This is my 666 newsletter.

I'm not sure if the number is a lucky one or an unlucky one but it's a good number.
 

The Epic container is arriving sometime this weekend so get your order in now.
 

There were some huge waves on the Murchinson River.
 

Ian Hailes paddling at sunrise on the Canning River. Photo Charlie Dawud

The State Slalom Championships are on Sunday 30th August at Walyunga with a training/coaching day on Saturday.

It's a pity the Ski Sprints are on the same day.

 

Last weekend we had the West Australia Wild Water Championships at Bridgetown. As usual it is one of the best and most social weekends on the paddling calendar.

I came 1st in the 65 plus category, I would have been 2nd in the 55 class, 3rd in the 45 class, 4th in the 35 class and I was the 12th fastest overall time including all classes.

Although there are a few faster paddlers that didn't take part, coming 12th at the age of 69 I suppose wasn't too bad. Although I might be losing a little of my elegance I can still keep upright and have enough skills to beat some of the faster paddlers.

I also won a gold in the series championships in the 65 category which includes 6 races winning them all.

Luke Dooley was the fastest paddler in every race and was the overall series winner with Steph Beddon claiming the series winner in the female section.
 

The water levels for the 2007 State Championships at Bridgetown were a little higher than this year but nevertheless this years course was still a challenging tricky course.

Bridgetown

There is no doubt the WA WildWater Championship is the most social racing event on the calendar. It was my first time for a few years because I’m usually overseas or had to work in the CDU shop.

Most paddlers converge on Bridgetown on the Friday afternoon in time to take one or two runs down the course. I managed two runs in my wavehopper saving my unscratched wildwater kayak for the main event on the Sunday.

With the water lower than usual meant more rocks but the lower water didn't damper the enthusiasm of paddlers, it just made it trickier.

Haystacks and Photographers rapids proved to be the most concerning with several capsizes at Haystacks.

Friday evening most paddlers went to the pub for a meal so we continued that social theme. Service was a little slow but with over 50 people plus the locals there was no wonder but we had time to talk.

On Saturday morning virtually all paddlers were on the water practising. With great put-in and pull-out points and with only a 7 kilometre car shuffle it was so easy to organise.

At lunch time most paddlers headed into town to buy lunch at the bakery or other outlets before meeting back at the bridge to get ready for the teams event in the afternoon which was another fun race.

There were several novice paddlers taking part and paddling the rapids for the first time but that didn’t matter as there were lots of experienced paddlers on hand to help make them safe.

Saturday evening it was back for a meal at the pub. The food was good and they were more organised so we got our meals quicker. With the virus and the lack of staff members our big group did but the pressure on them.

Luke and I were camping but all other paddlers and partners were either in a caravan, a chalet of a motel. Luckily the weather, although chilly was fine in the day.

It rained in the night but stopped as soon as it was light. Sunday morning was the main singles race which meant I left the wavehopper on the car and took my nice, beautiful wildwater kayak off. I had never paddled it before in the rapids as it was my flat water kayak, but with Luke using my whitewater one it had to get christened. I was a bit apprehensive using it but I just had to paddle the right kayak for the occasion, even if I beat it up. There is a lot of difference between a wavehopper and a WW kayak. The wavehopper is more stable and turns better and it is not so important to miss all the rocks, but it is slower.

I was pretty happy with my championship run apart from nearly eddying out at the first rapid which probably lost me 5-10 seconds as I regained control and after paddling through Haystacks without problems and Photographers a little bit untidily I felt on fire after that, which helped me to win the 65 plus and 12^th place overall.

With the main race over and with Luke Dooley winning yet again and Jane Pankhurst being the fastest lady we all moved to the Bridgetown Cidery for food and presentations.

Kris Smith and his team and volunteers did a great job over the weekend and the whole series.  Thanks.

 

Phil Langley takes on Photographers Rapid.

Photo Jane Hilton.

 

Me at Photographers Rapid on a practise run.
I used my wildwater kayak in the main race.

Photo Jane Hilton.

 

Two teams converge at Photographers Rapid.

Photo Jane Hilton.

 

Izzy Combe in the team event.

Izzy's second time down

Photo Jane Hilton.
 

Wayne Martin was the second fastest paddler and did well to beat Dave Worthy who was number 3. Wayne practised a lot and it paid off.

Photo Jane Hilton.

 

David Burdette avoids the main waves at Haystack Rapid.

Photo Jane Hilton.

 

Nathan Jamieson came down on the Sunday morning and didn't have time to practise on the course. Nevertheless he was sixth overall and was the winner in the 35+ category narrowly beating Steve Stasiuk by 2 seconds.

Photo Jane Hilton.

 

Jane Pankhurst the fastest female.

Photo Jane Hilton.

 

Kris Smith the Wildwater Chairman.

He and his team did a great job.

Photo Jane Hilton.

 

Steph and Luke with the female/male series winners plaque.

The results are taken over 6 races.

With Team leader Kris Smith, Peter Gigengack and Wendy Burdette.

Wildwater Results.

