Brian WALLACE - Pittarak
Rex BROWN – Ocean Explorer
George APPLEBY – Pittarak without rudder ??
Glen - Stripped Cedar, made by Glen
Ray MUSGRAVE – Greenlander

Scribe: Rex Brown
Finally Friday the 23rd arrived, I departed from Melbourne at 10.30am, eventually finishing packing, organised as usual. Four hours later I arrived at Brian’s house at Eagle Point were I promptly took up shade under a tree, waiting for Brian who soon arrived. Brian was kind enough to offer the use of his vehicle to travel the remaining distance to Mallacoota. At 7.30 pm we arrived at Mallacoota after rendezvousing with Ray and George and Glen at Cann River where we had a quick tea of fish & chips. Our previous trip last year saw considerable difficulty getting through the entrance and the torturous sand bar at the entrance to Mallacoota. Managing to get through the first break, I was almost a victim of the second break as I was forced to surf backwards for twenty metres before breaking out the back, another paddler (not on this trip) was knocked out on two occasions. For this reason we proceeded to Bastion Point to launch at the boat ramp.

We set up camp and the car shuffle was organised, the local residence visited and informed us we would not be going tomorrow as there had be a three metre easterly swell with the odd larger set coming through. The forecast was for a fine day with light south westerly wind, the sound of a dumping surf was in contradiction to the forecast, the advice from a local “Don’t be fooled by the look of the size of the waves, they are much larger when you get out there.” I was concerned at the ring of haze around the moon, this is an indication of rain. Tuning to the forecast I was only able to obtain a weather report for Melbourne, again fine and light winds.

Saturday 24th April 1999

An early rise (7.00am) on Saturday morning, saw a two and half metre swell dumping unpredictably, occasionally a second break about fifty meters behind the first. There was a fast flowing rip running out from the shore past the ramp and a wall of rocks and reef to the right of the ramp, meaning any error would be difficult to recover. Watching the surf break each of us worked out the pattern, only none of us could agree on what the pattern was. Occasionally the surf would reduce and a clear path was easily identified out behind the break. Ray and I got into our kayaks and sat in behind the rocks avoiding the rip and waiting for a quiet moment. I watched and eventually had the confidence and what I believe to be a good path. Out I went stopping to allow some waves to break before paddling on, I soon reached a stage when I needed to paddle as fast as I could and narrowly got over two breaking waves. Feeling relieved at being outside the break I looked up to see several large waves heading in my direction each looking as is they may break, it was power on and out further, a lot further than I had intended. Finally turning and hoping Ray had not followed as it would have been impossible to follow me out. Looking back at the beach there was consistent white water breaking. I paddled in ever increasing circles for some time looking back at the shore observing no movement, I began to plan a landing. It was not going to be easy, there appeared to be more movement on the beach, being that of interested on lookers.

There was a break in the swells and the figure of George in his Pittarak emerged in the distance, it was great to see him. He explained the swells had increased in size and number after I had made it out, Ray returned to the beach and climbed up onto the rocks and was guiding the others out. Finally we were joined by Glen and Brian who explained that Ray was not satisfied with the conditions and was going to Wonboyn and would meet us at Merricka River. Off we paddled to Tullaberga Island, there were continuous waves breaking on the shoreline. Brian explained there was a steel ship on the beach of Tullaberga Island - working our way through the rocky outcrops we landed on the narrow beach. Exploring the west end of the island there was the remains of what appeared to be a steel fishing trawler and a photographing session was called for. Tullaberga Island marks approximately point to Gabo Island. This remote Island was the sight of a tragic boating accident, 146 years ago:

The S.S. MONUMENTAL CITY arrived in Sydney on April 23rd 1853, with a full saloon and 124 steerage passengers, her voyage from San Francisco occupying more than two months. She was immediately placed on the Sydney to Melbourne run by on May 15th en route to Sydney she ran ashore off Tullaberga Island and became a total wreck. The vessel was under sail at the time of the disaster, and immediately she struck Captain ADAMS ordered the sail to be taken in and the foremast cut away. As the mast fell it shattered part of the mainmast and added to the confusion. The ship broke up almost immediately but the survivors were landed on Tullaberga Island while a boat containing eighteen men rowed to Twofold Bay for assistance.

Although 54 persons were saved by means of a hawser secured to a rock, 37 lost their lives, including the owner Peter STROEBED. Sydney residents presented a silver medal to Charles PLUMMER, the man who swam ashore from the wreck with a line.

