Kayak Trip to the Whitsunday Islands

Kayak Trip to the Whitsunday Islands

I liked the Queensland Sea Kayak Clubs facebook page.  This is how I first heard of the trip.  It was later advertised on the Queensland Canoeing web site.  I made enquiries by email and said I was a definite starter.  After this I realised that the trip went two days into the school semester; after saying I would not go unless I could come home early, the university had not found me a place for my practical teaching in the course I was doing, so after this confusing start, I went on the trip full term.  I was terribly worried a few days before the trip started: would I be able to keep up, what are they going to say about my home-built wooden kayak, I did not have a rudder therefore will the boat be able to keep the same direction as others, ten days is the longest I have ever gone on a camping trip away from civilisation, I do not have a change of clothes for every day.  These things all troubled me.  When I drove to the meeting place at an Airlie Beach caravan park they did not really mind my kayak.  The guide, John, had no idea of anything about me and had not seen me before, and wanted a private chat.  I was a little worried about this, which must have shown on my face, because John gave me a man-hug and said ‘welcome buddy’.  He basically wanted to know about my level of paddling and if I had anything medical he needed to know about.  My paddling skill was something he needed to know about because the first day was the worst seas I have ever been in paddling a kayak.  Firstly, we caught a fast barge, the ‘Scamper’, to Henning Island – South West of Whitsunday Island.  We then paddled around the Southern part of the Island until we reached Whitehaven Beach.  There were some waves I was sure my kayak was pointing straight to the sky when I hit them head-on!  I did not need to worry about my kayak: it handled very well and kept the same direction as the other kayaks despite my lacking a rudder.   The pace was incredibly slow.  I did not realise what was happening behind me: some of our kayakers were sea-sick and having trouble paddling.  I think one of them had to be towed the last part.  After a few hours, negotiating some very bad seas, we finally all made it to Whitehaven Beach – and what a wonderful site it was.  One of the kayakers, Alex, reached the beach and lied face down at the water edge.  I did not know he was sea-sick at the time and slapped him on the bottom when running past him to help lift a kayak out of the water.  With all the kayaks up I wasted no time and pitched my tent and inflated my air mattress.  Others were a little slow at doing this and the rain caught them.  I kept to myself and was reading my novel laying on my bed while it was raining.  I went for a walk around the camp sites after the rain had stopped and saw Jon.  He had said that he would pitch next to me in the prime beach-front real-estate where I put my tent.  I had to tell several of our group that they could not pitch next to me because Jon had that spot.  Jon wanted to be with his friend Graham whom he had car-travelled with from Brisbane region. 

Graham, Tony, Me, Wayne, John (tour guide), Martin, Pierre, Sergey, Caitlin (standing), my tent in picture.

The next day we went in our kayaks for a short paddle to a snorkelling site.  It was off Chalkies beach.  We first paddled all the way up to the north-eastern tip of the neighbouring island. Nicolson Island, and found the first spot unsuitable for snorkelling.  We then made our way to Chalkies beach which was about mid part of the North face of Nicolson Island.  The snorkelling here was reasonably nice considering where we were and that it was not really at the Barrier Reef proper.  There were (what I call) soft corals and very few reef fish.  Wayne and I stuck together (buddied up) while snorkelling and we stuck up a friendship on the trip.  On the way back to Whitehaven Beach in the kayaks some strange looking currents were evident on the water surface.  Graham paddled right into one of the affected areas and deliberately rolled, although I did not actually see the roll.  We ferry-glided across the North end of the passage, between the islands, and found that the current was causing an eddy at the end of the passage-way between the islands -- against Whitsunday Island.  We had to reverse our ferry glide direction to compensate; sounds confusing but the way the water currents were going it was equally confusing in real life.  I did not wear a spray skirt on this trip and was a little worried what the others may think of it.  I hardly ever wear a spray skirt when on my own.  We were supposed to also go on a hike that day but spent too long snorkelling to be able to do so.  Wayne, Jon, and I went on a short walk to the lookout (Slopers Lookout?).  Jon continued on with the bush-walk all of us were to take, which I thought foolhardy because the short time left until sunset.  Jon managed the trip, however, and was back in camp just at the end of twilight; he said he jogged most of the way.

