Peter Treseder is a well-known Australian outdoor adventurer, renowned for his solo endurance “tiger” walks. He has been given the OAM and AM, for fundraising and services to bushwalking. With author Martin Long, he recounts his exploits in the book: “Treseder, Man of Adventure” New Holland Publishers, 1999.
But in March 2001, the magazine Inside Sport published an article doubting several of Treseder’s  claims, in particular a rescue in Claustral Canyon in the Blue Mountains, and a run from Barrington Tops to Walhalla.
After hearing of these doubts, I read the book. Several sea kayaking trips are mentioned:-

1. Cairns to Lizard Island and return, May 1977, (page 62)
“… launching his standard fiberglass kayak into the ocean from the Esplanade in Cairns… 250 kilometre route would take him up the coast… and across the ocean to Lizard Island… at the time, no-one was attempting these sorts of trips in canoes – and sea kayaks, as we know them now, were not even heard of….started early, before daybreak, and continued until just before dusk…big tides and shallow beaches…camped each night, … camped on Lizard Island, then turned round and paddled all the way back. It was a 500 kilometre round trip, which he completed in about four days.”

Some might be surprised to learn that sea kayaks were not heard of in 1977.  Paul Caffyn, for example, who has paddled a Nordkapp since 1977. In “The Dreamtime Voyage”, (Kayak Dundee Press, 1994) Caffyn records his own passage in these waters, in March/April 1982. Caffyn, at the height of his powers, and that’s saying a lot, took four paddling days in a Nordkapp with deep draught rudder fitted, to travel from Cairns to Cape Flattery. That’s less than half the round trip distance Treseder claims he paddled in a “standard kayak”, whatever that might be. So Treseder claims to have traveled quite a bit quicker than Caffyn, more than twice as quick.

Five hundred kilometers in four days, is 125 km per day average, or 69.44 nautical miles.  Paul Caffyn managed 24 separate days on which he paddled over fifty miles during his Australian circumnavigation. He only paddled more than 69 miles on three occasions, on overnight efforts when passing long cliff sections. Otherwise, he never paddled as far as sixty-nine miles. He certainly didn’t log four days in a row averaging 69 miles. OK, Treseder just might be that much better than Paul Caffyn, but I don’t believe it.

2. Maria Island circumnavigation January 1980 (page 74)
“…took a kayak from the town of Orford on the mainland and kayaked around Maria Island off the east coast of Tasmania, also going ashore to climb Mount Maria. It was probably the first time the island was circumnavigated, Peter says, but it was no big deal in comparison with my previous kayak trips. I just picked up a kayak down there, similar to the type I had used before. Sea kayaks were still not around at that time…”

This last comment must be news to certain Tasmanians. Laurie Ford, for example, who now lives at Orford, and who has extensive knowledge of sea kayaking in Tasmania over a long period. To quote from Ford: “…we have regularly taken beginners across to Maria Island over the past 20 odd years” (from a trip report of a Boxing Day, 2000 circumnavigation).
Maria Island was circumnavigated by a group of four Tasmanian paddlers in North Sea Tourers and a Dean 16 in November 1979, a fact published on Laurie Ford’s website and freely available.

At page 266, Treseder’s book records his trip as taking 1.5 days. From Ford again; “From Orford to Orford, round the outside of Maria Island was about 76 km,…”.

Matthew Watton recently went round Maria Island in a Greenlander in 10 hours, after Laurie Ford himself had attempted, but missed, a one day circumnavigation. Before this, Watton had completed a Murray Marathon, Bass Strait crossing, and a ten day trip to Flinders Island.

So Treseder says that he paddled 76 km in 1.5 days, took time out to climb Mount Maria, but took just half a day more than Watton’s quick trip, in something that wasn’t a sea kayak, borrowed in Orford (from whom?) twenty-one years ago. Hmmm…

3. Bass Strait double crossing January 1992 (Chapter 14 “Conquering Bass Strait”)
Before and during the Australia Day weekend in January 1992, Treseder claims a solo double crossing from Tidal River to Cape Portland and return in a borrowed Greenlander II. He takes 38 hours going across, and is back in time for work after the weekend. He starts paddling on Thursday 23rd January, goes direct to the north of Flinders Island, then on to Cape Portland. He has an overnight sleep, gets up and paddles to Flinders Island, rests, then back to Tidal River, and drives back to Sydney.
I have a few queries:

“I spoke to Larry Grey [sic] at length on the phone and others in the sea kayak club in Sydney about how they had done it.”
Larry Gray remembers Treseder making inquiries about that time, and that Treseder didn’t seem very experienced. Larry was not about to recommend the non-stop crossing of Bass Strait which Treseder proposed. Treseder revealed he couldn’t roll his boat. Larry thought he might possibly make it if weather conditions were ideal, but otherwise he might be a fatality bringing the sport of sea kayaking into disrepute. Treseder, of course, reports that weather conditions were in fact very good.

