Sea Kayak Voyage – Perth to Shark Bay – January 2002-02-02
As a West Australian sea kayaker the enormous achievement of Paul Caffyn in 1982
of paddling around Australia represented the pinnacle of kayaking. To myself the
summit of that achievement was the conquering of the 200km Zuytdorp Cliff section
on the West Australian coast. For me that was Everest.
Being one of those people who always have to see around the next bend and explore
the next area it began to become an obsession to paddle the Zuytdorp, particularly as
we paddled more and more parts of the coast and undertook longer and more difficult
expeditions. In earlier trip reports I often referred to it and worked through the
logistics in countless ways over the years. Soon, for John and I it became the
glaringly obvious area of the Western Coast not paddled. Les too began to seriously
consider undertaking the challenge after the Esperance to Perth trip. As with most of
our trips the decision was made in my kitchen over a cup of coffee and so began the
process of planning and training. This process in terms of our group dynamics is a
whole story in itself.
Anyway, I finally felt ready after 138 hours of strenuous training paddles, night
paddles and other training while continually preparing mentally for the cliffs. Les
phoned about 3 weeks before D- Day to ask if I minded if Terry could join the trip.
Given his track record and my compliant nature I agreed. This changed the group
dynamics considerably, which in retrospect had both positive and negative outcomes
for the expedition.
John picked me up and true to my good friends form was soon driving back to his
house for flares he had left. I have got so used to it I do not even vaguely get
concerned about it anymore. John Di Nucci, Les Allen, Terry Bolland and myself set
off from the Perth foreshore on a cold, wet and windy morning on the 10th of January.
Channel 7, family and friends made the occasion seem far more auspicious than any
previous departures. John nearly covered himself in glory when he nearly missed his
farewell Eskimo roll. A long 4 hour paddle into a headwind to reach the ocean soon
dispelled any ideas of grandeur. A highlight of culture was John jumping from his
kayak to kiss Barbara at Point Walter and then promptly proceeding to piddle.
We very soon discovered a difference in our paddling speeds, which was a little
disconcerting. Les being a very powerful paddler was a little frustrated at the much
slower pace of Terry. This was to be the case for the next 10 days northward. I felt a
little awkward as having trained so much and being Les’ friend and main paddling
partner I felt inclined to speed up to support him. John having trained even more than
me could also easily have increased the speed. However, we all adhere to the
principal of paddling at the speed of the slowest paddler and so despite Terry saying
it was our trip and he would do whatever we decided he essentially dictated the pace.
In retrospect this was a blessing for myself as I learned to slow my paddling speed
and pace myself better which may have saved me from physical breakdown on the
600km paddle to Kalbarri.
A fairly big swell was running all day and with a 20kt S/W onshore wind it began to
look as if it would be difficult to find a campsite. Unfortunately we were still inside
the metro area and much of the coastline was fairly rocky. I volunteered to paddle in
to check out a prospective site and had interesting surf in over some rocks, which had
not been visible from seaward. When I wanted to launch I found myself in a bit of a
predicament. I needed a bigger set of waves so I could have enough water to launch
my loaded kayak over the rocks but this meant that the wash created a larger wave at
the end of the rock shelf. I launched, got over the rocks and was absolutely pulverized
by the next wave. I honestly thought I had damaged my spine with the force of the
wave into my chest. My paddle was wrenched from my hands, my head touched the
rocks as I washed backwards, upside down. I scrambled from the cockpit, struggled to
get the swamped kayak up the steep beach and retrieve my paddle, which was
washing out to sea. It was a disaster. I thought I was seriously injured, I could not
communicate with the others, and I could not risk another launch.
I did try again without success but fortunately without a repeat performance. Les
fortunately had managed to land about 500m further on, walked to me and helped me
launch. I was extremely grateful, swallowed a couple of anti-inflammatory tablets and
thankfully did not suffer beyond a bruised and slightly tender back for a few days.
The next day is always the worst for me on a trip mentally. I missed my family, found
myself questioning my sanity and somehow was unable to not dwell on the possible
difficulties that faced us. This is so contrary to my nature and fortunately only lasted
a few hours. We paddled about 60 kms before setting up a great camp in the dunes.