View from lookout near campsites.  I think it is called Soles lookout.  View accross Whitsunday Island to Nicolson Island.

Well, that night, I am not too sure what happened to me.  I was having a few casual wines with everyone at my tent, because my site had a table and was beachfront, when a lady who had befriended our group came over.  I thought I was doing alright with this lady and had a few more wines.  I became so drunk that I fell over my tent and could barely stand up.  Jon looked after me and I woke up in my tent early in the morning sober.  I noticed that over a litre of my wine supply was gone and I must have consumed this in a short time.  John, the tour guide, spoke to me a little seriously and said he hoped that I would not repeat that behaviour as I fell on the tent and apparently flattened it.  The tent survived the treatment okay but John was worried I would break gear so early in the trip.  Wayne came down to the water front and said out loud ‘was it your birthday last night’.  Wayne was full of these jokes and in some way defended me on the trip.  When Martin said did I have a wind-cheater and I said no, Wayne said ‘he is like Sponge Bob and Square Pants – he’s got a garbage bag with some arm holes in it’.  Funnily enough, I did have a couple of plastic garbage bags that I could put to the task.  I had no idea I would need a wind-cheater and survived the trip quite happily without one.  I had a conversation to John, the tour-guide, about my nervousness regard not having a change of clothes every day.  He said ‘neither do I’.  Wayne again chipped in with a one liner: ‘Didn’t you read the notes? There is a change of jocks on Thursday!’;  So ended most of the worries I had about the trip.  I needed now to regulate my food and water to ensure they lasted.  We only spent two nights on Whitehaven Beach as it is a very popular spot and John, the tour guide, could only get bookings for two days.  We broke camp at Whitehaven Beach and paddled toward our second camp site, Cairn Beach, via Hill Inlet.

Hill Inlet is a very picturesque area.  We paddled down the inlet as far as we could with the low tide, this was not very far compared to the length of the inlet.  We came back to the mouth and intended to go on the walk up to the lookout.  I was terribly worried about my kayak because the tide was coming in and I could not beach it where we were: the whole area was going to go under in the high tide.   There was a large tree stump on the sand bar and, not being too fussy about my kayaks hull, I dragged it, loaded, over the sand to the stump and tied it off.  The others with plastic boats did the same.  Those with fiberglass boats were not game to do it in case they abraded their hulls, and did not come on the walk; at least I don’t think so as Graham had volunteered to stay with the boats.  The view from the lookout was fantastic and here is a photo of it taken off a video (therefore low quality photo).  I was right about the tide and our boats were floating when we made our way back to them.  Hill inlet had sting rays in it and we noticed a few of them when paddling away in the shallow water.

Me at Hill Lookout .  This is the entrance to Hill Inlet.

The remainder of our paddle that day was to get to Cairn Beach.  We paddled all the way up the Western side of the island, past a few of the extruding points on Whitsunday Island.  It was somewhere on this second part of the paddle, around Apostle Bay,  off Whitsunday Island, that we saw a whale breach right amongst the kayaks.  The others said it was a Minke Whale; it was black and had a bent-over dorsal fin.  I have never experienced anything like this before.  It was closer to other kayaks than mine and those closest to it must have been worried it would tip them out.  Sergey, the Russian, made a very loud noise when it first breached as I think it did it twice amongst us – we were spread over a long distance, say one hundred meters.  Before its breaching amongst us, we could see it blowing in the distance.  When near the end of our paddle we had a narrow passage to pass through between the Islands.  It was perhaps a few hundred meters wide but the tide rushed through it.  We timed the voyage so that we would get to the passage at ebb-tide; in this way the flow would be minimal.  After safely navigating the passage it was a job to find the camp sites: which we successfully did.  The beach had a few head-sized boulders around the waterline and was rocky in the tidal zone at low tide.  Wayne, Tony, and I shared an alcove of a campsite; the others went into the other alcoves.