In a letter to the Sydney Morning Herald dated June 1st 1853, the Captain explained that on the night of the disaster, after passing Ram Head which was visible at the time, he judged the vessel to be a safe distance from the coast at midnight and left her in charge of the Chief Officer with instruction to steer a safe and proper course, but at 3.30a.m. was awakened when the ship struck rocks. He further stated that he remained on board assisting passengers and crew ashore until the vessel showed signs of going to pieces. He believed that only four or five reached the shore with him when the catastrophe took place causing the lost of those remaining on board. At the inquiry Captain ADAMS was blamed for the disaster on the following ground:

1. Not exercising sufficient caution.
2. Giving orders for an alteration of course during his absence from deck.
3. Leaving the deck in the charge of an inexperienced officer.

Onto Gabo Island jetty, which is situated in a cove on the northwest side, from where it was an easy twenty-minute walk to the Lighthouse. A sooty albatross gliding over our heads with ease joined us. Gabo is a wind swept granite island, on the edge of the Tasman Sea, having a flora and fauna reserve, with elements of sub tropical flora. The first attempts to build a lighthouse here were in 1845. In 1853, following the destruction of the Monumental City on Tullaberga Island, a temporary light was set up. This was followed in 1890 by the lighthouse that now stands, a magnificent structure built from the local red granite. The first fuel used was Kerosene, this was replaced by acetylene in 1917, and by generator electricity in 1935. There have been many ship wrecks in this area including the H.M.A.S. Wollongong in 1985, running onto the rocks of Gabo left the ship with three large holes in the hull, however the she was able to be salvaged.

The relieving island caretaker, Jeff, showed us over the lighthouse, we climbed the steel staircase, which spiralled its way to the top. Asked if we wanted to have a look outside, I replied yes thinking this to be a joke. Jeff opened a door and out we went to a magnificent view overlooking the rocky outcrops and breaking waves, the view back over the Lighthouse Keepers residence was equally spectacular. Another photo session.

George had disappeared and not answered our calls, on our way out he rushed up the stairs and Jeff was kind enough to take him to the top. Jeff then gave us a lift in his Ute back to the jetty. He was a keen surfer and told us of the great swells he surfed subject to the weather conditions. The easterly swell was two to three metres and the wind, southwesterly of twenty kilometres, was going to make for an interesting trip. Off we went attempting the pass behind Gabo and the mainland, the closer we got the more white water could be seen, with some very large breaking waves. The odd large waves were popping up behind us, I yelled to Brian to look out as one wave broke on top of him. Glen had to brace heavily as another wave broke on him, he appeared to be covered in foaming white water. You guessed it, my turn a wave broke over the top of me, bracing and hanging on, and I made it. This was no place to be, and we began to head around the southern end of Gabo past the lighthouse, the wind was not easing and frequent large waves were appearing. I was concerned with what may lie ahead, an easterly swell breaking around the corner of Cape Howe was not going to be easy, landings would be difficult. Glen asked my opinion and a group decision not to press on but to stay the night at Gabo was made. Landing back at the small boat harbour, we lifted our boats up onto the grass and set up our tents. I tuned in my radio to hear yachts in the Melbourne to Osaka race had been hit by very large waves further along the New South Wales Coast.

One Yacht had broken in half and the crew abandoned ship into their life-raft, activating their EPIRB using a French system allowing for the position to be obtained in two hours. EPIRBS activated on the Australian System would have taken three hours to define the exact location. On three occasions the crew were thrown from the life-raft but they were able to scramble back in, and were rescued. The reason for our bad weather was soon explained, a low-pressure system had remained stationary between Sydney and Tasmania. During our trip we had frequent small fronts (including rain), pass by us, on each occasion a blue sky appeared to be emerging but then another front would approach. After lunch it was time to explore Gabo Island, walking to the northern end of the Island, I could not believe the amount of white breaking water between Gabo and the mainland. I was glad of our decision to remain at Gabo. I sighted two sea eagles soaring and gliding over head in search of an appetiser. The breaking swells over the red granite rocks of the Island were a magnificent sight. I disturbed a penguin oiling his coat, I attempted to coordinate a photo session but the bird jumped with fright and quickly disappeared into the rock crevices. Stumbling over the hills I bumped into three tourists who had flown in for a booked holiday on the Island. Despite the bleak weather the island had a magical charm, along a track I found some old graves dated 1861. Like other islands in Bass Straight the effort to survive would have met considerable hardship, survival of the fittest has a stronger meaning in this environment. On one hill top I sighted ten cows who kept the island from becoming over grown. Sheets of tin and an old rubbish tip confirmed the existence of army Nissan huts, during world war two there was a large army contingent stationed at Gabo Island. During the war of 1939-45 the Australian and United States forces north of Australian relied heavily on allied shipping for supplies and armaments.

Enemy forces were well aware of this necessity, and early in 1942, Japanese ocean going submarines commenced operations against supply shipping along Australia’s east coast, sinking and damaging almost thirty British and American vessels over a period of two years.

Most casualties occurred off the NSW coast, but two incidents were reported off East Gippsland.

