Prime Seal Island Trip 
January 1999.

This year we had a total of 9 paddlers at various stages, with 4 paddlers joining or leaving at various stages. This is something I personally would normally not condone - it is very difficult for a trip leader to plan a trip and make sure they have an adequate ratio of experienced paddlers to less experienced paddlers, with people joining in and leaving when they feel like it. However, there are exceptions to every rule, and this year was one when it just seemed to be the better option than not having some of these people paddling at all.

These were the paddlers as seen through my eyes:-

Me, (Laurie Ford), variously referred to as the grumpy old man, the crusty old man, the MCP, and many other terms of endearment. Paddled the ‘Longboat’, with two sails.

Jeff Jennings, the trip leader. Been paddling for years and years - between the two of us we have probably crossed Banks Strait 26 times. More of a gentleman - not given to speaking his mind as I quite often do. Is responsible for the many excellent videos of some of our trips, and a superb photographer. Paddled a ‘Greenlander’, with a huge sail - quite often bends his mast in high winds.

Sue Shearman, nice young lady doctor. Has had a sea kayak for about 10 months, and is already starting to log up some serious trips. To my knowledge (which isn’t complete by any means) she is only the second female sea kayaker to land on Albatross Island, and may possibly be the third female to paddle a single kayak across Banks Strait. A girl with a lot of get up and go, despite limited experience in the early days. Paddled a ‘Greenlander’. Joined the club at the last AGM.

Jamie Fergusson, a reserved young fella - very nearly didn’t come. A fortnight before the trip, was worrying about Banks Strait reputation for destroying shipping, but changed his mind and came. I did hear a yahoo as we got to Clarke Island, and he just got stronger and more enthusiastic as the trip progressed. Paddled his sisters ‘Greenlander’. Joined the club at the last AGM.

Martin Gibson, the longest legged paddler I’ve ever come across. He first paddled with us on Macquarie Harbour in November - just barely squeezing into the Sea Leopard with great difficulty. On the first day of that trip we were punching into a strong southerly for a couple of hours, then turned side on. I was amazed to see him copying us and putting a sail up, which he’d never ever done before - and I thought, “I like this guy’s attitude”. Since then the front bulkhead has been moved forward 5 cm. Paddled the ‘Sea Leopard’ with two sails, and didn’t hesitate to use them both at once whenever the conditions allowed. Joined the club at the meeting just held on Preservation Island during this trip.

Bob Bush, a gentleman’s gentleman - and already becoming a legend after only one trip. Only got a fitted-out sea kayak on Xmas Eve, and he and I had a few short paddles together between then and now. Has very little sea paddling experience, and fell out three times on these trial trips. But he’s a dynamo behind a paddle, I had trouble catching him a couple of times - and we believe his age is closer to 70 than 60. Paddled a ‘Dean 16’. Nominated for club membership at the Preservation Island meeting, although he had already left the trip.

Sarah Boyle, another nice young lady with a bit of get up and go. Bob thought he could only manage to get a week off initially, so arranged for Sarah to fly over and take over his kayak. I personally wouldn’t have let myself in for paddling a kayak I’d never sat in before, and Sarah suffered badly as a consequence. Despite installing back straps and foam padding during the trip, and fiddling with the length of the footrest, she was never comfortable. The first few days she paddled with us it was always into headwinds and she was quite slow, so slow in fact that I didn’t think she’d be suitable material for our club. However, on the last day, crossing Banks Strait, I set a steady fast pace and couldn’t shake her off - she was always one of the first 2 or 3 paddlers. I eat my words. (She does own her own multi coloured Greenlander). Didn’t join the club as she is off to North America for 18 months. Hopefully she’ll join when she returns - although I should point out that the last female sea kayaker of ours that went to North America got married over there and never came back.

Phil Barratt, a keen fit young lad, very competent - keen to paddle whenever he can get a few days off. Wasn’t initially coming on this trip due to work commitments, but in the last couple of days before we went found he could get away for about 10 days. Left us at Lady Barron and shipped his kayak back on the ferry. Paddled a ‘Greenlander’. Joined the club at the last AGM.