It was in this campsite that I discovered what an artist Graham was.  Graham was a quiet man but a very good kayaker (as previously mentioned, he deliberately rolled in a current).  He shows his difference to other paddlers by having an Aleutian paddle he made himself out of a piece of wood.  Although a thin paddle, Graham has no trouble keeping up with the group.  When we went on the Cairn walk, which I will talk about shortly, Graham stayed at the campsite and used a felt-pen to do some art-work on some turtle shell-bones he found on the beach – it was very nice.  A cuttle-fish bone was also found and Graham carved a nude lady in the soft part of the bone and the result was very beautiful.  Of course, strictly speaking, we are not allowed to interfere with anything in the National Park, but I am sure the Rangers would not be concerned. 

We walked from the campsite up the Cairn Lookout trail.  This was steep in places and was, until then, the longest two and a half kilometres I had done.  It must have been two and a half as the crow flies because the ground distance was certainly longer.  The Cairn was a very beautiful stone and the view from the lookout was also very nice.  John had a Grass Tree fruiting body and kidded around it was a spear.  Martin fed me while we were up there as I thought the trip would be short and we would be back before lunch. 

The Cairn, Whitsunday Island.

 As I remember, we were at the Cairn Beach campsite for two nights and then headed for Maureen’s Cove, Hook Island.  We had to break camp and be ready to paddle at a certain time.  I think it was about 9:30 A.M., a gentlemanly hour, so we could get the ebb tide back through the passage.  The wind on this day was about twenty knots and although the tour guide made sure we had the best conditions regarding the tide, the current and wind caused reflected waves off of Hook Island.  I must admit I did not enjoy these confused seas very much.   The whistle blew meaning for us to maintain our positions and the cause was that Alex had capsized.  We got going again and the lead man of our pod of kayaks, Jon, was heading out to seaward of the next point, the Pinnacles; he was doing this to distance the group from the reflected waves off this point; I also headed seaward. A wave actually broke over the top of my kayak – I leaned into the wave and had my paddle ready to brace.  Soon afterward, my spray skirt came loose and the others were very concerned about this.  The whistle had sounded a second time and the cause was that Alex had capsized again.  I put my paddle down on the water and tried to fix my spray-skirt.  The paddle (as I was aware from other occasions I have done this) was becoming a sea anchor and I was worried it would go under the kayak and cause the paddle-leash to tip me out.  I picked up the paddle without fixing the skirt and was again ready to brace if needed – this seemed more important to me that getting some water in my cockpit.  Graham, a very good paddler, came over to me and offered to raft-up so that I could fix the spray-skirt.  I declined somewhat grumpily and said I just wanted to get out of this shit.  Some of us had continued on past the near-by pinnacles while Alex was being rescued and so I continued to paddle with Graham.  We successfully navigated around the Pinnacles where it was protected from the wind and waves.  Graham, the hero of the day, went back into the rough seas and helped with the rescue.  What happened in the rescue is hearsay to me, but Alex had trouble getting back into the kayak; he mounted the rear deck of his kayak while rafted up with Graham and was towed around the Pinnacles by John (the tour guide) and Martin.  We were programed to take a break at this point but we spent too much time navigating the stretch of water and had to be at Maureen’s Cove in time for the barge at 3:30 P.M.; the area had shallow reefs which also detracted us from landing.  The barge, the “Scamper”, was doing a water-drop for us and we needed to meet it when it beached at Maureen’s Cove.  Heather, one of our group, was also going back to the mainland, with her kayak, on the Scamper.  We continued on and made Maureen’s Cove in plenty of time.

The Pinnacles, Alex's boat being T drained.

After a year out West Queensland, I got a job in Rockhampton, Queensland; only slightly inland from the coast.  The Fitzroy River flows through Rockhampton and you are able to paddle on it for days without finding the end, the Fitzroy basin is the second largest in Australia.  I have mostly paddled the Fitzroy from around the Barrage (the dam) to the ‘pumping station’ (5 Kilometres), where they pump the water for Rockhampton and surrounds; and once a bit further up, but not far. 