At 4.45pm on June 4th 1942, the freighter Iron Crown, master A. McLellan, bound from Whyalla to Newcastle with a cargo of magnesium ore was struck by a torpedo on the port side abaft the bridge, when the vessel was 44 miles South South West of Gabo Island. She sank almost immediately, and only five of her crew of 42 was saved.

On the same day, the interstate freighter Barwon was attacked by a submarine 35 miles south east of Gabo. Shells hit her, but torpedoes fired at her missed and she managed to escape.

I returned to the campsite, and tea followed a beautiful red sunset, an expectation of tomorrow being a better day. Penguins began to arrive in ones and twos, we observed a large black mass move in towards the beach, a shark ? No about sixty penguins were swimming in mass. Talk about penguins on parade. There chatter ran into the night, and finally we got to sleep. I woke several times during the night, and strolled along the jetty, the moon provided so much light it was as if it was day. I could see the house lights of Mallacoota in the distance, I thought about my father who was in hospital and hoped his health was going to improve. I hoped my family was not too worried about us, but my father in law is an experienced sailor and I knew he would watching the weather. Up at Sunrise and not a penguin to be seen, they had already left and just as well, two sea eagles were gliding overhead in search of any stragglers.

Sunday 25th April 1999

A quick breakfast and loaded our boats - George’s packing provided us with no end of entertainment, he had been up early packing and was by far the last the finish. Off we went towards Cape HOWE, past the lighthouse for another photo session. The paddle to Cape Howe saw us pushing into a smaller easterly swell of two metres, and followed by a 10 to 15 knot southwesterly wind. Confused seas were the order of the day and this section took longer than I expected. Breaking waves on the shore of Cape Howe and the rocky outcrops and large sand dunes 50 to 100 metres high gave a spectacular view. Rounding the Victoria and New South Wales border I saw a large school of salmon and signalled to Brian who had no success trawling his handline and silver wobbler lure. On to Nadgee River and worked out way inside the breaking surf and dragged our boats up the mouth of the Nadgee River, which was reduced to a trickle at the mouth. Rocks made for slow progress but once inside we could paddle up the river, which was alive with bream, no fisher persons here.

We paddled up the river as far as possible, but unable to turn around it took us a while to back out and turn around after dodging over dead trees and branches. Leaving Nadgee River the swell had increased in size and dumped quickly, moving down inside the surf line we paddled out during a quiet patch. We paddled along the shore for the rest of the day sighting several sea eagles, however the onshore swell made it impossible to explore some of the sea caves or get in close to the rocky cliffs. None the less the view was good, occasionally the breaking waves appeared to explode against the rock flying metres into the air. On one occasion I moved in for a photograph and sighted two sea eagles watching us from a tree, one of whom I had watched retrieving a fish from the surf earlier. I spotted another school of salmon, we moved into the bubbling water and large salmon were jumping all around me. Poor Brian could not get a bite on his hand line. We paddled all day making our destination Merricka River at 4.00pm, we were all tired - the rebounding swells off the cliffs meant we all had to brace occasionally. Out hips needed to remain loose and our minds alert to rebounds, and also the breaking swell. Negotiating the breaking surf we were able to paddle up the river, which was flowing out. I watched Brian and Glen entering the mouth of the Merricka. Brian was caught by a breaking wave from behind - he appeared to recover and was surfing beautifully. Then suddenly with out warning his boat veered left at speed right toward the large rock boulders. My heart went into my mouth, I knew what was going to happen, I watched Brian anxiously, then crash into the rocks he went. Bracing heavily he was able to hold his kayak on its side, the incoming surf saw his bow hinge on the rocks and swinging into the river. His bow dislodged from the rocks and preceded up the river with the force of the incoming swell. Brian’s boat did not full impact at speed and it was more a glancing blow but none the less pretty spectacular for viewers and by the look on Brian’s face for him too. Glen and I gave the boulders a wide berth. George followed us in and he explored the river while we set up camp and had tea. Brian had been working on an aluminium oven and was taking order for his freshly baked fruit loaf, it was magnificent, not the sort of food you expect. The bird life was abundant with the calls of several birds heard, joined by a noisy ring tail possum - we enjoyed our camp site. Again the moon provided magnificent light and I took several strolls at night along the beach. - and attempted a time exposure photo of the distant Green Cape lighthouse and the rocky cliffs.

