To cross Bass Strait by sea-kayak had been a goal for Cam and I for about 10 years. The trip had been put on hold initially by university commitments and concerned families then later work commitments and other overseas travel plans took priority. This was until 5 months ago when the seed for this trip got planted again.
We obtained a Komodo double sea-kayak so we could train in the craft we were intending on paddling and with the versatility of converting into a single it would allow either of us to train if the other person wasn’t available. We also liked the ability of the craft to divide into two for transporting on roof racks and carrying when loaded. Like everyone else though, we weren’t convinced about the strength of the boat in big seas. So we tried it and tried it and tried it some more. Every time we went out, we liked and trusted it more. The boat was stable, durable, fast and solid. Reassuringly, the divides between pods didn’t move unless intentionally unscrewed at the end of the paddle. After we had added a couple of small sails, we were happy with our craft.
The logistics of a big trip always take longer to organise than I anticipate, and a Bass Strait crossing is a big trip. The logistics of getting there and back; food; safety equipment; campsite locations; communications; distances; GPS; trip intentions; navigation; tide charts; training routines; predicted seasonal weather patterns and shipping channels were just a quick few areas we had to nut out. It felt like the more we sorted, the more "what ifs" came up. In the final weeks, both of us became like focussed Bass Strait zombies. Everything we were doing or talking about involved the trip. It was this preparation and organisation though that reduced the variables in the trip and held us in good stead for a successful crossing.
Having the departure day on April 1st seemed a humorous coincidence, as so many people thought we were joking when we told them of our plan. With final preparations and the first real pack completed we floated our loaded Komodo down Tidal River at Wilsons Promontory National Park, in Victoria’s South Gippsland region.
It was a magnificent day with the sun out, the seas calm and the forecast suitable for departure. With a few quick hugs and photo snaps by our farewellers, we paddled out past the breakers. The seed we had planted five months earlier had just begun to germinate and begin to grow. We were now on our way.
The Prom is the southern most point on the Mainland and it is a very special place to Cam and myself. We have both walked around it several times and spent many hours looking out to sea in the direction of Tasmania. It was excellent to have a water-based different perspective of the familiar landmarks on the Prom. It truly is a beautiful part of Victoria.
We spent our first night at Little Waterloo Bay around on the eastern side of The Prom. It was uncrowded considering the school holidays and conditions couldn’t have been any better. It was super calm, warm and the predicted south-easterly headwinds hadn’t arrived.
At 4:30am the next morning we woke up and made preparations to leave Victoria. With the sun still an hour away, we set off on the 40 km trip to Hogan Island. There was a lot more anxiety about this paddle than the day before, as now we were going into unfamiliar territory, a concept we would have to get use to. As the sun came up, the beauty of what we were doing became more and more apparent. The marine wildlife and sea birds were checking us out as much as we were scoping them out.
With good clear visibility we spotted Hogan Island in the first few hours. It was a cracking paddle and we enjoyed watching our destination grow in detail as we approached. Despite a bit of hard work against the tides near Hogan, we had a spectacular day in the boat.
Over the next couple of days we explored the Island by foot and let the headwind ease. It was great to spend sometime looking around, rearranging our packing, fishing, relaxing after the busy days before departure and most importantly eating Easter eggs in traditional Easter Sunday manner.
The Kent group (Erith, Deal and Dover Islands) were our next stop. It was about 50kms away and the turbulent waters of Murray Pass were guarding our safe landing. From others reports, the sea in the pass could move at 2+knots per hour and the waves jack up considerably when going against the tide. We made good speed against a slight head wind for most of the paddle. As we approached the northern entrance of the Pass, lots of FWS (funny water spots) developed as the tide started to swing. It was the first real time on this trip where we both knew it was time to switch on one hundred percent and paddle ourselves safely into west cove. This we achieved and the afternoon was spent ranchoing on another amazing waterfront location, drinking numerous brews and cheering the cats win over the hawks on ABC radio. It was a relaxing way to wind down the day.
With the winds up yet again and the prospect of 68kms between us and flinders island, we opted for a day exploring Deal Island. As luck would have it, the turn of the incoming tide was timed perfectly for a double coffee and pancake cook up. While sitting in the quite "luxurious" west cove hut and revelling in the beauty of the place, it was quite clear to me that I would be coming back here at another time.
We had read up briefly on the historical and current significance of Deal Island on the internet in our trip preparation, so it was great that we could justify a day to explore the area. On the short paddle over, we were imagining what the island caretaker would be like. We were envisaging a cranky old man, permanently encrusted in salt spray, who would have the personality of a local parrot fish and he’d not give two shits about us other than when we were leaving "his" island. When we caught up with Bob and Trish at the lighthouse, it couldn’t have been further from our prediction. They were a lovely retired couple who were about 6 weeks into a three month secondment as island caretakers. Trish had some family connection to the early lighthouse keepers and Bob was helpful in pointing out identifiable landmarks. They hadn’t seen anyone else in the past 10 days so they were bang up for a cuppa and sharing some of their freshly grown produce. The turning of the tides 6 hours later was perfect for us to return back to our hut and make preparations for the big crossing.
That night it blew hard. The hut was tucked right up in the pocket of West Cove, yet the wind still whipped through making it feel like we were in a scene from Wizard of Oz. We poured over the charts and hypothesised about the predicted forecast, the effect of the tides and the strategy for our biggest crossing to date. After two hours of discussion, it took us quite a while to calm our minds and get some sleep.
