Although the cyclone made us cancel the WA Canoe Marathon Saturday race, we were still able to paddle the kayak & SUP races on Sunday. It turned out being a great day. However the double races had to be cancelled for another time.

In my K1 race Robin Jacob was on fire again leading most of the way, however I managed to get the upper hand on the last 2 kilometres to beat him by the smallest of margins. The fight for the line was just amazingly brutal. I don’t think we could have gone any faster.

I was in the 75+ category and Robin was in the 70+ category so we both managed to win gold medals in our categories.  I also won a silver medal in the SUP race which took place straight after the kayak race. It was great fun.

There won't be a newsletter next week as I will be competing at the Australian Canoe & SUP Marathon Championships in Canberra. I have 7 races in kayak and SUP and unfortunately the main long course SUP race is held at the same time as my long course kayak race. Even I can't paddle two boats at the same time.  

My Avon Descent training course is still going really well and all participants are excelling.

29 athletes heading over to participate in the 2026 Paddle Australia Canoe & SUP Marathon Championships.

Sprint Paddlers Fund Raiser

at the Oarhouse Coffee Shop

Get down to @the_oarhouse at Bayswater this Good Friday & Easter Saturday and help support our athletes from Bayswater Paddlesports Club
These legends are heading to New Zealand and Canada to represent Australia and we need your support to help get them there!
Coffee from 6–11am
Raffle tickets + awesome prizes
Good vibes for a great cause
Massive thanks to Rob and The Oarhouse crew for getting behind our athletes and making this happen
Bring your crew, grab a coffee and be part of the journey.

Australian Canoe Marathon Championships

10-13 April

in Canberra.

https://www.webscorer.com/register?raceid=413527...

******************

John Sims Race

19th April 2026 

WA Canoe Marathon Championships

I was mixing with some of the best paddlers just before the start.

Photo Gordon Innes.

Open winner Josh Kippin and second place Harry Hewitt.

Photo Gordon Innes.

Photo Gordon Innes.

Brett McDonald & Kelby Murray

Brett won, beating Kelby by 3 seconds.

Photo Gordon Innes.

Ron Clarke, Robin Jacob and I on the first lap.

Photo Gordon Innes.

Agnes Pajor and Nicky Taylor.

Photo Gordon Innes.

Photo Gordon Innes.

Ross Burdett asks Izzy if she wants to have a snack.

Izzy & Tink Measey paddle K1 and SUP.

Photo Gordon Innes.

Guppy paddler Evan MacRae looking happy.

He won his u10 class.

Photo Gordon Innes.

Robin paddling strong. We have Murray Cox and Stuart Tennant on our tail. 

Photo Gordon Innes.

I move to the left side of Robin to get into the best position for the last three turns. 

I was lucky to beat Robin by the smallest of margins.

Photo Gordon Innes.

Celebrating 50 Years of Paddling

Year 1988

Kimberley Kayak Expedition #5

After retracing one of Bertram & Klausmann inland walks and finding the famous cave and part of the plane's float we trekked back to the King George Falls put the float's bulkhead into the Toyota and Duncan left for Wyndham, leaving Dennis, Ewen and I to trek another 220kms across a vast Kimberley wilderness towards Forrest River Aboriginal community (now called Oombulgurri). What ever happened now, our nearest remote outstation was 200 kilometres away. No quick rescues would be had.

Near the cave where the aviators waited to be rescued.

Ewen at the site wher we found the the bulkhead cut off from the plane's float.

We had trekked 40 kms there and back from King George Falls to find the cave. 

Now we are going to walk overland 220 kilometres across a remote wilderness.

Our second big walk over 220 kms on half rations. 
Retracing Bertram & Klausmann's survival epic and then continuing our backpacking journey towards the Forest River.

Our journey towards the Forrest River community continued by   detouring to Emergency Bay, where the Atlantis float plane finally landed and the nightmare began. The walk took us through tick infested scrub and dry creek beds which turned into a hellish trip. Tormented by the heat, the flies and heavy backpacks, which included 7 litres of fresh water, there seemed little hope in finding fresh water on our way. By days end though, relief was in sight, when we found a pool of water but our hopes were dashed when it had been fouled by cattle dung and urine. 

We camped beside the pool and as we didn’t know where the next water hole would be we filtered the putrid water through Dennis’ hat (which never smelled the same again), before boiling it. The water tasted awful and although we mixed a little with our cooking we were hoping that we wouldn’t have to drink it before finding purer water.

As we set off the following day our water concern was highlighted as we crossed more dry creek beds and parched landscape. Then our sombre mood suddenly changed to sheer joy when we entered a lush valley with pandanas palms, green creepers and tall grasses bordering a beautiful sweet running stream. It was like leaving hell and entering paradise, where birds probed the flowers of silky grevilleas, where sweet running water cascaded over shiny rocks and into small clear pools. Downstream closer to the ocean rugged cliffs grew higher and higher.

We followed the cliff line before descending into Emergency where Bertram & Klausmann landed.

