Tom's Cabin

Sunday, May 19, 2019

Time on the river.

It had been a woesome week.
Depleted by a full body revolt brought on by bad food.
No paddling, surfing or sailing for days.

But today I was rewarded with time on the river.
A four-hour paddle in my new neoprene spring suit.
All against current: to rebuild stamina.

Early on, the turf farmers' levees were all neat and clipped.
Then wildness arrived; weeping willows and shadey forest oaks.
A modern if sterile bridge spews faceless drivers overhead.

Short runs and bends, teal ducks, swallows and pelicans six.
The river; brown, swirling, chilled.
Men in caravans in camps established upon low banks.

Fatigue creeps up, drawing attention to technique.
More abdomen, less arms, twist and draw.
No orcas, sharks or high swells, just the beckoning blind depths.

We return to the site where budding artists paint Delft-style, the city opposite.
Upon brown sand banks once trod by the ancient Wonnarua people, now by pet dogs on their weekly outings.
Sweet tiredness, a refreshing sponge down. A chocolatey reward.

Friday, May 10, 2019

I Paddle My Local River - Tick

Part 3: Sunday 5th, 2019:
After last week's effort I had just one leg to paddle in order to complete the entire river - well up to where dragging over sand bars or rapids is needed. Today we actually launched onto another river, a bigger one that my local river feeds into on their passage towards the sea.
I only had to paddle downstream a kilometre or so, before turning upstream again to complete my river. Today, due to the tide times and recent rain, I would be paddling against both an ebb flow and runoff. I found that hugging the shoreline and inside of bends meant we dodged the worst of the current. But it was still tough going with added complication of the weather! Fifteen minutes in, a squall hit us with localised gusts and rain. Normally getting wet can erode your enthusiasm, but I found that having a goal kept me going hard.

The scenery was quite different from farther upstream. The levees were lower for a start, this meant the river was brighter and the views were more varied. We were in flat alluvial soil country,. Most of it was highly valued, so the banks were almost clear of weeds. Grass was the most prevalent plant, followed by willows and casuarinas and river gums.

We passed out first timber tries bridge after 20 minutes, and a singularly acute bend at 50 minutes along. From there it was fairly straight and exposed us to bouts of heavy winds, from our port bow, but also from that quarter. oing, but with strong headwinds at times.
We reached the turnaround mark at about the two hours mark. Another shower blessed us and I was reminded that I should carry a second water bottle.
But turning back bought massive relief as we shot of downstream on a hefty current I could ease up on paddling and rest my shoulders. My right knee protested; bending it through the cockpit opening helped, but Tiger Balm put the fire out. We flew on enjoying ourselves until reaching the main river again. There, we again fought the ebb and a stiff SW wind were against us. But Mother Nature relented quite strongly and the river glass over and the ebb didn't seem so bad.
I had now successfully paddled the extent of my local river, a one-way distance of 30 kilometres +/- in 6 hours, over three Sundays. But of course, being an unsupported adventure, I had to paddle back to the car each day so the distance was double.
From my wobbly kayak beginnings a little over a month back, to this, is beyond my wildest imaginings.

Tuesday, April 30, 2019

PUP - Pick Up Plastic

Ever since my sail on tilman to the remote and beautiful Windawoppa Beach where I filled a bucket with waste plastics in less than 5 minutes, I've made rubbish collection a part of each outing.whether I am surfing, sailing or paddling, I pick up any plastics i see.
At the moment on Facebook a guy called Ferris Gump is taking a peddle-powered Hobie SUP from Byron Bay to like Cairns to raise awareness about plastics pollution.
I know very few of any people read this blog, but I'm just putting it out there. Just saying...

Sunday, April 28, 2019

The Star of the Show

In all my paddling of late the most amazing part is the river itself. Every second I am scanning the water ahead or either bank looking for form, movement and colour. I am always enthralled.

The water is invariably brown and cloudy.The head of the paddle disappears from sight on each stroke. It works lazily and late in the day every square metre features debris, detritus and flotsam of some kind; leaves, twigs, feathers and the ubiquitous seed lanterns, through to bamboo stalks, even whole trees. It's only by paddling several times a week that you realise the river's changing nature. One day you encounter a log reef, at a bend in the river,a tree lays beached, smaller branches, bamboo and leaf litter complete the scene. You wonder idly at how big a flood will be needed to clear it out before the next day when it has completely dissolved. After a while you recognise certain pieces of tree having transported itself down or back up the river. It's ever-changing magnificence.
Depending on where you are the width and i suppose depth, varies. Generally it's narrower and shallower the further upstream you go, but not always. It varies, as do the banks. Downstream, the levee banks are further apart and seem lower.This opens the river to light and greater air flow, friendly breezes or enemy gusts blast across rolling the surface darkly.
The flow is always present but not always evident. At its height it will swirl around snags at other times it is barely perceptible, you need to sit quietly and study the waters for evidence of movement. Yes, it's going out. It's always moving, once the flood stops, the ebb begins. Barely a calm exists, always one way or the other. The flow is the paddler's friend, begin your outing before a change and as you return the tide will turn with you. Keep it at your back and you have a helpful friend.

