Broome to Dampier

I woke slowly as it was 3.00 am in the morning. As my head cleared I was wondering how
Ian was going to fare, as yesterday was a bad day for him. We knew when we planned
this trip it was not going to be easy and day 2 definitely proved that. The first day was an
easy day just crossing Roebuck Bay from Broome. The 2nd day was a 70km slog with the
last 22 kilometers into a head wind. We rounded Tyrone Pt just as the sun was setting to
face a three quarter of a kilometer portage to get to the beach. By the time we had got
100kg of gear above the high tide line it was totally dark, Ian was totally knackered and
feeling nauseous. He went to bed without any dinner, which was going to affect him
today. We had planned to have breakfast on the water as high tide was around 1.00am
and we need to get to the water as quickly as possible to reduce the portage.

I poked my head out of my tent expecting to see stars but was met with inky blackness.
Then a couple of drops of rain hit my face explaining why there were no stars. Complete
cloud cover, just what we needed. This was not starting well. We packed as quickly as
possible and started off in search of the water. We were tucked in the base of a rocky
headland with extensive reef that went out over a kilometer at low tide. At the base of the
short beach we camped on, was wet soft sand merging into slippery rock and then back to
soft sand. Walking was difficult and towing the boats very hard work. Fortunately we
only had half a kilometer to portage our gear. Ian set off with his boat while I took 30 kg
of water and as many dry bags as I could carry. My arms were screaming at the end of
the 7 minutes it took to walk the distance. Back for my second load and then my boat. By
the time I got back with the second load the water was another 30 mt away. The wheels I
took were a saviour as it would have been back breaking to carry the boats. Even so the
wheels dug deep into the soft sand and it was a considerable effort to negotiate the soft
sand and reef and frustrating to have to keep walking past both previous drops as the
water was receding very quickly. Finally we were both packed and ready to go.

Now we had the interesting job of navigating out through the reef and across the bay in
total darkness. I had my head torch on to see to launch and read my compass. My whole
world was reduced to what was in that small beam. I found the right heading, confirmed
Ian was beside me and switched of my light. We had no horizon just blackness. A fuzzy
black blur was on my left and I could not even make out the features on my kayak.
Heading off into remote and strange waters was quite confronting. If you are prone to a
wandering mind this is the time you will experience all those fears. It was then that my
whole day change. Phosphorescence. What an amazing thing it is. Every paddle stroke
left this luminous green pool in the water and green luminescent pools darted this way
and that as fish panicked at our approach. In the inky blackness it was a magnificent
sight.

Navigating was proving interesting as you had know idea in what direction you were
paddling. To save switching on the light we started using CPS navigating. That stands for
Cheek Positioning System. As the small waves passed under us you got a feel for the

direction of the waves through the cheeks of your bum. The idea was to keep the same
angle to the waves thus using CPS to keep your bearing. It actually works, so I will now
use it in future navigation classes.

After 2 hours of total darkness it was refreshing to start to get some half light. Very
slowly the world started to open up. First I could make out my kayak and the fuzzy blur
started to take the shape of Ian. Before long we even had an horizon which makes
paddling so much easier. It is difficult to describe paddling in inky darkness but if you
want to get the feeling we had, close your eyes and try to run. You will find it very
difficult to do as your mind does not like moving into blackness.

At dawn I looked across to Ian. He had 5 blisters on one hand and looked real bad. I said
‘How are you feeling’ He looked across and smiled ‘Oh fine, but I will need to stop and
get some food into me, the tank is empty’ I had a chuckle to myself as I knew how bad he
was feeling. I was now satisfied I had chosen a good paddle partner. If he wasn’t going
to winge now, he never would. This was Ian’s first real big distance challenge. He had
sea kayaked solo in Alaska and around Corsica and is an instructor, so was quite
capable of handling himself. But as fare as distance was concerned probably the Avon
Decent was the biggest days he had done consecutively so far. On this trip we had 860
km of coastline to do in 13 days. That means 66 km per day. By cutting bays we could
reduce it slightly but it was still a big ask. To do 10 to 12 hours on the water, day after
day is very challenging. Add camping, remote area, long portages and you start to get the
picture. At this stage of the trip I had it over him, as after this trip I have paddled a
quarter of the Australian coast line and had good muscle memory from long days in the
kayak. But Ian was fit, strong and at 32 years old I knew it was only a matter of time
before he caught my aging body.