Our polluted water supply was tipped from our bottles and replaced with the clean pure water. Our joy of finding such a place, when you have thoughts of drinking cattle urine for several days was a feeling that you could never forget.

We followed the high ridges of the cliffs that extended 3 kilometres inland, giving way to a small beach and forest of thick mangroves at Emergency Bay. We descended the slippery shaly cliff face to the thick impenetrable mangroves that barred our access to the stream. As we stalked through the mangroves, Dennis, wary of crocodiles, held the rifle poised for the slightest movement. Like suction pads our boots grew heavy crossing the repulsive mud that supported popping crustaceans and fleeing mud skippers. With packs catching on branches and feet like lead, our chances of out-running a croc were slim.

While searching among the mangroves and rocky water course, our sweet running stream we had seen earlier had soaked underground, and like many other streams in the Kimberley it was dry where it met the ocean. We now could understand why the German aviators thought that there was no water in the area when the landed here, but if they had only done a short walk upstream they would have found a rock pool that would have given them all the water they needed.

Looking down at Emergency Bay.

An investigation of the small beach in Emergency Bay where the float plane landed uncovered fragments of decaying metal and the landscape duplicated old photographs from the books we had brought with us. Having explored Emergency Bay we retraced the aviators first inland walk along the coast to Crocodile Creek 16 kilometres east. It was here that Bertram wrote in his book: Crocodile! Two-three, swimming towards us. For a second I am paralysed. Then …. I shout to Klausmann. Our clothes and shoes sink out of sight. In mortal terror we begin to swim as fast as we can….

Safe from the crocs, but back on the wrong side of the creek to reach the place where they first met the Aborigine; they decided not to go on, but instead they struggled for four days back to the plane, naked, barefoot and with no food or water. By the time they arrive back at the plane they have been without water for seven days.

It was very interesting trying to piece together Bertram and Klausmann's footsteps. We’d found the cave, the life saving waterhole and the bulkhead from the damaged float. We’d retraced their inland walk towards King George River, found Emergency Bay their second landing spot and where they started their first walk and sea going journey in the planes float. 

Now we had followed their walk to Crocodile Creek and tried to imagine what they would have been through and which part of the creek they attempted their swim. 

Reading Bertram’s book over and over again fascinated me, I could imagine them swimming and then panic as the crocs gave chased.

In their book they don’t mention the fresh water that flowed from the lush creek, one kilometre upstream of the ocean in Emergency Bay. Their quick and rash decisions had hurried them along so they failed to find the four water spots that we had found just in from the coast along their 16 kilometre trek. Coming from Europe however, they would have been expecting the river to flow out to sea and not to seep under the ground for the last few hundred metres.

We check out Crocodile Creek.

Our last objective was to walk 6 kilometres further south of Cape Whisky and view their original landing spot, but we got our own surprise crossing the first small creek, after a croc leaped into the water giving us one hell of a fright. After seeing the area of the first landing site and the beautiful gorge nearby, I could understand why the Aboriginals lived there. It was a perfect fishing spot, plenty of fresh water, numerous ledges, overhangs and rock platforms. It would have been a paradise for the Aboriginals.

We had now successfully retraced their entire journey from where they first landed to the cave where they had given up all hope and had taken refuge; something no one we are aware of had done.  

It was now time to start our big 200 km trek across a vast wilderness rarely visited towards Forest River. We started walking south skirting north of the 221 metre Mount Casuarina and followed the spectacular Berkley River much of the way. Carrying the extra weight of the radio and battery we had decided to go on half rations on both walks and supplement our diet with fish. With water sources scarce, so were the fish.

Each nut and grain was chewed slowly to capture the flavour. Not a grain was wasted. Our high level of fitness was sustained despite our whippet lean bodies, spartan rations and extreme physical exercise.

I’ll never forget the morning we had breakfast looking south east towards Mt Casuarina. Dennis was starting to feel the effects of hunger as we had been walking for a week on half rations and had yet to find a pool big enough to catch any fish. He took his breakfast and lunch from his pack and placed them both in his mug. “Look at that,” he said. “my old man would never believe me if I told him I could fit two meals into a small mug”. “Back home, I used to eat at least three bowls of cornflakes every morning”. I must be crazy being on half rations.

We usually had two breakfasts, a few grains of muesli at 5.00am and the rest at 9.00am. It was now 9.00am, not 2 minutes past 9, exactly 9.00am. When food is involved, stopping dead on time was very important especially when the portions were small.

Ewen started talking about puddings and beautiful food in general. Dennis joined in, telling us what he would be eating back home. Then he took his wallet out and showed us pictures of his family. The isolation and the lack of food was making him dream of the good times. Only 3 weeks earlier, when the expedition had started he had no idea he would be trekking across the Kimberley wilderness and be 200 kilometres from the nearest civilisation, but he loved it. He was a great person to have by your side; his enthusiasm to explore and take interest in the country around us was overwhelming.

We meet up with the Berkeley River and what a sight it was. It was pretty hard walking along the cliff tops.
I had paddled down part of the river in 1983 on another trip.