Sam Bailey, a temporary resident of Flinders Island - and had his ‘Greenlander’ over there. He contacted Jeff on the net and arranged to join us for three days in the middle of the trip. Limited experience but handled himself competently, and pretty fit and keen - was the second paddler to arrive at Lady Barron after a 25 km paddle into a headwind all the way. Keen to join the club, but obviously can’t fulfil the three trips a year requirement till he comes back to mainland Tasmania in 12 or 18 months time. Will be another good recruit when he does so.

Friday saw most of us gather at Jeff and Bev’s place at Bridport - some of us arriving in the middle of the afternoon to have time to repair other peoples electric pumps, others not arriving till midnight due to last minute alterations to their kayak. Jamie arranged to meet us at Little Musselroe in the morning.

Saturday was a bright sunny day with a light NW wind and a flat sea, and it looked great as we started packing our kayaks for two weeks away. One of the locals chatted to us to make sure we weren’t going to leave our vehicles in the way of people using the boat ramp - bemoaning the fact that a red Falcon had been there for a week or so and nobody knew who it belonged to. We obtained permission from another local lady to leave our cars in a vacant paddock out of the way.

Then it was a leisurely sail/paddle across to nearby Swan Island, to renew our acquaintance with Sue and Ken Stonehouse. Sue looked especially well, with her very pregnant look. We’d been telling our group about having a Pizza stop at Swan Island, but they thought we were pulling their legs, and were most surprised when not only Pizzas were trotted out, but a strawberry sponge cake and a chocolate cake as well. This was shared with Hugh and Jane Mills (and baby), who had flown over from Cape Portland for a visit for the day.

It is indeed a shame that Ken and Sue will be leaving the island shortly, as they are certainly the friendliest people we have encountered in 20 years - although I suspect we would have to put our pizzas on a more commercial basis if we were going to make a habit of going there. Thanks Ken and Sue.

About 2.30pm we launched for the big crossing to Clarke Island - still a light NW which just allowed us to sail if we so desired. Most did, but Bob and I paddled all the way. The wind and tide combined to push the group way to the east, which is basically what we planned. Then as we approached Clarke Island the tide was supposed to bring us back to the west again - which it certainly did as we honed in on Moriarty Point, but later than we anticipated. We were so far east that we actually paddled right over the top of Moriarty Banks - it was so shallow several people put their paddles down to try and touch the bottom. Had we been just a couple of kms further west the tide would have swept us round South Head and down to Rebecca Bay - and we still could have done so even now. But after four hours paddling Jeff decided enough was enough and we used the quite reasonable campsite at Moriarty Point. Phil had a splitting headache and was vomiting once ashore (probably all the chocolate cake he ate), and Bob said that he’d felt really crook after drinking a ‘sports’ drink on the way over - one he’d never tried before. I gave him some Coke, which he’s been off for 20 odd years - and he immediately felt better. From that day on he swore that Coke had saved his life, and he made sure he had some every day for drinking while paddling - there’s nothing like an enthusiastic convert. There was quite a bit of elation in the camp that night - Banks Strait had been most peoples big worry.

Sunday was another brilliant sunny day, with the wind going round to a light E. A really good tide rip was flowing close in to Moriarty Point as we left, necessitating going out to sea several hundred metres where it was slightly less rough - but rough enough to make a few paddlers quite anxious, and this was on a calm day. The current whisked us round South Head where we were immediately into smoother water and hugged the coast to have a good look at it - Jeff and I had never paddled along here before. It was down this stretch of coast that Jamie found he couldn’t catch Bob, it’s amazing the way he powers along. There were a couple of small sheltered coves that were worth remembering, but none of them looked as though they had a good campsite. We sailed in and out of Rebecca Bay without landing, continuing round to Spike Bay to land, and took the opportunity to adjust the backstrap on the Sea Leopard for Martin. He was a very happy man after that. We had already padded Bob’s seat in the Dean 16 with closed cell foam to try and improve his comfort. Due to his only getting the kayak about Xmas time there hadn’t been time to do an extended trip to try it out properly.

Another leisurely paddle/sail brought us across to Rum Island, where we stopped for lunch - and contemplated the fortunes of the people wrecked here in the ‘Sydney Cove’ in February 1797. A more beautiful place you wouldn’t find, on such a hot sunny day.

