The journey ...

Circa 1999.

Richard / Paul / Luke

Well brewed beer and marine charts are natural partners from which bold adventures spring.

This adventure was born within the sandstone walls of the Lord Nelson hotel in Sydney. 

By late January of 2000, three enthusiastic paddlers were packing rented sea kayaks on the edge of the D'Entrecasteaux Channel at Kettering, Tasmania.

Many thanks are due to Kim and Ian at RFOK for providing the kayaks.

It is amazing how far you can travel without a two-way VHF radio - nor much idea of what you are really taking on.

Packed and ready to paddle.

(Thanks to Colin for the cray trap - handmade from a milk crate, of course.)

This was the path travelled over 9 days, commencing from the D'Entrecasteaux Channel, via the northern end of Bruny Island, to Betsy Island, across Frederick Henry Bay, out through the Dunalley Canal and around the outside of Maria Island before crossing the Mercury Passage to conclude at Orford.

The D'Entrecasteaux was squally as we scooted across its broad channel.

A large squid was wrestled from its furrowed waters and shortly afterwards sliced and thrown into a pan with red chillis before we nestled down on Bruny Island for the night.

The following morning we struck out across the top of Storm Bay

The "Iron Pot" - a very well known landmark for exhausted crew in the Sydney to Hobart yacht race.

Mount Wellington touching cloud in the background.

We stopped at Betsy Island and climbed to its peak for a view into the sun of our next destination - the blue outline of the Tasman Peninsula.

And this was the view from the Tasman Peninsula, looking back at Betsy Island.

It is not at all apparent from this image, however for about 3/4 of this passage a nor-easterly whistled through, forcing us to lean well forward in our seats and paddle hard into the oncoming chop and spray.

I recall that we drank a bottle of wine with our lunch and then passed out on this lovely slope of drought ravaged land. It was a hot and dry summer in Tas, well suited for the taking of regular siestas.

Woken from our afternoon snooze we paddled into a beautiful and calm dusk.

An overnight camp was made at Lime Beach. This photo is from the next morning when we were preparing to continue our odyssey towards Maria Island - still some days away from being visible to us.

Us against the world.

We explored a few small snake-infested islands as we crossed over Norfolk Bay to camp amongst the sheep, back on the mainland of Tasmania.

On the next Tasmanian voyage I will remember to bring a large sprig of rosemary, a head of garlic, a quart of olive oil and a very large and sharp carving knife to dispose of a spring lamb, Roman style.

Unfortunately there are no photos to show of our passage through the narrow slot of Dunalley Canal.

We were too focussed on getting fresh water and resupplying our empty compartments with wine.

One memorable conversation occured as we spoke to the local publican at Dunalley:

Had he been to Maria Island, we enquired.

"Maria Island?" - he exclaimed - "never 'eard it!"

And with that he shuffled back into his darkened cellar.

Now this was not because we had mis-pronounced Maria Island.

Tasmanians do pronounce it mar-eye-ah, and so did we.

This man's indifference to an island just over his immediate horizon was confirmation to us that the slanderous generalisation (that we were previously reluctant to share in) that Taswegians are a strange and insular lot is absolutely true. (For example, another story we were told was that Tasmanians are so insular that those from the north of the island refuse to drink beer made in the south, and vice versa.) 

However, after 12 years of reflection I now understand.

These people are very attached to their immediate patch of earth.

That's a beautiful thing.

Anyway, that this local publican claimed not to know of the obvious presence of a nearby and most spectacular island that loomed so large in our vivid imaginations became a kind of humorous mantra to us for the remainder of the expedition.

"Have you seen my missing Trangia?" -  "Never 'eard it !"

"Have you seen my fourth bottle of Pinot?"  -  "Never 'eard it !"

"Have you been to Australia?"  -  "Never 'eard it !!!"

A lovely day on the east coast of Tasmania.

Time is of no consequence, the sea is benign, the sun is shining and I am in a kayak, with two friends in theirs. Life is great.

This gorgeous bay is on the outside of the Forestier Peninsula.

It was Eden-like in its sunny tranquility.

I dived into this bay and liberated my first ever abalone from its cray-kelped rocks. 

The abalone flesh was carefully sliced into thin crescents and pan-fried in garlic and olive oil over a wood fire ... and then washed down with cans of Cascade beer - heaven!

Burp!

Working our way across the rollicking waves of Marion Bay and out to open sea.

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