Paddle - 20 k., S to W Bridge_

Two weeks ago, at my local boat ramp, I met a female kayaker and I marvelled that she paddled 9.5k downstream to the W bridge and back. It took her four hours and she timed the turn around with a change in tidal flows on the river.

This chance encounter did two things; it made me think more about tides on the river, and it challenged me to do the same paddle.

Last Sunday I fronted up to do that paddle, but the tide flow was exactly opposite to what I needed. But as it was going upstream for two hours, that's what I did. And after four hours I'd paddled about 20 kilometres in total to the river's navigational head. Basically, I ran out of water for my kayak, right on the peak of high tide.

So today, I checked the tides before leaving home. If I left at 11:00 it would give me two and a bit hours to reach the W bridge, and paddle back on the flood tide, just as the lady kayaker did. So, although I guessed last week's distance, i know for sure that today i paddled just under 20 kilometres in just under four hours. I set and met my first paddling goal.

Over the past week or so I've been reading "Crazy Winds" by Alexis Right. Ms Right, a thirty-something Canadian sets out to paddle alone in a plastic kayak, halfway around Lake Ontario. She notes how different, how exposed, she and he kayak are on this vast lake when compared to rover paddling. The s water and air temperature too, are vastly different, and equally lethal. AR is an experienced kayaker, she knows how to self rescue and co. But still finds herself in an ambulance suffering delusional hypothermia, twice. On both occasions she resumed paddling without delay. Tough, and she paddles 40 + k each day, tv day after day.

I still have room for improvement.

Tuesday, April 23, 2019

Friday, April 19, 2019

Paddle Report - Good Friday T. to GB & back

Wow! Good Friday and I was set for a big paddle. I met "Frijon Lady" last week and her 4hr. paddle south seemed like a testing but achievable goal. Only thing, when I arrived the river flow was upstream - this was to continue for another two hours. I didn't want to paddle against it for two hours, then fight back for another two hours - especially with big Easter tides. So up we go!
So today was otherwise bog standard except that I wanted to have a fish on the way. Off we go, current favourable, sky overcast, wind light. Perfect.
P. came and went in under and hour. This is the historic head of navigation for the river, and soon after the river got narrower and shallower - more interesting. The scenery is repetitive, steep banks, heavily vegetated in weeds, fish leaping, ducks scooting put from the banks, all good. It got interesting when I saw a Sacred Kingfisher, the deepest blue wings with lime green (?) about the face. Beautiful but very timid.
On and on we go, still feeling strong and enjoying the ride. Over the duration of the paddle I saw four Osprey: two on their own then a pair just as I arrived at water too shallow to continue.
Throughout, the river was real interesting, there were heaps of logs, some sitting on the bottom, some just whirling and spiralling about. Hundreds of smaller pieces, mostly bamboo, rhythmically beat on the hull as we scooted past. Thank God for plastic hulls.
I learned years ago when floating with the kids that you should never base river navigation on your experiences of nearby roads. Basically, roads are pretty straight, rivers go anywhere! They bend and loop about and many is the time you can hear a train in front of you when you know the trainline is behind you. Well, that's kind of weird fun, but the upshot is that you paddle for a lot longer than you expect. I expected to see my destination bridge for a half hour before I bottomed-out. Luckily, I was able to walk on the river bed to the next bend and see the bridge a tantalising few hundred yards away.
I was feeling a little fatigued, but not hungry. Odd, but I ate anyway, just muesli bars and an up n go before heading back. In the short term we pushed the tide even though it is supposed to have changed. Then i noticed it was with us. Obviously it was not like the tides by the sea which slow around change times. The river seemed to be against us, then with us. And I don't mind saying,I needed all the help I could get. But as happens on rivers and hikes, everything looks different on the way back. Even the little glide I enjoyed had disappeared, but it was a lovely distraction. I had prepared a handline and lure, but found the lure to be to buoyant and had no takes even though the mullet were plentiful.
It took pretty much right on two hours from the ramp to the top of the paddle and once the current came with us,I estimated it would take the same on the return. It took 2.5 hrs. but that could be for the breaks and fishing delays, as well as me allowing my rate.
To go from paddles of just 5 k's a week or so ago to about 20 k. today left me feeling worn out, but really chuffed. The feeling of fatigue is a great elixir.
Thanks.