The Kimberley
- To Conquer The Whirlpools!!
Now drifting backwards,
I shuddered with fear as I heard an almighty roar behind me.
As I glanced over my shoulder I couldn't believe my eyes,
a giant whirlpool several hundred metres wide, was swirling,
boiling, erupting and forming several different water levels.
Like a scared rabbit I paddled furiously towards the eddy
but it was no good, I was being sucked towards the whirlpool.
Sliding backwards towards the whirlpool was a terrifying feeling,
especially after knowing that although I had good whitewater
skills, they were probably not good enough to protect me from
the two metre turbulent surges and spiraling water forces.
The morning greeted me
with a sky full of birds. Noisy white cockatoos flew overhead
as well as honey eaters and an array of other birds including
one with a red breast and black wings. A coucal pheasant also
took off from out of the dry grass. I was getting short of
fresh water but for there to be so many birds there must have
been water close by unless they got it from the heavy dew
that saturated everything in the early morning. I started
putting plastic bags over my cockpit to collect condensation.
My kayak also collected condensation but I had to remember
to wipe the salt off the kayak the night before so the fresh
water I collected diddn't get tainted. I collected a few spoons
full every morning.
The two and half hour trip across from the island to the 'Funnel'
at the head of Secure Bay was uneventful, no sharks, no crocodiles,
nothing. One of my small ambitions on this trip was to paddle
through the entrance of Secure Bay and Walcott Inlet. The
Funnel at Secure Bay was roughly 50 m across and a kilometre
or so long before it opened out into Secure Bay where it widened
considerable. Arriving at Secure Bay close to high tide meant
the water movements would be slower as I paddled through the
channel. As I moved through the channel and into the bay it
was lined for kilometers and kilometers of mangroves. Being
really in crocodile country and having so many mangroves around
me I didn't fancy staying inside the bay so I turned and made
my fast exit with the out-going tide.
Three hundreds metres
from the entrance I found a nice beach, where there was plenty
of firewood, a small boab tree to hang my hammock and a great
view of the entrance.
I made a hammock which could also be
used as a swag or a tent fly.
With several day light
hours left in the day I headed out on a walk to a creek a
couple of kilometers away. I took my survival kit, cameras
and water bottles. As usual the terrain was difficult. Boulders
were hidden under the spinnifex and grasses which was one
of the best defenses for intruders on foot. The Kimberley
terrain was like no other in WA. Sandstone boulders, deep
spinifex, gullies, ravines, waist deep grasses with boulders
underfoot. Walking boots that are made to last for years in
normal conditions, only last for weeks here in the Kimberley.
I could see the creek in sight but even with an increased
walking speed it would still take me an hour to reach it.
Then as I stepped on a boulder I was on my back and looking
up at the cloudy skies in a split second. I fell on my back
and bum but luckily my pack cushioned the fall so I was okay.
At this point in time the creek looked too far away, so I
retreated back to camp.
The tide was now racing out of the Funnel creating some amazing
and fascinatingly beautiful water movements. Big whirlpools
had formed. I headed to a high point on the cliff 300 metres
away to get a better view and some film footage.
Sat 18th
My next stop was the dangerous Yule Entrance, an entrance
further along the coast that opened up into Walcott Inlet.
I was told that were big boils and large whirlpools that were
capable of spinning large boats in circles. It sounded an
interesting inlet and it was only 10kms from my present position.
To go through the entrance it was important for me to paddle
through it as close to the high tide as possible, when there
was less water movement.
My route along the cliff took me between Fletcher Island and
Beer's Ridge which was on the mainland. Driftwood that was
being moved by the tidal currents was thick in the milky brown
slack water of the channel. It made spotting crocodiles difficult
because every piece of driftwood looked like a crocodile.
Mangroves were only 500 metres away at the best of times and
the thought of crocodiles lurking quickened my progress.
I arrived at Yule entrance an hour too soon as the tide was
still streaming into Yule Entrance at a terrific speed. I
waited several hundred metres away but I felt vulnerable sitting
there waiting in crocodile country for the slack tide so I
started easing myself towards the 600 metre wide entrance.
The current was increasing but I felt in no immediate danger
so I moved in further. I could now see a whirlpool and boils
to my right so I paddled over to my left and further into
the centre.
Part of Yule Entrance with the tide
streaming in
My eyes focused on the
cliffs, which gauged my speed. I started to accelerate and
I wasn't paddling but I had been caught in a large tidal water
slide. It didn't matter I would just ferry glide across to
the slack water behind the north wall entrance. Well that's
what I thought but a whirlpool prevented any chance of that.
