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Peril in Paradise
- Part 2
After a 2 day break, I
was ready to face the dangerous world out there again so at
2pm when the tide eventually reached my campsite, I paddled
out of my safe heaven, through the cliffs and along the corridor
of mangroves. Within 200 metres I spotted a 6 foot croc sunning
itself on a rock ledge. It was oblivious of my presence so
I quietly paddled by it pushing hard against the wind and
incoming tide heading back towards the Prince Regent River.
Twigs and logs floated by, most reminded me of a crocodile,
my eyes strained as I looked for those bony eyes and nostrils
in the murky water.
After passing the point where the croc
had previously given chase, I was able to relax. Once out
into the main Prince Regent River, large wind waves, which
had generated power as they swept along the very straight,
long river, tossed me around like a cork. Being back on the
water to face such elements meant the excitement grew again
and my feeling of home sickness soon faded as I realised I
loved being out there. By nightfall, I had only paddled a
few kilometres against the swift current, and I had no choice
but to find a camp along the unsuitable, mangrove, cliff lined
shoreline.
At the first chance of seeing a way
up a cliff, I manoeuvred my kayak through some mangroves and
between two large boulders and anchored. I checked the water
and mangroves around me with a keen eye before disembarking
and trudging through the thick oozing mud and near impenetrable
mangroves to find a campsite. The sand-flies and mosquitoes
wasted no time in attacking my exposed skin, my long pants
were locked away in the bulkhead of the kayak.
The mangroves blocked my way to the
cliff top and I had no choice but to chop a narrow path through
them with my tomahawk. It was hard moving my gear from the
mud, but it was more agonising lifting my 35 kilogram kayak
through the mangroves and then climbing an uneven ladder of
sandstone boulders to a height above the high tide mark to
be a bit safer.
When I reached the top, the hard work
and effort was well worth it, the view was simply amazing.
One slip over the 20 metre cliff edge though, and I would
find myself sharing a place with the mud, the mangroves, the
crabs, crustaceans and maybe the crocs. So it was best not
to fall!
Up on the cliff I felt safe from all
the dangers and my hammock was strung above the cliff edge
between 2 trees overlooking the magical Prince Regent Reserve.
I relaxed and watched rock wallabies bound off into the night
and viewed a spectacular electrical storm in the southern
skies. Oh, what a place to be! Lovely one day, perfect the
next! Once more, I realised why I was here putting myself
in danger.
I struggled down the cliff with my
gear in the early morning and found myself knee deep in mud
and water. As I moved with the swift outgoing current I tried
to steal as many kilometres as I could before the tide turned.
I soon left the main Prince Regent River and entered St George
Basin and headed for a beach I had noticed on Marigui Promontory
on the way up. As I approached St Patrick Island, I noticed
a shimmering wave heading towards me. As I was still being
assisted by the outgoing current, the mystery deepened as
the wave closed in. It was a tidal bore without doubt, so
I paddled at full speed and met the 2 - 3 foot high wave head
on. With all my might, I tried hard to penetrate through the
wave and avoid a free ride back to the Prince Regent River.
My mind and body became alive and alert
as I jumped the wave and fought the opposing current towards
the island's extended reef 300 metres away. Suddenly the current
had turned into a fast flowing river and a rapid had formed
at the corner of the reef not far ahead. I tried to paddle
against the current but it was too strong, and standing waves
that had been created, were getting bigger with every minute
that passed. With only 3 kilometres to go to reach the beach
I fought like fury, but eventually my body gave up, I simply
couldn't do it.
Exhausted, I retreated gracefully and
headed towards the island's reef. Unless I wanted to spend
6 hours on the reef I had only one other chance to get to
my beach, and that was to pull the kayak up the rapid by walking
along the reef. I didn't hesitate, I attached a rope to the
bow and I started pulling the kayak, but it didn't work very
well, the kayak kept crashing into the jagged reef. I tied
on my longer rope and by using my paddle to keep the kayak
away from the reef I was able to make slighly better progress.
It was all going well for a few minutes
then suddenly the reef gave way, I lost my balance and ended
up sitting on the reef. With a slack rope the fast current
whipped away the bow of the kayak and it started floating
down stream. Luckily I had kept a firm grip on the long rope,
avoiding what could have been a most embarrassing situation
- my kayak floating away with all my gear in it and me, on
an island in the middle of nowhere!
Picking myself up, I desperately hauled
the kayak around, pulling it hard and smashing it on the razor
sharp reef. I had built it strong so there was no damage.
For several minutes everything seemed to be going wrong as
I was struggling to keep my feet on the fragile reef. Eventually
my co-ordination and system of working started to flow and
I was back in control again.
At the apex of the rapid, a small surf
pounded the reef and violently pushed the kayak against the
coral but once over the crux and into slightly calmer waters
it allowed me to jump back into the cockpit and paddle away
before being washed back down the rapid by the swift current.
I was relieved to be back on the water
but for the next 15 minutes my success seemed doomed, as the
current had an endless supply of energy, but after pulling
out all stops I slowly crept towards the beach, taking 1.5
hours to paddle the 3 kilometres.
With 3 hours to spare before riding
the outgoing tide back to Cape Wellington, I decided to walk
up to the distant ridge to see the magnificent view of Mt
Trafalgar, Mt Waterloo and the whole St George Basin. Not
only was the view magnificent, the thought of myself being
the first person to climb that ridge and being totally alone
in this unique wilderness was very special.
When the tide was right, I had 2.5
hours to paddle 26 kilometres to Cape Wellington, which I
knew was touch and go. With no time to spare, I faced the
turbulences again through the narrows and the islands near
Uwins Island. I was fighting hard to get to shore before dark
and with 5 kilometres to go, I was rammed by something very
big on my rear left side. I didn't see it, but I suspected
that it was most probably a shark. The fright encouraged me
to paddle with a higher arm action to prevent my hands skimming
the water, but in reality that wasn't going to help, if the
shark was serious nothing would stop it attacking.
After passing through a section of
standing waves created by the tide and opposing wind and still
with 2 kilometres to go, the sun completely vanished and I
found myself paddling in the dark. It wasn't a good idea to
be paddling in the dark in this region, but I could do nothing
to get me to shore any quicker. To save some distance I headed
for the south side of the cape. By the time I hit the beach
I had paddled for 9 hours, walked for 2.5 hours and loaded
and unloaded for about 2.5 hours, and I still had to cook
my meal! Happy to be on firm ground I cooked my meal, relaxed,
looked into the night sky and reflected back to the last few
days. It had been such an amazing journey and so many things
had happened, it had truly been an adventure.
From Cape Wellington the excitement
on the way north, never waned. I paddled up to Careening Bay,
opposite the Coronation Islands where I saw a huge boab tree.
On the tree, which was at least five metres in width, were
the words 'Mermaid 1820'. It was in this bay in 1820, that
Captain Phillip King slipped his boat on the beach to repair
it. The crew carved the words whilst they waited for the repairs
to finish.
From the Prince Regent River onwards,
the lack of fresh water and sharks became more of a problem.
I was followed for 10 consecutive days by sharks and on 4
occasions the kayak was hit with almost sufficient force to
overturn it. I began to get used to them but when a huge shark
hit hard and continued to follow me, I thought my life was
over!
At Cape Voltaire, as far as you can
get from civilisation, I wrote in my diary, "I live another
day" but that is another story which I may tell at a
later date!!
Terry
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