We started our paddle across the Bass Strait early on the 21st of January. Little Musselroe Bay was sheltered from the south-easterly winds. The morning sky was made of dark purple clouds, giving the sky an ominous electric feeling. Starting our paddle we fought our way against the incoming tide of the lagoon as if we were ferrying across a river. Our first crossing of that morning was a straight-line distance of 23.5km across the Banks Strait, a strait which separates Clarke island from mainland Tasmania. This section of water is notorious for it’s strong tidal currents. Assuming a paddling speed of 5.5km/h we estimated the crossing to take approximately 4 hours in full boats, which means that we had to depart 2 hours before high tide. The usual first day nerves and faffiness overtook us and we ended up leaving 30 minutes too late. This means that we would get sucked in towards the Bass Strait for 1.5 hours and out to sea for the remaining 2.5 hours, as a result we adjusted our bearing westwards to counter the tide.
As we started away from the mainland, we were sheltered from the wind and swell by the edge of the bay. Our heavy boats sliced through the inky glass of the ocean as we lolled over rolling sets. In the distance we could see a faint smudge that dipped in an out of view in the foggy morning – Clarke Island. As we passed in line with the point of Mussleroe bay, we hit the wind and swell as if it were a wall. Our causal quiet conversation halted and we resorted to occasional shouting comments as we spread out over the waves to avoid collision. The morning quickly became quite fun and we bounced over what was predicted to be a 1.3m side chop but escalated to a 2.5m side swell and 20 knot cross winds. Aidan pointed out a dark pin prick on the horizon to our left, and we pondered as to whether it was an oil rig or not. As we paddled we got colder and colder, I regretted not wearing any thermals, let alone only bringing one thermal top with me for the whole trip. As I looked over to Aidan I saw that he also bore a look of someone wishing for more layers. As we pushed, on sea birds followed us skimming over the tops of the pointy seas, the feathers on their wings seemingly brushing the waves. While I was busy being entranced by a family of terns diving for fish, Ben shouted “Albatross!” as the mother of all birds circled 2 metres over our heads eyeing each of us off with an inquisitive look. A moment later, the albatross gathered height and disappeared. This then led to a debate between Ben and I on whether an albatross was good or bad luck. Our debate was quickly interrupted by Aidan who brought to our attention that what was previously a pin prick on the horizon was now a large cruise ship bearing down on us. The ship was still about 1km away, but travelling fast enough that we were unable to determine whether it would pass in front or behind us. Our paddle strokes quickened and our knuckles whitened. A minute later black plumes of smoke started spewing from the ship, we breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed. The ship had seen us and slowed down to let us pass. The second half of the crossing got progressively colder, I wanted to open up my deck to put on a dry top but the crests of the waves kept breaking over my boat. Off the coast of Clarke island we seemed to be making no progress at all. It was extremely frustrating. I thought it was my own mind playing tricks on me until Aidan voiced the same thought. We asked Ben, who checked his GPS and confirmed our suspicions, we were going backwards. Our late start had finally come to bite us in the backsides. It seemed near-impossible to cross the eddy line as the tide caused large boils in the surface of the water. We changed our course to ferry across to Clarke island, hugging the shoreline. Eventually, we were able to land on a calm white sandy beach hemmed in by large lichen-covered boulders.
On the beach we stripped off into warm clothes and savoured a hot lunch. Checking the GPS we had traveled 28km in the 4 hours in our boats. After a little exploring of the island, Ben and Aidan decided that we were to continue onward to at least Preservation island, and ideally to Cape Barren Island. I was anything but excited about this decision as I got back into my cold, and wet clothes.
The paddle around Clarke island was very barren, devoid of any tall vegetation. There are many coarse grained igneous boulders fringing the island dotted with orange lichen. Some of these boulders stand inland on the island, tall, skinny and erect, resembling a crude version of the Moai on Easter Island. There were countless perched rocks sitting upon the squatter boulders. It would be a cool place for a bouldering trip we thought. Once we rounded the north-west side of Clarke, we laid eyes on Preservation island only 5km away. The wind was still howling, but we were protected from some of the swell, and the sun was finally out. The crossing was short and uneventful. Preservation Island was stunning, and we took the opportunity to have some afternoon tea in our boats. The water surrounding the island was piercingly blue with little gardens of green sea grass under our boats. As we paddled over the shallow water, little fish dove for cover in the sea grass form our large kayaks.
From Preservation Island, we then turned our boats towards Thunder and Lightning bay on Cape Barren Island. This was a longer crossing, and the sun had hidden behind the clouds again. I grumbled as the skies spat rain upon us. I put on some 80’s music and paddled ahead. The seas and wind were now coming from the west. Every wave broke over my boat, washing cold water down my neck and chest. I was tired and had a sore bum. Looking back I saw that the others were in a good mood irrespective of the cold conditions. Finally, we got the shore of Cape Barren island somewhat east of our intended location but took advantage of protection from the wind and snacked on some lollies before skirting into Thunder and Lightning Bay. As we paddled into the bay we spotted two people playing on shore. We were unaware that the island was habitated. The people disappeared as we landed on a sheltered spot thick with washed up sea grass. We pulled up the boats and found a flat space to make camp for the night. As we emptied our boats, Ben discovered that his hatches leaked so we hung his stuff up to dry and towelled out his tent. We were all exhausted as we ate a hearty chilli con carne for dinner. As I fell asleep a thought came to me – that was only 48km, how are we going to survive the longer days??