Singles Result: https://www.webscorer.com/race?raceid=220090

Series Winners: https://www.webscorer.com/seriesresult?seriesid=215290

Series Outright: https://www.webscorer.com/seriesresult?seriesid=216020

Teams results: https://www.webscorer.com/race?raceid=220012

The next morning I was off by eight o’clock. I had been promised by the weather forecast a much easier day and it did not disappoint. It was a much more pleasant temperature and I was able to enjoy some sunshine. The best part though was that the wind had eased. I was able to make great progress and by midday had gone through Dardanup and was on my way to Donnybrook. I had decided before leaving I’d try and get most of the way there by Wednesday and do the final few kilometres on Thursday, leaving Friday to rest up for the weekend of racing. I enjoyed an ice cream in Donnybrook and also took the opportunity to fill my water containers. I was only carrying about 7 litres as there were many towns along the way and I was keen to keep the weight of my bike to a minimum. By 3 o’clock as I was heading out of town and as there were only 57 kilometres to go I decided to keep my eyes peeled for a good campsite. Not knowing how many farms there would be along the way, I seized the opportunity to quickly duck into a patch of forest and make an early camp. I had cycled 113 kilometres. It was a great call as I was able to find a nice little spot near a crystal clear creek and out the way of any roads so I wouldn’t be disturbed or told to move on. Despite the mosquitos it was a fantastic camp and great to get into some proper bush camping. I was even able to have a wash in the creek which was definitely worth braving the cold.

As I had only about 50 kilometres to do, I didn’t bother leaving until 10 o’clock for my final morning. I was back on the Southwest Highway and into the big hills. Thankfully the traffic was even lighter again which I didn't have to worry too much about a million cars zooming by. I had found most of the passing motorists okay to deal with. Some tooted their horns and gave a little wave to cheer me on which was very uplifting. A couple obviously did not like cyclists very much and made a point of giving me no room at all and tooted their horns in a rather different manner. I found that the MGM Bulk trucks were notoriously bad and never gave me more than an inch, with one even moving his double road train onto the shoulder to try and scare me. On the other hand I noticed that all of the Browne’s Dairy road trains always moved over as much as they could and gave me all the room I could ask for which I greatly appreciated. As I neared Bridgetown the hills became very steep which was a challenge I had been looking forward to tackling. What I didn’t expect was how difficult the downhill sections would be. Because of the bike’s weight I picked up speed very easily and on many occasions found myself hurtling down a ½ metre wide, debris littered shoulder at over 70km/hr. It became quite frightening at some stages as it was difficult to avoid sticks in my path as I had little time to react. Also, every little adjustment I made to the steering carried through to my heavy packs and could very quickly make the bike wobble and become extremely difficult to control. I stopped for lunch at the 25km mark and had some lunch. Unfortunately my break was cut short as a short and sudden downpour came and I had to move frantically to gather my things and put on the waterproof covers to keep everything dry.

Luke Dooley

2019 Canoe Marathon Paddlers of the Year:

The Paddle Australia Canoe Marathon Technical Committee (PACMTC) recognises the results and achievements of Canoe Marathon paddlers every year and award the most outstanding with the Canoe Marathon Paddler of the Year.

Unfortunately due to the cancellation of the 2020 PA Canoe Marathon Championships, these awards were unable to be presented. The PACMTC would like to announce the following winners of the 2019 Canoe Marathon Paddlers of the Year:

• Emily O’Rourke – Junior Female
• Joseph Burton – Junior Male
• Naomi Johnson – Open Female
• Josh Kippin – Open Male
• Laura Lee – Masters Female
• Mick Leverett – Masters Male

Kimberley Kayaking 1982

part 6
100 Days Solo

Finally as neap tides approached (the slowest of the tides) it became time for me to move on. Before leaving the hospitality of One Arm Point I gave my thanks and appreciation to Ron and Margaret who had looked after me a for a few days and to the members of the Bardi community who had been extremely friendly and helpful to me whilst I stayed there. It was again sad to leave but I still had a long way to go and a lot of isolated wilderness country to explore.

As I left One Arm Point I paddled over to a fish trap in the nearby bay. It was much larger than the one we surveyed off Swan Point and it was still used by the Aboriginals on occasions. On the way I met Lou a traditional raft builder. The rafts he made were used to stand on and spear dugong from them. He was proud that he was the chief raft builder. He said his father used to make at least 3 rafts a year for museums around the world. Lou was at that moment heading to Dugong Bay on the other side of the King Sound to cut some more timber to build his next raft.

I left him and moved across the violent currents that ripped through the islands between One Arm Point and Sunday Island. I was steering for East Sunday Island a little further and closer to the exposed waters of the King Sound where I would make a 15 kilometre crossing of the Sunday Strait to Mermaid Island. To thread my way through the islands to East Sunday everything I’d learnt from white water paddling had to be put into practice here on the ocean as the currents were amazingly fast as I had found out when I went out with Eric. One slip of concentration could have resulted in being washed out to sea, where there were no islands to hide behind.

