Today’s paddle was a toll saver in which the northerners converged with the southern faction at the Boat Passage for a joint progressive picnic on the return to Shorncliffe for lunch.
The larks had flown by the sunrise, glimpsed the incoming A380 before slogging into a strong outgoing tide which, combined with a SW headwind, made for lumpy reach up the Brisbane River. The southerners (who thought bed was a nicer option) watched the four kayaks glide silently towards the beach. After their early start and fast pace the larks took up a pew, had a coffee and munched on a piece of Carol’s freshly made crunchy slice smothered with chocolate icing and dusted with coconut.
A vaguely democratic round of expressions of interest had the combined pod of seven head for an easy paddle back downstream in preference to distance via the mangrove passage. Second stop was the beach at the entrance to Jubilee Creek after being assured by Jim and Ross, that yes, there would be enough water to make a get away from a bay that was rapidly morphing into a mudflat.
Planes flew overhead at a height that gave you a thrill of being a cleaner wrasse on speed. Morning tea number two was sticky date pudding drizzled with warm toffee sauce. Ross described the experience of hearing a sound like a breaking wave soon after a jet had landed and discussion ensued as to the possible source of these acoustics. As we made our way out into what was left of a murky mudflat one plane was followed by a distinctive unexplained second sound. Once north of Jubilee Creek we too experienced the sound of a phantom wave. Weird.
It was an easy paddle back to Shorncliffe on an outgoing tide with a SE filling the sails. We saw Nev ashore, an easy target for the final piece of sticky date pudding less the sticky bit. We sat and watched Colleen paddle a green needle of a ski. Very impressive. Applause all around. After lunch and another piece of that delicious slice the northern faction saw the southerners off to their penance.
There was no escaping the SE wind or the asynchronous slapping of unladed Artic Raiders. We moved to around 3Km offshore to take the peak off the chop but it did little to dull the cacophony, nor did it bring a relished final beam reach when heading in towards the Brisbane Bar. A momentary diversion was created by an aborted landing of Tiger Airlines plane, then the lumbering approach of the unbelievably massive C17 Globemaster.
Mark kept an eye on the depth of Brian’s mudbar then declared that he was ’on’ the Brisbane Bar. A somewhat disappointing and ignominious spot marked by nothing. Almost up there with St Lawrence. Total bathos.
While in the river Mark had the VHF tuned to the port. It confirmed what we saw and that was that there was very little happening . The next ship leaving was at 1700. During the port transmission the phone started to and continued to ring. Guess there was no one else around to answer it. As said, a quiet day at the port.
A ghostly pale grey silhouette suggestive of a warship was seen coming towards the port earlier in the day. On the return F105 was docked. She had a Spanish flag astern and turned out to be on a ‘try before you buy’. Probably the reason VHF Channel 69 was taken with an incomprehensible communication.
We finally had our beam reach then a decent run-in tide as we glided into the beach at the Boat Passage. As we readied to leave the wind had stilled, the sky had become infused with pink. The late afternoon and early mornings – a beautiful time to be on the water and both enjoyed by the northern and southern pods of today’s toll saver paddle.