The ‘Sydney Cove’ actually developed a leak shortly after leaving India, but Captain Hamilton decided to keep her afloat by pumping and kept going to Sydney, via the bottom end of Tasmania. It was here she encountered a heavy gale and the leaks increased, By the time she reached the Furneaux Group her decks were awash, and the captain had to beach her at Preservation Island. 17 men left for Sydney in the longboat, but it was wrecked on Ninety Mile Beach (in Victoria), and only three men made it on foot to Sydney. Ships were dispatched to rescue the survivors on Preservation Island. One small vessel, the ‘Eliza’, took off 12 survivors and sailed for Sydney - it was never seen again.

This wreck of the ‘Sydney Cove’ led to the discovery of Bass Strait, and the extermination of the huge seal colonies within 35 years.

After lunch we cruised against the tide round the northern side of Preservation Island, across the channel to Cape Barren Island, following the very spectacular granite shoreline to Key Island, and then Thunder and Lightning Bay - our designated campsite for the night. We arrived in the early afternoon and it was so hot I lay in the shade for a while (listening to the one-day cricket). Jamie and Phil paddled back to Key Island to do a bit of diving, finding some abalone. Martin started off to walk across the island to the township to meet some friends, but only got to the road above the campsite to find his friends car there. They were way along the other end of the beach, talking to Jeff. He waited, and went with them for the evening, arriving back well after the rest of us had retired for the night.

The campsite at Thunder and Lightning Bay is one of the better ones, completely sheltered by She-Oaks from any wind. Fresh water bubbles up out of the sand on the beach, and flows in little rivers across the beach to the sea.

Monday was still another fine day, with the wind going round to a light NW to begin with. This was planned as our longest day (34km), and we left with the tide to take us round the corner of Cape Sir John and north along the coast before veering out to sea to the west to go across to Badger Island. This was a long slog and left most of us feeling a bit bushed by the time we got there - but we could only afford a short break if we wanted to make the last of the tide to help us out to Goose Island. The wind and waves had now built up and produced an unpleasant sea to push into. And push we had to. Jamie was way out in front, seemingly enjoying every moment, but there were a few paddlers thinking the Goose Island lighthouse was getting further away, instead of getting closer. Bob had been going really well up till now, but I knew he was feeling it when he let Sue sneak past him half way across, but he did rally again the closer we got and nearly caught her again. We were all damn glad to finally get ashore in the tiny little bay at the end of the old wooden railway tracks that led up to the lighthouse. At least we knew that when we left we would have a fast tide, and the wind, in our favour to go back round Badger Island to camp.

Goose Island is a very long low island with not much to look at except the lighthouse, and pigface - so most of us sat around and rested near the lighthouse with its large array of solar panels. It would appear that quite a number of Pacific gulls nest on the island, as there were a lot of young ones about.

Late in the afternoon we were on the water again, sailing all the way round the north side of Badger Island to camp in our usual spot - Phil busting one of his rudder wires on the way. Fortunately I had a new reel of cable and it only took him a few minutes to repair it once we were ashore. It rained lightly on and off while we cooked dinner, a couple of people sheltered under my tent fly to cook - and a certain person left one of their bags of food there by mistake when they had finished.

Tuesday morning Sue decided her nylon straps on her foot pedals were nearly worn through and needed attention before going any further, so we used a hacksaw to cut off the pop rivets, before melting new holes in the nylon straps and refitted them with nuts and bolts. Nobody seemed much inclined to investigate the island before we left for the very short paddle to Chappell Island - the home of the famous Chappell Island Tiger snake, one of Australia’s most venomous. Had an impromptu game of cricket on the beach with half a paddle and a tennis ball while people were getting into proper walking gear - then walked up the north ridge of Mt Chappell. Jamie and Phil were leading and said they saw two small snakes before we all arrived at the top and sat around the trig marker enjoying the tremendous view in all directions. A sea eagle circled around the peak above us, using the updraught up the mountain, and we thought for a moment there was another one circling over Badger Island, but it was Alf in his plane, VH-EIO. We could just see Swan Island light far to the SE, but easily see Strzelecki peaks just across the water above Trousers Point.

We gingerly scrambled down the mountain straight through the middle of the mutton bird rookery, looking for the fabled big snakes. The people out in front saw a couple of beauties, as thick as your arm - but I never saw one the whole time. Back at the kayaks it was time for a swim, it was such a glorious day.

