Some paddles are worth doing should the tide time and height suit. This is one such paddle. It was a chance discovery when looking for a salvage option after Plan A was blown to bits.
The day started out at Point Halloran. Plan A was to haul against the SE down to Karragarra before rounding up for a scoot back up the eastern side of Macleay with the wind in our sails. The problem was that the SE had ramped up a tad earlier than forecast. We soon found ourselves hammering into an increasingly firm blow of at least 20 Knots. It was no longer fun. It was simply hard work. Whilst sheltering in the lee of the Victoria Point jetty we made the decision to turn tail and head for Coochie. With wind against tide it was also starting to stand up. Little wonder no one threw up their sail. The Artic Raider was positively twitchy.
There are at least four ways to deal with a twitchy Raider. One is to become a better paddler. I skipped on that. The second is an idea picked up from Damiano. That is to stick a small fixed skeg on the underside of the boat. Whilst people have laughed at the size of it, I and others who have done the same are convinced it makes a difference. The third is to install a longer rudder to compensate for the rocker. Do not get in the way when I drop my supersized rudder – it could be a bit of a boat chopper. The fourth is to put more weight in the boat. And this does not mean get fat as I would soon have difficulty squeezing into the cockpit. The simplest way to add weight quickly is to carry a range of plastic bottles. I have a payload of them. Knowing this to be the case Jack asked if I wanted to pull into Coochie and load up my boat. Absolutely. On this occasion I put 4L up the nose and 6L in the day hatch.
The southern beach was open to the wind, it was overcast and quite cold. There were plenty of nippers on the beach but none in the choppy surf. We had rip snorting sail up the eastern side of Coochie and came ashore in the rain to find the nippers had walked across the island. One of the parents laughingly said that the kids had all refused to get in the water as it was too cold. By the time we had set up for morning tea the nippers had nicked off and you would be hard pressed to know there was a 25Knot SE in play.
We then talked about where to next. Jack suggested heading up Eprapah Creek. It had been many years since we last did this and it seemed to be a reasonable option. As soon as we were out of the lee of the island we were hammered on a beam reach. Jack reckoned he used all of his 90kilos to stay upright. I was more than pleased to have the weight in my boat and put out a skimming brace as we scuttled towards some channel marker that I could not see.
Once in the creek all became quiet. We moseyed along making good time on a strong flood tide. The shipyard had changed beyond recognition. We went under a new foot bridge and, as it was a king tide, well beyond our previous foray. We found ourselves deep into the Eprapah Reserve which has a dilapidated boardwalk. We waited while Mark went ahead to explore an arm of the creek where the flow was faint. He called out for us to follow and we soon found ourselves paddling a narrow reach that opened into a lagoon bounded by grass. It was charming and likely to be accessible on such a big tide. We drifted back to the boardwalk which was the only place to get out and have lunch.
And this is where the fun began. The bank was vertical down to the water. Thereafter the bank was undercut and did not provide a foothold. You had to either use your paddle as a prop or scramble out onto to bank in less than dignified way. Mark got himself out first using his paddle across the back of the boat. Jack then asked Mark to haul the nose of his boat up onto the bank so he could get closer. This was not a great idea. Once the nose of the boat was up, Jack leaned to one side, and yes, you guessed it, the boat rolled over with Jack in it. I was sitting in my kayak on the other side of the creek laughing my head off. Jack, who realised that he would have to wet exit came out to find Mark also dissolved in laughter. Poor Jack – he really is game to come paddling with us – by the time he popped up he was sporting enough to also see the funny side of it.
We spread the picnic mat on the boardwalk and were careful about where we stood or sat as it is actively disintegrating. The wind was pushing around the top of the trees and just after Jack stood up a large branch came crashing down and landed on his wet imprint. Clearly not his day, or maybe it was. Now we had to do the reverse and get back in our boats. The bank was a little bit higher as the tide was receding. We all got in without any further swimming. As we neared the mouth of the creek Jack said to take a right turn into a narrow passage in the shelter of the mangroves he was familiar with and favoured by locals in tinnies. We took it one step further and continued to nose our ways thorough the diminishing passage that in the end was only accessible to a kayak. We were only too happy to stay in the mangroves as the wind was not abating. We popped out very close to the end of the road, hugged the shelter of the embankment and then turned to face the full brunt of the wind as we inched our way back to Point Halloran. It was stiff going and while Mark and I would have made it, eventually, this was not light work. Jack found himself going backwards at times and was only too happy to follow our lead and pull into the first sandy beach.
Mark and Jack walked back to get the cars. I started to take the gear off the boats. While doing this I put up both sails and let them flap dry. Well, mine flapped, Mark’s shredded. I was then shredded for allowing this to happen. It was a bit like Plan A that had been shredded by the wind. His sail was eventually been replaced by something very different, this time a rainbow sail.