We had the traditional wine on the ‘porch’ and it was hard to compare my buoyant
mood with that of the mornings.
Continuing ever northward the next day I was delighted to meet a colleague in the
shallows at Lancelin. It was great listening to Terry’s stories of his Kimberly
paddling trips. We had some excitement threading reefs and saw one 2m shark just to
help us remember that we were not alone in the ocean. We camped north of Wedge
Island. Again we met some people we knew. I felt a lot more into trip mode and except
for some sore blisters on my hands, felt in pretty good shape.
The next day we had one of those days kayakers dream about. A 30kt southerly wind
directly behind us on a shallow sea. It was exhilarating catching wave after wave and
we were able to paddle at 9kms an hour without any effort at all. We met Marion
Mayes, our support in Jurien. The next day was the day for seeing sharks, dolphins,
turtles and stingrays. Otherwise it was a long and fairly boring day on a flat sea with
a very mundane landscape. That night we camped on an exposed beach about 4kms
north of Coolimba. Fortunately there was only a very light wind and we had a great
evening no further than a few meters from the sea. The coast in this area is protected
by reef and lures one into a false sense of security. The noise of the swells breaking on
Beagle Reef 10kms offshore was evidence of the true nature of the ocean we would
face shortly.
We had another long slow day the next day. Paddling for 11 hrs into a light headwind
to reach Port Denison where we again made contact with Marion. I was concerned
about the fact that I could feel some soreness in my right shoulder, which was an
injury I had developed on the Montebello expedition in April. Added to this was some
tendon soreness in my right wrist. I was keen to have a rest day in Port Denison
although the campsite we were in was not very pleasant and the weather was overcast
and miserable. The forecast was for favourable winds and Les was keen to push on to
Geraldton 65 kms on.
We set off into a 10 to 12 kt N/W headwind. After an hour I expressed my view that it
would be wise to return to Pt Denison as I thought that with the increasing headwind
we were looking at another 11 hour or longer paddle. Added to this was the fact that
we had for the first time left camping gear with Marion, were not self supporting and
had no choice but to make Greenough. As we had purposely built in rest days I really
could not see the point of slogging into the wind all day. Les reacted angrily raising
his voice and laying down ultimatums, which I found rather surprising. I didn’t react
although I nearly asked him not to get excited and that there was no need to raise his
voice. Terry was for pushing on. I found myself questioning their motives and
concluded that they hadn’t liked the campsite at Pt Denison and Les wanted to keep
his appointment with people in Geraldton. I was not too fussed by the decision to go,
was happy to support the group and I was paddling well within myself and found my
niggles were not deteriorating in any way.
I did feel vindicated a little when the wind did pick up and we took 11hrs of constant
paddling to reach Greenough, still 13 kms short of Geraldton. Which would have
taken 3 hours or more at the pace we were paddling. Les did later talk to me and
conceded that we should have turned back. As I said before I was not too fussed. All
in all it was not a very pleasant day and probably added to the damage Les did to his
wrist ligaments that ultimately sidelined him. It was a great learning experience for
me in learning to paddle slowly, not put any pressure on muscles or ligaments and
reinforce the mental adjustment I was making to paddle at Terry’s pace. This was not
as easy as it sounds as we had always as a group paddled much faster. Of note was
my little swim in the shallows as I tried a fancy surfing manoeuvre, ran out of water
and had an undignified exit in the weed in about 1 foot of water.
The next day we had to interrupt our rest day by paddling the 13 kms to Geraldton. It
turned into a bit of a saga because we got the vehicle bogged and had to carry the
kayaks further than expected to launch. Les also surprised us by declaring he was not
going to paddle the section saying that he only saw the trip up as training for the
cliffs.
We spent a day and a half in Geraldton, making minor adjustments to our kayaks and
equipment and buying supplies. We stayed with Gary and Carolyn Nixon who were
wonderful hosts. Gary and Dennis another paddler from Geraldton joined us on the
paddle to Horrocks where we had a great BBQ. I had an interesting chat to Terry
about the trip so far and we spoke about undertaking a trip to the Kimberly’s.