The Fitzroy where I launch; I also row

The Fitzroy has Crocodiles in it above and below the barrage.  On one of my first days paddling below the barrage, in the town reach of the river, some small shark like fins were bobbing up and down only metres from my kayak; they followed me (close) for some time.  At first I thought they were sharks, the water was not clear enough to identify them, but I can only think they were possibly dolphins.  They did not take a breath if they were.  Further down the river, at the Tey’s meatworks boat ramp, there is an old barge tied up against the wharf.  It has the old style rivets holding the hull together; I estimate that this barge would be over one hundred years old and is definitely a sight to be seen.  This far down the river is completely undeveloped with only other boats as a sign of life.  I was later told that this is a dangerous boat ramp because of the Crocodiles, however, I have never heard of anyone being taken.   

	*Don't Slam Your Paddle Down --- You Have To Get Home Somehow!*

On another day I was in a bad mood and needed to do something outdoors, so a paddle on the Fitzroy was in order.  I was above the barrage and near the turn-around point, at the pumping station.   I went for a sprint and finished by slamming my paddle down in front of me – I was so pumped after the sprint; unfortunately I put a small dint in the shaft of the paddle; pretty soon, when paddling home, the dint turned into a kink and I could not use the paddle anymore; somehow, I managed to tear the fibre-glass shaft in two at the kink and paddled home with one end of the paddle.  I ordered a new paddle and a joiner for the old paddle; eventually I put the joiner in the old paddle and it is now useful again.  

I spent a Christmas lodging with my father and step-mother in Brisbane some years ago around the time of my move to Rockhampton (exact dates lost to memory but around summer 2003).  One particular day it was very windy, at least 20 knots, and I decided to go for a paddle around Peel Island, about 7kilometers off Cleveland (Wellington Point).  The trip out was windy but uneventful the wind mostly side-on to the direction of travel.  I decided to land on the beach of Peel Island.  Waves were breaking and I easily landed.  After 20 minutes or so I decided to leave.  I was unable to launch into the frequent waves breaking on the beach.  I know the platitude methods of launching on a beach :– get into the kayak on the beach where the water from the waves is breaking and walk the kayak out on your hands into a floating situation then paddle like hec  -- unfortunately this only works when the waves are not too frequently pounding the beach.  I tried everything to launch and eventually, after about 45 minutes, got off the beach and started paddling home.  The sea on the way home was, by now, tremendous: about two metre lines of swell-waves with a ten metre frequency and white capped.  Luckily the waves were coming about fifty degrees off my bow and were easily rideable by the kayak.  I held on to the paddle and forward-stoked the way back to Cleveland although I pointed the kayak about 20 degrees from my direction-of-travel into the wind to compensate for drift.  I was now about two hours past the time I said to my father I would be back.  When I eventually made it to the boat ramp I noticed my father had made the journey to Cleveland and saw me.  He reckoned he got a sickening felling when he saw my car at the boat-ramp and no sign of me.  He looked out in the distance with binoculars and could just make-out someone paddling when I was on the crest of the waves.  Dad said he nearly phoned the Coast Guard to start a rescue of me, he was that worried; it is one of the rare occasions he criticized me by jokingly calling me a crazy bastard.  I was very tired phyically from the days paddle Dad and Step Mother said, 'you must be very tired' to which I answered, 'no, it was just another paddle'.  That night Dad and I sat up watching TV; it took all self control I could muster not to fall asleep to prove to Dad that the days event was not a physical challenge.  Another story to put in my mis-adventures.  

