Splinter Group

Following the training in Greenland-style paddling and rolling provided by Ginni Callahan and Axel Schoevers earlier this year, a few of us enthusiasts of this kayaking niche have been meeting and sharing with each other what we know.  Last Saturday, Ian patiently held his camera while I ran through some of my new-found skills, especially patient as once I'm in a balance brace, there I want to stay!

Dee doing her Greenland thing from Ian Vaile on Vimeo.

The Sea Road

Reading the Irish Times online, as I occasionally do, I came across the summer kayaking plans of one staff member of the Irish Times, Gary Quinn.  He is going to paddle fifteen classic Irish sea kayaking routes in his Tahe Greenland T - now that got my interest of course.  I've been looking at his photos and videos, carefully checking how his Greenland T is fitted out, getting ideas for my own Orca.

I'll be reading The Sea Road to follow Gary's adventures.

Oskar and Sandy

14 May is an auspicious date in the annals of kayak expeditions.  Right back in 1932 one of the longest expeditions ever (if not the longest) commenced.  Oskar Speck headed down the Danube in a folding kayak leaving depression-era Germany with hopes of finding work in the copper mines of Cyprus.  Somehow along the way his ambitions and destination changed with Australia becoming the aim. 

Surviving many adventures, hazards and crazy experiences, Oskar reached Saibai (amongst the northernmost islands of Australia) in September 1939.  World War II had broken out, he was promply arrested as an enemy alien and spent the war years in an internment camp.  Released in 1945 he stayed in Australia, never to return to Germany.

Today, 14 May 2011, Australian kayaker Sandy Robson will start her journey, retracing the route of Oskar Speck in stages over the next five years.  Sandy's own expeditions are legendary amongst Australian kayakers.  Her journey (2006-2007) to follow the paddle strokes of Paul Caffyn around Australia was going really well - until she was attacked by a large male crocodile.  The story of Day 166 is heart-stopping (ignore the security certificate, Sandy assures readers that site is safe).

All the best Sandy!  I'll be following your journey.

A Quick Blast

The southerly had kicked up some swell, the wind was still blowing but forecast to decrease after midday.  Stephan and I agreed to do a short one-way paddle with an easy car shuffle.  We launched from La Perouse and were smart enough to test equipment within the bay.  He had a new sail attached to a kayak he'd never sailed before, and I stuffed around the initial sail deployment.  That done, and my nerves settled somewhat, we headed out of Botany Bay to see what the sea offered. 

We knew there were waves up to 5 metres waiting out there.  The ebbing tide took us quickly out and the incoming sets opened our eyes wide.  We stayed well clear of all the edges, giving Cape Banks a wide berth.  Turning north, Stephan suggested we unfurl our sails.  After an initial reluctance, I told myself to get a grip and just do it.  The winds were still over 15 knots and there were white caps catching the sunlight all around us.

Once underway I sailed, letting out a few laughs as I moved higher and lower amongst the sets, turning round to see swells the size of houses moving towards me, and Stephan looking a long way down.  A penguin called out in greeting and I cheered back.  Perhaps seeing the headland where we would be turing back in helped me, but after I while I realised my mind had shifted to things other than the water, the waves, the wind - was I relaxing out here?  Yes!  What a hoot!

Refocussing on the conditions, I caught a few rides, watched the kayak's bow get buried a few times and blasted along.  Entering Long Bay the swells stood up some more, eye-widening seas made more irregular by the rebound coming from both northern and southern headlands.  Turning in, we adjusted our sails to the new angles and carried on right to the beach.  A quick victory roll and we landed to hugs and smiles of accomplishment and delight.

Waving at the Buoys

From early last week I was watching the weather forecasts and by Wednesday I was confident enough of the likely conditions to send out an email asking some kayaking mates if they'd care to join me in a journey off the coast of Sydney.  We would go in search of the Sydney Harbour FAD (Fish Aggregating Device) and the Manly Hydraulics Waverider Buoy - respectively 8.6km and 12.5km from North Head.

Image from Google Earth

This paddle would fulfill a longheld wish to paddle out to these buoys, offer a chance to use my neglected GPS and develop some dead reckoning skills.  The latter skill became a toss-up between "dead reckoning" and "ded reckoning"....a great debate with Ian and I favouring the "dead" term as used since Elizabethan England. 

Saturday dawned clear and bright and the BOM forecast promised:

Winds: West to northwesterly 5 to 10 knots tending north to northeasterly at about 15 knots during the afternoon.  Winds tending northerly 15 to 20 knots in the evening. Seas: to 1 metre increasing to 1 to 1.5 metres in the evening. Swell: Southerly about 1 metre.

Ten kayakers arrived early to claim the hotly-contested parking spots at Watsons Bay.  On the beach Andrew used the sand to demonstrate some simple reckoning and, with a plan, we set off.

Photo by Andrew

The pack paddled in tight formation, mingling and catching up on each others' stories - new fatherhood, encounters with orca in New Zealand, upcoming trips.

Photo by Andrew

Photo by Andrew

Photo by Andrew

Aiming for the FAD we had allowed for a southerly current but overshot due to a current flowing north.  Mike's GPS soon set us straight and once we turned south, it quickly became visible in the low swell.  Once at the FAD the northerly drift was obvious.

With such calm conditions it was easy to feel closer to the coast than we were.

Photo by Harry

Photo by Andrew

Harry rolled under for another perspective on the FAD

Photo by Andrew

Photo by Harry

Seeing a kayak from underneath does make me wonder how the creatures of the deep view our craft.

Photo by Harry

With such ideal conditions, we decided to continue another 4.3km further out to find the waverider buoy.  I noticed Michael and Ian both check their GPS, turn a little north and then stop (my GPS was pointing 500m to the south).  We'd found the spot, but not the buoy.  Oh well, one out of two aint bad.  My GPS data input obviously contained a couple of errors - more effort needed on that front.

Turning for North Head we started the 12.5km back in.  It felt like forever, stroke after stroke after stroke, and still we were paddling.  Our group had splintered; Andrew went off under sail, Harry threw out his fishing line, Paul worried about his unlocked car, Michael chose a different course, so bit by bit we all headed back to the city.  Apart from Andrew, we at the back were able to see everyone else.  Amazing how the flash of a paddle blade catches the sunlight and with little swell, those further away were still visible.

Photo by Harry

Using this photo, it is easy to see which city buildings provide suitable transits for future use.

Now that northerly current really made its presence felt.  12.5km took us almost 2 1/2 hours even though the NE winds had started to kick in.  It got boring, being so far out, no variety of cliffline or smashing wave to offer diversion.  At last, we reached the cliffs and were mesmerised by the helicopter flying real low and close to the cliffs.  As we rounded North Head it flew right towards and by us, the noise very awesome.

Image supplied by Mike

Quick trip across to South Head with the afternoon light catching the spinnakers of the Saturday sailing boats. Then back to our start, Watsons Bay.  About 37km in over 6 hours of kayaking - no landings, no leg stretches, just a few new blisters.