The wind was freshening from the WNW as we left Chappell Island, and provided an exciting sail all the way across to Trousers Point, with the waves getting larger as we neared Flinders Island. Bob just sat and sailed for a while till he realised he was getting left behind, and then powered his way to the front in very short time. On arrival there was a bit of rolling practice and instruction in the lovely calm sunny bay in front of the campsite.

Camped at Trousers Point, where there was a certain amount of panic when one of our members found her food bag was missing, and I pointed out that I had mistaken it for a gift in return for using my shelter the night before. Did I receive thanks for bringing it with me? HA! I got punched for my troubles. Sam Bailey visited us to meet us for the first time, and took some of Jeff’s video batteries off to be charged - Sam would join up with us at Emita on Saturday morning.

Stones Green Ginger Wine seemed to be consumed in large quantities on this trip, as well as the odd drop of Port, and in a day or so we would be in Whitemark to restock. But tomorrow was a day of rest, just a gentle stroll up Strzelecki Peak (last year it took us about 8 hours return).

I chickened out of the walk up Strzelecki as I had a couple of repairs to do on the Longboat - and just as well too. I discovered a major fracture in the deck round the cockpit which had been letting in large amounts of water, necessitating pumping out every ten minutes or so. Also discovered the aluminium footrest was almost broken through, and was the cause of my difficult steering problems the last couple of days. The others were back in about six hours, with stories of Bob going up the track like a mountain goat ahead of everybody. It was a cool overcast day early on, with S to SE wind.

Late in the day old acquaintances Liz and Fred Koolhof and their family arrived to camp for a week, having come over on the ferry. Liz and I first sea toured together out to Three Hummock Island about 1982.

Early Thursday morning saw us scraping over sandy shallow waters on the way to Whitemark, barely able to sail in an E to NE wind. Much food and drink was bought in the Supermarket, and the Bakery; and the pub had a run on Stones Green Ginger. We visited the excellent gallery, made a few phone calls, and generally lazed about for a few hours.

We sailed all the way to Settlement Point, leaving quite a few bits of gel-coat behind on the sharp rocks as we rounded Long Point. This had everybody checking their hulls when we went ashore for a brief stop just around the corner.

Sam visited us again, on pushbike, as he lives up this way - and later on Sarah arrived with the Ranger, Steve, having flown to Flinders Island on the late afternoon flight. Bob and Sarah then started sorting out gear, as Sarah was basically taking over most of Bob’s gear. Bob had been offered the use of Sam’s car and was going to sight-see a bit of Flinders Island, and meet us again at Trousers Point on Sunday night.

The museum at Emita didn’t open till the middle of the day, so we had a late start - leaving time to walk over to the nearby historic chapel at Wybalena, or stroll along the beach. When we did leave we had a short sharp sail to the end of Settlement Point, then were faced with a very stiff headwind. We hugged the shore, resting in behind every point, and were soon landing at Allports Beach. This is close to the Emita museum, and is a camp ground of sorts. The plan was to visit the museum, and then paddle across to Prime Seal Island, leaving me to camp for the night - and paddle across with Sam in the morning. However, with an increasing wind, and rain, it wasn’t all that attractive to paddle again. I erected my fly to sit under while the rest visited the museum, and on their return they took part in a ‘weed identification’ field day that was being held at the beach. Sam was there, and told Jeff about a much better campsite on an old tennis court - about 50 metres away. This was an extremely pleasant find, just up the bank from the road - a flat sheltered area with a lot of firewood lying around. Jamie went for a dive and was amazed at the area, and swore he had to come back with proper scuba gear in the future, describing huge granite boulders resting on more granite boulders.

Jeff’s back was fairly sore - he does have trouble occasionally, and Phil gave it a massage, using the last of Sarah’s cooking oil.

Sam joined us in the rain the next morning, as we prepared for the downwind run across to Prime Seal. The wind had eased right off and we crossed easily under sail to Spit Point, then along the island shore to Peacock Bay. Here there is a house, a big shearing shed, and a few small out-buildings. Tents were quickly erected in the lee of the house, but I chose to camp in the shearing shed - where there were some artistic centrefolds stuck on the wall.

