing camp by some slipways we retired to the Furneaux Tavern and spent several hours drinking and awaiting the arrival of the girls we had met earlier in Whitemark. Any illusion that we were roughing it on this trip were soon dispelled when our chinese dinner was served. Not a bad meal at all for this neck of the woods and particularly so when it only cost us $3.50 each. Most of us returned to camp after midnight except for Earle and Steve Tremont who decided to party on.

There was indecision on the morning of day five largely as the result of different expectations on the part of paddlers as to what the nature of the trip should be. The two Steves and Earle wanted to spend more time fishing and diving, etc. while Rusty and I wanted to cover greater distance and see more of the islands and eventually paddle down to the mainland. Both types of trip are equally attractive but with limited time it is not possible to combine them. Consequently Earle and the two Steves decided to put their boats onto a truck and head north for Settlement Point which would be a base for all their activities for the next week. After a round of handshakes and goodbyes Rusty and I left them at 10.30am and headed past Little Green and Great Dog Islands for Vansittart (Gun Carriage) Island, arriving at Bates Bay at 11.45am after a hard slog against the outgoing tide. By considerably stretching the imagination the shape of Vansittart Island could be likened to the shape of a gun carriage, hence its more colourful nickname. Windswept like all the small islands of the Furneaux Group the island has had quite a fascinating history. Ruins, fallen tombstones (now unreadable) and old stone fences are testaments of better days, although the island is still used for cattle grazing and is occupied once yearly by the mutton-birders. But it is the wreck of the Farsund off the south-east part of the island which is the most visible relic of the past. We reached the Farsund after about an hours paddle through the narrow passage between Vansittart and Cape Barren Islands during which we became stranded several times on the rocky reefs which were exposed by the outgoing tide.

The wreck of the Farsund was a bit of a disappointment to me. The photographs I had seen of it showed it as a proud and defiant ship and made it appear much larger than it really is. The reality is a rusting hulk lying at a considerable list with most of its decking now rotted away and its masts broken. At its present rate of decay I doubt very much whether the Farsund will last another seventy years.

The weather on this day was absolutely glorious and a complete contrast to the day before. We decided therefore to take advantage of the good weather and cover the whole of the east coast of Cape Barren Island and camp the night at the Cape itself. We spent the afternoon paddling along mile after mile of sandy beaches turning around occasionally to admire the increasingly distant Strzelecki and Razorback range on Flinders Island. Our only stop was at Harleys Point so we could look at Thirsty Lagoon which lived up to its name by being quite dry. We eventually reached our campsite at 6pm and had a refreshing swim and an unsuccessful attempt to catch some fish for dinner. Our isolation was only broken by the passing of three fishing trawlers between Cape Barren and Gull Islands. After a superb meal of leftovers cooked up by Rusty we soon turned in and since it was such a mild night I slept in the open under the stars with the gentle lapping of water being the only sounds to be heard.
Awoke at 6am on day 6 to the sound of breaking waves - a strong north east wind had sprung up overnight. We quickly got underway, deciding to forgo breakfast for the time being. Rusty looked like he was having trouble getting off the beach - the North Sea Tourer is a tricky boat to get in and out of because of the hog and the waves tend to catch it and pull it sideways. Rounded Cape Barren without incident but now my Nordkapp was having troubles of its own because of the quartering wind and every time it was turned shorewards I cursed the absence of a rudder.

After about an hour and a half of paddling we pulled in at the eastern end of Christmas Beach and had breakfast. Christmas Beach is a long steeply-shelving sandy beach extending back perhaps 400 metres to a fresh water lagoon. The lagoon itself was long and broad and quite deep and we need not have worried about our water supply after all, if it was full of water at this time of the year (a comparatively dry year), it would be safe to assume that this was always the case. The remains of a whale were on the other side of the lagoon and because of the extent of the beach we guessed that it must have beached itself hundreds of years ago.