The paddle on to Port Gregory with favourable winds was great except for some
rough bumpy water off the reef and a couple of close shaves with the odd bombie. We
landed for lunch and watched a fisherman land a three and a half meter tiger shark a
few meters from our kayaks. I felt sorry for the poor animal watching the way the
population congregated around it, prodding, kicking and the rest. It was here that Les
mentioned to me that his wrist was very sore and he took some anti-inflammatory
tablets. The wind picked up to 25 plus kts and we literally flew the next 14kms to
Sandalwood Bay. We had great ‘porch’ drinks and discussions about the trip and
paddling in general. The condition of Les wrist was of real concern and I felt bad that
he would have to abandon.
Our introduction to the cliffs the next day south of Kalbarri was magnificent. The
weather was perfect and we were able to paddle to within meters of the cliffs, take
great photographs and appreciate the caves and spectacular formations. John and I
had paddled the section last year and could hardly believe our luck at the favourable
conditions. Of note was Terry getting caught unintentionally in a wave off Eagle Bay
and having to execute some fine paddling skills to make an unscheduled landing.
What made it even more hilarious is that he is always so cautious and organised and
would be the last person one would expect to get caught. Added to this we were able
to rib him about the fact that an hour later and for only the second time on the whole
trip he was in front he led John and I into the kill zone off Qyster Reef at the entrance
to Kalbarri. He again skilfully managed to remain upright while John and I made the
glorious entrance into Kalbarri in the upside down position. John managed the roll
while I had yet another swim. For a kayaker taking on ‘Everest’ I was not doing too
well in the skills department!
We met Ken Wilson {of hosting and bagpipe fame on Paul Caffyn’s expedition} and
set up camp in he best house in Kalbarri. The next two days were spent sorting out
gear for the assault on the cliffs. Checking weather and coastal details from local
fisherman and preparing the ground crew. I was very disappointed for Les but was
very relieved about the fact that he would join Marion in support. His 4WD skills,
survival skills, handling of crises and general physical strength would rank him as the
top of the pops in any support team anywhere. I felt excited about the paddle. All the
training and hours of mentally attuning myself to this one event had finally come to a
head. I was more nervous about the TV interview than the prospect of 30 hours at sea.
Some local fisherman told us that given the perfect conditions of the past 3 days it
would be perhaps possible to land near the Zuytdorp wreck. This altered our whole
way of thinking and resulted in us carrying a lot more gear than intended. ie 18liters
of extra water, tent, clothing, food and camping and repair gear, which in effect
resulted in us undertaking the challenge with, loaded kayaks. WE would depart
Kalbarri at 5.30 am on the 25th.
At 9.30pm we went to bed. John still seemed to have a heap of gear all over the place
but I was confident that with a 4.00 am rise we would be able to make the 5.30 target.
Horror of horrors I didn’t sleep! Having slept so well the whole trip, not feeling at all
nervous, looking forward to the adventure and having woken at 4.00 the morning
before I was sure I would be tired enough to fall asleep instantly. Well 9.30 turned to
10.30 and when I thought of taking a sleeping pill at 11.30 I remembered that my first
aid kit was in the packed kayak. Not wanting to wake the others and sure I would fall
asleep I didn’t go and get them. By 12.30 I concluded that it was too late to take any
as everyone was relying on me to wake them. So I did NOT SLEEP AT ALL, which
was a total disaster. I did think of saying we would have to delay the trip but given the
ideal weather forecast and the fact that I had previously managed 30-hour stints
without sleep I thought I would be fine. Also I didn’t want to let the others down. It
did mean however that when we departed I had already been awake for 26 hours.
John managed to delay our departure by running back to find his camera he thought
he had left at the house. It was exciting departing Kalbarri heading towards the
gradually lightening cliffs that had been so much a part of our psyche for so long. We
had a light following wind, the sea was calm and we made good time all day. We took
photographs, saw dolphins, sharks, turtles and numerous fish. All day the wind
gradually strengthened and the seas continued to lift. By three o’clock we put cags on
as we were constantly wet from white caps and felt cold. By 6 o’clock and our first
radio schedule the sea was rough enough to require us to raft up to use the radio and
it was difficult to open hatches to access food and equipment.
