Jeepers, this was not a paddle to pike on - it was a forecast for fun. On arrival at 0700 our concerns about launching from the rocky foreshore were flattened by a lack of promised wind. It was a sparkling morning at Weinam Creek. While a Brahminy kite was the only local ferrying building materials at this time of the day, the tranquillity was ruptured by the huff and puff of dragon boats.
Three kayaks made for the passage at Garden Island. A phone tower on Macleay now happens to line up with the entrance, such courtesy may contribute a touch towards its absolution. The purist paddled, the heathens took a lift from the wind which now was out and about.
As usual a circling bird of prey hovered around the entrance to the passage where mullets plopped in shallow muddy water. We stayed in the shelter of the mangroves where glimpses were suggestive of channel 20m further in - a place to check out on a higher tide. Beautiful butterflies showed casual indifference flitting within feelers of a leafy smash while a sea eagle ignored the bombing raids by of all birds, two gulls.
As the purist waited for the now paddling heathens another kayaker
was coming across from Macleay. It was Digby in his Raider. We caught up with Digby's news, including his involvement with Tingira Boat Club in the organisation of the soon to take place around the island race and his return to the earth moving scene.
By now the S/SE had put in a bit of effort in and the channel across to Karragarra was getting lumpy. The paddle's reason for being was supposedly breakfast, but all three had had that hours earlier so it was morning tea. It was also a welcome chance to catch up and collect Werner who had pulled up after camping over at Blakesleys.
Across the channel it looked like a there was a tinny convention taking shelter, but the cast nets suggested prawns. As we headed clockwise around Karragarra the shoal of tinnies moved en masse as if caught in someone else's cast net. Brian took the lead and we faithfully followed into the mangroves nipping the corner off the island as we came out facing Russell. It was only just after AM tea so we passed up on Russell Island. An osprey cruised. Terns plunged. The wind was unpredictable and only the occasional gust gave the hopeful heathen a bow wave and something to grin about.
The white horses in the distance promised more and there certainly was. A steady 15Kn S with an occasional dollop of 20Kn was in play. It was out with the grin, but the pace had to be set by the sail as sailing/surfing would soon have the sole heathen beyond visual or radio reach and in run over range of the oncoming ferries. As it was the sail disappointingly deployed an automated self limiter when the baton popped out to check the view. The conditions were ideal, so much so that a small amount of sailing/surfing was out pacing a yacht. Gave rise to some friendly accusations of the little red sail nicking their wind and it took a brake let them retain their dignity.
The sailing heathen came in way ahead. So much so that the other three did not see the undignified dunking. With one foot grounded, a wave lifted the boat which for the first time unceremoniously plopped the paddler in the drink. The smiling
speed boaters were sworn to secrecy, the boat straddled and pumped out from the persistent contributions of incoming waves.
The BOM had it spot on, the wind had some punch and it was here that Werner thought it wise to conclude his paddle. By the time he and Brian came back with Werner's car it was easing. Within half an hour the tranquility had returned, just as forecast. Had to be seen to be believed. It is only fair to grant the eventuality of a forecast some grace, however what we have experienced has matched that predicted on the modelling at http://www.bom.gov.au/marine with an accuracy which is proving to be almost uncanny. They certainly had it spot on today and it was a forecast for fun.
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