We left Christmas Beach in the middle of the morning and headed for Cone Point. I was still having problems keeping my Nordkapp straight in the quartering wind. After rounding Cone Point we moved in close to shore to seek shelter from the wind. Passage Island was now in sight and I thought how easy it would be in bad weather not to see Sea Lion Narrows and to paddle around Passage Island thinking it was part of Cape Barren Island. My thoughts suddenly turned to what Rusty was doing as he disappeared in the swell through some rocks and entered a long rocky passage in which the water level rose and fell dramatically with each passing wave. I thought he had entered some kind of dead-end and wondered how he would get back out but I followed him through just the same and was much relieved when I saw a gap at the end of the passage about a metre wide. It was just like passing through a hole in a wall. We were then about to paddle toward Passage Point when we saw a small cray boat anchored in Petticoat Bay. The wind not being any better we thought we may as well paddle in and say hello. The paddle into Petticoat Bay, being against the wind, quickly convinced us both that paddling into Kent Bay later that day to see the remains of the old settlement near Rices River (the first settlement in the Furneaux Islands) was undesirable.

The two grizzled men on the Morning Star did not seem all that surprised to see us and did not have a great deal to say. They were waiting for more favourable conditions and we decided to do the same and so pulled into the beach, lit a fire and made a brew. We decided to wait three hours until about 2.45pm. before moving off so as to take advantage of the slack tide through Sea Lion Narrows, which according to the cray fishermen can run at about eight knots. It was quite pleasant to change into dry clothes and because of our early start that morning we did not feel bad about our hours of inactivity.

At 2.45pm we left, purchasing a small cray for dinner that night. We quickly passed along Crows Beach, rounded Passage Point and entered Sea Lion Narrows. The wind suddenly was no more and all was quiet and peaceful. The water in the 500m wide passage was still and we had time to admire the beautiful rock formations, complete with orange algae so typical to this area, on the Cape Barren side.

We passed the northern tips of Passage and Forsyth Islands and then headed for Seal Point on Clarke Island, a crossing of 6km. The crossing was uneventful which I hadn't expected on account of the shallow water and the northerly blowing across the wide and exposed Kent Bay. There were only several small overfalls as tides and currents met over shallow shoals and they were good fun.

At Seal Point we visited the rocks just offshore which are supposedly a tern rookery but it was obviously the wrong time of the year as the rocks were quite deserted. We had planned to camp on the eastern side of Kangaroo Bay but one look at this unattractive coastline and our belief that the wind would swing to the west convinced us we should camp instead on one of the beaches on the western side. We reached camp at 5.30pm, quite tired but well satisfied with the day’s paddle and eventually sat down to a gourmet meal of crayfish covered by some delicate cheese concoction dreamed up by Rusty. A weather forecast for the next day, picked up on the trannie, of 20-30 knot westerly winds for all Tasmanian waters with gale warnings certainly had us thinking.

Next morning (day 7) the weather forecast was not much more encouraging and we were in no hurry to get going. However by mid-morning the sun as out and it was becoming rather boring hanging around the camp so we decided to paddle anyway. We got under way at 12.30 and rounded the western point of Kangaroo Bay. Then the wind really hit us and we paddled heads down for 4km along the northern part of Clarke Island making extremely slow progress against the strong wind, waves and unfavourable tide (which wasn't due to change until about 3pm). Our destination was the settlement at Maclaines Bay on the north-west corner of Clarke Island but before rounding the last point before Maclaines Bay we had to pull in to the beach to recover our strength. After resting for about 30 minutes we punched around the point and entered Maclaines Bay, both being nearly wiped out simultaneously by a breaking wave as we tried to take a shortcut between the rocky point and some rocks offshore.

The settlement at Maclaines Bay was deserted but is obviously used at various times throughout the year. Several buildings were in a rundown state but there were two quite substantial houses in good condition. Behind one of the houses and scattered about elsewhere were A-shaped shelters (almost like cubby houses) which are apparently used by mutton-birders during the mutton-bird season. The views out over Maclaines Bay from the two houses was quite beautiful with Preservation Island, Night and Little Night Islands acting as backdrops with the mountains on Cape Barren Island beyond those.