I carried out a repair on Sarah’s rudder, realising that it had a minor design problem and needed 1mm filing off the metal bracket on the stern of the kayak - it was cutting through one of the cords. Jamie also repaired his rudder where a couple of bolts had dropped out and disappeared.

Prime Seal Island reminded me of Erith Island in the Kent Group - very similar rolling hills and vegetation. We wandered across the island in various groups, having a look at the remains of the ‘G.W.Wolf’ - wrecked in August 1912. There were only a few scraps of rusting beams and panels left on the rocks - barely worth the walk over. However, Jamie and Phil went diving on the western side of the island and came back with abalone.

The girls checked out the shearing shed and located my private art gallery, and realised why I had been walking around with a smile on my face.

Sunday morning was a dead slog into the light headwind for 11km across to Chalky Island. I got away a bit earlier than the others and slowly tacked upwind just for fun - and was a couple of km on the way when they caught up. Closer to Chalky Island I noticed Jamie way ahead splashing the water with his paddle, and realised there must be dolphins about - even though I couldn’t see them from where I was. The front paddlers were turning north so I headed north as well, and soon found myself in the centre of a pod of about 30 or 40 dolphins, including young ones. I sailed along in the centre of the pod for quite a while - in the opposite direction to Chalky Island. Reluctantly I had to leave them and chase after the rest of the paddlers, who were now a fair way away - and arrived just behind them.

While they were having a morning tea break on the island I tacked off upwind again, getting all the way to Long Point before they caught up again. The easterly had freshened slightly, so it was still a case of punching across the bay towards Whitemark. This is a very shallow bay, and I saw one person get out to drag their kayak over a shallow patch. 22km (and 6 hours) from Prime Seal Island we eventually beached at the park a few hundred metres south of the town centre - where there is a decent bit of grass to lie around on, plus change rooms and a toilet block.

Being Sunday the bakery was closed, but the supermarket open, and the pub. We sat outside the pub eating pies and toasted ham and cheese sandwiches - and other ‘junk’ food. The pub had another run on ‘Stones’. Unbeknown to us, Bob had been driving up and down the island from Trousers Point to Settlement Point, trying to work out which route we had chosen in view of the headwind. He couldn’t believe that he had missed us. From Whitemark we hugged the shore all the way along to Trousers Point, and Jamie sailed part of the way sitting on the back deck of his Greenlander for a while. Later on we found out that Sam had had a capsize and exit on the way - but climbed back in without any problem.

Bob found us just before dark, and told us that some locals he had been talking to had told him that there was no way we’d get off Prime Seal Island today. He camped with us, as Sam was going to continue on with us to Lady Barron for half a day. We were anticipating a really fast paddle along to Lady Barron, as there was a SW change forecast overnight.

But the morning arrived, still with the very persistent easterlies that we had had for 6 days now. As we were going to follow the shoreline all the way round I went off for a fast paddle to beat the change of tide, arriving at Lady Barron at 11am, followed by Sam an hour later, with the rest not far behind him. I was able to borrow a file and modify Sarah’s rudder bracket, and repair the cord yet again. This time it stayed fixed for the rest of the trip. After an excellent counter meal at the tavern, Sam left us to go back to work, and Bob left to fly back to Launceston. Phil found out that the ferry people wanted him on the wharf no later than 10am the next day, but he decided to come across to Vansittart Island to camp with us for his last night. While I was sitting on the wharf I was talking to a man who had also left Little Musselroe Bay some weeks earlier. It was the owner of the red Falcon, and he had been stuck out here waiting for good weather to get back again - he had tried once and got a bit of a scare in big seas. He was in a 14’6” runabout, and I suggested this was a bit small to be coming to Flinders Island in. He had his family with him, and they were camped near the tennis court.

Going across to Vansittart Island I gave Sarah my big pink sail to try out, and used her smaller yellow one as my mizzen sail. The bigger sail certainly improved the speed of the Dean 16. It was a pleasant warm afternoon, and after putting up tents, Phil, Jamie, Sue, and Martin went off for a spot of fishing from their kayaks. We heard a few stories of nibbles, and the one that got away, but Phil came back with the only catch - a small flathead.

