The Bass Strait, known for its raging seas and howling winds. Also known by the few Australian sea kayakers as a right of passage. For Aidan and I, it’s been a point of discussion the last two years, something well within our reaches but still the thought of it seems somewhat terrifying.
Traditionally this crossing is done southbound, from Wilson’s Promontory, Victoria to Little Musselroe Bay, Tasmania. On the way you pass a series of islands with wild tidal flows in the channels between. For most paddlers attempting the crossing, it’s not a matter of ability rather, it’s a matter of timing and weather. For us, we’ve linked up with an UNSWOC alumni (Ben) who has joined us for the crossing as part of a bigger adventure. As a result we are crossing the strait in the opposite direction, northbound.
After spending the summer break dehydrating food, and endless days of maintenance making the kayaks seaworthy, we arrived at our starting point in Little Musselroe bay. Arriving in the dark was eerie with the winds howling outside the comfort of our protected little bay. We awoke the following morning to the hum of nearby wind turbines whirring at full speed, the sound of a landlocked day. It was frustrating preparing for months on end, spending hours in the car and ferry, only to arrive at our start point and be forced to sit there and wait.
We spent the day charting our course for the first crossing to Clarke island and packing the boats. Getting to Clarke island involves crossing the Banks Strait, known for its strong tidal flows. Along with that we had to account for a moderate crosswind and forecasted 1.5m easterly swell. In the distance on the horizon occasionally Clarke island would pop into view, and in the rare instance we would glimpse the peaks of distant mountains beyond. It was a frustrating experience being ready to go, but landlocked. In the planning stages we had been on such a mission. Usually on canyoning, caving or climbing trips I am always amped to get things done as fast and efficiently as possible. When you get to the crag, you harness up and whip your shoes on. When you get to the start of a canyon, you don’t just sit around for a day, you jump in and keep moving. This was different, we had reached the start, packed our boats, charted a course and had nothing better to do than sit there on the beach and stare into the horizon, itching to go.