The afternoon was spent inspecting the settlement and the now apparently disused jetty. On the way to the jetty we disturbed a number of wallabies and I even saw a potoroo which is fairly scarce down here. The afternoon passed so swiftly that Rusty's intention of paddling down to Rebecca Bay was thwarted (thank God). Instead we made ourselves comfortable on the verandah of one of the houses, making use of the tank water for cooking and washing purposes. We turned in early on comfortable mattresses obtained from the house.

We awoke early (day 8) and left Maclaines Bay at 7.30am. The weather was now settled and the water calm - our second calm day after a strong westerly, indicating that the weather down here operates in a cyclical manner. The west side of Clarke Island is ruggedly beautiful and consists of rounded granites backed by heathland and open paddocks. I was glad we hadn't tried to paddle to Rebecca Bay the day before because we would have had to paddle about half a kilometre out so as to avoid the rocks, etc. and we would have missed much of the beauty of the coastline which can best be appreciated at close quarter. As it was, in the light swell we were able to move between rock stacks and generally keep very close to the shoreline.

We entered Rebecca Bay at 9am and started looking for any sign of Laurie Ford. Back at Trousers Point Laurie had arranged to meet us here so as to accompany us across Banks Strait. I half expected him to surprise us by popping up from behind a sand-dune but it soon became evident that he wasn't there and that we had beaten him down. All we could do was wait and so we lazed about for a couple of hours and admired the beauty of the Bay. Shortly after 11am Rusty cried out and sure enough it was Laurie paddling into the bay. Laurie was pleased to see us as he hadn't really expected to see us for another couple of days and the fact that we were there meant that he didn't have to hang around waiting for us. I got stuck into the beer and peanut butter saladas Laurie began handing out and then we just idled away the hours until about 3.l5pm. when, with favourable tides (i.e. one and a half hours flow in each direction) we set off across Banks Strait toward Swan Island. After three hours paddling, the last part against a fairly strong rip-tide around the rocky northern point of Swan Island, we reached the beach, changed into dry clothing and wandered up to the Keepers' houses to say hello. Had tea and biscuits with the assistant Light House Keeper, after which we went to visit the head Lighthouse Keeper and his wife.

The head Keeper and his wife (Laurie & Val Williams) were most hospitable to us. We were invited to sleep in their home which was great because it saved us the trouble of erecting tents, etc. And were served a hearty meal of crayfish and hot bread. After tea Laurie Williams took us for an inspection of the lighthouse. I must admit however that the initial fascination quickly wore off for me as the Keeper launched into a detailed discussion with Laurie and Rusty about the finer technical aspects of the light's operation.

On the last day (Day 9) I awoke to the tantalising smell of egg and bacon. Mrs. Williams was providing us with another hearty meal before we departed. We finally got underway at 9.30am and two hours later, after pushing against waves generated by the fairly brisk northwesterly, we pulled in at Little Musselroe Bay. Our week-long adventure had ended - a trip that won't be forgotten in a hurry.

PETER NEWMAN

FLINDERS IS ADDENDUM
I must acknowledge Peter's ability to put together a stimulating & colourful report on what must be one of Australia's more scenic island groups.

The trip, short as it was, offered just about everything a sea-canoeist could ever want; fine weather, warm shallow water, good skin diving, deserted beaches, fine camping and magnificent scenery. Since returning to Tassie I have learned that the 'A'-framed shelters referred to on Clarke Is are not used by mutton birders at all, but are the remains of some enterprising gentleman's vision of Clarke Is becoming a well patronised, get-away-from-it-all weekend venue for Melbourne’s executive set and their female companions. An interesting concept but I really think the project was doomed to fail. The standard of accommodation may be five star for the local mutton birders, but very unimpressive for the more affluent from the big smoke.

I wish to thank Val and Laurie Williams who provided most welcome accommodation on Swan Is and Jason Dicker who really had no say in his offer of hospitality. Regards also to Beth and Andy Gregory, the assistant lighthouse keepers, who warmed us with tea and coffee on arrival at Swan Is.
ANDREW RUST