I fought my way across the fast currents ferry gliding from one island to another where I was able to find an eddy behind them. Although I knew that other people in boats had been this way I felt like an early kayaking explorer and it was highly possible that a kayak hadn’t been this way before.

Once in the lee of Sunday Island the sea calmed and there were turtles and more turtles swimming around me and not in the least stressed about me being there. I paddled slowly in a buoyant mood just watching. I was now in no rush as I crept closer to my campsite on the south-eastern end of East Sunday Island and to the place where Eric Hunter said he often used. (I was asked not to camp on Sunday Island as it was sacred ground, however camping on East Sunday was okay.)

When I landed I thought I was alone but soon after a dingy came into view. It had an Aboriginal poised on its bow, with a spear in his hand and ready to lunge into the water. Suddenly he leapt and with a big splash he came up holding the shell of the turtle. The spear had inserted a flute into the shell and was attached to a line so it couldn’t get away. I was a little sad to see the turtle being dragged on board but I had to realise that for the Aboriginals it was their way, their right and what they had been doing for years. They had already speared one other turtle.

I shared my camp with Martin and Francis and ate turtle, crab, octopus and fish that they had caught.

A wooden frame, used as shade by the locals was standing on the beach. I looked out across the water to see my next land fall 15 to 20 kilometres away. It wasn’t really that far but it was the feared currents of the King Sound that were the real concern. I was just getting used to being alone when Martin Shafford and his friend Francis powered into the bay, with Martin shouting to me, how would you like turtle steak for supper. Within minutes they unloaded a heap of firewood from the dingy which was going to be used for cooking the turtle and boiling the trochus shells that they had collected.

Martin soon started butchering and preparing the turtle for supper. With the fried turtle he also knocked up a damper, considerably better than my own. I pulled up a seat, some sand from behind me and Martin dished up. My taste buds were keen to taste something so different from what I was used to. Martin had cooked it beautifully. It was so tender and tasted similar to chicken but much better than any other meat I had eaten for some time. I loved it.

At that moment three more Aboriginals arrived in a dingy. They had brought Martin and Francis some tobacco and were on their way to do some turtle hunting themselves. The moon was fairly bright for their hunt but first they stayed for supper, as there was enough turtle and damper for a dozen people. After a bit of chit chat and a good feed they were on their way motoring steadily across the still waters hoping to catch their own turtle to feast on.

As I busily scribbled the daily events in my diary by the light of the fire, Martin caught a nice big snapper from the beach. “That’s breakfast,” he said.

Martin couldn’t sleep so he cooked the fish in the early hours of the morning. We ended up having fish and damper for breakfast which was somewhat better than my cereal. Francis was also in charge of cooking the trochus shells, which had to be cooked for a certain length of time so the meat would come out of the shell with ease. He said if they were under cooked the tails would break inside the shell and it would be hard to get the meat out.

After our big meal I walked across to Martin who was wearing rubber boots and now busily collecting shells off the reef. I soon realised how sensible it was to wear them as the coral was very crunchy underfoot. Any cuts to the feet by the coral would soon get infected. At the edge of the reef, where there were rocks and boulders covered with jagged oysters and slime, several blue spotted fantail stingrays glided around me in the shallow water.

Having a problem with the engine.
 

Crab for dinner.

As I had a few hours to spare before I paddled off into the unknown I decided to walk across to the channel, which lay between East Sunday Island and Sunday Island. As I trod the waters I could see several dorsal fins of sharks criss-crossing the shallows. I wasn’t at all concerned but suddenly I got a fright as I disturbed a large dark spotted fish which dashed from near my feet and into the deeper water. With my heart rate back down I started following another large fish with spear in hand at the ready, but it was too smart and hid itself amongst the mangroves. As I chased another the water became very cloudy as the mud underfoot started to engulf my legs, sometimes up to my knees.

Stingray after stingray lifted up from the mud and fled my advance as I shuffled my way through the shallow murky water. To stand on one could be fatal. Another stingray passed, I tried to spear it but I missed and then it turned towards me and darted between my legs with its spiked tail at the ready. My heart thumped as it fled in the mud cloud that I had created. The near miss encouraged me to stop spearing fish and leave the waters and find firm ground.

As I stumbled through the thick mud to get out I stepped between hundreds of long cone snails littering the mangroves. Although not poisonous or dangerous they looked menacing. I eventually managed to get out of the oozing mud and came to a line of overhanging sandstone rocks that lined the edge of the mangrove thicket. I walked along the edge of the rocks near the mangroves and then as luck should have it, I spotted a giant mud crab, which with my new fishing skills managed to get it out of its burrow and into my fish bag. Dinner time was now catered for. My route back to the camp by land wasn’t an easy one as I had to stumble across sandstone rocks, crevices and thick bush.

For dinner that night we had crab, octopus and turtle and being under the stars in the middle of the King Sound, it can’t get much better than that. This time the turtle was boiled, but it didn’t taste as scrumptious as the fried turtle we had the night before.

Trying to catch a meal.
 

Exploring East Sunday Island.

Vaikobi PFD

Lightweight

R/R $180.00

$160.00