By nightfall the sea had reached such a state that setting up night-lights and gear was
fairly difficult. By this stage I was wearing thermals, polartec top, cag, balaclava and
PFD and still felt a little cold. Unfortunately I was feeling very sleepy already and
was struggling to stay awake. Little did I know what was to come! Within 2 hours I
was in a state of mental agony and frustration forcing myself to stay awake. It
reached a stage when I was falling asleep even after descending a wave and having a
deluge of water over my head with whitecaps. Time and again I would wake with
adrenaline shock as I felt the kayak going over. I was paddling most of the time with
my eyes shut and given the conditions it is a miracle that I did not capsize. Eventually
I called John over and holding onto his kayak was able to shut my eyes and not
concentrate for a few minutes. When I had recovered a bit, held his kayak while he
emptied water I would then paddle on for a few minutes until I had to repeat the
process. To describe the agony of what this entailed is impossible except to say it was
the most intense pain I have ever had to endure. At the time I vowed I would gladly
swap for tooth and ear ache simultaneously.
After a couple of hours of this stop start paddling I felt myself going into overdrive.
Suddenly I could see again and my mind was responding normally. I was ecstatic!
Joyfully I announced to the others that I had come through it and would be OK. The
relief I felt is beyond description and I am certain no drug on earth could produce the
same elation. I even made a point of enjoying the occasion of where we were. To be
out on such a rough night on the wind swept ocean off the imposing silhouette of the
Zuytdorp in the moonlight, 100kms from anywhere was a pretty unique place to be!
The horror I felt when I felt the fatigue overcoming me again is beyond description.
This time it was far worse if that is possible and I could not stay awake for more than
a few agonising seconds at a time. I had obviously used up my final reserves and I
had the first thoughts of catastrophe. The hazardous nature of our position in such
rough conditions at night and my inability to function was horrifying. I felt lousy for
the predicament it had put the others in and the degree of frustration I felt was beyond
calculation.
John was absolutely fantastic. At no time did he panic and the courage and patience
with which he dealt with the situation is remarkable. I wish I could recall all the
words of encouragement, advice and clear decisions he made throughout the night
and record them in the annals of survival stories. As I write this I recall snippets of
our conversations and believe it or not, at times we actually laughed. He pointed out
to me at one time that there was phosphorescence in the water knowing how excited I
have been on other trips when we have discovered it. Firstly I said I couldn’t care less
but later remarked that I had been seeing lights before my eyes the whole night and
for some reason we thought that was hang of a funny. I also remarked that I thought
the reason I was so debilitated was from having to support his kayak while he piddled
into a bottle. The skill with which he tailed me in the very rough conditions and in the
dark is exceptional, and on the 20 times or more times he manoeuvred his kayak into
position next to me without smashing our kayaks is a feat of incredible skill. Terry as
well displayed exceptional skill in tailing me on the other side and somehow
managing to remain in contact with us without colliding with us. At times we would
be swamped in a deluge of white water and the kayaks hurled down 3 to 5 meter
swells in the darkness. Added to this Terry was suffering from sea sickness.
At some time after midnight sleep deprivation finally won and I could not paddle a
stroke. Smashing my paddle into my face, screaming, crying or whatever I tried to do
to force my mind to operate failed to make any difference. I knew it was simply a
matter of time before I capsized and in my present state I doubted my ability to roll.
