The next day was planned to head to the top of Moreton Island. I couldn't do it - I was still Knackered and just hadn't the reserve to cope should it get rough. I think this must be how you feel when you have consumed your glycogen stores. Mark went off while I waited at Comburyo Point (that was how far I could paddle). Stan would have been proud - he finished the trip.
We caught the MiCat at Tangalooma the following day. It
had only just come into operation and the woman was having a pink fit that we didn't have a return ticket on our person (the interest payments must have been getting to her). We had paid, but only for the one way journey. It was all too much for her,
her son took over and told us not to worry, he knew a one way ticket was possible. We were met at the carpark by Mum and Dad who I think were relieved that it had been an uneventful paddle.
A couple of days later we saw an advertorial in the local paper about a talk being given by two local lads about their paddle across Bass Strait. Serious stuff - I was proud of paddling the
Bay and not getting sucked out through the South Passage. We took
our seats and didn't recognise anyone in the room. A slim woman took her seat next to us and was also looking around. We said that we did a bit of paddling and that we didn't recognise anyone here, she concurred saying that she paddled with the Rosco Group.
We said that we had been the Rosco Group on the Easter paddle. She introduced herself as 'Kate' to which Mark said, so your mother's name is Beverley. You should have seen the look on her face.
We were treated to a talk which was not aimed at the paddling fraternity. A silver hardened steel rudder supposedly from an Artic Raider (the rudder on my Raider is black powder coated aluminium) with a perfect right hand bend was waved around as evidence of a shark strike in Moreton Bay. Gasps from all bar three, one of whom was smiling quietly. While the pictures from the Islands on Bass Strait were fantastic, listening to the gear they carried (non-waterproof radio etc), what they did (eg leaving an island without a compass bearing, disbelieving the GPS and having to paddle back for a bearing), I think these two were lucky, very lucky. I think even God would have been impressed that they had made it, and not surprised when the lads said they
would not do it again. Can't say the same about Moreton Bay. This place is simply magic, we'll be back, even at Easter.
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