Paddling Film Festival 2025 World Tour

WAs Tricia Gilbert surfing in.

WAs Chris Little.

South Africa. At least the rescuers wear helmets!

Ireland.

Celebrating 50 Years of Paddling

The Year - 1983

Kimberley Kayak Expedition 2

From King George River my next important landmark was Cape Londonderry, where 25 kilometres of reef followed the coastline and extended up to 12 kilometres out to sea. After just experiencing very rough conditions along the coast around the previous set of reefs, I was hoping that this longer section of reef would not be as horrendous as the last one. To my surprise the sea was very calm as I rounded Cape Londonderry, so calm I was unable to use the sail. After seven hours of paddling I was relieved to have cleared the dangerous reefs. At Cape Talbot a crocodile, a dingo, flocks of white Torres Straight pigeons and a north-westerly breeze (which signalled the change in weather pattern) greeted me.

Chased by sharks, I took three days to reach Kalumburu Mission, which was at the south end of Napier Broome Bay and 15 kilometres up the King Edward River. Here I arranged to collect my food parcels from the local schoolteachers, John and Marie Brailey who invited me to stay a few days.

After four days I left Kalumburu and the hospitality of John, Marie and the Aboriginal community and headed north towards Sir Graham Moore Island. At Kalumburu the Aboriginal elders warned me not to eat fish or eat seafood inbetween Louis Islands and Mary Island which was on the Western side of the Anjo Pennisular. Apparently a long time ago, one of their people had been poisoned after eating fish from the region. I’m not superstitious but I decided to take their advice just in case.

Low tide on a beach opposite Mary Island. It was a long walk from the water’s edge.

Low tide on a beach opposite Mary Island.

I camped for the night near Elbow Point overlooking the Sir Graham Moore Islands, but there were no trees in which to tie my hammock. In the war there were two units stationed on Sir Graham Moore Islands, one American (Lourain) and the other Australian (Radar). The only evidence that remained of their visit were a few drums, some other discarded equipment and several wild pigs.

At midnight I awoke with violent pains in my stomach, feeling sick and a need to rush to the loo. I had diarrhoea so my backside was exposed to the sand flies for ages. They were cruel, they took advantage of my ill health and viciously attacked without mercy every part of my exposed flesh.

Throughout the night I vomited and had diarrhoea and as daylight broke I felt dizzy and distressed. No matter how bad I felt I knew I had to move away from the millions of sand flies that ravaged me the previous night.

I paddled on with a hammering head and churning stomach, wanting to pass Mary Island by nightfall, but the falling tide left a huge expanse of sand flats high and dry between the island and the mainland so I didn’t quite make it.

Luckily my diarrhoea had stopped, as it wouldn’t have been pleasant going to the toilet from the kayak. To help restrict my bowel movements I ate a large portion of damper.

By the time I reached a beach on the west side of Anjo Peninsular a few kilometres from the abandoned Truscott Airbase I felt fine. What made me sick is still a mystery but I am glad it only lasted one day.

To reach the airbase I had to walk several kilometres inland through the bush. When I reached the airfield parts of the airstrip was in good condition, but much of it was overgrown by wattle trees. A crashed B24 Liberator aircraft, a communication tower and other derelict equipment lay near the runway. Hundreds of steel mats littered the airstrip and 44 gallon drums were scattered about.

Exploring Truscott abandoned air base.

When I finished exploring and with replenished water supplies I left Truscott deserted air base and crossed Vansittart Bay to the rugged coastline of Cape Bougainville, which has several bays and points that looked like a rugged 10 leaf clover. I was very lonely paddling towards the cape but a shark woke me up from my trance with splashes and attacks on my rudder.

The Eclipse Islands lay at the entrance of Vansittart in a northerly direction. They were so named by Captain King in consequence of an eclipse of the moon in the evening of October 21^st 1819.

Shark for dinner.

At Cape Bougainville I explored a gully that I was told might contain water. Because of the extreme heat I needed to replenish my water supplies as often as possible. The creek below the gully was a picture of death. The dry bed, encrusted with salt, lacked even the smallest living creatures and the un-healthy-looking mangroves only gave refuge to debris brought up on a high tide. I found a shallow pool of water in the gully which turned out being kangaroo urine. Unsuccessful in finding water I returned to Cape Bougainville.

