This was a weekend of treats, treats of many guises. The first was the paucity of traffic. We made good time and arrived just after Ray pulled up. Although we were 3/4 of an hour early we had half expected to find Ray packed and ready to go. So did Chris
and Carol who, 15 minutes later, were surprised to find all three of us part way through a casual pack. The second Ray came in at the preordained 0900. He was paddling something that looked like a batski. It's sleek ski nose, tapering tail and the anatomy that powered this black and yellow waspish craft had me
wishing for another 15knots as it was clear we were going to need all the advantage a sail could give.
The lake was full and beach space limited so when another four kayaks, three of which were Rosco doubles rocked up it started to feel like a re-inactment of Shute Harbour on a miniature scale. We were soon treated to kayaking 101 with a reminder on
how to hold a paddle, go forwards and backwards. In the background was a brown choppy lake ruffled by a 15Kn SE. Probably just as well we were not treated to the extra 15Kn. However the
afternoon may not have been as kind when these newbies were due to return on their self guided day paddle. It was now that the camera packed it in with an apparent card fault so the rest of the pictures are courtesy of Ray and Werner.
Ray (later called Young Ray to distinguish him from Ray Young) may have been a newbie at kayak camping but he was clearly not new to paddling and there was some cross training in there somewhere. "Carol did you see the quads" - "quads,
what quads ?", clearly Carol is not a leg watcher. On the run across the lake the marker off Elanda Point was no where to be seen. The shoal off the point manifest as a single paddle
strike before we turned towards Kinanba. There was no need to follow the channel as there was enough depth all around.
With the SE coming straight in and the first step completely submerged, Kinaba looked like a place for a boat bashing rather than a relaxing morning tea break so it was onto Fig Tree. The Rangers' jetty in the passage lined by hibiscus had disappeared and the signs only just held their directions out of the water.
Chris, Carol and I chose to go to the right amongst the reeds and found ourselves in a still meadow of lilac water lilies. Exquisite, meditative tranquillity. After a brisk sail and we pulled up at Fig Tree and were treated to a share of Carol's beautiful lemon and sour cream cake. Carol is definitely not a leg watcher - she missed the quads again.
The river was brimming, the downside of which was that all the way there was a current to work against. The jetties had succumbed and made for a landing treat. At Campsite 3 I hovered
the kayak over the lower deck and stepped out in a couple of inches of water. I mean how easy is that ? Far more poised than my later attempts to abandon ship.
We pulled up for lunch on the sandy beach that marks the entrance to Campsite 4. Young Ray was surprised by how basic that campsite was coming back asking "Is that it ?" Sure is. Hope you remembered a shovel. The SE gave some sailing up the longer stretches. By the time we reached 15 I for one was happy to call it a day.
The resident scrub turkey did his rounds while we pitched tents. We had the 25+ year old Macpac as unlike Camp 9, this is not a place for the Taj. However, there was still enough room for a camp kitchen under Chris's tarp. It turned out to be a very
popular place when we were treated to a soaking rain burst from a starry sky. Carol had worked a dinner for drive deal with Chris, he drove and she cooked. I think Carol will have more drivers, why even Mark offered to give her a lift. Chris had two course meals including one with a steamed pudding with custard. Young
Ray was impressed by the pre dinner nibbles and forgot to bring some red stuff, now considered an addition to the packing list Werner had kindly sent through. That night the sounds of the bush had additional squeaks from our mattresses and quiet snores.
The following morning you could hear what could only be the distant rumble of surf. There had been predictions of dangerous conditions and it must have been pretty impressive given that you could hear it this far from the ocean. A leisurely breakfast soon
morphed into morning tea and another share of the Carols' cafe cake. Then it was time to explore the final reach of the Upper Noosa River and Teewah Creek. As we headed down to the water Werner arrived having paddled all the way from Boreen Point. Pretty impressive effort and timing. As we pushed off he said to come back for icecream.
Teewah was also up, allowing us to go a couple of Km upstream until the narrow channel, logs and current had us decide to turn around while we could. The creek was around half a paddle deep and very dark brown. I found out that the water was quite cool as I accidentally plopped in while attempting to get out on a steep
bank. By the time we got back to camp Werner had packed and was about to head off in his Valley kayak he had won in a raffle. It was a very fine looking craft although limited on carrying capacity. While Werner had a bivvy he could not be persuaded to
stay a night and continued what would be a marathon of a paddle likely finishing into a firm SE blow across Cootharaba. He hadn't been joking about the icecream either - up at camp was a delicious treat of a 2L container of vanilla icecream and
apricots for all to share. We made quick work of that, moved onto lunch then out for a paddle of the next creek downstream of Teewah.