We headed in to stop on the sand-mud flat so Ian could cook up a double batch of
porridge. Landing through small surf was easy but now the tide was starting to come
back in. Ian set off 30 mt up the beach with his stove to cook his porridge. We were in the
middle of the bay we set off in. There was almost a kilometer of sand-mud before a small
steep beach. There was a tiny rock headland to our right with exposed reef out another
half a kilometer. To the left the beach had small rocky outcrops and we could see a thin
layer of scrub before a gray overcast sky. Ian has a petrol stove that heats incredibly fast
but the tide was faster and he ended up with his stove in the water as the porridge was
cooked. He was now reduced to scoffing hot porridge standing ankle deep in water. The
effect of the fuel was almost immediate as he headed out through the small surf strongly.

We were now into the Eighty Mile Beach and I was very happy that we had made every
goal so far. Ian had bounced back strongly and we were now taking turns in feeling
strong. One of the reasons I only wanted one paddle partner is the fact that we all have
good and bad days. Unfortunately it is impossible to synchronize them so the more
people you have the more bad days you have. Also it is hard to find people who can
handle this type of paddle as it can be wearing. We get up at 3.00 to 4.00 am and pack
quickly. Breakfast is on the water with at least 2 hours of total darkness to paddle in.
Then as dawn approaches you have to face a full days paddling with 2 stops on mud flats

as toilet and food stops. With the big tides it is pointless trying to shorten the days as you
then face a huge portage through mud. Not fun. This is one section of coast line that has
to be done tough. Paul Cayffin who to my knowledge is the only other paddler to do this
section also had a tough time. In his book the Dream Time Voyage he said in this section
that the parts of Australia he thought were going to be hard turned out easy and the easy
parts turned out hard. This is very true because a quick look at the map makes this area
look easy but believe me it is not.

This is July, the dry season for the Kimberley and Pilbara. Somebody forgot to tell the
weather though. We were surrounded by huge dark clouds and we could see rain squalls
heading our way. The most amazing thing was the direction they were coming from. They
appeared to be forming over the land and heading out to sea. Most unusual. As I bent
forward to keep the rain from stinging my face I was worried about my daughter Hayley.
She was going to drive into Eighty Mile Beach to drop off a re-supply and I was not sure
she would get through the roads as we appeared to be getting a lot of rain.

As the shower stopped we decided to run into the beach for a toilet stop. We now had
small swells steaming into the beach from at least a kilometer or more out. We are used
to them now but when you first see them you think they are going to break, they are going
to break but they don’t. They prop up to almost vertical and just keep coming. This of
cause gave us the worlds most perfect kayak surfing waves. You just turn left, paddle
hard to pick one up then your on. You can stow the paddle, cross your arms or do a cross
word as you surf straight to the beach over a kilometer away. I would love to come back
with a play boat and spend hours playing on those perfect waves.

The only problem is that for every great ride to the beach came an equally painful break
out. First you get the small spilling waves. You paddle hard in shallow water then the
wave rushes up the boat, hitting your body with a thud and splashing your face. After 20
of them you get the bigger unbroken waves. Same thing, you paddle hard only this time
you can pick up speed as you are in deeper water. You hit the wave hard leaning forward
and the wave throws the bow skyward. As we had heavy boats they pierced the top of the
wave leaving a section of wave to rush up the deck and hit you in the face. Then what
goes up must come down and the boat smacks into the water as it flies over the top of the
wave stopping you dead in the water. So you paddle hard and repeat the process over
and over again till you are far enough out. You look back and the coast line is a tiny
smear on the horizon. The biggest problem with this maneuver was the time. It took half
an hour to stop for a toilet break. The alternatives were pissing in the boat, not preferred
or hopping out into the water. As the water was discolored contained large Jelly Fish and
Sharks, this option was not appealing either. Besides it gave us a few minuets to stretch
and stand. We were breaking the day up to two and a half hour sections and the
opportunity to get out even if it was on mud and for two minutes was very appealing.

During these two and half hour stints your mind can wander to all sorts of subjects. Ian
stunned me by out of the blue telling me we were averaging 36,000 paddle strokes per
day. Well, he was right, but how do you think of things like that. My mind wandered over
what I would like to do, where I would like to go etc not mater of fact things like how

many paddle stroke I did today. But hey we had plenty of time to cover all subjects.
Chatting was fun but you run out of conversation so it’s back to your own thoughts.

The scene was slowly changing. The northern part of the beach has bigger tide flats and
they are predominantly mud. Now we are getting smaller tied flats with more sand,
bigger beach and sand hills. The rain was easing back and we were looking forward to
Eighty Mile Beach Caravan Park. The other big thing was the tides. We were now in
neap tides and was launching and landing close to high tied. This cut the portage back
considerably giving us an extra hour a day to rest.