I recently, 4 May 2015, did a trip to the Keppel Bay Islands of Miall Island and Humpy Island.  There is no outstanding adventure story to this trip.  I had a bit of trouble deciding which Island was Miall  -- I had to pull out the map/chart to finally decide and head in the right direction.  Miall Island is small about one nautical mile perimeter and has a small (40 metre) beach.  You are unable to explore the island by land because it is low bush (heath land) with no walking paths.  After a night on Miall I headed to Humpy Island.  It was a few nautical miles to the south of Miall.  Humpy is a beautiful Island both from the sea and on the land.  It has a walking track leading along the ridges of the hills on the island revealing many 'lookout' areas.  After spending a night on Humpy Island I left to return to Keppel Bay Marina.  The seas out near the island were mountainous.   About two-and-a-half metre waves with white-caps; the wind was blowing about 18 knots.  I did not realize this when I pushed-off the beach as it was in the lee of the island.  I was so tired from the previous two days paddling that I could not sit-up in the kayak properly.  The waves were not head-on and the kayak rode them without difficulty.  The problem was that I needed to be heading toward the marina and I could not point the kayak in that direction due to the waves; I was heading towards Ritamada point about two nautical miles to the south of where I was going.  The wind and waves calmed down a lot when I got further in-shore as the wind was blowing over the land and the tide had turned.  Someone at the boat ramp asked if I needed a lift with the kayak and I gladly accepted -- I was very fatigued.  I did the trip alone and have been told by several people, kayakers and lay-persons, that this was not good for safety reasons; however, I did put a trip report in with the Coast Guard.  Another adventure over.  Enjoy the photographs.  A video is coming when I visit more of the islands in the near future.  David.

Humpy Island from the sea, can you see the cat.

Me on Humpy Island

Humpy Island

Looking at Great Keppel Island from Humpy

Humpy at sunset

Humpy Island

Humpy Island

Drag marks Miall Island

Just landed Miall Island

Miall Island

Campsite Miall Island

Sunset Miall Island

Miall Island

I finished my university degrees and started a job in Western Queensland, away from the coast.  I took my kayak with me.  The only place local to the town I was in, Barcaldine, was a very small stretch of the Alice River where a weir had been built.  The stretch of water was only a couple of hundred meters long and I only paddled it a few times.  This river, the Alice, is seasonal, so only runs when it is raining an extended time and when it runs you would have to be the best-ever white water paddler to try it; it is like those Olympic slalom courses.  The nearest stretch of river of a decent length was at Longreach, a one hour drive; it, too, was only a dammed (Weir or barrage) section of the Thompson River about three or four kilometres long.  On one occasion I thought the Longreach tourist boat was going to run over me; the driver was not watching where he was going; when I paddled past the bow of this boat one of the tourists yelled out ‘do you want a sandwich’ – we were that close!  There was an inland lake about three hours drive away called Lake Dunn.  

Lake Dunn

Road to Lake Dunn - This is as nice as it gets out West Queensland as the scenery is usually very uninspiring.

This is the Alice, near where I lived it was only a trench a few hundred meters long.

Lake Dunn, Jabiru birds

Lake Dunn at sunset, a water skier pictured.

I went there on two occasions and camped by the lake.  I saw Jabiru birds and other bird life there (I have not seen a Jabiru bird since).  I paddled the perimeter of the lake (quite a distance) and found out how tough my kayak was:  I was paddling through sunken trees, with their tops protruding through the water, when the kayak become stuck on top of a tree limb.  When I leaned forward the kayak rocked forward and when I leaned back the kayak rocked back – so stuck was I that the kayak was turned into a seesaw.  The kayak was unloaded but I had gained weight on my body and weighed 87 kilograms, so the full weight was supported at one point on the hull.  I eventually got off the limb and paddled on.  Lake Dunn is a nice place to visit, considering the area, and I only wish I came more often before I moved to Rockhampton after one year.

One day in 1999 we actually paddled with the kayak club group, I think they were from Wynnum Redlands Canoe Club. 