John and I rafted up and basically decided that all we could do was hang grimly on to
each others kayaks, attempt to remain upright and off the cliffs and drift at the mercy
of the wind and waves until daylight. It was impossible to actually sleep having to
hold onto the deck lines. Hands and fingers were severely mauled and on numerous
occasions waves almost toppled both of us. We were constantly wet and cold and our
backs were rubbed raw against the cockpit sides. Every so often John would order me
to paddle on my side or push a particular rudder so we could work out to sea away
from the cliffs. The wind continued to strengthen all night and the seas to lift. The
moon disappeared behind some clouds and at about 1.45am it set leaving us on an
inky black ocean. The next 5 hours or so seemed like days and for the rest of my life
the images in my semi conscious mind of that time will be intensely imprinted on my
memory. At one time I asked John the time and was determined to last an hour before
asking again. When I was sure at least an hour had passed I asked again. It was
torture to be told that only 15 minutes had passed. The pain I felt was physical despite
knowing it was as a result of mental tiredness. It felt much like the time I was in
hospital with a broken neck waiting for my morphine shot, except this time there was
no relief in sight. Terry rafted up with us for the last few hours and the image of us
drifting on the black angry ocean like so much driftwood must have been an
interesting sight. Somehow we managed to keep together although at times the kayaks
were nearly wrenched from our grasp. Somehow I kept the presence of mind to ensure
that paddles were not damaged between the kayaks and to remain aware of our
proximity to the cliffs. Although at times I was totally disorientated and had to consult
the deck compass and take some time to get my bearings.
Knowing that we were still 6 to 8 hours paddling away from False Entrance I was
determined to make the effort to paddle as soon as we could see a little better. I was
not looking forward to it and knew it was going to be the most agonising experience
of my life. If at dawn we discovered we were more than 60 kms from safety I would
have been devastated. Despite the whole night been close to the edge I never seriously
considered trying to fire my EPIRB and abandoning the paddle. Probably because I
knew the authorities would not have been able to affect a rescue before dawn anyway
and because I knew we had the whole next day to make it. At one time we passed
within a km of a fishing boat and I would have loved to have paddled up to him to ask
some innocuous question like “what was the cricket score’. To have witnessed the
absolute disbelief on his face at seeing a ‘canoe’ out there on such a night would have
been worth another hour of agony. {perhaps not worth that much but it certainly
would have been great!}
The paddle ahead seemed impossible and the others were surprised when I said, “lets
try paddle”. We pushed Terry off first and then I cleared our raft. John from having
been in a cramped position all night missed a paddle stroke and went over. He missed
his roll but fortunately was able to shout out as he went under and capsized. Terry
heard him and immediately started back paddling towards him. John is not a strong
swimmer and somehow lost hold of his kayak, which quickly blew out or reach. Terry
reached John quickly and executed a magnificent rescue under the conditions. Once I
saw Terry had things under control and he said he didn’t want a third boat in I
paddled back to pick up some of John’s gear. John for the next hour or so suffered a
loss of confidence, which made the rough, conditions even more difficult to handle.
At the risk of repetition I can only describe the next 6 hours as the most agonising
time imaginable. The frustration and mental anguish that goes with 50 hours plus of
sleep deprivation has to be experienced to be believed. I would have to hit, splash or
bite myself, cry, scream, eat, or drink constantly simply to maintain concentration for
a few seconds. A few times my mind would shut down no matter what I did and
fortunately John was there to catch me as I started to fall over. Even the sudden starts
as I woke failed to revive me for more than a few seconds and so the agony of forcing
myself to stay awake continued. At least with daylight I could judge waves and swells
and was able to brace at appropriate times. After another few hours I began to feel
drugged and could feel my reactions seconds late. At times I felt I was drifting all
over the ocean and could not keep a straight line.
I found talking helped me stay awake but it was too difficult to k eep station with the
others. Finally after 30hours at sea and 56 hours since I had slept we landed at
Dulverton Bay. We met our welcoming support crew and staggered up the beach. I
was too tired to feel any real sense of achievement. All I wanted to do was sleep.
Instinct took over and we carried the kayaks up the beach and sorted out some of the
gear. Somehow I survived another half an hour before going to sleep in Les’s tent. I
woke 2 hours later completely dehydrated and still feeling like I was drunk. We took a
walk to the top of the cliffs. The wind was still howling and the sea was very rough.
We took some photographs. I felt very tired again, so had something to eat and passed
out in the tent. I slept like the dead for 11 hours and did not wake despite the tent
virtually wrapping itself around my head as guy ropes and pegs broke in the wind.