“…the weather as Peter started out was very good – and it held all the way to Tasmania and almost all the way back again.”
Well, the Bureau of Meteorology records show that at 6.00 am on that Thursday, the 23rd January 1992, the Wilson’s Promontory lighthouse recorded a westerly wind of 27 knots, and at 9.00 am, 29 knots. The lighthouse is 88.7 metres above sea level, and the wind at sea level might be less, but even so, it was windy.

It is not stated in the book what time and day he returns to Tidal River, but piecing it together he starts the return journey at Cape Portland pre-dawn on Saturday 25th January, rests on Flinders Island, for “a couple of hours”, then paddles without landing back to Tidal River. Presumably the return paddle from Flinders Island to Tidal River takes at least the outbound time of 25 hours. So he would be paddling near the Prom at the earliest Sunday 26th night and into Monday 27th morning.

“…Then he headed straight back to Tidal River as the weather had begun to deteriorate badly. His final 6 or 7 hours through the night were a real struggle. The next day brought storm conditions so his luck had just held.”

At 0300 on 27th January 1992, the lighthouse recorded a 24 knot W wind, at 0600 37 knots WSW, at 0900 28 knots W. This day did not bring storm conditions, according to the Bureau, although the wind got to 33 knots at the Prom lighthouse at 1500.  Not all that much different to the wind prevailing when he set out. There was no storm then. The following day, the 28th January, brought winds of up to 45 knots, and rough seas. By then, presumably, the tiger had reported for work back at the bank in Sydney. The weather pattern, as judged by these records, does not really fit Treseder’s description of the conditions.

“Peter paddled all the first day and that night non stop. Still feeling strong after reaching the northern tip of Flinders Island in 25 hours, he paddled on to Cape Portland, completing the 230-kilometre journey in 38 hours. He had to get to Tasmania before it got dark. The last four or five hours were a desperate struggle to get across and Peter just made it by nightfall.”
So, he leaves Tidal River Thursday morning at 7.00 am. He arrives at north Flinders at 8.00 am Friday 24th January. Then 13 hours more to Cape Portland, therefore arriving at 9.00 pm.

“…the 230 kilometre journey”. If Peter says he paddled as straight as possible from Tidal River to northern Flinders Island, then same again to Cape Portland, the distance is more like a total of 258 kilometres. So for the outward journey, he travels:
Tidal River to Flinders Island, 159 kms, in 25 hours, or 6.36 km per hour, and Flinders Island to Cape Portland, 99 kms in 13 hours, or 7.61 km per hour. He speeds up on the second leg? After already paddling non-stop for over a day? Well done, mate.
The total distance of 230 kilometres as he says, or 258 kilometres, as I reckon, is done non-stop in 38 hours. This is an outstanding effort by any standards. Outstanding by the standards set, again for example, by Paul Caffyn whose best overnight effort round Australia was 112 nautical miles, or 207 kms. Caffyn paddled over 100 nm on three occasions. He certainly didn’t repeat these grueling efforts on the next day, rather “on each occasion I needed two solid days rest to recover”.

Treseder’s claim is also outstanding by the standards set by Laurie Ford, with the use of sail, on his crossings. So again, Treseder comes out of nowhere and far outdoes the most accomplished sea kayakers! Really?

Here’s a little touch of detail for you: “There were no incidents during the trip except for a big fright when a whale surfaced right beside him. ‘This huge great thing came up beside me like a Russian submarine’, Peter recalls, ‘and swam along with me for an hour or so’” How lucky he was to see a whale in Bass Strait in mid-summer! The commonest large whales to be seen in our waters, the Southern Right and the Humpback, usually feed in Antarctica in summer, and return to Australian waters to breed in winter, although they are still occasionally seen in Australian waters in summer.

“…he had to get to Tasmania before dark.” Eh? Why is that? He had just paddled a full overnight, and had memorized all the lighthouse flash patterns.

Another detail: “…persuaded Peter to take an EPIRB…a positioning device you attach to your wrist and flick on if you need rescuing. ‘Dick Branson lent it to me…”. This is a strange description of an EPIRB design. Anyone know of an EPIRB you attach to your wrist? If there is one, it must be pretty uncomfortable to keep there on a long paddle.

And again: “…In 1980, the colourful character Laurie Ford, had arrived in style on the mainland to preside over the first sea instructor kayak course, having paddled from Tasmania. Several of the trainees then paddled back with him after the course.” Well, Laurie has described a solo double crossing in February 1982, not 1980, and nobody returned with him.

4. Broken Bay to Newcastle early 1993 (page 170)
Here’s a combination trip with a difference: Treseder paddles the Hawkesbury - Nepean River to Broken Bay, then on to Newcastle, where he buries his kayak in the sand and rides off to the Warrumbungles, on a bike he had lashed to the deck of his boat! How versatile. Show me how you fit a bicycle to the deck of a sea kayak, Peter, this would really come in handy to avoid car shuffles.

5. North-South Traverse of New Zealand late January 1994 (page 187)
This claim includes use of a kayak to carry out a North to South crossing of the Cook Strait, and a return crossing of Foveaux Strait, which separates the South Island of NZ from Stewart Island. The return crossing of Foveaux Strait gets pretty far fetched.
“Flying into Auckland … bought a second hand canoe…” Good start. He just lobs up and finds a second-hand boat suitable for a crossing of both the Cook and Foveaux Straits?

