Talk about timing. Saturday started out picture perfect for Dean's early bike ride but by the afternoon the day had been blown asunder. Two days later on Monday the cool dry SW was blasting up the coast. The forecast for Sunday was morphing from
SW to NE and while the BOM seemed undecided about the direction it was only reaching 10 - 15 knots. Mud was go.
A casual group of six regulars turned out for what was a classic winter paddle. Leaving on a rising tide the entrance to Kedron Brook Floodway only gave grace for tinnies and other shallow drafted vessels. Even we had to follow the channel to make a
break for the bay.
For a while we wondered if Brian wanted to take a walk. He chose to stay close in to shore heading in the direction of Luggage Point. He may have been keeping his distance having fessed he was not in the mood for being on the pointing end of a joke. I mean is that asking for a poke or what ? We left him be until it came
time to cross the shipping channel east of the mouth of the Brisbane River. While everyone was duly radioed in it gave rise to a medley of colour heading in a vaguely coherent direction. Maybe the prow of a large shipping vessel could have been more effective.
As the coffee pots set the scene on a sparkling morning Chris happened to be caught on camera in true form - that is having morning tea number one. The SW gave the sails a suggestion of form and the swell was slight. Not big enough to skip across for a quicker ride. We found the entrance to the NW lagoon closed and
the island wearing a broad skirt of slimy wet coral. We decided to carry the boats across the coral embankment to the lagoon and settle in for morning tea number one or two. Carol celebrated her first landing on Mud, and gazing out to the horizon quipped in memory of absent paddlers, remind me why do we do this ? Morning tea morphed into lunch, coffee, an equal share of zucchini cake and scrummy lollies so the tide was not rushed to flood the entrance.
A palm sized jellyfish that looked like a rotten cauliflower pulsed alongside the the boats in the water. Next point of interest (after food) were two UK made kayaks cruising the island in a counterclockwise direction. They disappeared into the
mangroves then came back, put their German paddles to rest and tied up. They were beautifully kitted out with all the good gear. They were surprised to find people on Mud Island. I wonder if they were more surprised to find such a happy a rag tag bunch in the middle of nowhere. (If you need another shirt Trads Liquidators in Cannon Hill have long sleeve dark navy and fluoro yellow shirts (UV50+) for $10 each.).
The NE started to tickle our cheeks and our hopes of a return sail. By the time the entrance had filled it had drowned my hope of getting back by 3pm for the Ferry Rd harp duo. Leaving the lagoon we took Carol to the main creek just to the north. The
entrance to Ron's campsite was duly pointed out. No one was prepared to visit for a kissing competition with the midges or sandflies given that their intimacy in the past was a long affair that persisted way beyond the shoreline.
The return paddle seemed to keep us further out from shore than the earlier track although the GPS said otherwise. Mark's lead GPS had an ongoing QA audit courtesy of Dean. About 6Km from the ramp the wind had the audacity to swing around to the N - NW. Enough to ruffle your hat and just right for a gym work out which
became more loaded when we hit the run out tide in Kedron Brook Floodway. It was then I decided to go snooping for a ride and sat on Mark's tail. He thought he could shake me off so I shoved the nose of the Raider up his armpit for good measure and discovered that the best draft was not far astern of that, so that is where we stayed.
Cruising in under a flapping sail (aka please don't hit me sailing) we slithered onto the sandy mud on the eastern side of the ramp in succession. It had been a brilliant day on the water finished off with a few Km of work that just has to be good for you, yet another reason why we do such things.