The training and conditioning obviously worked because the next day I felt fine except
for bruised hands from the rafting up. WE debated at some length the possibility of
completing the 32km stage to Shark Bay that day. However the wind howled unabated
and we would really look stupid if we had some drama on the last stage after the saga
of the cliffs and with a strong wind warning in effect. So we had a great relaxing day
in Dulverton. Played beach golf, fished and again walked the cliffs. Watching the seas
at dusk from the cliff tops and imagining my small fibreglass craft on the relentless
turbulent swells gave me the first inkling of a sense of achievement in what we had
just achieved. I was again humbled by the achievement of Paul Caffyn in tackling the
cliffs alone in the other direction.
The next day we awoke to an easing wind and so prepared for the last stage. John
went in search for that usual last piece of equipment before we launched over the rock
shelf and through a small wave that was breaking at the shelf edge. We paddled on a
lumpy sea caused by the rebound waves off the cliffs. In many ways the section of
cliffs to Steep Point were the most spectacular. With huge undercut caves, massive
columns of spray as waves smashed into the cliffs and spectacular rock formations. It
was great paddling into Shark Bay and we took a number of photographs. We had
finally achieved the goal we had set and had conquered those cliffs. It is hard to
describe all the emotions and feelings and adequately describe the experience in its
entirety. My thoughts turned to my wife and sons and I was suddenly looking very
much forward to going home.
The paddle in the clear aquamarine waters of Shark Bay was fantastic. We paddled
for about 6kms into the bay and were relieved to see Les and Marion driving towards
us. John and I were preparing for our traditional Eskimo roll when Les got out of the
car and swore and blasted me in no uncertain terms for being a moron. This tended to
detract from the moment somewhat and the tradition ended there and then. He and
Marion had had a shocking morning reaching Shark Bay due to a flat battery. I was
blamed for having left the radio on which later turned out not to be the case.
However, they had had to rip out immobilisers, hot wire the car and struggle to reach
us on shocking roads. I sympathised with them and did not feel too affronted. We
packed the vehicle in virtual silence, which was unlike our usual excited manner at
the end of a trip. Especially this trip! Fortunately the sombre mood did not last and
we soon were able to accept it as part of the nature of such trips.
We reached home at 3.00 am in the morning feeling a little tired. There was some
analysis of the trip on the way home but I guess we all had our own thoughts on the
trip and hopefully this report is not too different to the recollections of the others.
These thoughts are essentially a compilation of the notes in my diary. I have not had
time to edit much and have written this as thoughts came to mind.
What next? Is always the question but somehow this time I have avoided post
expedition depression and have gladly adjusted to ‘civilisation’.
As a final note I would like to say thanks.
To John for ALL the expeditions, friendship, support, training trips, discussions,
kayak repairs, paddle trials, coffees on the beach, allowing me to cramp your tent and
for being the paddling partner supreme. I apologise for ALL the scrapes I have led
you into. John is the most humble person I know and yet in many ways has the most to
be proud about particularly in paddling achievements. His willingness to help, share
and be part of so many hair-brained ideas makes him unique.
To Les for all the hundreds of hours of planning and organisation. For keeping me in
check with some of my more hair brained schemes. For the friendship, support,
paddling trips, equipment and press coverage over the years. For undertaking to
organise the support logistics for this trip and then joining the support when his wrist
was injured.
To Terry for teaching me the art of pacing myself. For all the interesting stories. Sing
alongs at sea and support on the cliff section. It was great knowing a person of his
great skill was in close attendance.
To Marion for the tremendous commitment she undertook to support the trip. It was
invaluable having her in support and we can never really appreciate all it entailed.
To Gary and Carolyn Nixon for their hospitality in Geraldton and for making the
commitment to meet us at False Entrance. Gary loses some credibility however for
scoring three holes in one and beating me at beach golf.
To Ken Wilson for his wonderful hospitality. Taking in a group of strangers into his
home and making us feel so welcome is truly a remarkable testament to a great
person.
Finally to my family who have had to put up with “the obsession” and all that it
entailed to make it happen. THANKS
Tel Williams
