Jack is fair game to come paddling with us. Today’s lesson was how to get your kayak through mud. Soft squishy deep boot sucking mud. Not that this was the plan. Plans seldom have anything to do with mud. But the old adage of time and tide fades when you are spell bound by wild flowers.
The boat ramp at Weinam Creek was in immaculate condition unlike the bay which was an opaque pea soup brown. Low cloud obliterated the closest islands and seemed to anticipate our track as they continually smudged out the direction we were heading in as the day progressed. There was very little wind and the conditions were calm to the point of being eerie.
We had plenty of tide height so we cut through the mangroves whilst heading for the park at the northern end of Russel Island. Jack and I came across a creative floating platform that looked like the summer outhouse for the junk pile further down the passage. The rain came and went during morning tea.
We arrived at Caniapa with just enough beach to play host for the kayaks. After lunch we checked out the seasonal flora and were lucky to spy amongst other wildflowers some delicate orchids. By the time we headed back down the hill the tide had receded exposing around 50 metres of mud. Dam it Janet. This is Canaipa and if you do not know what the mud is like here, I suggest you skip on the experience.
Mark went to give Jack a hand to haul his boat out and in the process lost and luckily retrieved a shoe which he could not put back on as it was stuffed full of mud. He attempted to walk down to the waters edge to wash the shoe out and soon thought better of it when he sank up to his knee. Jack in the meantime had managed to straddle the back of his boat and looked like a semi-paralytic frog trying to kick its way through the mud.
Seeing this I took my shoes off. Chances are you will not find your shoe when it gets pulled off in deep mud. Mark and I carried his boat closer to the waters edge then went back for mine walking back along the sandy rivulets that appeared to be firmer that the muddy bits in between. Mark put his shoes on my back deck and left me to it. He got into his boat and paddled himself off. I on the other hand could not get my boat to move using my paddle. In the meantime Jack was still frogging it and not getting very far. I lay on the front deck and used my weight and the rocker of the hull to lift the rear. I stretched out my legs behind me and dug my toes into the mud and gave a push. The boat moved with surprising ease. Mark thought it was the funniest thing when he saw my boat slide effortlessly into the water with me clinging to the front deck. By now Jack had made it to the water as well. We were all plastered in mud. So much mud that all you could do was laugh. Most of it was well beyond reach so we had a mutual mud preening session of each other’s boats and gear as we drifted northward on the falling tide.
The clouds stayed close and at one point we were following a beautiful rainbow. Even the end of the day had an ethereal feel to it as Mark and Jack headed off into a grey sunset. Sometimes messy memorable experiences are not wasted and it gave us pointers that were put to good use at the end of Ians’ Big Day Out a mere three months later.