We followed the Berkley River as far as we could before we had to change direction and head over land towards the Forest River. We followed the Forest River before skirting across to a track where we met Duncan. 
Our hearts lifted when we met up with Duncan. Duncan who had been working as a fruit picker in Kununurra, waited with freshly baked bread and cakes which he had cooked in the camp oven. It was great eating fresh fruit and vegetables after living off dried rations for 2 ½ months.

It had been a demanding walk on half rations but we had seen so much beauty, now it was time to get on our mountain bikes.

Looking downstream of the Berkeley River.

We met up with our support team member Duncan who brought a lot of fresh foods for us to eat.

Perth to Kalbarri

Luke Dooley

The next morning it was Thursday and although I could now reach Kalbarri in two short 40km days, I wasn’t due in until Saturday. I contemplated paddling to Port Gregory to make the paddle into my final camp at Lucky Bay easier on Friday but decided instead that the conditions looked great on Friday so I stayed two nights at Little Bay. I took advantage of some good phone signal to spend the day catching up on a few things before heading up the steep but spectacular cliffs for a great sunset view that evening.

On Friday morning I headed towards Lucky Bay and after a nice send off from the Little Bay caretaker I was pleased to find that the forecast for great conditions held up and I made cracking progress averaging over 11 kilometres per hour. Shortly after passing Port Gregory I caught a wind wave so steep that the nose of my kayak picked up speed and punched through the back of the one in front, sending a temporary wall of water over my bow. I then looked down and was shocked to find that my $1200 GPS watch that tells me my speed, time and distance was missing! I immediately stopped, turned to face the wind and was extremely relieved to find my watch floating on its suction holder a few dozen metres back. After all I’d been through; to lose my beloved watch on the second last day would have been a disaster. I paddled on and after 46 kilometres I began to worry that I couldn’t see Lucky Bay. I figured I should easily be able to see it by now and pulled out my phone to check my location. To my horror I had not recognised it from the sea and paddled straight past the entrance to the bay and was now two kilometres alongside Wagoe Beach. This was a big problem as the next spot I could pull into shore was Kalbarri itself. The wind was cranking and I knew I could easily make it to Kalbarri that afternoon but I knew if I continued on that all the waiting around for Clare to be at my finish line would have been for nothing. I faced a choice of back tracking another three kilometres and half an hour into the wind or just continue on another 33 kilometres and get it over and done with. After a lot of agonising I decided that, although it was still only early in the afternoon, I did want to have Clare come to the finish line and she was looking forward to it also. After backtracking and finding a campsite I had a pleasant afternoon until the Australia Day weekend campers began arriving for the long weekend. All evening there were constant two wheel drive motorbikes and four wheel drives hooning at dangerous speeds around blind corners disturbing the peace of what, in the days before it became a motorbike hotspot, was a very tranquil campsite. Thankfully they quietened down as the sunlight faded and I was left with a beautiful starry sky for my final night camping in the dunes.

Last camp at Lucky Bay

The next morning I was raring to go but I had to wait for Clare to at least be passed Eneabba on her drive up from Perth or I’d beat her to Kalbarri. I had 37 kilometres to the Murchison River Mouth and under similar conditions to the previous day it was not looking like it’d take me very long at all to get there. I finally left about 9 am and soon found the conditions were very similar to yesterday. I was averaging nearly twelve kilometres an hour which for a loaded sea kayak is phenomenal. Soon I found myself along the coastal cliffs and I began to recognise my usual paddling runs and fishing spots. Clare finally caught me up as I rounded Red Bluff and with only six kilometres to go I sponged out my cockpit for the last time. There was a reasonable swell running through the river mouth but I have paddled through it nearly every day of my summer holidays so I wasn’t fussed; especially after what I’d already been through on Tuesday. As I arrived into the river I could see Clare, Teddy and my grandparents on the shore who, along with a dozen other beach goers from out of town, were eager to cheer me in which was nice. I was also graced with a special visit from the sea search and rescue radio operator on duty Felicity who was also filled with congratulations and eager to hear about my journey. I got packed up and walked my kayak across the road to my grandparent’s house where we’d spend the long weekend and after a much needed shower and shave I was able to reflect on another epic trip. It was certainly a more difficult trip than I had anticipated but I was pleased this was the case and glad that I was able to come through and finish learning a lot of lessons along the way. I was privileged to see a lot of coastline that may people don’t ever get the chance to and thankful to all those who helped along the way to make it happen. The next morning as we were walking the dogs I stopped in at Kenny Wilson’s place who had played host to many kayakers on similar journeys, some of which had circumnavigated Australia. This included Terry on his trip who had stood in the very same location with the same kayak 24 years earlier and was immortalised on Kenny’s “Kayaker’s Rest” plaque. It was great to share the achievements of the other paddlers passing by this way and be able to look on a map and know that I’d been able to complete such a great journey.

Birds Along The Way

Australian Hobby.

Having a laugh.

The dolphins are still coming up river.

Rianbow Lorikeets.