Scribe: Gordon Patchin
FRIDAY 6th MARCH,1980 Suddenly I realised I was waking up. My mind quietly ticking over in neutral, began to warm up as I shut off the choke and drew in a breath of cool, fresh, surprisingly clean, morning air. I say surprisingly clean because of the close proximity of Brisbane, just a few miles west of ‘mine host’s’ front door in Morning Side, and I have never considered Brisbane air to be particularly pollution free. Anyhow back at the Gardyne residence, I reluctantly slipped into first gear and slipped out of bed.

Bill Gardyne, a budding young marine biologist who is presently spending his time prying into the lives of infant Brisbane mud crabs, was up, and after a quick breakfast of muesli, we packed the rest of our gear and loaded the boats onto Mrs Gardyne’s mighty Austin. This was only accomplished with much grunting and groaning with my boat, because crafty old Bill was paddling a DRR which couldn’t carry much gear, while I was paddling my sea kayak and had to carry everything we would need for four days self sufficiency. Because of this my trusty ‘Tiny Titanic’ just didn’t feel so tiny. The ‘Tiny Titanic’ is a 17ft Thunderbird sea kayak, designed and built by my friend Tony Turbet of Streamline Fibreglass Products, for the Sydney to Brisbane trip, (about which I may still, one day, write a report). After arriving at Manly Boat Harbour, and wrestling my loaded craft down to the public boat ramp, we said goodbye and thanks to Mrs Gardyne and Bill’s little brother, Tim. Then set off out of the harbour, setting a course for Amity point on North Stradbroke Island, 14 nautical miles away. It was a beautiful clear day with a whispering NE breeze and calm seas, except for when one of the numerous power boats went by. We were fortunately able to stick to a channel which cuts straight across towards Amity Point before turning out through the south passage bar. I say this because of an experience on my first big trip in the bay way back in 1975 when a group of cruisers did a three day paddle from Southport to Caloundra in Rosco TK1’s. At low tide on the second day we found ourselves walking across Boolong Bank in the middle of the bay, with kayaks in tow, miles from the nearest land.

Meanwhile back in 1980, as we made our leisurely way across the bay we were appalled to see the heavy brown haze that shrouded the Brisbane area. About four hours after leaving Manly, we pulled up on Amity Beach for a bit of lunch.

Amity Point, the northern most point of North Stradbroke Island, where Moreton Bay meets the Pacific in often violent conflict. The battle field, being called South Passage Bar, is an extremely perilous spot that is treated with great care by all but the foolish.

From Amity Point breakers extend for more than three miles northward and break for about a mile in rough conditions. The South Passage runs parallel to the bar before squeezing through the narrow gap between the end of the bar and the breakers crashing in on Moreton Island, the currents running at up to 6 knots.

There was evidence of the currents strength as we sat on the beach munching ‘pre-cooked’ mince patties, with hard boiled eggs on bread that was heavy enough to sink the proverbial battleship. Naturally after such a fulfilling meal we needed a short nap. Half an hour later we shoved off into the swirling ebb tide and set a course for Reeders Point, angling slightly to the west to account for the current. The breaking waters of the bar about a mile further out were clearly visible.

About halfway across we were approached by a couple of crabbers in a small runabout, who had come over to ‘see what the hell we were doing out here’. After telling them we had come from Manly they decided we could use some nourishment and supplied us with a couple of cans of ‘Vitamin X’. Soon after we were cruising up the coast of Moreton Island, from Reeders Point to the small township of Kooringal, where we planned to spend the first night.

The fact that it was a longweekend was painfully obvious as we passed the many assorted pleasure boats anchored off this beautiful spot. Pulling into the beach for a ‘look around’ we were dismayed at the number of three wheel sand bikes and dune buggies which have over-run the island carving a mess of tracks through the bush on the foreshores. But even worse was the incessant noise of wasting petrol. If we wanted this we could have stayed in Brisbane. We soon decided that we’d rather not spend the night here and retreated to the safety of the sea. Unfortunately, the NE ‘Whisper’ had become more of a ‘Shout’ and progress against the 10 to 15 knot wind and ebbing tide was very difficult and slow. And as this was a holiday, we soon gave up. Rafting up we sailed back using a nylon jacket stretched between our paddles as a sail. We made about 3 knots this way.

Back at Kooringal we set up camp on a nice piece of ground, hoping that we wouldn’t be run over in the night. We had a beautiful meal during which I was introduced to Zucchini A’la Billie which I really enjoyed, though I had never liked them before.