After five days without a wash the shower was great and now were re-supplied and ready
to go. Hayley and her friend Tanya helped us carry our gear down at 4.00 am and we
were ready for our next leg. As we headed along the beach the change was very dramatic
from the northern end. The southern end has sand stone cliff line, spectacular sand hills
and interesting rock formations. I was thoroughly enjoying the difference. It was late in
the day and we were approaching a cliff line that went to the horizon. It would have been
nice to do another 10 km but the risk of not being able to land was too high so we opted
to land. The water was too mucky to see through and there were rocks on the beach. It
was going to be touch and go with the landing as the rocks were jagged and razor sharp.
We both chose a different route through the rocks. It was a case of slowly slowly
avoiding being pushed forward buy the small waves. As I landed I heard Ian curse as he
just clipped and unseen rock. The jell coat had taken such a beating another bit off was
not going to matter. The camp site was worth it though. Spectacular yellow sand hills
behind us, blood red sand stone cliffs to our right and smooth white sandy beach as far as
the eye could see to the left. It was one of those spots you look around and go wow. After
the barren northern end the impact was magnified.

After our early stop the day before we now had to pay penance. The weather which had
been so unseasonable was now starting change back to it’s normal pattern. Instead of
headwinds or no wind we were starting to get light tail winds. Then at 9.00am the wind
suddenly picked up to 20 knots. What a break on a long day. We were able to put up our
sails and surf to our hearts content. The wind lasted till about noon then dropped back to
around 5 knots. But in the three hours we had covered 30 km breaking the back of the
day. We were now off the Eighty Mile Beach and had passed Cape Keraudren with only
an 18km crossing to finish the day.

We were plugging away quite happy heading to an un named headland in the distance.
As we got closer we could see a vehicle and a camp site. What a bummer as we did not
want to carry on. Just off the point we could see a person standing looking at us then he
disappeared and next there were two. We rounded the reef that stuck out about 500mt
and headed for the sand beach and our two onlookers. They look totally stunned as we
landed. When I got out of the boat I could see why. You could not see any land in the
direction we came from so it appeared we just came out of the sea. They introduce
themselves and helped us up the beach with the boats enquiring as what we were doing
and where we came from. The worst bit was they then offered us an ice cold full strength
beer. After 12 hours on the water it did not last long and was quickly replaced with

another. Fortunately after satisfying all the questions they were off to catch some fish so
we could set up camp. Only problem was we were pissed. Two cans was all it took and I
struggled to get my tent up. The two Kiwi brothers were really nice blokes but we were in
bed at sundown as usual and did not see them as we were gone well before sun rise.

Larry Pt will stick in my mind forever. Two hours ago we were 10 km away and we still
looked 10m km away now. Only difference was now we are 4 km off the coast getting out
of my boat once more to drag my boat over another sand bar. This is the most frustrating
bit of coastline yet. It is desolate, the water is blood red from the rain over the past few
days and Larry Point is not getting any closer ever though we were working very hard.
The water is very shallow so you can’t paddle over about 4 km per hour and these sand
bars radiate out up to 6 kilometers from the shore. Ian was handling it well but my
temper was close to the surface. In fact his good nature and continual grin were very
good to have around and Ian is welcome on any of my future paddles. Slowly, oh so very
slowly Larry bloody Point came and went and the paddling got back to normal. Three
hours it took to do 10 km of coast line and we now have a long way to go. Welcome to sea
kayaking. Some times it can be the most frustrating sport and others the most exciting.

Pt headland was coming up slowly. We had made good time but as this was our re-supply
and shower stop I was eager to get there. The Yatch Club had offered to put us up for the
night which was much appreciated and we were really looking forward to the shower. On
most trips you have a wash or salt water shower every day. In fact I have it down to a
fine art. You get wet, soap up, then a quick rinse and wipe off with the detergent still
running off you and you end up salt free and almost smelling good. Not on this trip as the
water was discolored or tooooo far away to get to. Also it was only inches deep for a
long way and with Sting Rays, Stone fish, Jelly Fish with long tentacles the thought of
wading out a long way was not appealing, thus two smelly paddlers.

It was good to have a bought dinner and a house to stay in. They did not have a caretaker
at the moment so offered us the caretakers house to stay in. What a bonus and incredible
hospitality. I can’t thank the Yatch Club enough for what they did as it was a real morale
boost.