Hat Point used to be a very important landmark for the missionaries at Kalumburu. Here they used to tranship food and goods from small ships to the Kalumburu Mission lugger, which then took supplies to Kalumburu. It was too dangerous for the ships to go past Cape Bougainville because of the many dangerous reefs.

Near Cape Bougainville.

At Hat Point, south of Cape Bougainville, my water supplies were low, so I started producing my own water from four of my salt-water stills. Water is a sparse commodity at this time of the year. The rains had passed several months earlier and the fiery heat soon evaporated what lay in pools or small creeks. The weather conditions were becoming unbearable, it was very hot and humid. To add to the tropical heat, the dew made things very uncomfortable. As soon as the sun dropped everything became damp. No matter what I did my clothes were never dry, when walking they were soaked in sweat, at night they were drenched in dew.

Distilling salt water.

A tight squeeze but the outriggers fold in.

I left Hat Point knowing that I could not waste too many days before finding water and as I paddled across the silent glassy sea again, sharks started following me. I headed towards two un-named rivers. There were no beaches to camp on so when the tide allowed, I landed on a rock ledge, one kilometre from the nearer river. I settled in and then took off for a walk towards the river. The walk was not easy as I had to fight through chest deep spinifex, wattle thickets, ravines, large boulders and mangroves. The agonizing walk took an hour, and the return trip carrying water in the blistering heat, was even more painful. As I hadn’t washed in fresh water for two weeks, it was a welcome relief.

Dragging the kayak up onto the rock and above the high tide.

A friendly rat kept coming to visit. There were also quolls.

All my gear has to be taken out of the kayak before moving it. 

For three days I explored the river and surrounding bush. Birds, lizards, fish, oysters and other shell fish and animals were abundant. In such a vast inhospitable wilderness, places like these would be very important if I became stranded. Here, the crocodiles were so cheeky that they slept only a few metres below my rock ledge. It was good to have a home for a few days to relax, bathe in fresh water, explore and to hunt for sea food. I now could drink as much as I wanted and didn’t have to ration it.

Time for a freshwater dip.

Oh shit a fresh water crocodile!

Refreshed, I continued on the last leg of my journey to Mitchell Plateau. Within a few kilometres I sighted my first sea snake, and saw more sharks, turtles and dolphins. As I paddled closer to the plateau, passing the Osborn Islands the terrain became familiar, as it was less than a year since I had last paddled these waters.

On arrival at Port Warrender I met ten people in three four-wheel drives vehicles. The canoeing part of my trip was over but I had to get my kayak back to Derby so a spare roof rack and $100.00 soon solved that problem, and the kayak was spared the burial that its predecessor received the previous year.

Once my kayak was gone my plan was to explore the Mitchell Plateau area by foot walking from Port Warrender across to Surveyors Pool and onto the Mitchell River. After several days’ walking I arrived at the tidal section of the Mitchell River not far from a four tiered waterfall and camped under the overhang. The following day, to my surprise, a couple with two dogs walked into my camp and started chatting. Gordon and Heather spent a lot of time exploring the Kimberley region and were true bush people. A little later we walked to the tidal waters and on spotting a school of fish Gordon quickly picked up a rock and threw it into the school and stunned a fish. Dinner was soon collected.

Leaving Gordon and Heather the following day I set off across country to another beautiful smaller gorge which had a waterfall, abundant animals, fish and green ants that dropped from bushes and inflicted terrible bites. Then my last major goal on this trip was to head back to Mitchell Falls, a magnificent stream of water that tumbled over a hundred metres. The falls are one of the most spectacular I have ever seen and although I had seen them before I was still extremely impressed.

Fifty four days after starting my expedition, I again met up with Gordon and Heather near Mitchell Falls and they kindly offered me a lift back to Derby which was just perfect. They were keen cave painting explorers and bush survivalists and fishers so on our way back to Derby we detoured several times to explore many rivers to find Aboriginal cave paintings and to catch several huge barramundi fish. When we arrived in Derby two weeks later we found out that Australia had won the America’s cup and a Korean Airliner had been shot from the sky.

Mitchell Falls.

Birds Along The Way

A new family is born.

Mum I'm hungry.

Juvenile Spoonbills.

Another Sacred Kingfisher.