Jamie, Martin, and Sue raced off up Guncarriage Hill just on dark, to take in the magnificent view from this vantage point. Jamie ran down a Cape Barren Goose on the way up the hill, bringing it down with a rugby tackle. Sarah rose at 5 the next morning (Tuesday) to go up the hill for the view, before we left early to paddle out to the wreck of the Farsund.

We watched Phil paddle off into the distance on his way to get the ferry back to Tasmania proper - he had work commitments that couldn’t be put off. The forecast predicted a SE change later in the day and we did wonder if we might get down to Cape Barren (on the way to Sea Lion Narrows) before it came in. We paddled round the southern end of Vansittart Island and out through the very narrow channel to where the wreck of the Farsund loomed large in front of us. The tide was racing out, pushing us quickly into the breaking swells kicked up by days and days of easterly weather, and we drifted close to the wreck, deciding if it may be possible to scramble on board - which it wasn’t.

It was about 8.30am, and we were just sitting bobbing about in the swells when we noticed the SE change coming - and it came with a vengeance. Five minutes later and the sea around us started to churn as the wind came in like an avalanche. We headed back in along the shore towards the channel, but I was caught by a breaker side on and was washed up on the beach before I reached the channel. A couple of the others thought we were landing and came in alongside me as I was desperately trying to back off - still with a sail up.

As we got into the channel we found that half an hour had made an enormous difference - the tide racing out was now a torrent. Even with two sails up in the fresh change, and surfing down waves - we were still being swept backwards out to sea. It took some very hard paddling and sailing to claw our way past the two sandy points into quieter water. As Sue caught up she said “Martin is still out there”, and sure enough he was. He had both sails up and was still going backwards. I thought, “Hell, that’s my kayak he’s paddling, I’d better go out and standby to rescue it in case he capsizes” and went racing back out through the rip to meet him. I was going to get him to go along the shore out of the rip, where we could have got ashore and carried it over the spit, but he seemed to be handling the conditions OK. It was a matter of getting in close behind the southern point, then shooting out into the current and ferrygliding flat out to get into the bay. He said later on that he always feels safe in the Sea Leopard, because he knows I’ll be keeping an eye on it.

The stiff SE change had brought showers of rain with it, and it was obviously impossible to stick to our original plan to go down the eastern side of Cape Barren Island, so we headed for Neds Point - a top campsite we have used on past trips. Going up into several big bays we had some hard paddling into the wind, then could sail out of them to the next point - going faster and faster as the wind kept increasing.

Before Apple Orchard Point we noticed some old freezers down on the shore - always a sign of a good campsite, and headed in for a lunch stop. There was a big fire place out of the wind and it was only a matter of a few minutes before we had a roaring fire going in it, and were in dry clothes. It was so pleasant that after a bit of lunch most people drifted off to sleep for a few hours. We weren’t in a great hurry as we were waiting for the tide to change and start rising - there were some very shallow areas along this coast.

The wind was even stronger when we started again, making for a hard paddle across Deep Bay, but then it was all sailing to Neds Point. We had some incredibly exciting wild rides round every point, with the wind probably gusting to 40 knots. There was some wild wobbling in many of the kayaks, but we kept sailing for the sheer fun of it all. Neds Point arrived all too soon - it would have been a dream run out to Badger Island, or across to Trousers Point. But the sheltered site at Neds Point was very welcome, and we soon had another fire going in the fire place there. The old farm house has been burnt to the ground since our last visit many years ago - it had been an interesting place with the walls papered with very old newspapers. Jeff had to straighten his mast out, and Sue had to repair her sail where the boom had poked through the material. Jamie had to do the same repair a few days ago on his sail.

The long range forecast was for NE the next couple of days, then a fresh southerly change for two days, then light and variable on Sunday. It seemed like a good idea to get down to Preservation Island tomorrow, and nip back across Banks Strait on Thursday before the southerlies arrived. We had pretty well been everywhere we had planned to go, apart from Sea Lion Narrows, and the Farsund Channel more than made up for that.

Wednesday started off quietly enough, with barely enough wind to sail along the coast to the township of Cape Barren - where we arrived about 8.30am. This was well before the store opened, so we waited around, admiring the brand new community buildings over-looking the water. Jeff met an old friend from Bridport, there on government business with his wife. More pies were consumed when the store did open, then it was back to the kayaks. The wind was picking up again from the east, and once round Cape Sir John it was a real battle to get across the bay to Key Island. I went into Key Island Bay to land and listen to the forecast, and talk to a cormorant on the rocks that let me get within a one metre of him. I watched the others cross the bay on their way to Preservation Island.

