"Mark and I are considering an afternoon paddle tomorrow leaving from Cabbage Tree Point around 1pm to
have a late lunch on Kangaroo Island. We would be going with the outgoing tide to vicinity of The Bedroom (low tide 3:30 Brisbane Bar). The winds look light on the BOM so it could make for a beautiful paddle back in the late afternoon. Let us know if you
are interested."
They were out of there. The number of boats crowding the Cabbage Tree Point boat ramp commensurate with the Km of trailer parking we have driven by. With no expressions of interest from
other paddlers and the departure stampede at the ramp you could be forgiven for thinking that maybe there was something we were not privy too.
I was delighted by the exodus, as the more the boats off the water, the safer it would be for two solitary kayaks in search of a perigee moon. We went via Kangaroo Island with the plan to have a late lunch at the place we think has potential for a camp when you want to leave on a Friday afternoon/evening. Around 40
minutes later and dodging shoals emerging with the ebb to a 1 foot low, we pulled up at the eastern edge of the camping area. Others also like this place. There was already a tent in residence and three cruisers and a solitary houseboat anchored up
for the night.
As we munched our rolls the houseboat swung around giving us the heads up that the tide had indeed reached its nadir. Bummer, nothing quite like plugging against the tide in this neck of the mangroves. However, being the first hour it remained a leisurely
stroll around to Tiger Mullet Channel. Here the long weekend had
bought out the gin palaces with the three tiered varieties tying up with their mates of equally garish dimensions. Graced by Gold Coast leathery tans adorned with bling, it was not them but the sole yacht under sail who gave a friendly wave.
The weekend had bought out the usual crop of speed freaks, although the numbers seemed to be fewer compared with long weekends of yester year. We opted for the good old sand bar
strategy (the sand bar most likely to get them before they got us) leaving our six inches of protection to make a dash across the channel to the sand hills just south of Jumpinpin. Here the channel was crowded with cruisers parked up for the weekend. Over a coffee we sat bemused by the noise of the crowd and thought of the solitude of other places like the Keppel Islands.
The lower the sun sank, the edgier Mark became. It was not until we had crossed the idiot zone and were in the entrance to Whalleys Gutter that he was happy. Tranquillity at last with a beautiful sunset bringing forward a quiet silhouette. As we left
Whalleys we saw it rise. Coming over the mangroves, against a pink blush, the perigee moon. Magnificent. The sunset continued to stain the waters as we drifted at 5Kph on the incoming tide. With an occasional paddle we made an easy 11Kph. It does pay to
get it right in this neck of the mangroves.
While Mark was enjoying navigating via the lit beacons, it was my turn to became anxious. Every buzz on the water was scanned for any red or green, preferably both not seen at the same time. As one pair came closer and closer, the throttle started to wind back, the boat came off the plane, changed direction and pointed right at us, then and at 300m "what the hell is that",
a bit closer, then "two kayaks", the throttle wound back up, the boat veered away and back up on the plane. At least we had been seen from a distance.
The paddle back was really more of a fast drift. Even with the accelerating tide the mud bar ensures you need to make a wide arc coming into Cabbage Tree Point boat ramp. When we were washing off the kayaks, a tinny driver came over and asked whether we were the ones he had seen at Jumpinpin, not that he didn't think we were not, but because he was surprised how quickly we had got
back.
While mudbanks and mangroves may not be all that great during the day, they can become quite magical, almost eerie with their inkiness on a still night. This paddle was made that much more memorable by the volume of tidal movement and the spectre of a
perigee moon following a beautiful sunset. Yet few were there to see it.
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