Deja vu was out and about for this moonlit paddle to Blakesleys for dinner. It was deemed a melon free event as it was shaping up for a grand turnout total of three (again).
With the wind blowing around 15Kn and no indication that it would ease from 15 - 20Kn on the BOM website, I too would have piked had we not done this before in similar conditions.
The mobile rang late in the afternoon. It was Nev. He would be
camping at Blakesleys. On arrival we saw an unfamiliar vehicle cruising around with a couple of sea kayaks on its roof. Turns out it was Patrick and Peter who had come for water respite after day of landscaping. To our surprise we found Chris and Carol
waiting in the car park. Yummm. With the kayaks on the muddy sand next to the northern boat ramp at Victoria Point and Patrick and Peter hovering offshore, we waited. Waited for the one early confirmed starter, Brian.
Heading over was slow going with yet another SE blow. However, it was not as strong nor as rough as the time before. The sunset disappeared into a grey morass just before we landed on the beach. Having paddled for two hours it was at the top of the tide and this time around there were many more yachts and cruisers anchored for the night.
With some intrepidation we pulled out disposable BBQ number four (with a gas stove for backup). Well it was really numbers four and five combined into one BBQ bonza event as we did not want
to repeat the cool affair of Potts Point. After a slow start the foil base was attacked with a can opener for air flow. As it started to crank up, Chris fanned his BBQ into a smoke signaller. Seems these BBQ do best with a stack of fuel and plenty of time (probably an hour) before they are ready. Time is needed for the BBQ to get hot enough to burn off the kerosene, paraffin wax and any other imported toxic flavourings and form the embers. By then they can be a great cooker and put out heat long
enough to cook several meals followed by marshmallows. Probably best left for camping weekends where there is time to kick back enjoy a few sundowners, smoke out the insects or warm the tootsies.
At the end of the meal Carol produced a glorious chocolate cake with a rich smooth icing. It had been demarcated into kayaker size portions with strategically placed pieces of by now melted chocolate. While it was followed by a sticky caramel plait butchered with a fish slice, some clearly deprived cake eaters just couldn't resist another serve of that cake. By now the wind had dissipated and the bay was silent.
Climbing back into wet lycra is never all that great, but it didn't take long to warm up. The water was cloyingly still and the air thick with humidity. It was so still as to be oppressive. The slightest disturbance in the water was easily seen by the light of the three quarter moon. By now it was high in the sky and backlit the cobblestone clouds. A few ruffles started as we approached Potts Point. Brian was having a Mitch moment and buggered off. His light could just be seen heading towards the northern side of Coochie. He finally rejoined us after talking with some fisherman off Coochie. They were catching small reef shark and were anchored in the place where Mark had seen shark's gills broach the water on the way across. All they had to say was that there was no way they would be out on the Bay in a kayak.
The ruffles got a little larger, but what was giving me the heebies were the red and green lights heading my way. Out on my own with a sputtering front deck light I turned the headlamp onto flash and directed it at the sail. That white light in the middle was very high up, the red and green a long way apart and expanding. I cursed the Aquapac safety beacon light for having given up the ghost between home and Victoria Point (what can you expect from a bargain bin of a liquidators store). Paddling like
the clappers I only got relief when blasted by the glare a powerful spotlight. Brian got the same treatment and soon after the engines revved and the ferry cruised over to the Coochie terminal.
Brian and I got out next to the boat ramp two hours off the bottom of the tide. Not a good choice. The squishy mud almost claimed our shoes. The end of the concrete boat ramp wasn't at all slippery.
To perfect this trip all you need is a mirror so you can paddle away from the City glow and into the moonlight. Murmurings were heard about a night paddle to Moreton Island. Whilst an adventure it could be become decidedly hairy should that wind begin to blow.
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