I was soon chasing after them and saw them cross the channel from Looking Glass Point. The current was swirling through this narrow part of the channel, and the headwind made it a stiff paddle along the Preservation shore to the shack. I arrived minutes after them, and found that the shack was unoccupied and we were going to use it overnight. The previous owner didn’t mind visiting kayakers, yachties, and fishermen using it for overnight stays, and in fact there used to be a visitors book there which always made interesting reading.. The new consortium of owners aren’t all that keen to have people use it, but we are usually so careful to leave these places tidy that many owners of some of these remote shacks on the Bass Strait islands wouldn’t know we’d been there. Those that are locked we generally leave alone, as we had on Prime Seal Island.

It was a very pleasant night having real chairs to lounge in.

Thursday morning the forecast was still for NE, going southerly on Friday. A NE would have been great for a fast sail across Banks Strait, and we left on the outgoing tide to race across to Clarke Island and Rebecca Bay before tackling the strait. However, the wind was quite a fierce easterly, increasing all the time, and as we pulled into Spike Bay Jamie looked decidedly sick - paddling with the strength of a kitten. Jeff paddled over to one of the fishing boats sheltering in the bay to see if they knew of a good campsite hereabouts, and they told him the wind was now 25knots. There weren’t any great campsites but we went ashore in a tiny bay where there was a small ‘A’ frame hut back from the shore. It was sheltered from the wind and we changed into dry clothes for a long stay ashore - Banks Strait seemed out of the question today.

Jamie was rather amazing for the whole of the trip - always paddling in just a cotton singlet with a buoyancy vest over it, no matter what sort of day it was. I would have frozen to death on some days dressed like this, but it never worried him for a minute. On this day in view of the early start and cool breeze he had put a jacket on, but claimed that it made him far too hot, and the smell of the plastic was making him feel sick. He recovered very quickly.

I set off to walk across to Lookout Head with Sue, but it was further than I thought and she turned back halfway - it wasn’t pleasant walking through the spiky grass in sandals. I persevered and sat on my favourite hilltop above Rebecca Bay - a place I have sat for a couple of days at a time on previous trips. You get a glorious view across to Cape Portland and Swan Island, and Cape Barren Island looking the other way. I saw another person appear on the distant hilltop and waited for Martin to arrive before we walked down to the campsite, and the Rebecca Bay beach. Then we followed a 4WD track back inland, to return to Spike Bay. Three of the paddlers were practically asleep in the ‘A’ frame, but we soon took care of that - and listened to the long-range forecast given during the ABC Country Hour. It was still predicting a southerly change for about the middle of the day tomorrow, but with a short period of light and variable tonight before the change.

Jeff came back and decided we could paddle the short distance round to Rebecca Bay to camp. This was easy enough as it was only about 5km, even though the wind was still blowing, with light rain falling. But it was still reasonably warm as we carried our gear a couple of hundred metres up to the very sheltered campsite tucked away in the middle of thick scrub.

If we’d been going to cross Banks Strait we should have gone about 11am, and the next window of opportunity was about 5.30pm. About 4.30pm the wind started to ease up and the whitecaps disappeared, quite obviously the light and variable window was starting, and I suggested that we could probably sneak across the Strait, mainly in daylight. But nobody had eaten properly yet and it would have been a rush to get everything back in the kayaks after we had just set up camp - nobody was enthusiastic. I then suggested the next best time would be 11.30pm - a night paddle. It was nearly full moon, and although it was 100% overcast it would still be a light night. Not a great deal of enthusiasm for this idea either, although Jeff did agree to review the situation at 9.30pm and make a final decision. In view of the fresh southerly forecast tomorrow I thought it was a great idea, and if paddling across Banks Strait in daylight had been a buzz, how much more of a buzz would it have been to go home and say, “We paddled Banks Strait at Night.”