As we ate a beautiful meal we watched a beautiful sunset and, now that the place had quieted down a bit, it was quite a beautiful finish to a beautiful day.

SATURDAY 7th I had been woken in the middle of the night by a shower of rain and very strong SE winds. I was thoroughly disgusted with the change of conditions and was worried about the morning. Luckily by then it was once again a beautiful day with a light NE breeze. After muesli we packed up and once again were on our way. First stop was the ‘Little’ Sandhills!

I can assure you that they are only called ‘Little’ because of the larger ones a couple of miles north of them. Here we trudged across to the sea side for a quick dip in the surf, before trudging back to the boats. We stopped at the Big Sandhills for lunch, but elected not to go for another walk. From there we cruised across to Tangalooma. This one-time whaling station is now a popular tourist resort, and a much better use for the place it is. We arrived just behind a police boat and drew up alongside to say hello and get a weather report. We were told that a SE change was expected on Monday, not very good news.

After setting up camp on the beach just outside the resort area we walked up for a few refreshing beers and the usual ‘look around’. Then back to camp for another great meal before going into the resort to obtain a hot shower and a beer before hitting the sack.

SUNDAY 8th The next morning dawned bright and clear again and after a late breakfast we decided to leave our camp set up while we went to look at the wrecks just up the beach. The water was calm and extremely clear. As we paddled amongst the rusting hulks of some old dredges and wove our way through the flotilla of small pleasure boats moored behind them, we wished for snorkelling gear. Then, while looking for a place to tie up the boats, a man called us over and offered us the use of his cabin cruiser to tie up to. We gratefully accepted and were soon swimming about and looking over the wrecks. On returning to the boats we were introduced to the rest of his family who had been snorkelling. We were soon equipped with flippers, mask and snorkel.

It was truly fantastic with loads of visibility and abundant fish life. It was like diving on a coral reef! Af terwards we joined our new friends on deck and after ‘a bit of arm twisting’ we were given a cup of coffee and a hot cross bun. After all, it was Easter Sunday. It’s really great to meet people so friendly.

Listening to their radio, we picked up a forecast confirming the 15 - 20 knot SE winds on Monday. We were very disappointed to hear this as it meant heading back that afternoon instead of Monday morning. As it was now lunch time we had to get going. So after thanking our friends for their hospitality we slid back into our boats and headed back to camp. After a quick lunch and pack up we set a course straight across to the Brisbane River entrance. With a freshening wind hitting us on the starboard quarter, we made reasonable time. Though we progressed, so did the weather until a steep Moreton Bay chop was giving Bill a bit of trouble in the DRR.

During our travels on the bay we often encounter people who can’t believe we are alright in our tiny, frail looking craft. This trip was no exception and a few miles off the river entrance we were approached by a cabin cruiser who’s captain asked us if we were OK. Yet even after assuring him that we were in no trouble, he continued to shepherd us for about ten minutes before giving up. As we neared the river mouth the seas had gotten quite rough and combined with the ebb tide, created a very steep three to four foot wave capping often. Usually my sea kayak handles surfing extremely well (this aspect being designed into the boat). Unfortunately I now realised why the spray skirt didn’t seem to fit right. It was the wrong one and water was pouring down the trunk behind me, as the trunk piece was too far back. Well the obvious result was that soon the cockpit was full of water and although I was still able to make progress, it wasn’t very fast. Slowly we fought our way between the columns of channel markers, lined up like a guard of honour at a wedding. At last we passed the last of the beacons and the water began to settle down. The sun was sitting low when we rounded the corner of Bishop Island at the mouth of the Brisbane River.

It hardly seems like a place for a holiday island. Yet that is what it is used for, with a regular ferry service, shop, camping facilities and cottages. We rinsed off in the icy cold water from a tank. Then as the sun began to set we dined on hamburgers and milkshakes. It was almost dark when we launched and started up the river. Bill carried a torch close to hand in case any boats came near and we steadily paddled up close to the left hand bank. Several times people fishing on the bank were surprised by the two kayaks appearing out of the darkness, asking “How much further to Doboy Creek?”, and disappearing again. Finally at about 8.00 we landed at the boat ramp near the Hemant Caravan Park, and after making a call to a friend of Bill’s, we were soon on our way to a hot shower and home.

(This report by courtesy of the QUEENSLAND CRUISING CANOE CLUB)