With very little discussion we packed our boats in the dark and it was probably close to six when we headed off. The wind had eased where we were and the stars were still glimmering in the clear dawn. Exiting through the northern entrance of Murray Pass gave us Garden cove and Winter cove as potential shelter points before committing to the paddle. With the swell rolling through as predicted at 3-4 metres and the tide just starting to oppose, the visuals we experienced were exciting to say the least.
We made good speed and it wasn’t long til we rounded Deal Island and the safety of land. From here on, we were committed by the wind and the tide to continue onto Flinders Island, a distance of about 63kms.
We raised the sails and began to become comfortable with the waves and 15-20knot breeze. We were motoring and averaging in excess of 10km/hr on the GPS. The Komodo was incredibly stable despite large forces being generated from the sails, the waves and the weight of the loaded boat.
As the kilometres ticked over the new land features presented. Wrights rock and Craggy Island took shape and as the hours past the outline of Flinders Island comforted us in the distance. Our paddling endurance had increased and now we were only stopping for about 5 minutes every hour. A handful of lollies, an arm stretch, a good drink follow by a pee stop and we were back turning the arms over.
Despite tired discussions of going for the closest patch of sand, we were glad we continued on to our planned destination. After a full 10 hours, the picnic ground at Killercrankie looked spectacular. It was tucked in a natural harbour and surrounded by large granite mountains. The water was crystal clear, the winds had all but gone, dusk was approaching and the feeling of Flinders Island under our feet gave us lots of satisfaction.
Some of the friendly locals who’d greeted us the night before came around in the morning and we had brilliant chats learning about the area. The winds were once again non conducive for paddling and after yesterdays big day, a relaxing pace was set. We had a little fish in the afternoon and created a couple more evidence free fishing tales. Thankfully we didn’t need to rely on our catch for dinner.
The western coast of Flinders Island was spectacular with loads of little islands, the odd F.W.S, clear shallow waters and finally we caught a fish that didn’t break our hook and we could eat. With reasonably favourable conditions and a tidal pattern that allowed four hours a day of exploring on land, we ventured inland and upwards.
The Strzelecki peaks are over 700 metres high and the views from the top are supposed to be some of the best in the southern Australia. With fog providing very little more than 10 metres visibility, I can’t say I’d rave about them that much. Despite this it was good to stretch the legs and use some different muscles groups for a change.
The weather pattern over our final days swung around from the west and was a bit more like what we had anticipated the trip would be like. Cold strong winds blowing in intermittent weather. We judged our paddling sections pretty well and avoided being on the water during inclement conditions most of the time. Our approach into Spike cove, where there was supposably a hut, was one of those times when we just didn’t make it.
The black scary front was as wide as we could see and we both knew we wanted to find land before it found us. However despite a stiff tail breeze, a favourable swell and charged up paddling we couldn’t out run it. We were about 4kms off shore when the waves started to grow, the rains started to fall and the visibility became limited. As the rains got heavier it was really tough to confirm anything and the coast line appeared entirely rocky. We cautiously approached, not wanting to commit to a poor landing. When about 500 metres offshore we could identify a small opening and a patch of sand. We paddled between the breaking sets and with nervous and relieved grins we landed safely on the beach. It was a great little spot with fresh water, good views, relative natural protection from the wind but no hut. It didn’t matter though, we were more than content to stay put for the night.
Our final push from Spike Cove to Little Musselroe Bay was 25kms. From an elevated position, mainland Tassie was now clearly visible. My partner Holly and another good friend were going to be waiting with beers on ice and a hotel room booked for a night of celebrations. These celebrations would have run so smoothly if we didn’t have 30 knot westerly winds and the infamous tidal swings of Bank Crossing to deal with.
Our intended finish date was blown away by the strong westerlies and with that came a storm front of "What ifs". Through Sat phone communication we confirmed our safety and we worked through details of flights, spirit of Tassie bookings, four day predicted forecasts and loads of other seemingly imperative details such as work commitments and football scores.
Having retired our minds to the fact that we could be staying for another three or four days, it felt like we were going have another fruitless attempt when we packed up in the morning. The winds were a lot lighter this morning and we’d nutted out a better course plan in relation to the tides, in comparison to the day before.
Paddling away just prior to dawn and knowing that things were going to get pretty funky in the "Banks" made us switch on and paddle the strongest and most committed for the entire trip. The seas were confused around 2metres and the wind due west, which allowed the slightest of sail advantage. We were amazed that even when approaching slack tide we were still getting major lateral movement, thankfully though it was westerly as we hadn’t packed our passport for New Zealand.
We were some 6 kilometres west of bearing line when we could clearly identify Tasmanian land features. It was so reassuring to know that the hard paddling we’d completed over the past three hours had now put us safely where we wanted to be. Upwind and up tide of Little Musselroe Bay and our amazingly supportive friends.
Just when we thought the final stages couldn’t get any better, we were greeted by a pod of about 10 dolphins, who tracked with us while under sail at about 12km/hr. It was so spectacular and such a brilliant finish to an amazing journey.
All of the pre-trip planning and preparation combined with some juggling of flights and logistics by our incredible loved ones enabled a relatively smooth transition back to Victoria, by far quicker transport means. The trip had been a success and the seed that got planted five months earlier had now established itself and grown.
As a final note, any trip of this size requires lots and lots of planning and preparation. It also requires a very committed paddling group and equally as important, a very accommodating and understanding support crew. Thankfully Cam and I were fortunate to have all of these elements combined with a favourable weather pattern given the time frame available. We are so extremely grateful to all of the people that provided us support and assistance before, during and after the trip. Thank you.
For further information regarding the details of the trip I can be contacted by email: gpmatheson@yahoo.com
Thanks again, Greg Matheson
