How do you lose a paddler in the mangroves on the NW corner of Peel Island ? I didn’t think it was remotely in the realms ofpossibility. That was until Jurg disappeared.
Lightening had struck the night paddle to Coochie off the list ofthings to do. An intense band of cells ripped through Brisbane and out over the bay, more like a summer event and somewhat unusual at this time of year. It was the kind of event you tend to take a rather dim view of while lunching on Mud Island,thunderheads boiling over the mainland striking their wayseaward.
Eight paddlers shared the consensus that Peel was a goer. The tide was coming in and there was enough sand to make a comfortable departure from the beach in front of the pine trees at Point O’Halloran. It was surprisinglyhot out on the water. The bay remained a ruffled calm as weheaded straight for Platypus Bay where we beached next to a smallpowerboat.
After the Moreton Bay Canteen opened, a few more small powerboats nosed into shore. I don’t think they were after some caramel bun or rich fudge chocolate cake, more like geographical separation from the police zodiac which was conducting random checks of all of the boats anchored off the wreck of the Platypus. We half expected the contents of the newly arrived boats to go on a bush walk, naturally wearing a full complement of life jackets and taking with them the regulatory fire extinguisher, just in case of a bush fire.
It was hot enough to make swimming appealing and enjoyable. We then slipped out heading anticlockwise around the island for lunch at the disused jetty on the western shore. It was a simply glorious day. The mangroves around the northern side of Peel have large trunks, greater separation and are less twiggy than those flanking St Helena. What we didn’t know was that they lendthemselves to significant exploration, even in a 5.8m kayak. Itwas here that we lost Jurg. After waiting for a while, he was still nowhere in sight. We fanned out, some in the mangroves, others along the fringe retracing out course while Beatrice called out. You simply could not attribute it to the location. We were only in a foot of water. With three UHF radios in contact, it was strange, he was nowhere to be found. Jurg had simply disappeared. In the meantime Jurg thought it was the group that had disappeared. When he emerged from the mangroves, we werenowhere in sight. With a 2.4m high tide Jurg had unwittingly found a shortcut across the NW corner of Peel Island. Now known as Jurg’s Passage, this is worth returning to on a king tide for further exploration.
Shoals of fish rippled through the waters around the mangrove,startled rays left plumes of sand in their wake, bait fish danced in applauding arcs while sea eagles squawked like ibis. Graham checked out the remains of a small catamaran with a cage on its deck hidden in the mangroves. Mark became the party boatfestooned with the dreaded discarded balloons. We sailed by the remains of the western jetty coming ashore on the SW corner in the shade of the mangroves. The Moreton Bay Canteen became a party scene as word was out that Graham, Chris and I all shared abirthday within a week of the day. Carol did not think that theexquisite fudge chocolate cake was up to the celebrated standard so we all agreed when we got whiff that it might make a return appearance featuring less time in the oven.
After checking out the emergence of the underwater cable powering the island, the associated tin shed and sad sight of a long dead large loggerhead turtle we pushed off for Point O’Halloran. The NE was still in play and made for light sailing conditions. Two unknown paddlers, one in a kayak with a red deck, the other light blue, neither with a sail or rudder slid anonymously by. Withwind against tide there was an occasional small chop thatdelivered a fun ride, once we knew where the car barge was going.
It was a beautiful day out in great company including the lovely legged Bear Glover, the Canteen’s legendary cook Carol, and the disappearing Jurg, who proved with the following GPs track, that yes, you can vanish into the mangroves on the NW corner of Peel Island.
