It seemed an age since last on the water and we were in need of a paddle. Swingtime at Shorncliffe promised a convivial afternoon courtesy of the All Stars but it was a 30Km round trip to Lower Moora Park. Probably a tad optimistic should the wind become unfavourable. Also, the prospect of lounging
around a park enjoying a jazz trio didn't seem right while others
picked up someone else's rubbish. Instead we decided to paddle to
one of our favourite places, Mud Island.
It was a couple of hours off the top of tide when we left the Boat Passage for the mangrove channel. Most of the plastic was a long way up the side passages. Any score would have entailed trampling mangrove aerial roots, roots which were covered in slime, something neither of us recalled seeing previously.
Out the other side and straight into a NE. Not much fun so it was an about face to skate along the rock wall all the way to the entrance of the Brisbane River. At the southern end wall where the mangroves are, there was a diverse treasure chest of rubbish. A prized padded chiller bag with a working zip was secured to my back deck for the swelling collection. An unmarked crab pot was reefed out and rolled up
onto the bank. At first I thought it had a small turtle, instead it was an enormous muddie. With a nipper to match it was stand back big four. Those kevlar socks would not provide much resistance so a very long stick gave him a respectful hustle back
to the water. Moving on we collected a spare boat paddle, rope and plenty more plastic. The further north we progressed the more difficult the rubbish was to access. This was in part due to the NE pushing the boats onto the rocks, but mainly because what was there was wedged very firmly. As we passed the security gates marking the latest land reclamation we were shadowed by the port security in his ute with flashing yellow lights. By the time we
had reached the end he had buzzed us three times. Oh what a job.
The reclamation associated with port expansion is immense. By the end of the wall you are in a direct line with Mud so it was turn right and sail as close to the NE as you could. Part way across Dr Who called out from my rear hatch. Sprung. Well who else would be calling aside Tom who had a glass house view of the situation given that he was cruising back into the bay on a yacht.
Arriving on Mud felt like greeting an old friend. We came in against a quickly draining lagoon then settled down for lunch on the coral pile looking back towards the port. Love this area as it is usually quiet, although the one and only runabout had chosen to pull up within cooee. By the time we had packed the tide had dropped too far to leave via the lagoon so it was a port across to the stubbly reef. The NE was starting to lift the bay and it was a fun sail across to St Helena for afternoon tea. Along the way we watched a very low profile barge lumbering and heaving its way towards us through the swell. Before long the persistent
drone of a large vessel had look around to see the same barge rendered almost unrecognisable by the amount of freeboard. What was amazing was the speed with which it had dumped its load and turned around.
After St Helena I insisted on making a beeline for the Boat Passage - the NE had created an irresistible sail. As we came in there was the ultimate souvenir for Clean Up Australia Day - a spade. It had clearly been there for some time. Just before yanking it out we saw a series of spades and realised they demarcated the commercial blood worm area. Should you ever see such a spade an on ebb tide turn east and paddle hard. Life is about to be stranded on shell strewn mudflats. We were only one channel marker off the Darcy Light before we could turn and face off the stiff NE on the homeward run. By the time we pulled in at the boat ramp, Mark took a muddy spill and we
clocked off what had been over a 30 Km day. A day that would have been great for sailing to Shorncliffe - there and back.
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