I was now committed to go right through the entrance and my
paddling skills and strength couldn't help me back track against
the current. The current was now running much faster than
I could imagine and although I noticed the spectacular high
cliffs to my right I had no time to take in their true beauty.
I was suddenly staring at the series of rapids, whirlpools
and boils that spread across the channel. Drops and rapids
were also being created by rocky islands and reefs that were
being smothered by the rising tide.
As the channel narrowed, my kayak slid sideways and increased
its speed. I was at mercy of the swift current and as I desperately
tried to avoid the biggest of the boils and whirlpools I could
do nothing but to go with the tide. I felt that I was sliding
in safer waters as the channel widened so I tried to get some
film with my 16mm camera mounted on my front deck. I drifted,
but faster than I normally paddled as I reached out to wind-up
the camera. As I concentrated on my filming I drifted towards
a developing whirlpool which was slightly to my right. I desperately
tried moving over to the left but because the water was being
deflected from the rocky shoreline it flowed straight towards
it. Gathering extra speed on the current I managed to go to
the right of the turbulences and avoided another possible
disaster.
The coastline abruptly turned east about 3 kilometres from
the entrance and having enough of the wild ride I turned and
tried desperately to paddle towards an eddy behind the corner
cliff wall, but the swift current being deflected from the
wall kept me in the main current.
Now drifting backwards, I shuddered with fear as I heard an
almighty roar behind me. As I glanced over my shoulder I couldn't
believe my eyes, a giant whirlpool several hundred metres
wide, was swirling, boiling, erupting and forming several
different water levels.
Like a scared rabbit I paddled furiously towards the eddy
but it was no good, I was being sucked towards the whirlpool.
Sliding backwards towards the whirlpool was a terrifying feeling,
especially after knowing that my whitewater experience could
not protect me from the two metre turbulent surges and spiraling
water forces.
The whirlpools not
only circulated, big boils formed and then erupted raising
the water level and then leaving big holes. I was told that
big boats get spun around in the whirlpools.
The thunder of the eruptions became louder as the boiling
volcano of whitewater closed in. I strained to turn my heavy
kayak and face the whirlpool. This was no ordinary whirlpool
though, it was a giant that spun around converging with smaller
ones that just popped up from nowhere. With several almighty
forward and reverse sweep strokes I managed to get the kayak
around. Now facing forward again I started to pass close to
a smaller whirlpool and still being sucked into the bigger
one. My only hope now was to try and paddle around it, using
the outer whirl. All of a sudden another huge, although smaller
whirlpool than the real big one formed to my left. Its raging
currents were less severe and swirling in the opposite direction
than the bigger one. I paddled towards it and managed to use
its current to get away from the big one and miraculously
crossed over its raging turbulence at times using my paddle
as support to stop me from capsizing.
With all my strength
I paddled out of its powerful hold and into calmer waters.
I couldn't believe I had managed it but I was safe. My mouth
was dry and I was nearly choking with thirst. I ferry glided
to the safety of the eddy, to wait nervously in crocodile
country for the tide to ease. I sat and watched the whirlpools
that were hundreds of metres wide, swirl, and erupt like a
boiling volcano.
I remember Steve, who worked on the customs boat tell me that
if I went into Walcot Inlet I would never get out. I didn't
believe such a tale, but seeing a slope in the water level
and the current still running at an amazing speed with my
own eyes, I started to doubt logic and had thoughts that he
could be right.
I had paddled into the inlet on the highest of the spring
tides, which in turn produces the fastest water currents.
Waiting in an eddy, 5 kilometres from the open sea, surrounded
by mangrove forests and suicidal currents, was unsettling.
I started paddling back towards the entrance close to the
cliffs but it was still a struggle. A boil that turned into
a whirlpool 30 metres away blocked my escape but then I saw
a thin gap between it and the cliff so I had a slim possibility
of paddling beyond it. I had to give it ago. In between the
eruptions and whirls it suddenly became still. This gave me
enough time to clear it and get a position behind a boulder
before it started erupting again. When it erupted the current
moved out from the centre and started pushing me towards the
rock face. I fended myself from the wall with my paddle and
hands. The current pushed me backwards jamming my rudder under
a rock ledge and as the boil rose my rudder crunched and it
sank my stern in the water compromising my balance.
Time after time I was
at the mercy of the upsurges until my rudder was free. The
water was too powerful to paddle against it and the whirlpool
didn't make it any easier. Hell knows what I would have done
is a crocodile came. I was hundreds of kilometres from civilization
so I was hoping things didn't get any worse. I waited. I wanted
to get to the inlet entrance as soon as I could but it was
impossible to paddle against the current. Eventually the current
eased to a manageable speed so I fought my way along the edge
of the shoreline trying to use the slack water and eddies
behind the rocks and boulders. I passed over many small whirlpools
and boils and climbed several fast running chutes, skirted
mangroves and continually scanned the water for crocodiles.