  I have no reasonable excuse why I did not join a Canoe club in those days.  Every time I wanted to go paddling I was happy to do it by myself and either went locally or with Richard.  I was reasonably busy doing two Science degrees at the time and my paddling was keeping me as occupied as I wanted it to be.  (This was also in the age of film cameras, so therefore not many photos of these events were taken; there is a limited supply of photos of my kayak adventures.)  On this trip, from Cleveland (Wellington Point) around Peel Island and back, about two or three nautical miles all-up, with the kayak club group, we met a seal; the sea animal kind.  This is far too north to meet a seal (very unlikely in these warm waters), in the sub-tropical area of Brisbane.  The seal was very friendly and stayed on the surface with us for some time – I think it wanted some company.  Carrying on, and the seal no longer following us, we came to a reef and I and another kayaker trolled a fishing line with a lure attached: we caught nothing (I have never caught anything on a lure despite several attempts).  

This is a LURE

The Kayak at anchor while I did some snorkeling.

Near the far point of our excursion the blade on my paddle broke.  I was right beside the manager of the canoe-shop  I bought the paddle from when it happened, which was lucky.  I asked if they had a warrantee and the manager said he would replace it.  This was from Rosco Kayaks (a very well known and respected store in Brisbane City) and it was a generous gesture because I don’t think retailers usually do returns on paddles :  they can be abused too easily.  Anyhow, I had to paddle canoe-style using only one end of the paddle (I had no spare).  One of the other kayakers had a spare but I was not about to belittle myself and take a paddle off a more organised and elder paddler (I was a young 33 years old and the paddler was grey haired).  I paddled with all my might to keep with the front runners of the group because I was determined no-one was going to wait for me.  There was another paddler with us with a wooden kayak, other than Richard and I, that he designed and built himself; using its nineteen-foot length this kayak kept with us in the front.  He was going to paddle this nineteen-foot boat around Australia.  I never kept up with the story and do not know if he even started the journey.  In those days the internet was not what it was now and these people usually wrote a book and had it published when they did something adventurous like that (‘Keep Australia on the Left’ was a book the kayakers were reading at the time about a around Australia kayak attempt).  I was one of the first kayakers (or canoe-ist as I was) to make it back to the ramp at Cleveland (Wellington Point), Brisbane.  The wooden kayaks were picked up and carried by their owners by themselves; one of the fibreglass kayakers said ‘do you need a hand’ and the other wooden kayaker said ‘no, these are real boats’.  Fibreglass sea kayaks, in those days, were heavy craft and needed two people to carry them and lift them on a car-roof.  As a final note, on this trip it was commented that my kayak bobbed like a cork on the swells, the other fibreglass kayaks did not seem to be as buoyant as mine; I do not know if this is a good thing but I do not use a spray-skirt on my boat as I find the water rarely comes over the deck, even when loaded.  End Blog 7. 

Another interesting story to note was a nice day trip I had on the Moreton Bay, by myself.  I took my fishing rod with me, which was short enough to fit inside the kayak.  I launched from Wellington point (Cleveland) instead of our normal area of Wynnum-manly.  I paddled around the near-by islands with no particular plan – when I saw a fish jump about twenty metres off the beach of an island.  I decided to fish off this beach of this island.  While fishing I noticed a sign erected in the shallows of the rocky area nearby facing outward.  I was in luck and soon caught a nice sized fish (Snapper).  Having enough for dinner, and no means to keep any other fish cold, I decided to head for home and have a fish dinner.  Curious about what the sign said I paddled over to it, it said, “Fish Reserve Absolutely No Fishing Allowed”, and a monetary penalty for those caught.  Dear reader, do not think to dob me in – this happened over ten years ago and the statutory limitations have long past!

{From previous blog, we set off from Manly to Mud Island -- a memorable trip due to the bad weather.}