Now we only had 240 km to go, Wahoo. Spirits were high as we headed off down small
cliff line to Cape Thoin. The wind was only 5 knots but hey it was behind us so life was
good as we ate up the kilometers in our now very familiar routine. I was looking forward
to the islands but doubted we would reach Reef Island today.

The next day we had strong side winds and could get some effect from the sails. We were
averaging over 8 km per hour and enjoying the wet ride as side waves slapped the boat
and the odd white cap landed on your spray deck. It was also easy to stop for a break as
the islands had steep sandy beaches. The big thing though was the clear water. From Pt
Headland on the water started to clear up and we could see through it. Apart from the
incredible number of long tentacle Jelly Fish it appeared inviting. Ian accidentally cut a
section of the tentacles off one big one and had a meter of tentacles flapping from the end
of his paddle. They stuck fast and it took some time and effort to get them off the paddle.

We carried vinegar in the day hatch just in case we got stung but the way those long
wispy tentacles stuck to the paddle was quite sobering as if they stuck to you like that they
would have ample opportunity to inject large amounts of venom in to the skin. Its funny
but people always ask about sharks when they are the least of our worries. Things like
Jelly Fish are a much bigger risk and can be just as fatal in remote locations.

We were back in paddle mode with our minds of with the Fairies when Ian suddenly
shouted. I looked down and in between our boats were 2 mating 1.5mt sea snakes. They
had thick yellow bodies and black heads. I instantly recognized them as the same species
that had attacked Tell my paddle partner on a previous trip. We took off splitting up as
we went past the two snakes that were far too interested in each other than panicking sea
kayakers. Well that bit wasn’t boring.

The last day and I could hear a rustling in my tent fly. Only 57km to go and could we
finally get the fabled tail winds we had been hoping for the last 800km. Well I wasn’t
going to find out laying in bed, now where is the torch. The sleep in was nice as we would
be launching in half light.

The start of the day was typical with only a very light wind but within an hour the wind
had strengthened to 15 knots an was right behind us. The crossing to Boat Passage was
excellent as we were surfing all the way and averaging 10 km per hour. What a hoot.
Now we were on the last leg down to Dampier. The wind was at about a 45 degree angle
behind us. The sail was working well and surfing was still the order of the day.

I angled right a bit to get a better start on the wave. Paddling hard I leaned forward at
the start of a run. Waves don’t come even or in a straight line. They come in fingers with
each set building and culminating in white caps. The art of surfing is to pick up the sets
at the right time. Just as they are building is the spot to be racing down the front of the
wave as it continues to get steeper behind you and gives you the longest push. In fact
some times you can punch through the wave in front and then pick up that wave. As we
were heading in a 45 degree angle it was important to veer left every time you caught a
wave so you end up in the right direction. This has the added bonus of letting you hit
another set of waves and if you are lucky you can surf that one as well.

The wave I was on suddenly picked me up and my speed rocketed. Left rudder and right
lean started the veering off to the left. Another set was building to my left as I bounced
down to the trough of the wave I was on. I was now flying along much faster than the
waves and heading into a wave building on the left. My legs were getting tired as it was
now 5 hours of constant surfing and using my legs to lift the boat and cut the waves. I had
to hug the building wave, not because I liked it but because if I didn’t it would tip me
over. My left elbow was in the face of the wave causing my arm pit to be blasted with
water. With my paddle angled up above my head in a high brace position I lifted my right
leg bringing the boat up onto its side. This allowed the bow to swing down the wave and
as it did so the sail caught and the boat accelerated down the wave giving me an extra
ride. The bow buried into the back of the small wave in front and then punched right
through leaving a wash of water to rush up the boat ensuring I stayed soaking wet. Now I

was rocketing along again and lifting the left leg to veer the boat left again and restart
the process.

We did 57 km in 6 hours of surfing. The sails were a great help but surfing is still hard
work. Very satisfied I dropped my sail and headed into the rocks at the base of the
caravan park to a waiting Mitch and her dad. This was a very satisfying trip from the
achievement point of view. To average 66 km of coast line for 13 days is a huge effort as
100kg boats, no wind or head winds and desolate tough terrain drain you body. Add
camping, starting before dawn and very little recovery time and you start to get the
picture. The coast line has some very beautiful places and some damn ugly ones. It’s a
trip I am glad I have done but would not do again. My thanks go to Ian Pexton for being
a fantastic paddle partner. People of his caliber are hard to find and as I said before he
is welcome on any future trips. In fact he is coming on my next rip in January from
Melbourne to Hobart.

Les Allen