While this creek was about the same width as Teewah the limited flow was more than made up for by the depth - even when it was starting to get very narrow, Mark still could not touch the
bottom with his paddle. We came back for a late afternoon swim and basked in the sun on the white sandy bank. Even on May 1 we were getting nice and toasty while the dark brown river looked decidedly cooler. Just as well Mark didn't swim to the other side
as a very large eel has been known to frequent the hollow under the sand bank where he had planned to swim for. Carol pan fried haloumi for pre-dinner nibbles and served this beautiful salty cheese with a splash of lemon juice - I mean how good does it get ?
Before dusk the turkey flew up into a tree a couple of metres outside the corral as he had done the night before while the campsite settled into more squeaks and snores. By morning the tarp over the aged Macpac had proved it's worth keeping off the
heavy dew. We assured Young Ray that it was quite the usual routine for Ray Young to be packed and ready before anyone else and that there was no hurry. The symmetry of our leaving time with Saturday was almost perfect. However the current we had
looked forward to had subsided. Fortunately the SE had eased as
predicted.
Ray had already disappeared to check out the new campsite which was a part of the Great Walk while I founded on the steep bank and once again plopped out of my boat where Ray had alighted with typical grace moments before. Here we found three large wooden platforms in the communal area and a narrow track leading off to a toilet
before branching off to intimate individual sites. Each only large enough for a single tent surrounded by shoulder high lush boronia. Morning tea was had in the sun on the sandy bank just upstream of Campsite 4 with a DIY piece of Ray's fruit cake.
At Harry's Hut I came across three male paddlers paused and transfixed by the visual treat of some scantily clad buxom English dumpling damsels first paddling then hauling a canoe out of the river. Cheeky spectators, all fired up they then did the male thing and paddled off full tit downstream. There were plenty more surprisingly plump females making their way upstream with the occasional male amongst them. So much for the slim trim taut bronzed tourist, these were from a whole new mould and certainly setting themselves up for a dose of sunburn to remember. Turns out Carol doesn't do quads, she said a day as a marshall on the Noosa Triathalon had given her a lifetime's worth of bums and biceps.
We regrouped at Fig Tree where Carol shared some Pascall pineapple lumps (yes Patrick the real McCoy) and Young Ray's Ginger Bears. A casual yellow breasted robin treated us to long look at his beautiful plumage while the resident goanna prowled the perimeter. Young Ray commented on the mossies and was promptly assured that this was a good day at Fig Tree.
With the lake still relatively high and no sandy beach where the pelicans reside (when not at Lake Ayr), we went around the back of Kinaba Island before putting up a sail and making a beeline for the beach entry. That was all except the
batski who pulled ashore at Elanda Point. I wondered if he had come to grief on the shoal. Turned out to be a case of mistaken identity which came with an opportunity to check out the remains of the sawmill.
As we packed the boats a couple more kayaks came ashore. It had been a beautiful weekend with glorious weather on a river which we had had pretty much to ourselves from Campsite 15 right down to Harry's Hut. The final treat was that much to our surprise the traffic was flowing well right through to the turn off at
Kingsmith Drive.
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Kayak clutter
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Kayaking 101
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Batski ready to launch
Photo by Young Ray
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Water lilly meadow
Photo by Young Ray
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AM tea at Fig Tree
Photo by Young Ray
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Heading upstream
Photo by Young Ray
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Lunch at Campsite 4
Photo by Young Ray
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Campsite 15
Photo by Young Ray
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Campsite 15 resident turkey
Photo by Young Ray
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Morning mist
Photo by Young Ray
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Heading further upstream
Photo by Young Ray
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Werner having a well earned lunch
Photo by Young Ray
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Sunrise over Cootharaba
Photo by Werner
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Reflections
Photo by Werner
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Teewah Creek
Photo by Young Ray
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Reflections
Photo by Young Ray
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The Log Landing
Photo by Young Ray
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Dutgee Campsite - The Great Walk
Photo by Young Ray
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The crew (less the photographer)
Photo by Young Ray
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Quads - what quads ?
Photo by Young Ray (only kidding)
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Plop - falling out yet again
Photo by Young Ray
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Yellow breated robin
Photo by Young Ray
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Batski detours to Elanda Point
Photo by Young Ray
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GPS Trackfile (OziExplorer .plt)
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