9.30pm came and the predicted decision not to paddle was given. I didn’t say a word, but thought we were missing a great opportunity, maybe a once in a lifetime opportunity. Sure, there were some very nervous paddlers about, but once we’d got on the water they would have been OK. I’d been sitting around in paddling gear already to go, and Jeff asked me what I was going to do. I said I was thinking of going for a paddle anyway, and he laughed and said he’d guessed that I was going to paddle across to Swan Island, and come back with the southerly. This was exactly what I had been thinking about, and at 11.30pm, long after everybody else had retired for the night I was standing on the beach wondering whether to go or not.

The problem was that if the southerly didn’t eventuate then I’d be in a spot, and Jeff would be one experienced paddler short for when he did decided to cross. I wasn’t prepared to leave him in the lurch no matter how much I may disagree with his decision, so reluctantly unpacked my gear and carried it up to the top of Lookout Hill to bivvy for the rest of the night. It was absolutely glorious up here, and it was so light that I didn’t even need a torch to find the 4WD track up. I dropped off to sleep with the Swan Island Light blinking away - seemingly just below me.

Sue and Jeff wandered up to the top of the hill the next morning, and Jeff decided that we would leave about 11am. The mornings forecast has been for a strong wind warning for our area - a SE, plus thunder and lightning. We actually left just before 12 noon, on a blazing hot day with a very very light SE, allowing us all to put sails up. I gave Sarah my breakdown paddle which is a fairly normal length for sea canoeing - she had been using Bob’s which was a river paddle, and a short one at that. I tied Bob’s paddle along my front deck.

Jeff was allowing for the tide to sweep us down to Swan Island just as the tide would change, and then across to Little Musselroe as the tide turned. We set off at a good pace, and shortly after leaving the shore, Swan Island disappeared from view in low cloud. We carried on on a S compass bearing, any minute expecting the Lighthouse to loom into view slightly on our right. Two and a half hours later we were still heading south and I was thinking we should be changing course slightly, as we would now be starting to paddle against the current. There was a lump of land a fair way in front of us which may or may not have been Swan Island, and we could plainly see the shoreline of Cape Portland across to our right. Then Sarah asked me where we were heading for, and I replied we were following Jeff, and the land up ahead may be Swan Island. “Then what’s that lighthouse behind us?” she said. I turned around and sure enough, large as life, there was Swan Island Lighthouse. We had passed it in the fog and nobody had looked back over their shoulders to see it. We hadn’t missed it by much actually, maybe a couple of km, but were now well past it. I turned around and put my sail back up and yelled at Jeff who was still in the front of the group. He turned around and came back and said “What’s the problem,” I just quietly pointed to the lighthouse. “Impossible” he said, “we couldn’t possibly have passed it in the time.”

But when you consider we had been paddling probably 7km per hour, plus the tide had been taking us along at possibly 4km per hour, in two and a half hours we could have gone a total distance of over 25km. The land we had been aiming at was more than likely Musselroe Point, off Big Musselroe Bay. At least the tide was now going to take us back in the required direction, and it was just as well that Sarah spotted the lighthouse when she did, because shortly after it disappeared into the fog again.

Then out of the south appeared an ugly black storm cloud, and the sky started to rumble with thunder, and light up with flashes. And down came the rain in buckets and buckets, but only briefly. No wind came, and in fact it was so light that towards the end we took the sails down and just paddled. I reckon it must have been a 9 or 10km paddle back to Little Musselroe Bay. There was only about a 1 metre gap at the entrance to the bay to try and get through, and most people had to get out and drag their kayaks over the sand bar, and then paddle up to the boat ramp - where Bob was there to meet us in the rain. He had very thoughtfully brought fresh fruit and drinks for the lot of us - thanks Bob.

We heard from a local that the red Falcon man had only barely got in by the skin of his teeth the day we were out at the Farsund. He arrived at Little Musselroe just seconds before the SE struck - a few minutes later and he may not have made it at all.

It was back to Jeff’s at Bridport to collect a bit of gear, a quick bite of fish and chips, then off on a three and a half hour drive home - where I had to wait till after midnight for a hot shower as Cec and I switch the hot water off if we are away for any length of time. Naturally I used the waiting time to check out my Email, and found one from a bloke paddling from Strahan to Cockle Creek via Port Davey, and another one from a bloke who has just completed a solo crossing of Bass Strait.

And so ended another terrific trip to the Flinders Island area, all the better for more paddlers than we normally get on a trip - they were a great bunch.