Monday 26th April 1999

Up early and after breakfast, Brian, Glen and I explored the river while George packed, the river was still, with over hanging orchards and large rocky cliffs, and of course a photo session was required, with hardly a breath of wind. Picking George up on our return we pulled in at the mouth as there is a cave which can be reached by walking through part of the surf. It was a matter of timing your run with out going waves and turning left into the third entrance between rocks, the first two only went a matter of metres. We watched anxiously as the surf was bounding in, there was no way we could make it, not with the amount of water coming in. Suddenly a wave receded and Brian was off, followed by Glen and me, it was the Melbourne Cup all over again. We all got wet over our waists and ran into the cave chased by a large wave. We hoped George had not followed because all hell was breaking loose. We had to go wide of the entrance as there was a large pothole, which would have involved a swim. Looking out the cave the surf did not let up, we all wondered how we were going to get back. Suddenly running in surrounded by breaking waves was George, we all shouted encouragement and George staggered in a little wet of course. We inspected the cave which had a colony of bats and a rich smell to boot - taking some photos we all prepared to make our dash back but on two occasions we found ourselves running back to the safety of the cave. Finally Brian, Glen and George were off, I found I had limited space then splash, up to my shoulder in a pot hole. I quickly emerged and was again hit by a wave at my waist much to the laughter of my mates and myself.

Into our boats and we paddled out the mouth avoiding large rocks which would have made for an interesting white water paddle. I was heading out and kept well clear of the boulder cliff, a large swell had just come in and there was plenty of water over the sandbar or so I thought. With the blink of an eye the water had receded and I was high and dry, the force of the water going out of the river was turning my boat sideways and pushing me towards the surf. Putting my hands down in the sand I straighten by boat and watched anxiously for the next swell which was approaching and soon lifted my boat. We paddled around to our left inside the breaking swell and there were some large dumping swells crashing onto the rocks. We watched for a while and then made a break all, making it out the back.

It was going the be interesting at Wonboyn, the lake would be emptying with low tide and the swell was getting bigger although the waves seem to be cleaner and forming better. In along the cliff with more exploding waves, the rich colour mixes of red, fawn and orange were pleasing again to the eye. Brian and I discussed our landing, Wonboyn could be hectic, Brian suggested landing in the corner at an area called Greeneaves - he could run back and get his car. As we approached the beach, I thanked Brian for a great trip and he replied “It’s not over yet”. He and I were watching the pumping surf, Brian picked a quite patch and was in without a hitch, I kept an eye on Glen and George, Glen was proceeding in. I saw the swell building up behind him and it was obvious it was going to break out further than where we had been seeing it. I yelled at Glen to back paddle, he was in a bad position about where the swell was about to dump, he paddled back and it soon became obvious he had one option - go for it, which he did. Then all hell broke loose, George was out the back and he yelled “Look out behind you Rex”. I turned and saw a massive wave well formed and from experience I knew it was about ready to close out with a bang. I don’t know its size but I was sure it was over three metres. I began to take on the appearance of a frog in a blender, knowing I could get a little way in but how far. Local fisherman scattered on the rock surf fishing encouraged with words “You bloody idiot”. Crash, I was covered in white water - pushed side ways. I was holding my position and after travelling about thirty metres, crunch, over I went. The force of the water broke the seal of my skirt and it was bail out time. All was not over, the swells in the area were breaking irregularly, breaking further out, then, without warning hold and breaking close into shore. I grabbed the stern of my kayak and straightened it for shore and then surfed on top for four waves, occasionally having a great ride. I could see Brian on shore in two minds whether to stay or come out and try to help me, I yelled I was right and he waded out and helped me pull my boat ashore. We both had a laugh and Brian’s comment “I told you it wasn’t over yet”, George made it in and we carried our boats up to the car park, were Glen and Brian ran along the road to Wonboyn. In the crash of the surf, I’d managed to grab my hat, which was floating, but I had lost a glove. George recovered my drink bottle, but I could not find glove. From on shore I was able to gain a better appreciation of the surf, it would break in close to shore and then occasionally break much further out and there were some large waves amongst them.

Feeding the local Currawongs with an out dated coffee scroll and loading our boats and gear we headed for Wonboyn cliffs to inspect the entrance, Ray had left a note indicating he had gone home due to the weather conditions. Walking along the beach and up the cliff, several fisherman were surf fishing, some of whom were returning to their cars with large catches of Salmon. Brian was convinced it would have been a better way in, however I not so sure. We sat and enjoyed the breaking surf and watch the daring actions of a cormorant diving under the breaking waves and finally gaining some sense and flying off into the distance. We had a great trip paddling about eighty kilometres, looking back I wondered how safe it was going out the break at Mallacoota, I was happy at the time, but the time out the back had me reflecting for some time. Mother Nature had proved yet again she is full of surprises, the low pressure system remaining stationary had a large impact on our trip. Time allowed for our trip was three days, there was never any slack time, travelling considerable distances you feel compelled to complete your trip but I wonder how clouded our views become with adrenaline and the expectation of a trip?

We then headed our separate ways, I went back to Brian’s at Eagle Point and transferred my boat and gear, and helped Brian. Whilst getting ready to leave the telephone went, it was my wife Margaret with bad news my father had died on Saturday morning at 2.00am. The lighthouse keeper at Gabo had just missed us. I’ll miss the old man, he has always been there.