Having completed the trip, Treseder “felt the urgency of needing to get back to Sydney and work as my leave had expired”. So what does he do, catch the daily ferry back across Foveaux Strait? No, he decides to paddle back. How could he expect that to be faster? “Unfortunately, the ferry timetable was not very accommodating and it looked as if Peter would miss the plane back to Sydney. So he decided to paddle back across Foveaux Strait.” Yeah, right.
The next part of this story is worth quoting at length:

“The support crew were due to meet him from the ferry at The Bluff and were certainly not expecting him to canoe back.  As the trip progressed, however, the seas got bigger. The swell became impossible to paddle and eventually Peter was thrown out of the kayak. He couldn’t get back in – the swell was just too big and the boat was swamped.”
Well, this is interesting. Earlier in the book he says he could do an Eskimo roll. Why not do one now? Why not try every other possible self-rescue?

“At this point Peter was a long way from land and had to make a difficult decision. ‘I had to work out what to do to improve my chance of survival,’ he says. ‘Whether to stay with the canoe and drift wherever it took me on the chance that I might be rescued – or swim for shore.’ By now no-one knew exactly where Peter was – only that he was supposed to be returning on the ferry.”
“With no life jacket, Peter swam about 10 kilometres to shore in huge seas. He could see Bluff every time he reached to peak of a wave, then lost it again in the troughs. ‘I was pretty desperate,’….

Now, really! Foveaux Strait has a water temperature of 12° C or less, according to my internet sea surface temperature research. Just try swimming 10 kilometres in huge seas in water that cold. The strait also has significant tidal streams. The NZ Pilot advises an ebb stream of 5 to 6 knots, and a flood stream of 3 to 4 knots eastwards of Stirling Point, and heavy tide rips off Stirling Point. Paul Caffyn recalls that he had:- “a hellofa battle paddling into Bluff Harbour, against the ebb tide… during our 1979 crossing of the Strait, we launched…. well to the west of the Bluff harbour entrance to avoid the strength and ferocity of the tidal streams off Stirling Point… it is bad enough dealing with the tidal stream movement in a 3.5 – 4 knot kayak, let alone try and swim 10 km at < 0.5 knots.”

I am confident in saying this swim didn’t happen. And why doesn’t this search and rescue expert have a buoyancy vest? Or signaling or communication equipment? Or the EPIRB he borrowed from Dick Branson for the Bass Strait effort?
“After several hours he dragged himself up onto a wharf at Bluff and made his way to the ferry terminal, cold wet and physically exhaused [sic].”
“’The guys in my support crew were pretty cut up because I didn’t bring the kayak back!”  Sure, mate. If you’d just dragged yourself in half dead and probably needing intensive care for hypothermia, I’m sure your team were giving the loss of the second hand canoe top priority. Give me a name for one of these team members, I’d like to speak to him.  Why didn’t this remarkable swim make the news?

6. Timor Sea double crossing, Darwin to near Timor and return
You might think that after claiming the Foveaux Strait swim, nothing sillier could be invented. Wrong. Treseder says that in July 1994, he left Darwin harbour, paddled for about a week almost non-stop for 600 kilometres to reach a point 5 kilometres off the East Timor coast. There, “…the water exploded in front of my canoe, sending the sea snakes and sharks which had been my companions for some hours, flying into the air.’”

The cause turns out to be a shot from a small cannon mounted on the prow of a pirate vessel. The pirates take him on board and bind his hands behind his back. But he escapes and recovers his boat. The pirates, not unreasonably, assume he would head for Timor, and search in that direction. Although his rudder has been removed by the pirates, and with little water, he paddles back to Australia, where he is rescued by fishermen near Bathurst Island. This is after 6 days battling into south- easterlies without being able to use his sleeping technique of inflating a raft beside the kayak, covering the 600 km return trip after being bashed by pirates. But he tells no-one of his encounter with the pirates for some time, not even his wife, until he decides to use it in an Australian Geographic presentation. Hmmm…

Read the book and make up your own mind as to the truth of these and other claims. I can’t accept them. I am supported in this opinion by several other ludicrous claims, including a solo ascent of the Caroline Face of Mt Cook, using only one ice axe (double axe technique is definitely needed there), and a supposed Grand Traverse of the summit ridge of Mt Cook, wearing running shoes with wooden cutouts beneath them to support his crampons. Having done a little climbing in New Zealand, including the East Ridge of Cook finishing along the Grand Traverse to the High Peak, I am very confident that running shoes don’t cut it there.

The intriguing question is why these dubious trips have been claimed. Peter Treseder has notched up some impressive verifiable trips, for which he deserves full recognition, including a three-man sledge haul to the South Pole. I keep hoping I can find some means of explaining the bogus claims, but I am at a loss. In the absence of any further information confirming the sea kayak trips listed above, I think we should regard them as fantasies. Strike Treseder off the Bass Strait record.

Peter Treby.