Richard met another kayaker, a bit younger than me, perhaps in his twenties, and I think I remember his surname was West, I have forgotten his first name.   He also had a wood kayak, a Cape Charles like Richards, which is how they got talking; wooden kayaks were uncommon in Brisbane City. West had paddled his Cape Charles, with a companion kayaker (also in a wooden Cape Charles), up the Queensland coast from Brisbane to Cairns (about 2000 kilometres) for charity.  In any case, the three of us, Richard, West, and I,  decided one day to make from the Marina at Wynnum Manly to Mud Island, a few nautical miles (half way to Moreton Island) away on a really windy day with short one-metre swell.  On the way out, we saw a large turtle almost on the surface distracted while eating a jelly-fish (Moreton Bay is known for large population of Jelly fish); we got very close to it and watched it for a few seconds.  The turtle soon became aware of us and darted away in a jolt.  It took us about two and a half hours to get to Mud Island.  I thought my kayak performed really well going into the wind and short chop on the way out.  Richard did not want to land on Mud Island because the tide was low and he thought he would scratch his clear-finished boat on the rocks.  A word of advice: paint your hull so that you are not afraid to scratch it otherwise you will miss-out on many adventures.  We ate our lunch sitting in the kayaks off the shore.  The trip home from Mud Island only took under two hours compared to the two and a half hours it took to get there because of a following wind and sea.  My kayak, I found, did not handle well with a following sea; it had no rudder or skeg.  The others were well ahead of me on the way home.  I noticed Richard, in his Cape Charles, had to paddle-brace a few times (he did a low-brace).  With his rudder, he kept a fairly straight course but he was later to say the rudder did not work efficiently because it was out of the water so often.  West, in his Cape Charles, was not able to keep a straight course, the same as me, but it was a bit straighter than mine; his kayak had a skeg fitted which may have helped.  I needed to learn to do a corrective stroke when the swell was in the middle of my kayak and the ends were out of the water; I spent most of the time slightly off course on the way home.  We had a quick chat about the paddle in the car-park next to the boat ramp afterward and Richard went home to get his wind-surfer.

Some coral as seen over the side of the Chesapeake 17

The Chesapeake 17 at anchor at one of the Keppel Islands in 2007, Pelican Island.

I don't think I mentioned it but the last post was the year 1998, I think, I am a little confused about the year and the photos are from the film camera days, so the date is not on the photos in the computer.  Anyhow, here is what I prepared for the next post...

Richard and I did some paddle trips starting from the front of the marina, at the suburb of Wynnum-Manly, Brisbane City (in Moreton Bay), and I did some on my own in the Brisbane River up and down-stream from Bulimba Point (depending on what tide).  I was starting to learn the bird life around the place: there were Crested Terns, Pied Oystercatchers, an Osprey common around the marina (as well as countless Silver Gulls known to us simply as ‘Sea Gulls’).  On the river, a Brahminy Kite was in residence around the Bulimba Point area.  Richard also pointed out some interesting marine life that we could see in the shallows of the Bay: mostly coral.  On one of these paddling trips I saw a Dugong in the bay swimming along the surface; I was surprised how large the tail-fin was on it.  I had changed address, still in the same town, Brisbane, into a block of flats near the river.  Some of my flat-neighbours saw me paddling with a following tide on the Brisbane River, while they were waiting for a ferry-boat, and commented about how really fast I was going.  I tried to explain that I was not really so fast and it was tide-assistance but, they were determined I was some kind of kayak athlete.  On one occasion a sailing friend, who captained a down river ferry for a job, came up beside me in the river.  We were both watching on TV an old-time square ships drama, Hornblower, at the time and we exchanged some sailor-talk from the series (like ‘down-slack on the main brace’) much to the merriment of the passengers.  Ferries make paddling on the river tough as they are supposed to have right of way – they do up to twenty knots and we kayaker's do 3 knots, so it does not take too much imagination to realise we kayaker's cannot really give way to them.  Speaking of ferries, and the toughness of these kayaks, I was talking to someone at a boat ramp when I was in the kayak on the water and a ferry drove by, the wave from the wash beached my kayak onto the concrete ramp, lifted it up again on the next wave and ‘slam’ down on the concrete again, there was no damage to the boat and I continued on my paddle.  It had been a long time in the making, but I was really enjoying my paddling and the final reward of building was bearing fruit.  I did not have many paddling companions but was enjoying the freedom of paddling whenever I found time off study.

Some of the wash from a down-river ferry (Citycat) at the Bulimba Point boat ramp.  Note, this is my other kayak, a fibreglass one. Sorry to the plywood purists.