Unloading the boats at the small boat
ramp at the south end of Pirates Bay we were confronted with a cold
and disconcertingly strong NNW wind. The temperature had been below
zero when we left our house-sit and now, by the coast, had warmed up
to just a few degrees above zero. The sun was clear of clouds, but,
near the solstice, low in the sky and not really putting out too much
in the way of heat, and, there was that wind, and those waves.
Still, we had driven over an hour to launch the boats and were not
about to waste that painful time by wimping out. In true
mountaineering fashion we said to each other, “lets just go take a
look.”
Paddling south from Pirates Bay
Doug is having a bit of a seat issue,
as in his seat pops out every time he moves in the boat, so there was
some faffing about on the water whilst we got blown onto the rocks as
I tried to fix it for him, but, eventually, the seat was back, the
deck cover on, and we were off.
Passing a smaller sea cave
Fossil Island is no longer an island
and is connected to the mainland with a low string of rocks, so we
paddled out around the north end into the lonely Tasman Sea. It was
a wee bit bumpy coming out of Pirates Bay and I had my usual
pre-paddle anxiety that is prominent in windy conditions when the air
and water is very cold. A tumble into the water at any point would
quickly lead to hypothermia, which could quickly lead to incapacity,
and on, and on, my mind wandered.
Patersons Arch
As usual, however, I was quickly so
engrossed in the scenery, which is particularly breathtaking on the
east side of the Tasman Peninsula, that I immediately forgot all
about the risks of sea kayaking in the middle of a Tasmanian winter
and just started exploring.
Tasman Arch
And, there is much to explore along
this section of the coast. We quickly reached the “Blowhole” -
Australia has dozens and dozens of blowholes. This one is a narrow
tunnel that runs through the limestone cliffs and opens out into a
bigger roofless cavern behind. At higher tides and with less swell,
you could paddle right in, but we contented ourselves with just
poking into the opening. These tunnels all constrict abruptly inside
quickly transforming a metre swell into something much larger.
Caves, pillars, cliffs
Next we reached Tasman Arch, and, we
poked our way inside to marvel at the huge roof over this cavern. We
could look up and see the tourist lookout through the back of the
arch. A little further on, is Devils Kitchen, but the tide was too
low to poke much into that narrow gulch. Limestone cliffs reach up
to 100 metres above wave washed rock platforms – the paddling is
fantastic. At Patersons Arch, another big tunnel leads right through
the cliffs, and, doglegs through to the other side. There is also a
second smaller tunnel that leads in under the arch. I photographed
Doug as he backed his kayak inside.
Paddling into Waterfall Bay
Waterfall Bay is a semi-sheltered amphitheater ringed by high limestone cliffs. There are more sea
caves, arches, and towers standing on narrow rock platforms, and a
waterfall cascades down into the sea. Continuing on past Waterfall
Bay we paddled between rocky islets and over long streamers of kelp.
There is a prominent white cliff at O'Hara Bluff which we made our
turn around point.
Waterfall Bay
But, before that, the ever present
question, for females paddling coastlines where landing is not
possible, arose, “how to take a leak?” Just inside O'Hara Bluff,
at low tide, there is a small strip of steep rocky beach. From a
distance, landing appeared possible. As I approached however, the
landing began to look increasingly difficult, but, it was all too
late as the stern of the kayak rose on a wave, which broke over my
back, and I was jumping out of the boat, and trying to pull it up the
rolling rocks as a larger set of waves came it and threatened to pull
the boat back out to sea.
Patersons Arch
Somehow, I managed the deed, and, with
difficulty rotated the boat around so the bow was pointing out to
sea, and the entire boat was balanced precariously on steep slippery
rocks stacked up beyond their angle of repose. Somehow, by pressing
into the boat, I managed to stay on land while I put my spray deck
on, then, releasing my weight, the kayak slid quickly down into the
ocean, a few quick hard strokes and I was back out, swearing, as I
always do, that I would limit my coffee before these paddle trips.
Looking out from Tasman Arch
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