It was a bit like Goldilocks. First stop Masthead Drive Raby Bay. Nah, too much like hard work batting into the SE which by now was more than rippling the palm tops. Second option Point Halloran. Nah, still too much like hard work punching over to
Coochie. Option 3 Weinam Creek. Karragarra for AM tea and lunch
on Russell. Just right. The wind was whipping a beam reach to the
Garden Island passage and there was the promise of a wicked sailing return. Whoo ho. This looked like FUN day out, if my sail could survive the distance.
Bazr et al were already parked up at Weinam Creek. We didn't recognise the cars, but neglected the temporal clue. Saturday = Sandgaters. A chilly little wave obligingly became my tactile travelling companion for today, hopping inside the cockpit just
as I pushed off. We sailed a steady beam reach to the entrance of the passage which was marked by bird of prey, likely white bellied sea eagles. Here we converged with a South African paddler in the shallow water. Just enough tide to say hello, wish him well in his quest for lunch before scooting through to the
shelter of the mangroves before Karragarra.
My attempt to sail the last open stretch lined me up with a ferry
rather than gave a satisfying ride. A quick flick of the stick was required to beetle out of the way and converge on the beach where a neat array of kayaks weas parked up. While we recognised the orange shirts with directions on where to return the wearer to, the only face we could place was Selwyn. We had last met in 2005 at the Keppels. Mark and I had been the resort paddlers he and Keith
intended to mow down, only problem was that they didn't seem to gain any ground. It was the source of much mirth when we met up on the beach at Humpy Island.
The Sandgaters had come from the other direction and had had a great time surfing / sailing the stretch I was fanging out for. We enjoyed our coffee and a chat seated at one the beautiful new green trestle tables under the shade of a hibiscus tree. After a convenience stop at what would have to be the loveliest loo on the Bay it was around to Russell Island. However Russell was not all that appealing. What beach there was was tiny and had a muddy skirt and the park was full of screeching ankle biters. Nah. Move onto the next boat ramp. Nah. The doof doof blew that option away. On the southern side of Karragarra below the cable crossing sign a deserted beach with a fine gravelly topping beckoned. That will do. Just right. It was the foreshore of a grassy park at the end of a street. We enjoyed our lunch in the sun, sheltered from the SE which continued to whip across the top of Russell Island.
As we headed for the Ws the final leg was looking alarming calm. The wind had dropped to 10 knots. Talk about ripped off. Certainly no threat to blowing out my rotten sail. A radio call pulled Mark up. No way I was going to be run over by a ferry on my pat malone. Hide behind a channel marker or go for safety in numbers - whatever keeps your boat afloat. I went for both.
Three whistling kites engaged in a spectacular cartwheeling dog fight that made the dispute between three pied oyster catchers last Saturday look positively tame. The oyster catchers relied on a lot of screeching. The only surprise I had was when I came across turbulence in around 3/4 paddle depth of muddy water. It was a dugong. We saw it break the surface as it headed out to the channel. Poor creature, it could have done without being disturbed, as it probably needs all its energy it has to eke out what sea grass is left. As we came into Weinam Creek the mud bar had us go in close to the breakwater before coming ashore at a very muddy ramp. All in all the third choice turned out just right.
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