It was one big adventure that kept me in suspense.
With one kilometre to go the channel became flatter and I
was soon outside the entrance in the murky ocean fighting
the afternoon breeze and wind waves. I had 5 ½ kms
to go before I was safe on Fletcher Island. Steep waves slapped
against my bow and gave me no time to recover before the next
one it. I was feeling a little unstable when the bow was caught
on one wave and my stern on top of another.
Waves of saltwater smacked me in the mouth increasing my unbearable
thirst. As I turned around the west side of Fletcher Island
the waves were hitting broadside and making me uncomfortable
so I was pleased when I landed on the beach and was welcomed
by two ducks and two Oyster catchers. It felt good to have
survived such a harrowing and dangerous ordeal and experienced
it on one of the biggest tides (10.1m) in the year with the
most tidal movements.
The two ducks flew off to the other end of the beach leaving
their large chick under a driftwood pile that stretched the
full length of the beach. The 300m beach was criss-crossed
with numerous turtle tracks. I managed to get rid of the salty
water taste in my mouth after making a beautiful cup of coffee.
The simple things in life, like a cup of coffee and some dried
fruits were heavenly. I tied my hammock to gum trees up on
the ridge to keep away from the crocodiles and had a beautiful
view of my beach, the mainland and its outlying islands.
I relaxed for a while
next to my kayak on the beach just thinking of the ordeal
I had just gone through when a crocodile swam along the beach,
which was also around the following day. The thing about being
in the Kimberley this was just a normal day as there was so
much that happens out here.
Feeling a little more
refreshed I returned to my hammock in the dark. I stood sorting
my gear out when I heard a hissing noise coming from around
my feet. I looked down but it was too dark to see anything.
Shit, a snake somewhere, I thought. I couldn't believe it,
my amazing, exciting day still hadn't finished. I stepped
back and it continued to hiss so without delay I jumped in
my hammock to get off the ground.
The ropes holding the hammock immediately stretched leaving
me too close to the ground for comfort and forcing me to enter
the snake's domain again to tighten the ropes. I directed
the torch towards the noise and saw nothing but ants and insects
in the crevice. I soon stopped looking and lay back and looked
up into the beautiful night sky which was ablaze with twinkling
stars.
I wouldn't trade my day
for anything. This was life.
Checking the whirlpools
out from the shore
*****************************************
Kokoda Track
G'day Terry.
I have returned from the Kokoda trek
unscathed.
What an adventure, Looking for a new
challenge.
I have attached two photos, the first
one is, one of our porters whose name is Nelson, he carried
our food and helped us along the way. After the trek I gave
him the cap.
The second photo is of Japanese man
named Kokichi Nishimura the Bone Man. What made this story
so unique is, We have been walking the trek for the last 7days
talking about the history of the Kokoda and the bone man was
one of the stories we talked about, not knowing whether he
was dead or alive. While waiting at Popandadda air port for
our flight back to Port Moresby, who was carried off the plane
(The Bone Man).
An opportunity of a life time. Nishimura travelled back to
PNG for the 70th Anniversary of the Kokoda campaign.
Short story below
Kokichi Nishimura was a member of the
2nd battalion, 144th Regiment of the Japanese Imperial Army.
In 1942 he fought along every foot of Kokoda as the Japanese
attempted to take Port Moresby. He was the only man from his
company to survive the campaign. As he was evacuated to safety
he made a promise that one day he would return to his comrades
and bring them home to Japan for proper burial.
After the war, Nishimura prospered. But under the surface,
the driving ambition of his life was to fulfil his promise.
In 1979, he shocked his family by returning to New Guinea
to search for the remains of Japanese soldiers. For the next
25 years, Nishimura lived alone along the Kokoda Track. Armed
only with a metal detector, a mattock and a shovel, he searched
for his dead comrades. Over the years he found hundreds of
them - some he was able to identify and return their bones
to their families; others were unknown, and their remains
were sent to Japan's official shrine for its war dead in Tokyo.
In 2005 Nishimura, then in his mid-eighties and seriously
ill, was forced to return to Japan. His story is an incredible
adventure that gives us a radically different viewpoint on
a battle that has become part of our national myth. Nishimura's
life and quest above all offer a poignant reminder of the
futility of war.
In 2012 Nishimura is about 98/99 years old.
There is a book out called The Bone Man Of Kokoda.
Written by Charles Happell.
All the Best to one and all for the safe paddle of the Avon
Descent this weekend.
Cheers.
Rob Voorn.
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